Inevitable Sentences (8 page)

Celeste released Adrian. “Would you rather I not go to town?”

“No,” Adrian answered. “I’m being silly. We need those supplies. With the storm approaching, there’s no telling when we’ll be able to get back into Marquette.”

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” Celeste pressed. She really wasn’t sure herself whether leaving at the moment was a good idea.

“Yes. The sheriff’s car will be here in no time.” Adrian looked toward the window.

“I’ll wait until it does. The sheriff said he’d have the deputy pull into the driveway to let us know he’s here.”

Adrian poured soap into the sink and ran hot water, preparing to attack the breakfast dishes. “Cleaning always takes my mind off my problems.”

Adrian washed and Celeste wiped. They performed the tasks in silence. Nearly half an hour later, they heard a horn sound in the driveway. Celeste checked. “It’s the deputy.” She waved and he drove away.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay if I go?” Celeste asked one more time. Perhaps she needed to be reassured more than Adrian.

“Yes. My only problem will be stopping me from slapping Lorraine upside the head.” She smiled.

“I know she can be difficult.” Celeste sighed. “Today she has an excuse, though. She’s frightened.” The two women stood facing each other for several seconds.

“Well. I’d better get on the road before the weather gets too bad.” Celeste put on her boots, parka, hat, and gloves. “I always feel like I’m getting dressed for an expedition to the North Pole.” She laughed softly to lighten the moment.

“I agree. Too bad we have to face months of this yet.” Adrian returned a weak laugh.

Celeste grabbed her purse and car keys. “If you have any concerns, call the sheriff immediately. I’ll be back soon.”

“Be safe,” Adrian called out to Celeste as she got into her car.

C
ELESTE SWEPT INTO
M
AX’S
hospital room shortly after lunch, stomping her feet to get them warm. She took off her gloves and bright red down-filled winter coat and flung them onto a chair. The whirl of chilled air she created made its way to Max.

“Brr. Cold outside?” he asked in an almost mocking tone as he shook himself to emphasize the question.

“You can be smug in your warm room, tucked into a cozy bed.” Celeste knew all too well he’d rather be outside in the nasty weather than in this institution, as he had called the hospital with a great deal of disdain in his tone.

“That coat should keep you toasty until I get out of this place.” He pointed to the mound of red piled on the chair.

Celeste laughed. “It is a lot of coat, isn’t it? I’d rather have you, though, than the down to cuddle with for warmth.”

Max’s expression became more serious. “What took you so long to get here? I expected you earlier this morning.”

“The roads are still nasty. Although the county trucks are salting, the wind keeps the ice from melting and blows the snow back over the roads. It’s a hopeless job.” Celeste vigorously rubbed her arms. “Walking across the parking lot chilled me to the bone. And the weather report predicts there’s a worse storm brewing for Sunday. That only gives me a couple days to stock up and get prepared.”

“Maybe I am glad to be here and out of that misery,” Max said. His eyes misted and filled with longing. “That’s not true. I miss you and I want to be at the lighthouse in case you need help.”

Celeste bent to kiss his forehead. “I miss you, too.” She kissed his mouth and clasped his untethered hand in hers. “Besides, who’s going to shovel the walks at the lighthouse?” She tried not to focus on the IV bag steadily dripping liquids through a tube and into his arm. It was bad enough to hear the monitors beeping a constant reminder of how serious Max’s condition was. On her first visit, the whole scene had taken her breath away. Today she realized the room was more quiet than usual.

“Hey,” she said cheerfully, trying to distract herself. “The wires have been removed.”

“Yep. I’m far more handsome without them, don’t you think?” His eyes twinkled. “You want to kiss my incision and make it better?”

“Oh, Max.” Celeste’s eyes glistened and she smiled. “You are always handsome to me. I have to admit, though, I like the wires gone and would have been happier without your chest having been opened up.” She wanted to brush her hand over the scar to make the soreness go away, but decided against it. She didn’t want to draw any more attention to Max’s circumstances. She’d rather spend their time in a happier conversation.

“Ah, well, the worst is over.” The twinkle disappeared and Max’s expression turned serious again. “Back to storms.” He sounded concerned. “Is that generator running?”

“Barely.” Celeste gently laid his hand down so she could pull the chair closer to the bed, then slid into it with the elegance of someone about to be served tea. “Doug will be by on Monday to prep it for the winter. He’s out of town until then. If we get any snow to speak of, it will take a lot of shoveling to get to the outbuilding where it’s stored anyway.” She paused before she said, “I think he’s smitten with Adrian, but I don’t think she’s ready for a relationship.” She could nearly picture the thirty-year-old, shy, gentle, and gangly farm boy with Adrian.

“Adrian, eh?” Max reached for Celeste’s hand this time. “I’ve seen a slight glimmer in her eye when he’s around. Doug’s a decent person and a good handyman. You’re lucky you’ve found him. Adrian is, too.” He paused. “You know, you also have a houseful of women and children who can handle the shoveling if needed. Have them make a game of it.”

“Still.” Celeste sighed. “I wish you could be with me.” She lowered her head and stared at their entwined hands.

“Soon.” Max raised Celeste’s hand and kissed it. He studied her.

Celeste took note of his concentration. Max always made good eye contact. She could never hide from it. He had once told her he had learned it was a certain way to gauge an inmate. If the prisoner kept eye contact, he had nothing to hide, and he could be trusted. She knew there was no way to hide from Max how worried she was.

“Celeste, dear, is there something troubling you?”

She lifted her eyes to him. “Why? Besides all those machines you were hooked up to?”

“No. You didn’t only bring in the frigid air. There seems to be a cloud hovering over your head, like that kid in the Peanuts cartoon.”

“Pig Pen,” Celeste said.

“Yes. Pig Pen.” Max waited for a response.

Celeste said nothing.

Max’s mouth tightened and formed a shape that wasn’t quite a smile or a frown. “I want to see the usual cheery and bright-eyed gal I’m used to. What’s put you in such a gloomy mood—besides the weather, and my condition?” He waved his free hand around the room. “And, of course, my absence at the lighthouse?”

Celeste couldn’t answer. She didn’t want to worry Max when he needed to rest and get well. He had enough to deal with at the moment without her adding to his problems. Her heart ached at how pale he was. She was used to seeing a robust, tanned Max. She wanted that man back, and soon.

“How are all the women and children?”

Celeste wasn’t fooled. Max was fishing for a clue to what might be troubling her. “They’re scared of every sound—the wind, the trees rustling in the forest, any creak in the house. I would be, too, if I had been through what they have.” Celeste removed her hand from his, stood, and walked to the window.

She wiped the pane trying to free it from the icy glaze but without success. She thought about how the sun tried to rise to its fullness that morning and the way the mounds of clouds the color of charcoal had pressed their heaviness into the gold ball, holding it flat against the horizon until it spread into a thin line so red it looked like wet paint. Then it disappeared entirely into the thick, bleak sky. She’d have to be satisfied with only a hint of sun each day until spring.

Celeste turned to Max, his face lined with worry. Had she made him feel anxious? “I’m not sure I’ve done the right thing.” Celeste gave in to his inquiry and shook her head.

“How’s that?” Max’s voice was hardly a whisper.

“I’ve promised those women a safe haven.” She sighed and quietly continued, “I’m not sure I can do that—at least not without you.” Her tone was filled with doubt. “I really did it for Pilar.” She wouldn’t tell him about the odd feeling she’d had for the past couple of days, that something bad was about to happen. She also wouldn’t tell him about the package. “Perhaps I was being selfish thinking a safe house would fix my own pain and guilt.”

“Selfish? You’ve already given many women and children hope, Celeste.” Max tried to push himself up to a sitting position using his free hand. “In fact, you’ve helped four women resettle, get good jobs, and start a safe, happy life.” He strained to reach a stack of handmade get-well cards the children had made for him. He picked them up and handed them to Celeste. “Not one of these shows the fear those kids displayed when they first got to the lighthouse. And they certainly aren’t the horror pictures they drew for Priscilla in her first few sessions with them. That has to mean something.”

Celeste shuffled through the cards filled with crude drawings of the lighthouse, birds, flowers, and smiling faces. A faint smile crossed her lips. They were a far cry from the ones she had seen before—the worst was one a girl had drawn, showing her mother with a knife in her chest and blood dripping from the wound.

Celeste shuddered. She laid the cards down and her smile faded. “But”—she placed a hand over her lips and squeezed her eyes closed for a moment before continuing—“what if one of their abusers finds them? How would I ever protect them? I’ve been lucky up to now.” She decided not to tell Max about Tomika and her baby. She’d let him know the whole story when she picked him up on Monday. He’d only be more concerned for Celeste’s added burden in his absence. She’d had to withhold too many things from Max—at least until he was healthier.

“The lighthouse is so remote it would be difficult for anyone from outside the area to find it. And you have the escape plan in place—the van in the woods.” Max struggled to get the words out, and laid back down, knocking a pillow to the floor. “You’ve even run those drills with the women.”

“Yes. You’re right, of course.” Celeste smiled. The children thought sneaking out to the van was a great game. “Joan and Ned at the Thunder Bay Inn are also part of the plan. They’ve promised to give the women and children refuge if it is needed. They have become such good friends.”

“Umm. They are good people,” Max said and drifted into his own thoughts. “Celeste, I need to tell you something important.”

Celeste finally noticed that Max had foolishly tried to sit up. She hustled to his side, picked up the pillow, and rearranged it with the others—soothingly patting them into place behind his shoulders and head. She seemed not to hear what he had said.

“Don’t you try to do anything sooner than you’re supposed to. I need you, but only when you can handle it.” She felt sad that she’d alarmed Max and hoped he didn’t try to get out of the hospital sooner than his condition allowed. “Having coronary stents implanted may have been simple, but given your heart problems, the heart valve replacement requires a cautious recovery.” She stood and placed her hands on her hips to make sure he understood her clearly.

“Yes, Nurse Brookstone,” Max sighed. He carefully chose not to call Celeste Doctor. The title would only remind her of Pilar. “I love how you care about me.” He reached up to her. “However, you forget I’ve been through a valve replacement before. Let’s hope the doc got it right this time.” He chuckled.

Celeste leaned over to give him a hug and a quick kiss. “What important thing did you want to tell me?”

He hesitated. “I don’t even remember.” He breathed in deeply. “You smell like ice and citrus.”

“Oh!” Celeste straightened and brushed the front of her sweater. “Lorraine’s two-year-old spilled orange juice on my blouse right before I left this morning. I didn’t have time to fetch another shirt.” She shrugged. “I threw this sweater on to cover the stain. It doesn’t help the smell, I’m afraid.” She tugged the purple wool cardigan over her narrow hips and patted her bouncy hair. “It’s not quite the Gross Pointe image, is it?”

“I like it better,” Max said tenderly. He quickly followed that with, “Not that I didn’t fall in love with you the first time I saw you. I guess whatever image you feel comfortable with suits me.”

Celeste suddenly recalled walking through the prison gates to meet Chad Wilbanks. It was the same day she had met Max. “You’re such a dear to say that.” Celeste’s eyes teared up. From what? Was it his affection or the bleak memory of her daughter’s death and her unnerving visit with Chad? Or maybe it was that premonition hovering in the back of her mind. Or the package.

“I’m still amazed you gave up Gross Pointe for the wilderness of the Upper Peninsula. I’m so glad you did, because you’ve sure made me happy.”

Celeste lifted the picture of herself that Max kept at his bedside. “I was never cut out to be a socialite. Neither was Pilar. I think both of us would have been happier living in the lighthouse, or anywhere up here, than we ever were in the Gross Pointe house. Plus, hobnobbing at the Club was superficial.”

“Certainly not like the nightlife in Marquette.” Max laughed.

“No. Thank goodness.” Celeste paused. “I enjoy the laid-back attitude up here.” She placed a hand on her cheek and for a few moments thought about her life. “More than that, though,” she said, “it is difficult to have lost my only child. If I stayed downstate I would have had to pass the area where her body was found. That is too much for me to stomach.” She finished in a low, quiet voice. “The only thing I regret about my move is that I can’t visit Pilar’s grave as often as I’d like. I often feel as though I’ve abandoned her.”

Celeste hesitated again. She didn’t want to be so somber. And she certainly didn’t want to think about her past life in Lower Michigan. It was too painful. She changed the subject. “And you, Mister Whitefeather, my handsome warrior”—Celeste placed a hand on each side of his face—“will make me happy once you whip this heart thing and move into the lighthouse.” Celeste straightened suddenly and stared at Max. Where had that come from? She had made an offer she hadn’t really decided on. She was too scared to make such a commitment again. Too late. The words had tumbled, uncontrolled, out of her mouth.