Vital Signs (17 page)

He could have deflected the question, turned it into a joke. She half expected him to, but instead, he frowned, and she could tell he was trying hard to give her an honest answer.

“I'm not exactly sure why. You're right. I'd like a family of my own, but it's just never happened. In my early twenties, I remember wanting to meet someone and settle down. I still feel that way, but maybe I've gotten too selective. Too picky. I've heard it gets worse the older we get.”

As far as she knew, “selective” meant looks and personality and compatibility and libido and plain old kindness. Those things were always on the lists the single nurses made to detail what qualities they wanted in a partner. The married ones made lists of the things they didn't want, which as far as she could figure out were pretty much habits of the guys they were married to, including such things as smoking or chewing tobacco and farting in bed.

“Picky how?” It wouldn't hurt to have him detail all the things she couldn't provide, would it? Well, it might hurt some, but it would be good to know exactly why this wasn't going to work.

Damn, it was hard to carry on a sensible conver
sation across the table from that bare, furry chest and those great shoulders. To say nothing of what she knew was hidden by the tablecloth. She had to give him credit, though. He was giving this conversation thing his best shot.

“Last time around it was a difference in values. She wanted the good life, fancy car, big house, trips to the latest vacation hotspot. A social worker's salary doesn't allow for those kind of extras, and even if it did, I'm not interested in living that way.”

Neither was she. “That's one of Ingrid's favorite truisms—money doesn't buy happiness.” All she had to do was think of Laura to appreciate that.

“Ingrid and my mom went to the same school of
isms.
” He smiled and forked up another mouthful of lasagna, chewed it and swallowed.

“What else?” This wasn't too helpful. He'd obviously been involved with pretty shallow women. God, he had nice forearms. Hands, too. She shivered, remembering where those hands had been.

“The other sore point's been my job, the amount of time it demands, the unpredictable hours. And women have a valid point there. It's tough to be with someone who doesn't work a regular nine-to-five day. Not that I need to tell you about that.”

“I've thought sometimes of getting on steady days, but I sort of like shifts. I get to see the kids at bedtime, in the morning and during the night.” And she'd never had a guy around long enough to complain about her hours, anyway. “So who ended them? Your relationships.”

He shrugged. “Me, I guess. I could see it wasn't gonna work, so I got out early.”

“Before the women had a chance to?” This was good info, she told herself. She'd know what to expect. She might not know when, but it was still good to know what was in store. The lasagna stuck in her throat. “Have you ever been in love?”
Hell, yeah, Bergstrom, just psychoanalyze the guy right out the door.
But these were important questions. “The kind of love where you wanted to get married and have kids? You must have had lots of opportunities.”

He took a slice of garlic bread and shook his head. “Not as many as all that. I've dated a fair amount—all of us have by the time we reach thirty-six. But love, I dunno. I
thought
I was in love twice, the happy-ever-after kind. But the first woman couldn't make up her mind between me and someone else, and like I told you, the second one wanted a different lifestyle. Both times it was pretty obvious it wouldn't work.” She could see he was getting uncomfortable, and then he turned the tables on her.

“What about you, Hailey? How come you're not married? I've seldom seen anyone more suited to having a houseful of kids.”

She had nothing to lose by being honest. Maybe it had something to do with sitting here naked. “I used to think it was because I wasn't beautiful.” It was hard to say out loud.

He looked as if he wanted to protest, and she was glad when he didn't. Facts were facts.

“But then I got it through my head that lots of women who aren't technically beautiful fall in love
and get married,” she went on. “So I had to dig a little deeper than that.”

“And?”

“And I think that in psycho-jargon, I have big issues with abandonment.”

He looked surprised, and then slowly nodded. “Because of your dad dying when you were so young?”

He was quick, this guy. But then he'd probably had to take his share of psych courses to get his degree, just as she had.

She nodded. “Other things, too. My mom and my sister are really alike, and even though they didn't mean to, they sort of excluded me while I was growing up. They had a club that I didn't understand and certainly didn't belong to.”

“Ever been in love?”

“Yup.” Boy, this naked thing was intimate, all right. People at nudist camps mustn't have any secrets at all. “Once. I was in training, and he was a second-year med student.”

“What happened?”

“He let me take care of him for six months and then he dumped me for a lab tech.”

“What a jerk.”

“Yeah.” And she was abandoned again.

“Didn't you get right back on the horse?”

“Not really.” You couldn't call Norman Patino a real, honest-to-goodness attempt. “I decided to skip B and go straight to C. Skip the husband part and go for the baby, instead.”

Roy had finished his second helping of lasagna.
Just as she stood up to take their plates to the sink, someone rang the front doorbell. A second later she heard Jean hollering, “Hailey? Hailey, are you in there?”

“Omigod.” Hailey dropped the plates and one of them shattered on the tile floor. “Quick, get some clothes on. It's my mother.”

Roy was right behind Hailey in the race for their clothing, strewn across the living-room carpet.

H
AILEY PULLED ON
her dress to the persistent dinging of the doorbell, searching frantically for her panties until she remembered she hadn't been wearing any.

Roy was yanking on his shirt and zipping up his jeans. She saw his blue briefs on the rug and kicked them under the couch.

“Okay?” He reached out and smoothed her hair.

“Okay.” She turned his shirt collar right side out, then went to the door and opened it.

“Hi, Mom.” She sounded chirpy. She hated chirpy.

“Hailey, where were you? I've been ringing for ever. Were you in bed?” Jean glanced past her and must have seen Roy. “Oh, sorry. I didn't realize you had company.”

“Come on in.” It was the last thing Hailey wanted, but there weren't a lot of choices here. “This is Roy Zedyck, David's social worker,” she babbled as Jean stepped inside. “We were just having dinner—” Hailey stopped herself and drew a sane breath. “Roy, my mother, Jean Bergstrom.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Bergstrom.”

“Call me Jean. Nice to meet you, Ron.”

“Roy.”

“Sorry. Roy.”

“Come and sit—” Hailey realized too late that all the sofa cushions were on the floor and did a swift right turn toward the kitchen.

“Come and sit in here.”

Of course Jean had noticed the cushions. How could she miss them?

But she was running true to form. She didn't seem to be noticing much of anything, which for the first time ever was a blessing.

“We were just having dinner. Would you like some lasagna, Mom?”

“No, I— Good Lord, Hailey, did you break something?”

She'd steered her mother into the kitchen, forgetting about the pieces of crockery scattered over the tile.

“Sorry, watch where you step. I dropped a plate.” She bent and scooped up pieces and tossed them into the garbage, feeling like a nitwit.

Jean bent down and helped her. “You'll have to get the tiny bits with a wet paper towel,” she instructed, and Roy tore off a wad and held it under the tap. Now all three of them were down on the kitchen floor. Hailey had a hysterical urge to giggle, and she wondered if her mother could tell she had no underwear on.

She smoothed her dress down and got to her feet, and Jean followed. Roy stayed down, meticulously
swooping the wet paper towel over the tile, getting every last splinter.

“Sure you won't join us?” Hailey gestured at the table, where the remains of the salad were wilting and red-wine splotches stained the tablecloth. It didn't look very inviting.

“I can't stay. Is there something wrong with your phone, Hailey? I called twice.”

“We were busy. Talking.” Damn, that sounded so defensive. She was twenty-nine years old; she had a right to a sex life. But her skin didn't get the message, because she could feel herself turning crimson.

Again, Jean didn't seem to notice. Sometimes there were advantages to having a mother who was oblivious to your life.

“Hailey, do you have any idea where your sister is?”

Jean's question caught her off guard, although she ought to have expected it. Why else would Jean drive all the way to her younger daughter's house on a weekday evening?

Hailey glanced around in a panic, wondering if any of the kids' toys were in evidence, but thanks to Laura's housekeeping skills, there was nothing in sight except what was left of the lasagna.

“No, I don't.” She
didn't
know, not in the literal sense; Laura hadn't told her where Michael lived. Hailey prayed that Jean wouldn't ask if she knew what Laura was doing.

She didn't. “Well, Frank's worried sick about her. Apparently she left him a note saying she was taking the kids away until school started, but she didn't say
where she was going. And she never said a single word to me. I can't believe she'd just go off without telling me. I think she's having some sort of breakdown.”

Jean sounded hurt and angry and worried, but Hailey didn't cave in. She'd promised Laura, and under the circumstances it seemed safest to say as little as possible.

It dawned on her that Roy knew Laura and the kids were staying here. He was looking at her and she could see the puzzlement on his face.

Damn her sister, anyway. Now the man was going to think she was a practiced liar.

“Tea, Mom? Coffee? A glass of wine?” Hailey felt like taking the bottle and downing it, and then opening the other one for good measure. “A piece of cake?” It still wasn't iced, but what the heck.

“No, I should be going, although I haven't a clue who to try next. You don't suppose Frank's sister might know where Laura's gone.”

“I doubt it.” Jean must really be desperate. She knew Laura had always despised Frank's sister. Suddenly Hailey felt sorry for her mother. “I'm sure that wherever she is, she's just fine, Mom. Maybe she just needed to get away for a while.”

Jean gave her an incredulous look. “Away from
what?
She has everything a woman could want right at home.”

There was nothing Hailey could say to that without incriminating herself and Laura. After several endless moments of strained silence, Jean said, “I'd best be going. Nice to meet you, Ron.”

“And you, Joan.”

“Jean.” She gave him a look.

When her mother was safely out the door, Hailey threw herself into a chair, grabbed handfuls of her hair and shrieked as loud as she could.

Roy waited it out, but not surprisingly, looked more confused than ever.

“What the heck was that all about?” he said when she ran out of breath. “Why don't you want your mom to know that your sister's staying here?”

She had to tell him the truth, but she needed chocolate to get through it. Hailey retrieved the cake from the top of the bread bin, cut two huge slabs and plunked them on plates. Then she poured glasses of milk.

She handed him his. “I didn't get around to making any icing.”

“You're fired. And could you take your clothes off again? It makes the food taste so much better.” He took a bite and looked at her with an expectant expression. “Well?”

“Can't. I only do naked when I'm eating lasagna.”

“We'll just have to have lasagna three times a day from now on.”

Hailey noticed the projection, but she wasn't going to make too much of it. Besides, she had to unravel her family's tangled knots for him.

“My mother should have married Frank, instead of making Laura do it,” Hailey began. Then she filled in all the details about Frank the louse, and Laura the victim and Jean the facilitator. The only
part she didn't mention was that Laura the slut was pregnant, and probably right this moment having wild sex with her son's soccer coach.

“My sister's a little like one of those women you fell in love with,” she concluded. “She's always had love and possessions and money all mixed up.”

His eyes were intense, watching her. He'd finished the cake, and he set the plate on the counter and reached over and took hers away.

“You'd never make that mistake,” he said, pulling her into his arms. His voice was gravelly, coming from deep in his chest. “You'd be very good at love, Hailey. You're exceptionally good at sex.”

She didn't want to try to figure out why he was saying that. The words were enough. She moved into his arms, and this time they actually made it up the stairs to the bedroom.

 

“H
AILEY, WAKE UP
.” Laura was shaking her arm. “I brought you a coffee.”

It took her a while to open her eyes.

“Thanks.” The bedside clock said nine-forty-five. Shocked at the time, Hailey sat up. “Did anybody phone from St. Joe's?”

“I don't think so. There weren't any lights blinking on your machine. I just got here a while ago, and I have an appointment with Nicole at eleven. Could you watch the kids for me for a couple of hours?”

“Sure.” Hailey's body felt boneless, and her voice seemed to come from far away. The memory of the night before sent pleasure scooting through
her sluggish veins. Roy had left, reluctantly, at three-fifteen. He had to work today, and it had taken him several tries to finally make it up and out the door, and then she'd fallen into a sleep as deep as a coma.

Sex was exhausting. Sex was delicious. Sex was addictive. Sex was self-perpetuating.

Get real, honey. It's not the sex, it's the man participating.

“I need to talk to you. Want an omelet for breakfast?”

“Sure, I'll be right down.”

“It smells like a bordello in here. Where do you keep the clean sheets?”

“Hall cupboard. And how do you know what a bordello smells like?”

“My vivid imagination.” Laura giggled and left, and Hailey gulped the coffee. When her brain started working a little, she picked up the phone and called St. Joe's.

Karen was on duty, and she assured Hailey that David had slept all night. Shannon had stayed with him, on a cot in his room. His rash seemed to be disappearing, his temperature was down, and he'd started eating again.

“Looks like he's on the mend.”

Hailey agreed. Galling as it was, she knew that with emotional relaxation often came physical healing. Having Shannon with him was obviously helping David, and it was David's well-being she had at heart, wasn't it?

“She's giving him a bath just now. Harry should be in soon. I'll call you and tell you what he says.”
Karen added, “You're gonna have a time with that little guy when you take him home, Hailey. He's really fixated on his mother.”

Hailey felt annoyed. She didn't need Karen to remind her of that.

“I'll come by this afternoon and see him,” she promised.

By the time she'd showered and dressed, Laura had a vegetable omelet, toast and sliced oranges ready for her downstairs. The kids were throwing a ball in the backyard.

“You cleaned up in here.” Hailey remembered that there'd been a huge mess in the kitchen last night, and she and Roy hadn't given a single thought to cleaning it up.

“You guys obviously had bigger fish to fry. I tidied the living room, too.” With one finger, Laura held out Roy's blue briefs. “He was in a hurry. What did he wear home?”

“Pants, I guess. Thanks.” Hailey took them and stuffed them in her shorts pocket. “Mom came looking for you.”

“Damn. I hope not right in the middle of—” Laura pointed at the underwear.

“After. We were eating lasagna, but we still had no clothes on. It was really good, by the way.”

“I assume you aren't talking about the lasagna.”

“That, too.” It felt weird and wonderful to be this open with her sister.

“And?”

“I didn't tell her anything. But she's seriously
worried about you. You're gonna have to talk to her.”

“I will—today. After I see Nicole. I had a long talk with her on the phone yesterday and I liked her, so I made this appointment.”

“What have you decided to do?”

“Leave Frank.”

“And?”

“And I don't know.” Laura blew out a breath. “I had a big fight with Michael. I told him about the baby, and now he insists I move in with him, which I'm not going to do. I'm not going from one man straight to another just because it's convenient. I need time to figure out what
I
want.”

“Good for you.” Hailey knew she didn't sound all that enthusiastic, because although she applauded Laura's bid for independence, there was the small matter of the baby coming, the kids she already had, the lavish lifestyle Laura was accustomed to and the fact that she'd never held down a paying job in her life.

“You know you're welcome to stay here as long as you like.” That was a lie, because Hailey really wanted her place to herself now that she and Roy had started eating in the nude and using the bedroom. Maybe she could fix up the basement, instead of the bathroom.

“Thanks, but Nicole says she'll get an order for me to move back into the house. She says a judge will decide it's easier for one person to find a place to live than three, and the kids need to be in familiar surroundings.”

“That's good.” Hailey felt a guilty stab of relief.

“She said the first thing Frank will do is cancel the charge cards, which she thinks is actually a good thing, because it'll help me learn to budget.” Laura rolled her eyes. “Whatever that is.”

Hailey nodded enthusiastic agreement. Budgeting was a skill Laura really needed to learn, no doubt about that.

“All the debts Frank and I have will be divided equally, so that way my share of the proceeds will be greater. And she's going to get an order so that I get support right away. She also said that I should get the kids counseling, and it wouldn't hurt for me to get some, too.”

Maybe that was what
she
needed, Hailey thought glumly. Maybe counseling would take away her urge to murder Shannon and kidnap David.

And what about Roy?

She didn't need counseling for that. She knew what she wanted with Roy. It was called happy-ever-after love, and it only happened in fairy tales.

“I just called the bathtub doctor and gave him the charge-card number. I might as well make good use of it before Frank finds out.”

“What bathtub doctor?”

Laura beamed. “The one that's coming to refinish your tub. Honestly, Hailey, some things a person can put up with, but that tub isn't one of them. You know the expression ‘no skin off my butt'? Well, it's not true.”

“What about when Frank sees the bill?”

“It'll be a lot less than the bill for a fancy hotel,
which is where I'd be if I weren't here.” Laura's logic was scary. “And I'm not living with him anymore. I want a divorce. I want my house back.” But now Laura looked less sure of herself.

“Maybe he could move in with Mom.”