At Risk (27 page)

. . . The professor most of all. She had caused him mental anguish, and he would repay the favor many times over.

Three phone calls, five cups of coffee, and ten hours later, Liz drove out of the Dallas airport in her Budget rental car. She’d purchased an egg muffin, two bottles of water, and a road map on the main concourse. She hadn’t bothered to pack more than a few necessities because she fully expected to be back at school on Monday afternoon at the latest. She’d e-mailed Michael, Jack, Amelia, and Dean Pollett about her travel plans, saying only that it was a family emergency. She didn’t mention her mother.

Curiously, although she was on her way to a deathbed visit with the woman who’d abandoned her when she was a young child, Liz didn’t feel depressed. She felt almost lighthearted, as though a great weight had lifted off her shoulders.

On the plane, Liz had tried to recall her mother’s voice, but she couldn’t. She remembered bitter arguments between her parents; scoldings; Mom switching her daughters’ legs until they bled; finding her mother lying on the bathroom floor, drunk, in her own vomit on Christmas morning. Were there any good memories? Liz hadn’t recalled any before she’d fallen asleep. She didn’t wake until the flight attendant tapped her shoulder to inform her that they would be landing in a few minutes.

And now, fighting traffic and watching for the right exit on unfamiliar expressways, Liz found herself humming a tune, almost as if she were on her way to a vacation resort. She supposed she should feel guilty or at least sad, but she didn’t. She’d spent too many years wondering why her mother had left, and hoping that she’d show up on her doorstep full of apologies and heartfelt regret.

Liz couldn’t suppress a smile as she remembered one Christmas in California when things were tight and she’d been forced to sell the engagement ring Russell had given her to pay the tuition for Katie’s spring term at preschool. They had no furniture except a picnic table and benches, and a fold-out sofa bed. Most of Katie’s toys and books had been purchased secondhand, and after she’d bought a tiny Douglas fir, there hadn’t been any money left for decorations. She and Katie had strung popcorn, cranberries, and spray-painted pine cones on the tree instead of bulbs, and they’d topped it with a tinfoil star.

That year, for some reason, Katie had been full of questions about grandparents. She knew that her Grandfather Clarke and Grandmother Montgomery were both dead. Russell’s mother had died the year after Liz and Russell were married. His father was living in Boca Raton with a girlfriend half his age, and had never shown the slightest interest in Katie. That left one grandmother, Patsy Clarke, unaccounted for. Every night before she’d gone to sleep, Katie had demanded to know all about Grandmother Clarke, where she was, and when she was coming back.

When Liz had told Katie that Patsy was probably in heaven with Grandpop, Katie had insisted she wasn’t. She began to include her grandmother in her prayers, and she confided that she’d asked Santa to bring Grandmother Clarke home for Christmas.

And somehow, Katie’s certainty that her grandmother would show up for Christmas dinner became Liz’s secret hope. She imagined what Patsy would look like and what she’d say. Caught in the magic of holiday make-believe and her daughter’s prayers, Liz had half expected her mother to appear. Of course, she hadn’t, but Liz had mourned her loss all over again.

Now the lost lamb was found, but it was too late. Liz no longer wanted or expected anything from her mother. She’d come for selfish reasons, certain that by letting go of the bitterness and heartache, she could find a peace that had always eluded her.

Liz reached Riverside Rest a little after six, and guessed by the smells and clink of dishes and trays that it must be time for the evening meal. She went to the reception desk, introduced herself, and told the attendant she was Patsy Clarke’s daughter.

“Upstairs.” The middle-aged R.N. looked tired, as though she were finishing a twelve-hour day shift, rather than being two hours into the evening one. “That elevator’s not working. You’ll have to take the steps. Go to the second floor, turn right, go through the double doors. You’ll see the nursing station. Dr. Gonzales is on the floor. You’ll want to speak with her.”

Liz followed the woman’s directions. The nursing home was old and out-of-date, but appeared clean. Several orderlies pushed wheelchair-bound patients through the halls while others carried trays into rooms.

At the top of the steps, an elderly gentleman in robe, pajamas, and slippers waddled past shouting for a Miss Jeanne. Liz smiled at him, but the filmy eyes he turned in her direction were vacant, and he didn’t seem to see her.

“What’s for dinner?” a painfully thin black woman in a bad wig demanded. She wore a pink jogging outfit and orthopedic shoes, and edged forward hunched over a walker.

“Salisbury steak and rice with green beans, Mrs. Roberts.” A gangling Hispanic youth with a wide smile removed a covered tray from a serving cart. “Orange Jell-O for dessert.”

“Salisbury steak? Ain’t nothing but cheap hamburg. I’m sick of orange Jell-O. Why can’t we ever have lime? I like lime.”

Liz pushed through the double doors. In spite of herself, her heart began to race. She wanted to turn away, go back down the steps, and go home. Why had she thought that coming here would help anything?

“Liz?”

She turned to see Crystal coming through a doorway marked
Family Lounge
. “Hey,” Liz answered. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I know. I know.” Crystal shrugged. “Dumb as you, I guess.”

Crystal was thirty pounds heavier, and her hair was light brown rather than the unnatural white-blond that it had been the last time they’d seen each other. A pleasant-looking bald man in a black suit and striped tie followed her out of the room.

“Liz.” Crystal hugged her. “You look great. This is my husband, Henry. Henry—my baby sister, Liz.”

“How do you do?” Henry said formally. His voice held the hushed cadence of a funeral director, but his smile was genuine and his handshake firm. “Crystal has told me so much about you. I’m sorry that we have to meet under these circumstances.”

Sensing his unspoken message, Liz glanced at Crystal.

She nodded. “Patsy’s gone—slipped off right after we got here. Didn’t know me. At least I hope she didn’t. All she said was that I’d stolen her false teeth and she was going to have me arrested.” Crystal snickered. “She still had quite a mouth on her. Guess that’s where I get it.”

Liz inhaled deeply. Dead. Her mother was dead. She waited, expecting to feel sadness, regret, but there wasn’t anything. “I came as soon as I could,” she said. “The first two flights to Dallas were full, and I—”

“No matter,” Crystal said. “The old girl’s better off.” She shook her head. “She’d had a hard life, I expect. The nurse said that if she hadn’t died from heart trouble, the lung cancer would have gotten her within the month.”

“Mrs. Clarke’s gone to a far better place,” Henry intoned. “She’s home with the Lord, and she’s left all pain and earthly cares behind.”

“Yeah,” Crystal said. “Do you want to see her? We waited. Henry signed all the papers, but the doctor’s still here if you want to talk to her.”

“How long has Mom been here?”

Crystal looked at Henry. “Ten months?”

“Yes, that’s what the nurse said. She was transferred here from a hospital in Dallas, and before that there was at least one more nursing home. No assets.”

“Are there any . . . relatives? Friends?” Liz asked, wondering how her mother had slipped away without anyone to mourn her. “Anybody?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Henry answered. “I asked if anyone should be notified. The nurse said that Mrs. Clarke never had a visitor, a phone call, or a letter since she’s been here at Riverview.”

“I think I’d like to see her, to say good-bye,” Liz said. She was dry-eyed. Whatever feelings she’d once possessed for the dead woman, none were left.

“Not me. I’m done,” Crystal said. “Henry, you go in with her.”

“Yes, dear.” He squeezed Crystal’s hand affectionately. Henry was shorter than her sister and perhaps ten years older, but neither of them seemed to notice or mind. Henry was clearly smitten by his new bride. And Crystal obviously doted on him.

“No, thank you,” Liz said. “If you’ll just show me where M . . . where she is, I’d rather do this alone.”

“Certainly,” Henry agreed, not in the least offended. “Perfectly natural.” He led her back through the family lounge and pointed to a closed door. “In there. Just push aside the curtain. She looks quite peaceful, much better than when she was alive.”

Liz stepped through the doorway and shut the door behind her. The room was still except for the hum of an air conditioner. Her mother lay on clean sheets in a narrow bed. If Crystal and Henry hadn’t told her who the dead woman was, Liz would never have recognized her. Patsy Louise Clarke was in her early sixties, but looked twenty years older.

Paper-thin, age-spotted skin stretched over sharp bones. Her hair was sparse and gray; her nails bitten or cut to the quick. She couldn’t have weighed more than eighty pounds, and she had once been a tall, attractive, full-breasted woman. Now all that was left of her was an empty shell.

Liz took one of the bony white hands in hers. “Good-bye, Mom,” she whispered. “I forgive you.”

A fly buzzed against the glass. The window air conditioner churned noisily as the compressor came on. The dead woman lay motionless, bloodless lips drawn back over artificially white false teeth.

“I wish . . .” Liz began, then released her grip on the lifeless hand. A phrase of her dad’s came to mind. “Keep the wind at your back, Mom.”

She waited for perhaps another five minutes, saying nothing more, simply standing there, before nodding and backing out of the room.

“I told you it was a waste of time and money for you to come,” Crystal said.

“No, it wasn’t,” Liz replied. “I got to see you, didn’t I? And I got to meet Henry.” She smiled at him. “I can’t thank you enough for—”

“Not another word,” Henry said, beaming. “This is what I do. I console the living and give the dead a decent send-off.”

“You have to let me share in the expense,” Liz offered. “There must be something I can—”

“I told you,” Crystal said. “Henry has taken care of everything.”

“Were you planning on staying or driving back to Dallas tonight?” Henry asked.

“I have to get back. I have finals tomorrow. At the college.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Crystal told me you were a professor. Wonderful. And you’re young for such a position. I can see that beauty runs in the family.”

Crystal blushed and giggled.

The couple walked back to the rental car with Liz. “You have reservations on a flight back?” her sister asked.

“Yes, it leaves at 2:45 a.m., straight through to Baltimore.”

“Then you’ve plenty of time to have dinner with us,” Henry said. “No, no, my treat. I won’t hear of you leaving us without eating. They don’t feed you on the airlines anymore. Stale pretzels and tepid soda pop.”

“Yes,” Crystal insisted. “Join us for dinner. We haven’t had a chance to talk.”

“All right,” Liz said. “I’d like that.”

“You must come to Arizona and visit us in happier times,” Henry said. “If you can’t afford the plane fare, I’ll take care of it. We really want you to come. I can’t wait to meet that new niece of mine. Katie? Crystal says she’s a charmer.”

“Smart, too, just like her mother,” Crystal said. “We can see who got all the brains in the family.”

“Now, I won’t have you putting yourself down,” Henry said. “I love you just the way you are.”

Crystal smiled. “What did I tell you, sis? He’s just a big, cuddly teddy bear.”

“And who’s my Mama Bear?” Henry cooed, hugging her.

Crystal giggled. “Don’t worry any more about Patsy, sis.”

“Absolutely not,” Henry agreed. “We’ll have a proper interment for her. Pastor Bob is a Baptist. He does most of my services—unless you’d prefer another denomination.”

“No,” Liz assured him. “Baptist will be fine, but I don’t know if she ever attended church, or even if she believed in God.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Henry said. “God believes in her. We’ll take care of it. Now, follow us. I understand there’s a wonderful Mexican restaurant about a mile from here. Do you like Mexican?”

“Love it,” Liz replied.

“Good,” Crystal said. “So do we.” She kissed Liz’s cheek. “It’s good to see you, baby doll. Don’t make it so long between phone calls next time.”

“I won’t,” Liz said, and meant it.

Liz arrived back at the farm at quarter of nine Monday morning, showered, dressed, and hurried to school. She’d slept on the plane, but it hadn’t been enough, and she needed two cups of coffee and a donut to feel nearly human. The day of finals was hectic, but a good kind of hectic. The energy and excitement of the students was contagious, and she found herself rediscovering how much she loved teaching.

Somehow, it was mid-afternoon before she realized that she hadn’t bothered to check her office e-mail or voice mail. There was a call from Jack saying he would be out of town until the following weekend, and two messages from Michael, asking if there was anything he could do. She wondered what could take Jack away at the busiest time of the year for fishermen, and why he hadn’t said where he was going.

She didn’t see Cameron all day, but she did pass Nancy Steiner in the hall, and the professor made a point of snubbing her. There was a note in her in box from Dean Pollett asking her to make an appointment to see him. Liz ignored it. She had no intention of discussing the matter of Cameron’s stalking until she could locate and hire an attorney.

The week passed without incident, other than a call from Crystal telling her that the funeral had gone off without a hitch. They’d spent a few minutes chatting, and Crystal had repeated her invitation for Liz to come out to visit. Liz made excuses but promised she’d try to come for Thanksgiving. Although she was sure that she and Crystal would never be best friends, it was good to know that her sister had a real life and cared about her.

School was equally uneventful. Dean Pollett, apparently caught up in the rush of the last week of the session, failed to contact her a second time. Liz had lunch with Michael on Tuesday, and with Sydney and Amelia on Wednesday and Thursday. By Thursday afternoon, Cameron’s absence had become an object of speculation.