The Babbling Brook Naked Poker Club - Book One (31 page)

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bartlett. Your grandmother
has received medication and is sleeping.”

“Okay. Guess I’ll come back later. Thanks
for your help. Could you direct me to the cafeteria?”

“Certainly.”

As we walked away from the desk, Dillingham
said, “They’ve got her in a locked wing.”

I trusted Dillingham to know that since he’s
accompanied more than one agitated Montgomery resident here instead
of jail.

“Not sure how we’re going to get at her.
Pull a fire alarm, maybe?”

“We need to figure out a way. And fast.
Medicated, locked wing? Doesn’t compute. I’ve met few people as
sane and sensible as Josephine.” Then I had an idea. Not pulling a
fire alarm, but close.

I made a call, and then Dillingham and I
returned to the front lobby to wait. Within minutes, the EMT unit I
requested was there, and after their explanation they’d been called
for a medical emergency, they rushed down the hall toward the
locked wing. In the confusion, Dillingham and I moved in behind
them.

A nurse opened the door to the unit and
tried to stop all of us from entering, claiming she had no idea who
could have called. That there was no emergency.

“A Mr. Bartlett called, ma’am. Said his
mother wasn’t breathing.”

While they talked, Dillingham and I slipped
by the nurse and located Josephine’s room. She was lying in bed,
and the information that she’d been medicated was correct.

Dillingham signaled the EMTs, who came and
quickly transferred Josephine to their stretcher. Then we all
rushed back out, and Josephine was loaded into the ambulance, which
took off with Dillingham and me right behind it.

Feeling caught up in a Groundhog Day loop, I
followed the ambulance to the same hospital where Devi was a
patient, and parked in the emergency lot. Then Dillingham and I
went inside. The woman at the reception desk recognized us and hit
the door release. We didn’t even need to break stride. Inside the
unit, we found Josephine had been wheeled into a cubicle, and there
were three people hooking her up to monitors and checking her
over.

The one with the stethoscope looked up. “Do
you know this patient?” She removed the stethoscope from her ears
and draped it around her neck.

“Yes. We broke her out of Hopesprings. They
obviously sedated her.”

“Do you know what drug they used?”

“No idea.”

“Okay. Well, her blood pressure and
oxygenation are good so we’ll just keep an eye on her until she
sleeps it off.”

A registrar wheeled her computer over and
took what information I could give her about Josephine.

“Be sure to note she’s not allowed any
visitors I don’t personally approve, and that includes her
son.”

It was a stretch, my assuming control like
that, but over the last several days I’d become well-known to
hospital personnel, and the registrar didn’t question my right to
restrict Josephine’s visitors.

Dillingham said he’d arrange for someone to
give him a lift back to his car at Brookside, and I gave
Josephine’s nurse my cell number and told her where I’d be. Then I
returned to Devi’s bedside, where I found Lillian had arrived and
taken my place.

“Did you find Josephine?” Lillian asked as
soon as I stuck my head into Devi’s cubicle.

“We did. Her son had her admitted to
Hopesprings, and they sedated her, so I haven’t been able to talk
to her yet.”

“I don’t think you should leave her there,
Mac,” Lillian said.

“We didn’t. She’s here. In the ER, being
treated.”

“It’s her money, isn’t it,” Lillian said.
“That’s why he did this. Oh my, what a terrible thing.”

I walked past Lillian up to Devi’s bed. She
was already less pale than the last time I saw her merely an hour
ago.

“She’s really all right?” Devi said.

“Yes. Or will be once she clears the drug.
And you know what’s weird? Edna Prisant was the one who told us
where to find her.”

Josephine

I awakened feeling muzzy and disoriented to discover I’d been
drugged. Again. Only this time, I was in a hospital.

“How did I get here?” I asked the nurse who
was checking on me. The last thing I could remember clearly was
Jeff wheeling me into Hopesprings.

“EMTs brought you in. And then that cute
detective told us who you are.”

“You mean Detective McElroy?” I would never
use the word cute to describe Mac. He’s much too solid for such a
frivolous word, but he had to be who she was talking about.

“Yeah. The one who’s been at the bedside of
the woman who got shot?”

“Yes. Mac. And what about my son?”

“Sorry, but Mac’s left orders he can’t see
you. You must have some story to tell.”

I smiled at the woman but didn’t offer her
any explanation, and after a bit more fussing with my IV, she left
me in peace.

Since there was nothing to do, I dozed. I
awakened to find Mac sitting in a chair next to the bed.

“How are you feeling?” he said.

“Really well rested.”

He smiled at my little joke, but it was a
tired smile.

“What about Devi?” I asked him. “Don’t you
need to be with her?”

“Lillian’s with her. They sent me to make
sure you’re okay.”

“I’m disappointed. Sad. But otherwise, I’m
fine.”

“Good that you’re okay.” He got up to go,
but there was more I needed to say to him. Things I might not
manage to say later.

“Mac?”

He turned to face me. “What is it,
Josephine?”

“Thank you for rescuing me.” I raised a hand
to stop him before he could object. “Please. You know you saved me
from all sorts of . . . difficulties. But there’s
something else I need to say. Please don’t wait too long to tell
Devi you love her.”

“What?” Abruptly he paced toward the
doorway.

I thought he was leaving, but instead he
swung around to look at me, rubbing his head.

I spoke quickly. “You know when all this
mess with the Garrisons is cleared up, there will be no reason Devi
can’t return to Chicago, to her old life and her job at that art
institute. I’m being selfish here. I want you to make sure she
doesn’t leave us. I would miss her terribly.”

“If that job in Chicago is her dream, I
won’t ask her to give it up. I took a job that my wife wanted for
me. And look how that turned out.”

With that, he flung himself through the
door.

~ ~ ~

I think I slept for another while after Mac left. Then an orderly
showed up and told me I was being admitted for observation, and he
was taking me to my room.

Shortly after that, another bed was wheeled
into the room and parked beside me. I looked over to discover my
roommate was Devi, and then Lill and Mac walked in.

“Well,” I said. “I did plan on visiting,
Devi, not on being hospitalized with you.”

She smiled at me. She was still pale, but
her eyes looked alert and focused, and I was so relieved by that, I
wanted to climb out of bed and give her a hug. But I had tubing
attached to my arm, and I was wearing one of those gowns that gaps
everywhere. Besides, I’m really not much of a hugger.

Lill came over and squeezed my hand. “Oh my,
Josephine. I was so worried about you.”

“And rightly so. I have a few blanks, I’m
afraid.”

I’d put together bits and pieces from things
people had said as they treated me, although the Hopesprings bits
were in grays with accompanying voices that sounded muffled and far
away.

“Maybe I can fill those in,” Mac said.

As he told the story, and I added in what I
remembered, Lill looked appalled. And I had to agree. The whole
thing was appalling and surprising—a son valuing a painting and
money over his mother, a woman who wasn’t a friend saving me by
telling Mac where to find me.

Eventually, the nurse came in and chased
everyone out. That gave Devi and me the first chance since she was
shot to talk privately.

“Has Mac told you he loves you yet?” After
all that’s happened, I’m done with beating around bushes.

Devi gasped and then winced.

“Sorry. That hurt, didn’t it?”

“Just a bit.”

“He does, you know?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t know why you’re
saying it.”

“Because it’s true. See, I’ve figured Mac
out. He’s a man who’s great at showing how he feels, but dreadful
at putting it into words.”

“What’s so difficult about ‘I’m not married,
Devi, and I’d like to take you to dinner’?”

“Do you know he didn’t leave your bedside
from Saturday until your parents arrived on Monday? One nurse told
me he held your hand the whole time. And once your parents left, he
was back with you until he had to leave to rescue me.”

She swallowed and turned her head to look at
me.

“If you care for him, dear, you’re going to
have to be the one to do the talking. So do it. Don’t make the
mistake I made.”

“What do you mean?”

“You asked me once if I’d tell you the story
behind the painting.”

“What does that have to do with Mac?”

“Just about everything.” I was happy to see
she had her teeth into the subject of Mac. “I’ve never told it to
anyone before. But I’d like to tell you.”

“Okay. Sure. I’d love to hear the
story.”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t have a happy
ending.”

“I’d still like to hear it.”

I took a breath before I began, but once I
started speaking, I found the words coming more easily than I
expected. “My husband used to go on extended business trips and on
golf outings with a group of friends. I was never invited, and
although it was a relief to have him away, it left me
. . .” Swallowing, I tried to push away the visceral
memory of how useless Thomas had always made me feel.

“Because I was desperate for something
. . . exciting, or even just different, one year while he
was away, I went to New York.”

I stopped to take a breath. Devi didn’t
speak, nor did she move. Her eyes were closed, so she might even be
asleep, but I’d started my story, and now I wanted to finish
it.

“I checked into my hotel and went for a
walk. The sidewalks were packed with people rushing about without
looking at me, or each other for that matter. It made me feel more
alone than I’d felt at home, and I was sorry I’d come. Then someone
crashed into me. It was his fault, but he swore at me and gave me
such a fierce, angry look, it gave me the shakes.

“I pushed my way on to a side street and
leaned against a building. When I looked around, I saw I was across
from an art gallery. It was chilly, barely spring, and the street
where I was standing served as a funnel for a cold wind that
swirled around me. I walked across the street and pulled on the
gallery’s door. It was locked, but then a lock release sounded, and
I stepped inside.

“A man came walking toward me, smiling. And
I had the absurd feeling that I knew him, although I also knew that
wasn’t possible. I now think that sometimes, when we first meet
someone who’s going to be important to us, we’re given a glimpse
. . .” My words trailed off, and it was a minute or so
before I could continue.

“You know, I felt the same way, the first
time I met you.” Turning my head, I looked at Devi. She opened her
eyes and looked back at me, and we smiled at each other.

“The man, his name was Daniel, asked if I
were looking for anything in particular. I said what I was seeking,
I was unlikely to find. He smiled and said I might surprise myself,
and then he gestured toward the painting on the wall in front of
us. For a time, the two of us looked at the painting without
speaking. It was
Sea Watchers
, of course. When Daniel spoke,
it was to say he thought Hopper’s genius was that he so perfectly
captured the feeling of solitude embedded in each of us, even when
we’re with others.”

It occurred to me that Devi and I at this
moment were worthy Edward Hopper subjects, with the two of us lying
in separate beds and tinted with shadows cast by the bars on the
sides of our beds and the IV poles.

For a moment, I wondered if I was going to
be able to tell Devi the rest. But it was really the next bit that
was the point, after all.

“I bought the painting. And Daniel and I
. . .” No, I couldn’t say it. But maybe I didn’t need
to.

“After that, I visited New York whenever I
could, although I didn’t manage it as often as I wanted to. One
time, Daniel and I were in Central Park, watching a group of
children playing with boats in the reflecting pool. I turned to
look at him and discovered he had tears in his eyes. I asked him
what was wrong. He shook his head and said, ‘Nothing, except you’re
going home tomorrow.’ I think that was the closest he ever came to
telling me he loved me and wanted more. But he showed me, in so
many ways, if only I’d been willing to see.”

Again, I stopped to gather my thoughts. A
tear slid down my cheek. I ignored it, letting it soak into the
pillow.

“Do you still meet Daniel?”

“He died. Fifteen years ago.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I did warn you it wasn’t a happy
story.”

“Did you want more?”

“Oh yes. But Daniel never asked for more,
and so I thought what we had was enough for him. And I was so
afraid to lose that. I lived for the time we were able to spend
with each other. They were my birthday, Easter, Thanksgiving, and
Christmas all rolled into one. It seems so silly now, but back
then, the man was supposed to make the first move. The friend who
called to tell me Daniel had died said that Daniel didn’t want me
to feel pressured to leave my marriage. He thought if I’d been
willing to do that, I would have said so. It was so incredibly
stupid, the two of us letting happiness slip away without making a
grab for it.”

Telling Devi about Daniel hurt more than I
expected, and it left my head aching from trying to hold back
tears. A nurse came in to do her checks and gave Devi a pain shot,
something I could have used as well.