The Test (32 page)

“Here's our patient,” Chan announced to the stately gentleman who presided over hematologic cancers at the Moffitt Institute in Tampa. In
deference to Rory and the substantial Parnell support of their research, the chief had made a house call.

Rory dabbed at her eyes, grabbed a scarf, and had it halfway tied around her head when they walked in.

“Rory, my dear,” the doctor said, “no need to get fancied up for me. How are you feeling?”

“Not bad except for the lesions in my mouth. I'm using that ointment you gave me, but my mouth is sore. And yes, I know, that's a side effect of the chemo.”

Ashley's muffled cries were heard by no one as, in the confines of the train toilet, she expelled the fetus. She sat on the toilet until the worst of the pains had subsided, and she judged that all the tissue was out of her uterus. She did not flush the toilet. Closing her eyes, she groped with her bare hand in the bloody water. Feeling solid tissue, she extracted it, wrapped it in a protective wad of paper towels, and gently placed the bundle in the bottom of the trash bin beneath a blanket of discarded towels. At three months gestation, the fetus was only three inches long, an ounce or two, with little organs and a heartbeat. But, no hope of viability. This she knew from her embryology course. Without even knowing whether it was a boy or a girl, she said good-bye to her baby in that unsanitary, inhospitable cell.

Rude, incessant pounding on the door finally urged her to clean herself up and emerge from the cubicle of horror. She ignored staring eyes, and did not return to her seat. Her nosy companion was snoring loudly when Ashley reached into the overhead bin and retrieved her belongings. She lugged them into the next car, and as the train rumbled into Sanderson, she got off. She felt as if a layer of terror had been peeled off her body, and that her protective instincts for her child could be organized for herself. She knew her that her blood type was Rh-negative. If her baby had been Rh-positive, she'd need to have an injection of RhoGam within the next seventy-two hours to prevent antibody formation and hemolytic anemia in any future child that may be Rh-positive, too.

She considered her options. Shouldn't she contact her family? But who? They all thought she was dead. They'd had a memorial service for her. Or could it have been the family who'd sent someone to look for
her at Sandra's? She had assumed Conrad was behind it, but could it have been Frank?

At the Sanderson station, she counted her money. She'd saved all her salary and with what she'd taken from Sandra, she could afford to go to a hospital here. But hospital charges were so erratic, she was afraid there wouldn't be much left. Even if she could afford to stay a few days while she figured out what to do next, she had to make a longer-term plan. Without the baby at the heart of her every concern, her priorities needed to change. And there was Rory. Ashley had pushed her into the background. Now Rory was front and center, but was it too late?

She needed to deal with first things first. Right now, she needed medical attention. The train whistle blew, followed by the announcement that the train from Del Rio, Texas was arriving, westbound for Alpine, Texas, and El Paso. Ashley made a decision. She'd take this train to El Paso, transfer to Albuquerque, and find Ruthie. Ruthie could order the blood test she needed, and get her the RhoGam if she needed it. Once that was accomplished, she'd figure out what to do next.

“Ashley!” Ruthie flung herself at her friend, hugging her, then holding her out at arm's length. “I've been out of my mind with worry. Everybody's looking for you. Your family hired a private investigator. And so did Conrad, to find you. They both left their cards. I swore I'd call them if I heard anything.”

Ruthie stopped talking and gasped as Ashley started to slide downward against the closed door. “I need your help,” Ashley managed.

“Over here.” Ruthie moved the pile of papers covering the sofa. “Tell me, what is it? Oh, you look terrible.”

“I had a miscarriage. On a train. By myself.”

“You were pregnant? My God, Ashley, what an awful situation. What can I do?”

“Right now will you help me clean up?” Ashley responded. She felt like she was a million years old. “Then I need some medical help. You see, I'm Rh-negative.”

“I'll get you into the ER tonight.” Ruthie picked up the phone.

“But I don't want to use my name.”

“Don't worry, we'll make up a name. And all will be fine.”

Two men in rental cars followed Ashley and Ruthie to the hospital, lurked in the ER, and reported back by cell phone. Duly noted by each other, they made no contact.

Dan had been on the phone with Gina when his beeper went off.

“We've got her, Dan,” Jack Preston's message boomed. He reported that Ashley was in the ER at the University of New Mexico Hospital, under an assumed name. She was being treated for a miscarriage.

“Poor kid,” Dan said.

“I hear you,” said Preston. “She's with that med school friend and my guy there says she seems okay. Stable, not hysterical or anything.”

“How long will she be in the hospital?”

“Not long. Come to Albuquerque right away. It's an hour drive from Santa Fe. If she's discharged before you get there, my man will follow her, stay with her, but not apprehend.” Preston gave Dan the contact information. “Get briefed and make contact with Ashley. Tell her whatever you think will work to get her to come back to Florida. Just remember that the P.I. Welton hired is aping everything that we do, so be on the lookout for interference.”

“What if Ashley doesn't want to see me?”

“Convince her,” Preston said. “Meantime, I'm on my way. Can't get out of Texas fast enough.”

Ashley and Ruthie sat at the kitchen table sipping green tea and munching cheese and crackers. Ashley's miscarriage would not prevent her from having more children. A blood test confirmed that the fetus had indeed been Rh-positive, and Ashley had been given the injection. She hadn't needed a D&C, but she'd lost a lot of blood and the doctor recommended a transfusion. Ashley decided against it. Her red cells would regenerate. Ruthie agreed.

The women discussed their residencies, one aborted, one prospering. Their thoughts and plans were interrupted by the doorbell.

Ashley cringed. “I don't want anyone to know I'm here.” She hadn't yet broached the subject of Conrad, or why she had fled New York City.

“Okay,” said Ruthie. “I'll get rid of whoever it is.”

The sliding chain engaged, Ruthie opened her door just a crack.

“Dr. Campbell, I'm Dan Parnell, Ashley's brother. Can I come in?”

“Uh, no, I don't think so,” Ruthie said, keeping her voice low. “I'm kind of busy now, and I'm not feeling well. I had to take the day off.”

“I know that my sister is here,” Dan said. “Will you tell her that it's important? You see, she may be in danger.”

“Dan?” Ashley joined Ruthie and peeked through the crack in the opening. Her hand raked her dark, short hair. Would he even recognize her?

“Ashley, can I come in?” he repeated. He stepped inside, quickly closing the door behind him. Glancing around the small studio apartment, he headed for the windows, drawing the curtains closed. Then, tears glistening in his eyes, he opened his arms and pulled Ashley into a tight embrace.

“I'm sorry about the baby,” Dan said as they drew apart. “But I'm so glad that you're alive.”

Ashley clung to Dan. Her brother, always so remote, now a lifeline to her family. She remembered how sensitive he'd been the day of their father's funeral, and here he was tearful, yet so strong against her body. Dan drew her onto the sofa that would later convert to Ruthie's bed. They sat for a moment, silent, as he stroked her short, boyish hair.

Ruthie excused herself to make more tea. Something terrible was happening in this iconic family; she still did not know what.

“I am mortified about what I did,” Ashley said. “I was so scared of Conrad. What he might do to the baby. That's why I ran when I got the chance. But now that I miscarried, I don't know what to do.”

“I'm here to help you, Ashley. The family knows about Welton, about his background. You were right to be frightened. Everyone will be overjoyed that you're alive.”

“Rory,” Ashley said, “what about Rory? I abandoned her. Selfishly abandoned her by running away.”

“No, no, that's not true,” Dan said, holding her hands in his. “You
were pregnant. You were very brave. Of all people, Rory will understand.”

“How is she?” There is was, the awful question.

“Not doing well. There's been resistance to the chemo. I can't give you all the medical details, but I know from talking to Chan that the situation is dire.”

Ashley sat up straight. “She needs that bone marrow transplant. I've got to get to Philadelphia now.”

“She's not in Philly; she's on Longboat Key. Chan moved the family there. I was going to suggest that we go there tomorrow morning. It's Thanksgiving and what more could we be thankful for than finding you alive?”

“Could we go tonight?” Ashley asked, reaching to pick up her purse. “Now?”

“Logistics,” Dan said, pulling out a cell phone. “Jack Preston, a private investigator, is flying in on the family plane. I'll coordinate with him. I'm thinking that first thing tomorrow is more feasible. In the meantime, we're arranging for round-the-clock security here.”

Ruthie returned with a tray of steaming mugs.

“Ruthie, is it okay if I stay here with you tonight?” Ashley asked. “I have so much to tell you.”

Frank grinned at Elise's excitement as she dove into her luggage, searching for her bathing suit, anxious to join the Stevens kids in the pool. The weather was Florida perfect. Sunny skies. Eighty degrees.

Why would anyone want to live up north, Frank considered, as he changed into shorts and a golf shirt. Leo Tally's voice came over the intercom. “Senator, will you pick up? It's Mr. Dan. Says it's important.”

“Frank, we've found Ashley.” Frank listened as Dan described the circumstances and suggested that he and Jack Preston leave with her for Longboat Key. That Gina and Terry join them there. Then the whole family would be together.

“She's okay?”

“She really wanted that baby. But now she's dedicated to helping Rory.”

“Can't get here too soon. Rory looks deathly ill. Sorry for the word choice there.”

Frank thought of Elise, of how he would have to bring her up with no mother. The memory of his dad, when his mother died, how remote his father had been. Frank wondered whether Dan had felt the same sting of neglect. His own future was Elise, and he resolved to be a concerned father and to make sure she stayed close to her noisy cousins since that gave her great comfort. For the first time ever, he thought smugly, he had all their names straight. Elise had rehearsed him.

“Whoops, I've got a call coming in,” Frank said, glancing at the number.

“Probably George W., calling for advice. I'll see you tomorrow in Florida.”

Dan disconnected and Frank picked up the other line, recognizing
the Detroit area code. His uncle had looked so frail at Meredith's funeral. But the caller was Carl Schiller, not the cardinal.

“I'm in Detroit on business, Frank, and I'm having dinner with your uncle tonight. He's going to ask me about the family so I thought I'd call you. Surprised, I must say, that you're in Florida.”

The old man must think I'm down here earning points for Dad's test
. The thought made Frank grin. Nothing could be further from the truth. Since Meredith's death, he had wasted not one iota of time fantasizing about his political future. That dream had died with Meredith. Whoever got Dad's millions, so be it.

“Carl, we have wonderful news. You'll find it hard to believe.”

“You have my attention.”

“Ashley's alive. I just got off the phone with Dan, who's with her. She's okay, but she lost the baby—miscarriage.”

Frank briefed Carl. He plumped up the pillows on the bed and relayed the whole story of Conrad's background, including the suspicions that swirled around his family and his former wife. Much of it Carl knew.

“How can I get in touch with Ashley?” Carl asked. “And how do you plan to handle the media once they find out she's alive. Will there be any political backlash?”

Frank wanted to say, “who gives a fuck?” Without Meredith, he didn't care about the media or even about publicity. But he would honor her stance on obscenity. “As for the media, I haven't even thought about it. I just want Ashley back here safe and sound.” Ready to end the conversation, he said, “When you see Cardinal Sean tonight, give him my best.”

When Frank hung up, he did a mental inventory. Ashley had just been located. Who had to be informed? Uncle Carl and Cardinal Sean were covered. Dan and Gina, ditto. He'd let Matt and Carrie know as soon as they arrived from Washington. That left Terry, Elise, and the Stevens, all ten of them. Was he missing anyone? Yes, Monica Monroe.

Ashley and Ruthie woke early on Thanksgiving morning despite having slept little. They'd talked all night about their lives, and what would happen next. Ruthie from inner-city Baltimore, a neighborhood where not even the police ventured. Ashley from the exclusive Philadelphia Main Line. Ruthie listened to Ashley's account of how she was determined to help Rory before, like Carla, it was too late. When Ashley got around to telling Ruthie about Conrad, she did not hold back; she poured out all her fears and suspicions. Ruthie said nothing to dissuade her of her concerns.