Pickin Clover (15 page)

"Take... care... of... Clover?"

“Of course I’ll take care of her. Don’t worry about her. I’ll keep her with me, I promise.” Once more, Polly tried to put her arm around Clover, but once more the little girl pulled away. She collapsed on the grass beside her father and sobbed so hard her entire small body shook.

“Da... ddy, da... ddy," she wailed.

Jerome was drifting in and out of consciousness, and it seemed an eternity to Polly before a siren heralded the ambulance’s arrival. Isabelle ran to the front of the house to tell the driver he should go down the alley.

At last, the paramedics came running, a man and a woman. “B.C. Ambulance Service. Can you tell us what happened to you, sir?" They knelt beside Jerome. When it was obvious he couldn’t respond, they asked Polly questions about how the accident had happened.

They gave Jerome oxygen, and when they slit his pant leg Polly felt her stomach heave. The large bone of his thigh protruded from the skin.

“His right wrist’s fractured, as well, and some ribs,” the female attendant said. “I’ve got them stabilized. Okay, Ed, let’s scoop and run. We’ll have you in Emergency real quick, Jerome. Just bear with us here while we get this spine board on...now onto the stretcher.”

Jerome was quickly loaded into the ambulance.

“Tell him we’ll bring Clover. We’ll follow in my car,” Polly told the attendants. Isabelle had lifted Clover into her arms and the girl wasn’t struggling now. She clung to Isabelle, sobbing hysterically and calling for her father.

The route to St. Joe’s was familiar, but Polly was trembling so much, driving was a challenge. By the time she pulled her car into the parking lot, Jerome had already been whisked into the hospital.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Polly, with Isabelle and Clover trailing close behind, hurried through the wide sliding doors and into the controlled bustle of St. Joe’s Emergency.

Leslie Yates was the nurse on triage, and Polly raced over to her, grateful to see someone she recognized. As quickly and clearly as she could, Polly explained what had happened and asked if Leslie knew Jerome’s condition and whether Michael had been notified.

“Mr. Fox told the paramedics that Dr. Forsythe is his family physician, so we called his office immediately and he’s on his way. Dr. Brulotte and the trauma team are with Mr. Fox in room two. Sit down over there—” she indicated a waiting area “—I’ll have someone come and tell you how he’s doing.”

Polly and Isabelle sat. Clover had stopped crying, and Isabelle set her on a chair between them. Polly could see by the stain on the child’s overalls that she’d peed herself, and her small face was a study in misery. Wanting to comfort her, Polly tried to take her hand, but Clover yanked it away.

Polly felt immense relief when she saw Michael come striding in. She got up and half ran to him, all their differences forgotten in the face of this calamity. He caught her in his strong, capable arms and held her close for a moment. Held tight against his solid, familiar body, she realized she was still trembling.

“He fell, Michael.” The words came tumbling out. “Jerome...he fell off the ladder and his leg, his thigh—the bone’s broken really bad. There was blood coming out. And his wrist—it’s broken, too. It was awful. He looked...he sounded...” Her voice broke and she fought the tears that threatened.

“Easy, love. Calm down. He’s in good hands here. Hello, Isabelle. Hi, Clover. I’ll go right now and find out exactly how he is.” Michael eased Polly into a chair. “I’ll be back in a short while.”

He hurried off, and it seemed to Polly they waited interminably. It was a nurse, not Michael, who finally came out of the treatment room and over to them.

“Jerome’s stable now. He’ll be going up to surgery in a moment. Dr. Forsythe is talking with the ER doctors. He said to tell you he’ll be here right away. Jerome has a compound fracture of the femur, a fractured right wrist and several broken ribs.”

Michael walked over just then. “They’ve taken him up to surgery. He’ll be there for at least a couple of hours.” He crouched so that he was at Clover’s eye level. “Your daddy’s getting all fixed up, but it’s going to be a while before you can see him. Right now, how about a treat? You’ve been a very brave girl, and I’ll bet you’d like some ice cream.”

Clover nodded, slid off the chair and took Michael’s hand. They headed off toward the cafeteria.

“It sounds like Jerome’ll be in hospital for a while,” Isabelle commented. “Who’s gonna take care of Clover?”

“I promised Jerome we would.” Polly turned to face her mother. "Will it be okay if she stays with you, Mom? You get along with her, and she knows you better than she does me.” It was the best and most logical solution. After all, Isabelle had spent time with Clover during the painting of the house, and Clover knew Isabelle and responded to her.

“Well, this is a fine kettle of fish,” Isabelle exclaimed in an irritated tone. “Of course I feel sorry for Jerome and for Clover, goodness knows I do, but I certainly can’t have her staying with me."

“Why ever not?” Polly could feel her temper rising, and she made an effort, futile though it was, to control herself. “Mom, that kid calls you ‘Auntie.’ She likes you. She certainly makes it plain she has no use for me. And I know Jerome doesn’t have anybody else who’d take her, his relatives are far away and he hasn’t lived in B.C. long enough to make friends. Would it be such a sacrifice to keep her for a few days?”

Isabelle’s chin went up and she cast a defiant look at her daughter. “I shouldn’t have to explain anything, but if you must know, I have a new friend who sleeps over most nights. Of course Eric is a perfect gentleman, but I certainly can’t have Clover around. You can understand that.”

Being directly confronted with her mother’s sex life was disconcerting and embarrassing. “Eric?” Polly sputtered. “Who’s this Eric?”

“His name is Eric Sanderson. He’s a retired businessman.”

“Where’d you meet him?” Polly realized she was beginning to sound like a suspicious parent, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

“At the park two weeks ago, when I took Clover over to play. He goes there to play checkers.”

“Two weeks ago?” Polly blurted. “You met this guy two weeks ago and you’re going to bed with him already?”

“Oh, phooey. Don’t be so old-fashioned,” Isabelle snapped. "It’s not as if I’m going to get pregnant. And even if it wasn’t for Eric, I’m not up to caring for a child full time at my age. I raised you and Norah. I would say I’ve earned my freedom. I’m sorry, but she’ll have to go home with you, Polly. I could maybe still take her to the park some afternoons, but she absolutely can’t stay with me. It’s out of the question.”

“Sometimes I can’t believe how selfish you are, Mother.” The words were out before Polly could stop them. “That kid hates me. You’re the one who’s made a fuss over her every single day.”

Polly took a shuddering breath and said what she’d always held back. "But then, you didn’t make time in your life for Susannah, either, so why the heck should I think you’d do it for a stranger?”

Isabelle flinched, but she straightened her shoulders and gave Polly a scathing look. “Don’t you speak to me in that tone, miss. Why, it’s...it’s partly because Clover reminds me so much of Susie that I’m fond of her. You seem to think you’re the only one who misses that dear girl. She was my granddaughter, Polly, and I loved her, regardless of how much time I spent with her.”

“Clover reminds you of Susannah?” Polly was aghast. Comparing the two girls was preposterous. How could her mother even think a thing like that, much less say it? It...it was a sacrilege. All of a sudden, Polly was furious with Isabelle. She knew if she tried to say anything more to her she’d end up screaming accusations, making a terrible scene, and this wasn’t the place.

Michael worked here at St. Joe’s, she reminded herself. She couldn’t embarrass him in front of the staff by yelling at her mother.

Where was Michael, anyway? Where had he disappeared to with that child, just when Polly needed him? She couldn’t bear to sit beside her mother one more instant.

Finally she saw him, making his way slowly back along the hospital corridor, Clover clinging to him with one hand and holding an ice cream cone with the other. On legs that felt shaky Polly jumped up and hurried toward them, struggling for control. She was on the verge of tears again, but this time they were angry tears at her mother’s insensitivity.

“Well, Clover,” she managed to say in what she hoped could be mistaken for a cheerful tone. “You’re going to come and stay with Michael and me for a while, at our house, until your daddy’s better. Isn’t that nice?”

Michael shot her a surprised look, but the murderous expression on Polly’s face must have warned him not to question her further.

“Don’t want to.” Clover scowled and her mouth bunched up, but she didn’t cry. It was obvious she wasn’t any more in favor of this plan than Polly was.

“I think we’ll go home right now, have a bath and get some fresh clothes on, okay?” The child reeked of urine, and her face was streaked with tears and ice cream. Her nose was running; her pale eyes watered; her thin muddy-blond hair straggled out of cheap plastic hair clips and into her eyes.

She looked like a ragamuffin, Polly concluded. A mental image of Susannah imposed itself between Polly and this unattractive child. Beautiful, exotic Susannah, with her thick dark curls, her cat’s eyes and amazingly long lashes, her tawny skin, her long graceful child’s body... A new wave of fury spilled through Polly as she regarded Clover. How could Isabelle think for an instant that this homely little girl was anything like Susannah?

Michael once again crouched so he was at Clover’s eye level. “Clover, the doctors are taking good care of your daddy here. What you can do for him is go home with Polly now so Daddy doesn’t worry about you, okay?”

Clover eyed him and at last nodded reluctantly.

“Good girl.” Michael stood and put an arm around Polly’s shoulders. “Jerome’ll be in surgery another couple of hours, and I have to get back to the office, patients were lined up three deep when I left. The staff here will call me and report on Jerome’s condition as soon as he’s done, and I’ll phone you and Clover.” He bent his head and brushed her mouth with his, then affectionately rubbed a hand across Clover’s head.

“This little girl needs a nap, she’s been yawning. It was a pretty upsetting morning for her.”

And what about me? Polly squelched the thought, embarrassed at being so immature.

“I’ll try to get home early, Pol, and give you a hand.”

“Please, please do, Michael.” The rest of the day stretched ahead of Polly like an eternity. She’d be trapped at home with this contrary child, subject to her needs, her demands, her sullenness.

Isabelle joined them, and Polly studiously avoided even looking at her mother. “Could you drop Mom off, Michael? It’s on your way to the office.” It was also on her way home, but the thought of spending even another twenty minutes in Isabelle’s company was abhorrent.

“I have to stop at a mall and get some things, milk and juice and soup and something for Clover to wear.” It was the truth. She didn’t have much in her cupboards suitable for a child to eat. A box of clothing Susannah had outgrown stood in an upstairs closet, but Polly wasn’t sure anything would fit.

Or was it only that she couldn’t bear the thought of her daughter’s clothing on another child? On
this
child.

“Sure, I’ll take Isabelle with me. Bye, you two. Clover, thank you for being such a brave girl.”

Polly waited until Michael and her mother were gone before heading for the exit herself. She reached down to take Clover’s hand, but again the child yanked hers away and Polly didn’t try any more. She was aware of the little girl marching stoically along at her side as she made her way outside and over to the parking lot where she’d left her car, but she didn’t touch her except to secure the seat belt once she was in the vehicle.

It was hot in the car, and Polly wrinkled her nose at the odor of urine. She opened all the windows. Ice cream dribbled down, and Polly was grateful the seats were leather and could be wiped clean.

Clover said nothing during the drive to the supermarket, and inside, when Polly tried to determine what she might like to eat, Clover was stubbornly mute.

Polly found herself cringing when other shoppers glanced at the grubby, sullen child, then at her.

My Lord, they think she’s mine. I don’t want them to think she’s mine.

A wave of shame at her own pettiness washed over her, but it didn’t change how she felt. There was a section in the store with inexpensive children’s clothing. Polly quickly selected a packet of panties, another of socks and several pairs of shorts with matching T-shirts. She found a cotton knit nightgown and tossed it into the basket, as well, along with a pair of jeans and a sweater. Clover watched, but even when Polly asked her what colors she wanted or if she liked a certain garment, the little girl refused to comment.

Polly paid for her purchases and hurried out. Twenty minutes later she stopped the car in her driveway and made her way around to get Clover. The child slid off the seat, staring around her.

“You gots a big house,” she blurted in an awed voice.

It was the first remark she’d volunteered since they’d left the hospital, and Polly had to smile in spite of herself. “Yeah, I guess it is pretty big. Come on, let’s get these groceries inside.”