Deadly Reunion (13 page)

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Jane rolled me into my room. “I could stay with you.” Her words sounded sincere, but her tone did not. I couldn’t blame her.

“No, thanks. But if you could grab those pain pills and muscle relaxers and help me slide into bed, that’d be great. I need some sleep.” I tried to give her a smile. My lips only tilted.

She handed me one of each pill and a glass of water. I took the meds, stood on one leg, wobbled, and sat on the edge of my bed. “I sure hope you feel better.”

I could only respond with a weary smile. Both of us knew the real source of my pain.

“Get some rest. I’ll lock the door.”

“Jane, I…” All I could do was shake my head.

She hugged me. “We’ll talk later. Rest now.”

Respect for my friend hiked up five notches. I nodded, stretched in bed, and drew the covers to my neck.

* * *

“No!” a woman yelled.

I opened my eyes. I was in bed. The voice had probably come from a dream.

Eyeing sheer curtains at the window, I realized the sun still shone, although it seemed lower than before, and daylight might take place well into the night in Alaska.

“No, I won’t!” The woman’s words definitely came from outside my stateroom. The voice sounded like Tetter’s.

“Tetter,” I called, sitting up. “Do you need help?”

I quieted my breaths and focused on listening.

All was silent.

I swung my legs around to the floor. Pain in my right ankle made me yelp. Yanking that leg back, I tested it, found it held me up, and placed it gingerly on the carpet. Using the wheelchair as a walker, I shoved it before me to the door.

Looking out the peephole, I found no one in view. I opened the door.

Nobody was visible down the long hall. Most passengers had gone into town.

I checked the pockets of my slacks, found my room card still there, and slipped out the door. “Tetter,” I called, leaning close to each shut door around mine. “Tetter, are you in there?”

A family of five and then a young couple came down the hall, some carrying packages with bags displaying the names of Skagway shops.

I inched along, pushing my wheelchair to the elevator, trying not to put much weight on my right foot, and peering around for Tetter.

Unsure of where to go, I decided on the Promenade Deck so I could check passengers leaving the ship and returning. At the central circle, I looked down to the base of the Atrium. More people than I’d surmised were milling around, some having drinks, others talking in clumps, most moving through to various fun places onboard.

Worried about my friend, I watched the stream of passengers returning from town. Many wore sweatshirts and jackets with
Alaska
and a scene with a bear or a whale. Had Tetter come back on the ship? Tetter, Sue, Randy, and Jane had gotten off here. Of course, so had I. But I’d quickly returned—as quickly as I determined my son was telling me the truth. Instead of living with his terrific wife and children, Tommy was now paired under a roof with a man.

Unbelievable.

I hated that man and my son. No! I could never hate any child of mine. I cherished my children. But I could get angry with them. And I was. The deep anguish and despair sank deeper into my heart. Fat tears wet my cheeks. I attempted to dry my face, but streams kept it wet.

“Oh, ma’am, here, let me help you.” A young man wearing the ship’s colors clasped my arm.

“I’m okay. I’m fine,” I said as he helped me sit in the wheelchair.

“Maybe you are, but you seem in such pain. I believe it might be best if the doctor checks you out. Is that okay? I’ll bring you to him.”

I opened my mouth to protest but reconsidered. Maybe by now Dr. Thurman had information about Jonathan Mill that he would share. Of course, physicians needed to keep some information about patients confidential, but much of what they learned often became public. I would urge him to tell me what he discovered.

“I appreciate your help,” I said to the young man.

He rolled me into an elevator and down to the medical center. A nurse I hadn’t met sat at the reception desk. Six people sat in chairs in the waiting area.

“This lady is really hurting,” my helper told the nurse. He glanced at the other patients and softly added, “I’d appreciate it if you could rush her in.”

The nurse beamed at him. Was something going on between them? She was attractive. So was he.

“I’ll try,” she told him and handed me a form. “Would you fill in this information?”

“I’ll just leave you right here,” my helper said, backing my chair to the wall. “They’ll help you. Good luck.”

I filled in the form, noting I’d already been seen by this doctor after I twisted my ankle. I did not mention that I’d fallen off those stupid stiletto heels I’d stuck my feet into in an attempt to impress Gil, and I’d done that ridiculous deed to compete with my aunt who used to be my uncle.

Not feeling too good about myself, I finished the forms and handed them in. Trying to refocus my thoughts, I flipped through papers available for patients. I read what passengers should do if they became seasick. Room stewards and the medical center could provide pills. Patches for nausea were not the favored solution, I read, surprised.

“Mrs. Gunther.” The nurse made me notice I’d drifted off, my head lolling down to the side. “The doctor will see you now.”

Much time must have passed for me to have fallen asleep. I glanced at the people waiting. They were the same faces I’d seen when I came in. The patient with the doctor must have a major problem. I wondered what it might be—broken bone, heart problem, stroke?

Gil emerged from a rear room with the doctor.

“Cealie,” Gil said, smile automatic. But then his forehead creased. “What’s wrong? Your leg got worse?”

I touched my cheeks and was glad not to find dampness remaining. At least he wasn’t seeing my tears. “No, I’m… Why are you in here? You have a problem?”

“Yes. But not physical.”

“Mrs. Gunther, maybe I can check you in an examining room,” Dr. Thurman said. His eyes flitted toward all of the other people waiting. He wheeled me down the narrow hall and glanced at Gil, following us.

“You won’t see any part of her that I haven’t already seen,” Gil told him. “And I’d be happy to view it all again now.” He gave me a suggestive grin.

I didn’t smile back. “Doc, I’m okay. My ankle is just still a little sore from—” Nope, I would not mention my fall off my shoes.

“I remember,” the doctor said. He inspected my ankle and touched various places. “Does this hurt? How about here?”

“It really isn’t bad. I don’t need this wheelchair. I think I can walk okay.”

“Or I can help.” Gil’s smile spread.

“Get serious,” I said, thinking of the problem I’d met onshore. Tommy was no longer with his family. This wasn’t the place to discuss it with him.

Gil’s smile wiped away. One eye crinkled in his expression of confusion.

“How about this?” the doctor said, surely wanting to get to all of those other patients. “Why don’t you try walking with a boot? It’s something people with broken bones often use.”

“A boot?” I considered asking him if I could get matching ones, and if they came in cute colors with heels, but knew Gil would jump on that with some cutesy response. Normally I would enjoy a cutesy response from him—we often enjoyed trading quips and laughing—but today I wasn’t in the mood. Today my son told me he’d split from his wife and my grandkids.

Dr. Thurman held a boot in front of me. “Like this.”

“That’s fine. I’ll try it.”

He hooked it on while giving instructions on how to get it off and on. “Would you like to try crutches with this?”

“No way. No crutches.” Visions came of all the dancing I’d planned to do during this trip. Crutches did not fit into that picture. And my mood excluded wanting to dance.

“I’ll help her get started,” Gil said.

“Doc,” I said, clasping his hand, “my friend Jonathan Mill died on this ship.” My peripheral vision let me see Gil giving me a double take, certainly wondering if the man truly had been my friend. “I need to know what caused his death.”

“I need to know that, too.” Gil’s uncle supported my arm and walked me to the door. “I hope to have an autopsy report soon.”

“Then you really aren’t sure?”

Lips tight, he shook his head, looking so much like Gil. “No answers yet. Let me know if you need anything else. And be careful. Gil, you’re going to help support her?”

“I sure will. Thanks for everything.” They shook hands, and Gil gripped my arm as I hobbled through the outer office. The boot felt like a weight strapped onto my ankle. It kept me from lifting my foot too high.

A prune-faced woman in a wheelchair wrinkled her nose at me. She had been sitting there with others since I entered and was probably angry because I’d managed to see the doctor before any of them. Also, Gil had been back there before, taking up a lot of time. Now he walked briskly out the door.

I would wait until we were alone to speak with him. I’d tell him all about Tommy and his family, and ask Gil what I could do. I surely needed to intervene, to help Tommy and his family get back together.

First, I should help Gil get his own difficulty off his mind.

We stepped into an empty elevator. “What’s troubling you?” I asked.

He kept a grip on my hand. “The Executive Chef is really hassling my chef. I butted heads with the man and I’m ready to pull all of our dishes off the menu and let him have what he wants in the kitchen.”

“The galley,” I reminded, though the look he gave me said he didn’t like being corrected at the moment. It was habit and not my fault. I owned a copyediting agency, and although managers ran my offices, I sometimes needed to correct their grammar. I didn’t always think or use correct grammar because some of it sounded too snobbish. But everyone needed to know what was right for our customers.

“I went and asked my uncle for his advice about dealing with Mr. Sandkeep,” Gil said. “He told me I should do whatever made me feel best. And that would be punching Chef Sandkeep.”

“You won’t do that. I’ll bet you don’t give up, either. That’s not your style.”

He let go of my hand. The elevator stopped, people stepped inside, and we ascended. I was not going to talk about my son in front of strangers. It would be hard enough talking about it to Gil. Or anyone. Mainly because Tommy’s changed relationship would mean he and I would probably lose all of those others in his family that for so many years we’d adored.

An ache burned in my chest like a smoldering volcano.

How long had my son been away from Ramona and little Tom and Kim?

I wanted my child so badly. Why had I walked away from him? I treasured Tommy and yearned to stay around him as long as I could.

Gil bent close to my ear. “What about that fellow Randy?”

The elevator stopped, and the door opened. No one got in. The door shut. We moved on.

It took that time for my mind to grasp who Randy was, at first considering he might be the blond giant with my son. “He was in our class in high school,” I said.

“Why would you women have only one guy with you?” His lips pressed into a tight line.

Gil was afraid Randy might be involved with me? At some other time, I might appreciate his jealousy. Occasionally men still did give me appreciative looks, but those were mainly antiquated ones needing thicker trifocals.

“I had no idea Randy was coming,” I said. “I just learned he invited himself.”

The passengers with us got off the elevator once it stopped. More people stepped on.

I didn’t know where we were going, but we moved again. My mind took in a troubling situation. “I’m afraid he might have come along because he learned Tetter was coming,” I said, voice low.

Gil’s forehead smoothed. The line of his mouth relaxed. He was pleased that Randy might be after some woman besides me.

“But that’s not a good thing,” I assured him. “Remember, they’re both married.”

“Right. But what can you do about it?”

“I can try to keep him away from her.” I didn’t notice my angry voice lifted until I spied the girl backed into the corner staring at me. I gave her a tight-mouthed smile. Her mother tugged her hand, making the child focus away from me.

“You can’t get involved in everyone’s relationships,” Gil said.

“Excuse me. This is not matchmaking. This is keeping families intact.”

“Which would work great in a perfect world filled with perfect people. But that isn’t what we have.”

“We certainly do not,” I snapped, my son’s family coming to mind. I fought the sting behind my eyes.

“Cealie…”

The elevator door dinged open. I stepped out. He tried to follow, but I raised my hand. “Don’t try to come with me. Go and break up every marriage on the ship. Who cares about happy families anymore?”

He remained on the elevator. Everyone else stepped out before the door closed. Adults glanced at me over their shoulders.

I stood in place and let my tears flow. Was I so concerned about my classmates? Or did the wet searing my cheeks stem from what my son had told me?

Buffing off tears, I realized I hadn’t even gotten to share that major concern with Gil, who normally supported me.

My ankle ached like a tooth yanked without anesthesia. My foot felt too high, shoving my hip up out of place. I wanted to help all of the other people who hurt, like Tetter’s and Randy’s and Tommy’s families, but wasn’t sure what I could do.

“Can I help you?” a young woman asked. She was dressed in ship colors with a nametag that said Lily.

“I wish you could.” I shook my head.

“Come on. We’ll do what we can. Do you want to go to your room?”

“Yes,” I said and gave her the number.

She gripped my hand and led me in turtle-slow steps. The pleasant scent of almond vanilla permeated the air.

A few feet to our left, I spied a small waterfall mounted on bamboo-papered wallpaper. “What is that?” I asked.

“Oh, that’s the spa. Maybe you’ll want to use some of its services once you’re feeling better.”

“Please take me there now.” Pulse speeding, I figured I should be able to solve at least one mystery. I could discover whether my aunt had truly been in there during the time Jonathan Mill died. I hoped she was,.