Missing Pieces (3 page)

“She did eat,” Hal confirmed. “Not much, but then neither did I.”

“You need to take care of yourself,” Celia pressed. “Why don't you stay at our house tonight? Get a good night's sleep.”

“No, I think I'll stay here tonight,” Amy replied, hitching her thumb toward the hospital room. “I'm going to check on Julia.” She hugged Jack again. “You don't know how glad I am that you're here.” She wrapped her arms around her midsection as if warding off the cold and moved past them down the hallway toward Julia's room.

“She's taking this really hard,” Hal said, looking fondly after his niece. “But she's been great. She's been glued to Julia's side almost the entire time.”

“Amy loves Julia more than anyone else in the world,” Jack said.

“Is she the one who decorated Julia's room with all the photos and things from home?” Sarah asked.

“No, Celia did that,” Hal responded, rubbing his hand absentmindedly across his head.

“That's really nice,” Sarah said. “When Julia wakes up she'll have some comforts of home nearby.” She was not only beautiful, Sarah observed, but Celia was thoughtful, too. It was obvious she made it a priority to take care of everyone in the Quinlan family.

To confirm Sarah's observation, Celia started gathering up empty coffee cups and stray napkins. “Hal,” she said, “didn't you have your hat earlier?”

Hal's hands went to his bare head. “I think I left it down in the cafeteria.”

“I'll go get it,” Jack offered. “I could use a cup of coffee, anyway.”

“I'll go with you,” Sarah said, not wanting to be left alone. Jack's family was nice enough, but she hardly knew them, and she was eager to avoid the grim scene inside the dark hospital room. The drawn shades, the stuffy air, the pneumatic hum of the oxygen machine. It was practically suffocating.

Sarah and Jack made their way to the elevators. “Amy doesn't look good,” Jack commented. “I'm worried about her.”

“She's the one who found Julia after she fell, right? That must have been very traumatic.”

“Yeah, but there's something else.” Jack pressed the elevator's down button, and then again and again, as if the elevator couldn't come quickly enough. He searched for the right words. “Something in her eyes,” he added.

“You should talk to her,” Sarah said. She caught a flurry of movement out of the corner of her eye. A doctor was hurrying down the corridor, her long white coat flowing behind her. Sarah's first thought was Julia had taken a turn for the worse and held her breath until the doctor turned in the opposite direction of Julia's room.

The elevator door finally opened and they stepped inside. The doors closed and Sarah leaned against Jack.

“I don't know. I probably should, but I'm sure it won't make a difference.”

The old elevator creaked and groaned and was excruciatingly slow in its descent, stopping at each floor, though no one was there to get in. Sarah figured whoever was waiting gave up and used the stairs instead.

“I think she'd listen to you, Jack. She seemed so glad to see you.”

Sarah's thoughts suddenly went back to their earlier conversation about Amy. She recalled how Jack had become distracted by something he had seen down the hallway.

“What did you see earlier?” Sarah asked. “When we were in the hallway talking to Dean and Celia?”

Jack pushed the first-floor button again as if it could speed up their descent. “I'm not sure what you mean,” he said, feigning ignorance.

“Come on, Jack, tell me,” Sarah pressed.

“It was nothing,” Jack insisted. The elevator finally arrived at their floor and the doors opened to an empty, quiet hallway. It was cold and eerie, and Sarah couldn't help but wonder if they kept the morgue down here, as well. Jack turned right, following the sign directing them to the cafeteria, and Sarah quickened her pace to keep up with him.

“Jack, you looked like you'd seen a ghost.”

Jack stopped abruptly. “Cut it out, Sarah. I didn't see anything,” he said, but Sarah looked at him expectantly. “Okay. Fine. For a second I thought I saw my dad.”

“Your dad?” she questioned in confusion. He was the last person she expected Jack to mention. “That's impossible.”

“I don't know. It's not like I got a clear look at whoever it was.”

“I know it's not easy being back here. I'm sure it's bringing up a lot of old memories.”

They entered the cafeteria, where the dim recessed lighting and a low ceiling made the room feel downright dismal. The smell of overboiled broccoli and strongly brewed coffee filled Sarah's nose. The room was empty except for a woman in a white apron and a hairnet perched behind a cash register, flicking through a magazine, and a man sitting alone at a table, staring out a rain-spattered window into the black night, his food untouched in front of him.

Sarah's eyes searched the room and landed on a table in the far corner. “There,” she said, pointing. They walked past the cashier, who didn't look up from her magazine, and made their way toward the back of the cafeteria.

“God, he still wears this old thing.” Jack smiled as he bent over and picked up the hat from the worn green linoleum. “I think Amy got this for Hal for Christmas, like, twenty-five years ago.”

“It must mean a lot to him,” Sarah said.

Jack grew quiet.

“Hey.” Sarah nudged him gently. “It's okay. Everything's going to be fine.”

“I just can't shake the feeling that I saw my dad,” Jack said. “You must think I'm nuts.”

“Of course not,” Sarah replied, trying to comfort him, though she couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. “Last month I thought I saw my grandpa at the grocery store and he died when I was seven.”

“Yeah, but I bet you'd be happy to get the chance to see your grandpa again. I can't say I feel the same way about my dad. I won't ever be able to forgive him.”

“Never?” Sarah asked. “You'll never be able to forgive him?”

“Would you be able to forgive your dad if he killed your mother?” Jack asked pointedly as he motioned to leave the cafeteria. Sarah followed as Jack bypassed the elevator and pushed open a heavy metal door that led to the stairs. The stairwell was windowless and weakly lit by dusty fluorescent bulbs. Cobwebs swung precariously in the corners where drab cement block walls met the ceiling and Sarah quickened her pace.

“I don't know,” Sarah answered honestly. “I'd like to think I'd be forgiving, especially if it was an accident.”

Their footsteps reverberated on the metal stairs as they wound their way upward. Sarah almost preferred the rickety old elevator to the confines of this dingy, damp stairwell. She felt relief when Jack pushed open the door to the fifth floor. They were both slightly winded from the climb.

“You must be a better person than I am,” Jack said somewhat breathlessly, and Sarah decided it was best to end the conversation there.

When they returned to the waiting area, Hal was sitting by himself, staring up blankly at a television set affixed to the wall.

“Found your hat,” Jack said, handing it to his uncle. Hal set it on his bald head and adjusted it into place.

“No coffee?” Hal asked, noting their empty hands, and Sarah realized they were so distracted they had completely forgotten to get the coffee. She instantly longed for the rush of caffeine.

“Coffee looked like sludge,” Jack replied, and Sarah wondered why he didn't just tell Hal the truth. “Where is everyone?”

“Amy's still with Julia, and Dean and Celia went to see if they could find out what time the doctor is doing rounds tomorrow.”

“I'll go see if Amy needs a break,” Jack said. He gave Sarah a peck on the cheek and she smiled warmly as he turned and exited the waiting area, leaving her alone with Hal.

Sarah sat down in one of the stiff-backed chairs next to Hal. Purple rings of exhaustion circled Hal's eyes and were magnified by the thick lenses of his glasses.

“I shouldn't have left her home alone,” he said, sliding his thumb and forefinger beneath his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “Her balance hasn't been very good lately. She's been stumbling a lot.”

Sarah thought again about the phone message that Julia had left on their machine and the tremble in her voice.

From across the corridor Sarah watched as Jack entered Julia's room. Moments later, Amy emerged handling a pack of cigarettes as she moved toward the elevator.

“I wish she'd give those things up,” Hal said.

“It must have been terrible for Amy to find Julia after her fall.”

“She found Julia at the bottom of the steps and called an ambulance right away. Then called me.”

“That probably saved her life.”

“I think so, but a social worker came to talk to me this afternoon. Have you ever heard of that? I mean, after an accident?”

“A social worker?” Sarah repeated. “Why?”

“She was asking all these questions about Julia's accident. I wasn't even at the house when she fell. I was in town. She asked if there were any problems in the family, any reason Julia wouldn't feel safe.”

“They probably have to ask those kinds of questions when there's an accident in the home,” Sarah said, though she wasn't quite so sure and didn't want to let on to Hal that it worried her. “What did you say?”

“I told her what I just told you. That she's been stumbling a lot lately. I mean, hell, so have I. We're getting older.

“The social worker said someone reported that the fall might not have been an accident, after all. Why would someone say such an awful thing?” he asked incredulously, rubbing the sharp gray stubble on his chin, his blue eyes clouded with worry.

“What did Dean and Amy say? Did the social worker talk to them, too?”

“Just to me, I think. I haven't told anyone. I didn't want to bother them with it.” He shifted in his seat, pulled out a white, linen handkerchief from his pocket and smoothed it with his blunt fingers. “Do you think we should be concerned?”

“I think you should tell them. Tell Jack. They can help you talk to the social worker,” Sarah advised, and Hal said that he would.

“It really helps having family here,” he said, and crossed one leg over his knee, his heavy brown work boot weathered with age and toil. “I know Jack doesn't like coming back here.”

“He wanted to come. We wanted to be here for you and Julia.” Sarah reached out and patted Hal's knee and he covered Sarah's hand with his own.

“Well, I can't tell you how much it helps,” he said, and cleared his throat. For a moment Sarah wondered if she should seize the opportunity to ask Hal about Jack, about the ghost of his father he thought he saw earlier. But instead she allowed silence to fall between them.

* * *

For the next hour Sarah sat in the waiting room while Jack's family took turns sitting with Julia. Hal was the last and after what felt like aeons he finally emerged from the room, haggard and weary.

“I think we're all tired,” Dean said, pushing himself up from his seat with difficulty. “Maybe we should all go home and get some rest. The nurses will call if there's any change.”

“What if she wakes up?” Hal asked, twisting his hat in his hands. “She'll be scared if she wakes up and no one is here.”

“Everyone can stay at our house,” Dean said. “We're close enough to the hospital that we can get here quickly if she wakes up. Jack, you and Sarah are welcome to stay with us. We've got the room.”

Jack rubbed the shadow of bristle that had grown on his chin. “I don't think that's the best idea, Dean.”

“No shit,” Amy muttered from her seat.

“Be quiet, Amy,” Dean said, tossing a magazine onto the coffee table. It slid across the surface and fluttered to the floor.

“Fuck you, Dean,” Amy snapped.

“Whoa, settle down,” Celia interjected.

“Amy,” Jack pleaded. “Please don't.”

“Really, Jack?” Amy's tone softened, the anger replaced with hurt. “You think that coming back here after twenty years is going to make everything okay?”

“None of this is good for Julia and that's who we need to be worrying about,” Jack said. “Hal, why don't you stay at Dean and Celia's tonight? Sarah and I will get a hotel room.”

“What's the matter, Jack?” Amy asked archly. “You don't want to spend a night in the house of horrors?”

“Amy, just shut the hell up.” Dean's face flushed with anger.

“What do you mean, house of horrors?” Sarah asked before she could stop herself. Up until then she had uncomfortably watched the tense exchange in silence. She didn't really know Jack's family, didn't understand their dynamics, and it was clear that it was better for her to stay out of it.

“Never mind,” Jack said sharply, and Hal lowered his face into his hands.

“Please don't fight. Not here.”

“You're right,” Jack said. “You should get some sleep. We can take you back to your house.”

“Stay with me,” Hal insisted. “It's silly for you to stay in a hotel. I want to sleep in my own bed, but I can't stand the thought of going home to an empty house. Please stay.”

“Sure, Hal,” Jack said soothingly. “We'll stay at your house.” To Dean he said, “Thanks for the offer, but it would be strange staying in the old house.”

Why would it be strange? Sarah wondered. And what did Amy mean by “house of horrors”? It brought to Sarah's mind an image of chain saws and rubber knives, a silly Halloween gag. And yet the words lingered in her thoughts. Was Amy just being dramatic, like Jack said she always was, or was there more to it than that? And why had Jack brushed her off when she asked about it?

She wanted to believe that he'd meant nothing by it, that he was merely trying to keep his family from combusting. But she had a sinking feeling that there was more to it than that. Jack was keeping something from her.