J.A. Jance's Ali Reynolds Mysteries 3-Book Boxed Set, Volume 2: Trial by Fire, Fatal Error, Left for Dead (22 page)

“Of course,” Sister Anselm said. “I think things are under control for tonight.”

“You’ll call if you need me?”

“Absolutely.”

By then Ali’s phone had stopped ringing, so she punched Redial. “Sorry I couldn’t answer before. I’m leaving the hospital right now. Where are you?”

“At the apartment,” Athena said. “Just off Apache in Tempe.”

It sounded like Athena was sniffling. June in Phoenix was hardly the time to come down with a cold or sinus infection. Ali wondered if she had been crying.

“What about grabbing something to eat? I’m starving,” Ali said. “Do you want to meet me somewhere?”

“Not really,” Athena said. “I’d rather you came here.”

Ali’s gut gave an ominous twist. Athena Reynolds was boundlessly enthusiastic, and always ready for whatever. This didn’t sound like her.

“Tell you what,” Ali said. “I’ll pick up something on the way. Give me your address so I can program it into the GPS.”

On her way down to the hospital lobby, Ali called her hotel, spoke to room service, and asked them to box up some food—fries and two burgers—that she could take with her. At the hotel, she left the car in the driveway and hurried upstairs to shed the red wig.

Ali knew instinctively that whatever was going on between Athena and Chris needed to be handled by Ali Reynolds rather than Cecelia McCann.

The Desert Dunes apartment complex had little to recommend it other than its proximity to the ASU campus. It was a grim-looking three-story place built around a courtyard with a few scraggly palm trees for landscaping. It looked as though the courtyard might once have included a pool. That was gone, filled in and covered over by a tiny basketball court where no one was shooting hoops through baskets missing their nets.

Ali followed Athena’s directions up two flights of stairs and down a long breezeway—a breezeway with no breeze on this hot summer night. The doorbell outside apartment 310 was covered with a three-by-five card reading
Out of Order,
so Ali knocked on the metal hollow-core door. Seconds later, Athena flung the door open.

Ali could tell at a glance that her earlier assumption was correct. Athena had been crying.

“I come bearing food,” Ali said, presenting Athena with the room-service burgers.

“Come in,” Athena said. With a notable lack of enthusiasm she took the bag and ushered Ali into the room. “It’s not much, but it’s cheap, and we’re only here for summer session.”

Surprisingly enough, the apartment was nicer inside than Ali would have expected. Someone—maybe an assistant professor rather than a grad student—had gone to the trouble of assembling a collection of good-quality secondhand furniture. Nothing matched, but the chairs covered with faded chintz were comfortable, and the end tables and bookshelves were sturdy if old-fashioned. The artwork on the walls was anything but old-fashioned. The unframed canvases provided explosions of splashy color on the otherwise landlord-bland taupe interior.

“Art student?” Ali asked.

Athena nodded on her way toward the galley kitchen. While Athena busied herself with setting out plates and glassware on the fifties-era Formica tabletop, Ali forced herself to take a seat and keep her mouth shut. She was dying to ask what the problem was, but she knew she needed to let Athena tell her at her own speed.

“I’m pregnant,” Athena said bluntly, once they were seated.

I’m pregnant,
Ali noted.
Not
we’re
pregnant.

Still, of all the news Athena might have given her, news of an expected grandchild was something Ali welcomed wholeheartedly.

“That’s wonderful,” she said. “I’m thrilled. What does Chris think?”

“I haven’t exactly told him,” Athena admitted.

“Why not?” Ali asked. “It’s his baby, too.”

“We didn’t plan on getting pregnant,” Athena said. “At least not so soon. Actually, I didn’t expect to get pregnant at all, but I got careless. I forgot a couple of pills. Now this has happened, and I don’t know what to do.”

Ali was mystified. Surely Athena wasn’t thinking about having an abortion.

“You’re married,” Ali said quietly. “You and Chris love each other. You tell him you’re pregnant, and the two of you deal with it together. What’s so hard about that?”

“My father never wanted me to join the military,” Athena said.

This seemed like changing the subject, but Ali suspected it wasn’t. “So?”

“And when I got hurt, he said I’d wrecked his chances of being a grandfather. That since I was a cripple, even if I had a baby, how would I take care of one with this?”

Athena held up her prosthetic arm and hand and stared at them as though she’d never seen them before. Ali understood that there must be a lot more to the story than what she’d heard so far. For one thing, Athena’s parents hadn’t come to the wedding. As far as Ali knew they had been invited but had declined to attend.

“Your father called you that?” Ali asked. “A cripple? Sounds like he doesn’t know you very well. It sounds to me as though he’s the one who’s decided to take a pass on the grandfather bit.”

“What if he’s right?” Athena murmured. “Maybe I
am
a cripple. How do I hold a baby with this? How do I change one?”

“Wait a minute,” Ali said. “You’re tough enough to go to war in Iraq, tough enough to almost die from an IED, tough enough to live through Walter Reed and do all the rehab, and you’re
tough enough to spend all day, every day teaching high school kids. You expect me to believe that you’re scared of changing a baby?”

“Not just changing it,” Athena said. “Feeding it, bathing it. I just keep thinking of all the things mothers do—all the things mothers have to do. What if I can’t do them? What if my child grows up thinking his mother’s a freak?”

“But you
are
a freak,” Ali said with a reassuring smile. “You play basketball, and you’re evidently very good at it, even one-handed.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Athena said.

“Kids always think their parents are freaks,” Ali said. “For instance, Chris thought I was a freak because I was on TV. As far as he knew, none of the other mothers did that.”

Athena, staring at her untouched hamburger, said nothing.

“Is this why you called off the trip to Minnesota?” Ali asked.

“Yes,” Athena said. “I told Chris I’m not ready to deal with my parents yet, and it’s true. I’m not.”

“Look,” Ali said. “I get it that you don’t have perfect parents. Nobody has perfect parents, but I can tell you from personal experience that throwing a grandchild into the mix can help resolve a lot of old, lingering problems. Look what happened with me and Chris’s other grandparents at the wedding. As I recall, you’re the one who made that happen.”

“Yes, but . . .”

“But what?”

“Those were Chris’s relatives, not mine, so it wasn’t as big a deal for me. My parents are a big deal. Besides, what if they’re right, and I’m not cut out to be a mother?”

“Because of your missing hand and leg,” Ali asked, “or is it for some other reason that you’re not mentioning?”

Again Athena said nothing. For almost a minute she and Ali sat in silence at the table while their untouched hamburgers turned stone cold.

“Look,” Ali said finally. “I can tell you there hasn’t ever been a woman who found out she was pregnant who didn’t worry about being up to the task, but Athena, I happen to know
you
are. You and Chris together will be great parents. If he somehow thinks he’s got a pass from changing poopy diapers, then I’ll be happy to set him straight. And if I can’t make a believer of him, my parents will.”

“You think it will be all right then?” Athena asked uncertainly.

“It’ll be more than all right,” Ali said. “It’s going to be wonderful. Yes, I know bringing home a new little baby and having its health and well-being entirely on your shoulders is scary. Tiny babies and grown ones, too, require a lot of care, but you’ll grow into the job as the baby grows. So will Chris.”

“Even with this?” Again, Athena held up her prosthetic hand.

Ali had always been impressed by Athena’s determination to never let her missing limbs keep her from doing anything she wanted to do. Yet the daunting prospect of caring for a baby seemed to be more than she could handle. Ali was touched that Athena had come to her looking for reassurance.

“Until the baby is born,” Ali went on, “yours is the voice that child will hear and know—your heartbeat, your breathing. Kids are adaptable. They love the people who love them. They love what’s familiar. Someday this child may notice that other kids’ mothers have two arms, but as far as this little kid is concerned—as far as
your
little kid is concerned—mothers with two arms will be the odd ones out.”

“So you think I should call Chris?” Athena asked.

“Over the telephone? Of course not. You don’t have classes in the morning, and if you leave now, you can be home in two hours. Go home and tell Chris this wonderful news. Celebrate this miracle in person and together.”

“You’re sure?” Athena asked.

Ali laughed aloud. “Yes, I’m sure. And once Chris knows, you’d better be sure everyone else knows as well—my parents; Chris’s other grandparents; your grandmother; and, yes, your parents, too. Uncancel that airline cancellation, Athena,” Ali advised. “Go to Minnesota after all, sooner rather than later. Who knows? Maybe your father will change his stripes and stop being such a jackass.”

For the first time, Athena smiled. “I doubt that,” she said.

“Try it,” Ali said. “He might just surprise you.”

Upon returning to the hotel, Ali fell into bed. The idea of being a grandmother thrilled her. The only thing that saddened her was that Dean hadn’t lived to see the arrival of this new person and to watch him or her grow into adulthood.

Ali was glad it was far too late to call her parents. Otherwise she might have been tempted, but this was Chris and Athena’s news to deliver, and they were the ones who needed to do the telling.

Ali fell asleep almost instantly. When she woke up at six-thirty the next morning, she bounded out of bed with a happy heart. Yes, she had to go to the hospital, where people were dealing with life-and-death matters, but for right now, Ali’s cup was brimming.

Not so her suitcase. The other clothing Leland had packed for her was more formal than the jogging suit, and she knew it wouldn’t blend into the burn-unit waiting room background. Instead, Ali did a rerun of the pink jogging suit, topped off with her wig. Once dressed, she hurried down to the lobby to grab a
cup of coffee. The temperature outside at this hour was surprisingly pleasant—cool enough that she decided to leave the car where it was and walk to the hospital.

On the eighth floor, Ali found the waiting room area relatively quiet, and there were only two people in the waiting room. James’s father was dozing in a chair. That most likely meant that his former wife was in the room with their son. The only other occupant was one of the teenagers, who had moved from the middle of the room to one of the chairs, which were now back in their original positions.

There was an attendant at the nurses’ station. “Is Sister Anselm here?” Ali asked.

“Yes,” the woman said, “but she’s currently unavailable. If you’ll take a seat . . .”

Ali did so. A few moments later the teenager rose to his feet, yawned, and stretched his lanky frame. “Is that lady in room eight fourteen a friend of yours?” he asked.

The kid was lean and tough and looked to be seventeen or eighteen years old. If Ali had met him on a dark street, she might have been worried, but since he had clearly spent the whole night in the waiting room, she couldn’t help being impressed by his apparent loyalty to his injured friend.

“Sort of,” Ali replied. “I know her.”

“Her son got here a little while ago,” the young man volunteered. “He drove over from California last night, and her daughter is here now, too. They just went downstairs to get some breakfast.”

Ali appreciated knowing that tidbit. “Thanks for the info,” she said. “What about her husband?”

The young man nodded. “He’s still in the room, along with that nun. He’s been in there off and on most of the night. The
doctors came through on rounds a little while ago. Nobody else has been allowed inside.”

The nurse had said Sister Anselm wasn’t taking calls, but maybe texting was all right. Ali opened her phone and sent a message.

I’m back. Outside. In the w8ing rm.

Ali’s phone rang before there was any chance of a text response. “Are you still down in Phoenix?” Edie Larson wanted to know.

“Yes, I am.”

“I have some good news,” Edie announced. Ali glanced at her watch. This was the time of day when her mother often made phone calls, after the Sugarloaf’s baking was done and before the breakfast crowd descended.

Chris and Athena must have called her after all,
Ali thought.

“I wanted to tell you about this yesterday,” Edie continued, “but I didn’t have a chance. You’ll never guess who came in for lunch yesterday.”

“You’re right, Mom,” Ali agreed. “I have no idea.”