Lacy's End (22 page)

“Go home,” Angela persisted. “I don’t want to have you arrested, but I will.”

He banged again. The door vibrated, threatening to give way. Angela snapped her fingers at the phone. Lacy jumped from her chair and ran to pick it up. She carried it to Angela, thrusting it into her hand.

Angela dialed 9-1-1.

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

“This is Angela Martin. I’m the social worker assigned guardianship over Lacy Waldrip. The judge issued a restraining order against Sheriff Waldrip, and he’s here trying to break down my door.”

“I’ll send an officer right out.”

The 9-1-1 dispatcher recited Angela’s address, which Angela affirmed before hanging up.

The banging continued.

“I’ve called the police, Sheriff.”

He laughed and banged harder. “I am the police, you stupid-ass cunt.”

“Despite what you think, Sheriff, you can’t make your own laws, and you can’t keep using your family as punching bags. And calling me names isn’t going to make things any better.”

He laughed. “Aw, what’s the matter with wittle Angie? Did I hurt your feelings?” He smacked the door so loudly that Angela jumped. “I want my wife. Send her out, or I swear I’ll break down this goddamned door.”

“She isn’t even here.”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know.”

“Like hell you don’t.”

“Sheriff Waldrip. You need to leave. Your wife isn’t here.”

“Send my daughter out.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

The banging stopped, and he grew silent. Angela looked at Lacy and shrugged.

“Maybe he left,” Lacy whispered.

They heard murmured voices, and then a knock. “It’s Officer Renton, Ms. Martin. Will you please open the door?”

She hesitated for a moment, then turned the deadbolt and slowly opened the door, peering out from behind it, half expecting the sheriff to coming rushing through. When it became apparent that he wouldn’t, she opened it the rest of the way.

Lacy looked at her father, standing on the doorstep, trembling with anger, and her heart began to race. Torn by emotion, she didn’t know whether to fear him or pity him. “Daddy, please don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

He glared at her. Although he had sobered, for the most part, his eyes still held that glassy stare of a drunk. “Just go away, Daddy,” she whispered.

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m taking the sheriff with me,” Charlie said. “We’ll let him cool off down at the station for a while, and then go from there.”

“I don’t care where you take him as long as it’s away from here.”

Charlie nodded. “Come on, Sheriff.”

Charlie led him away. To Angela’s surprise, he went willingly. As he rounded the corner of the building, though, he turned and looked at Angela—his glare icy-cold and threatening.

Lacy collapsed on the couch. Angela closed and bolted the door, and then she sat down next to her. She picked up her hand and squeezed it. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “My heart’s still a little jumpy.” She looked seriously at her. “This is nothing new to me. I have walked on eggshells for most of my life. Believe it or not, I’ve seen my father much angrier than this.” She lowered her voice. “I’ve felt his anger even more.”

Angela touched her back. “I’m sorry, Lacy. I wish I could have helped sooner.”

“It’s not your fault, but I appreciate the sentiment.” Tears welled up. “You know what I mean?”

Angela brightened. “Do you want to catch a movie?”

Lacy shook her head. “I’m late for my shift.”

“Call in. I’ll vouch for you. You need a little fun.”

“I need a little money,” Lacy said. She waved her arm around the apartment. “This is all really nice of you, but Mom and I can’t stay here forever. If we’re going to get our own place, we’re going to need money.”

Angela slumped her shoulders, cocked her head sideways while she frowned. “Lacy, you’re a kid, act like one. You should be out having fun. Don’t you ever go out with friends?”

She shook her head, shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “I don’t have friends. Besides Jake, that is.”

“When do I get to meet Jake?”

“He’s shy.”

Angela raised her eyebrows. “He’ll get past it. Invite him to dinner.”

“I’ll ask. Now, I really have to get going.” She softened at the hurt look on Angela’s face and then rolled her eyes. “I’ll ask Jake, and I’ll take a rain check on the movie.” She smiled sweetly, begging for Angela’s understanding.

Angela sighed. “Oh, all right. I’m going to drive you to work.”

Lacy didn’t protest. She knew it was pointless. Besides, with her father so angry, she didn’t want to run the risk of him following her. She grabbed her bag, and they dashed out the door.

Angela pulled up to the curb in front of the diner. “What time do you get off?”

“Nine.”

“Okay. I’ll be here then.”

Lacy opened her mouth to protest but shut it at the last minute. Instead, she nodded agreement. She started to shut the door when Angela shouted, “Hey!”

She leaned in. “What?”

“I’m going grocery shopping—any special requests?”

Lacy grinned. “Can I have anything I want?”

“As long as it’s in one of the four basic food groups.”

She spoke quickly, “Mint chocolate chip ice cream. It’s in the dairy group.” She slammed the door and jogged into the diner before Angela could contradict her. Angela chuckled as she pulled away from the curb.

The diner was busy, making Lacy feel guilty for being late. She grabbed an apron and began tying it around her waist. She spoke to her boss through the cutout window over the grill. “Sorry, I’m late, Ray.”

“Problems with your dad?”

No one could ask for a nicer boss to work for than Ray. He knew something of Lacy’s home problems—it was, after all, difficult to hide a face full of bruises. He was always tolerant of Lacy’s frequent tardiness, knowing that she always was willing to stay late if he needed her to.

“Yeah, but it’s under control.”

He knew better than to push her. She shared very little of her life with others. If she felt like talking, she knew where to find him. He placed an order on the counter. “This order’s for your friend Millie and her friends.”

Lacy followed his gaze and groaned. She looked around, incredibly disappointed they hadn’t all disappeared in the last five seconds, and hoping Sue would take the table for her.

Ray shook his head. “Sue called in sick. It’s just you, kiddo.”

She nodded and sighed as she picked up the order and carried it to the table. She placed the food down in front of Millie. “Hi, Millie,” she said.

Millie smiled as if there were no strings of tension between them. “Oh hey, Lacy, there you are. I’ve been waiting for you. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.” She stood and gave Lacy a cursory hug. She turned back toward her friends. “Do you know Alex and Brittney?”

They scowled at her and gave her a somewhat audible, “Hey,” then snickered to each other.

Millie blushed.

“I have to get back to work,” Lacy said.

Millie looked relieved, but as Lacy walked away, she saw her scolding her friends.

Tears pooled in her eyes and she wiped them away—no time for self-pity. The strangest thing was she couldn’t even remember when she and Millie had split.

“I’ll be right back,” she called to Ray. “I need to get ketchup from the store room.”

He nodded, whistled a tune as he flipped some burgers. How she wished she could be as carefree as he was. She thought back to earlier. She had been having fun with Angela, until her father had come along and spoiled it. She had even liked the idea of going to the movies with her.

In the storeroom, she located the box of ketchup. It hadn’t been opened yet, so she took out her pocketknife, snapped open the blade, and slid it under one of the flaps. As the blade slid along the surface, it slipped and nicked her finger. She cried out in pain, and then sat on one of the boxes, wrapped her apron around the digit to catch the blood, and cried. It really hadn’t hurt that much, but her wounded pride had made her vulnerable.

“Here, let me have a look.”

She let Jake take her finger in his hand. He examined it. “Barely a scratch,” he reported.

She leaned against him, taking her finger back. “You make it all better, Jake.”

“You shouldn’t let her get to you so much.”

“It’s not that. I don’t blame her for finding new friends. Who wants to be friends with a big loser?”

“You are not a loser.”

She sighed. “I’m glad you came.”

“You seemed like you needed a friend.”

“It doesn’t seem like it’s getting any easier.”

“Any more thoughts of flying from the cliff?” She sat silent. Jake prodded her with his elbow. “Well?”

“I dream of it.”

“I see. What happens in your dream?”

“It’s just like that day out on the cliff, only in my dream I actually jump. I’m falling, and a big wind catches me. I spread my arms wide and I’m flying like Peter Pan, but I go up, and it’s so beautiful I can’t wait to see where I’m going.”

“It sounds nice.”

“Yeah,” she said.

She sat up, held up the ketchup. “Well, I guess I’d better get this back out there. Ray will be wondering where I ran off to. Will you wait for me here?”

He shook his head. “I’ll be around if you need me.”

She smiled at him and carried the can of ketchup to the front counter. Mille and her friends were standing at the register, ready to pay for their meals. Millie pretended that she couldn’t tell Lacy had been crying. “So…I’ll see you at school tomorrow?” she asked.

“Most likely,” Lacy said. She tried to smile as a good sport should, but it was difficult.

They walked out the door without a backward glance.

Lacy stared after them until Ray put his arm around her shoulder. “They aren’t worth a second thought.”

She smiled at him. “I can’t believe she’d dump me like that after we’ve been friends for so many years.”

“I never liked her,” Ray said, trying to pacify her.

“It’s okay, Ray. You can still like her. She’s not that bad.”

“Okay good,” he said, chuckling, “because I don’t like to hate anyone.” He leaned close to her. “But just for the record, she doesn’t even come to close to having the class you do.”

She grinned. They stood there a few moments, his arm still draped over her shoulder, until it felt awkward, and he withdrew it. Then he walked away without another word. She heard him a few moments later in the kitchen cleaning one of the grills. Business slowed down that time of night, and only the one grill was needed.

She spotted Jake in the corner watching the street traffic. She felt a sudden urge to offer him something, but she was afraid. She didn’t want to know who or what Jake was. If she validated his presence, would he go away? She was afraid of the answer, so she ignored him the rest of the evening. His continued presence in her life was a testament to her pain.

Brenda gazed at the front of the house that bore the address written on the back of Allen’s card. “This can’t be right. He must have written it down wrong.” She glanced around, hoping to see a neighbor out so she could ask if anyone knew where Dr. Petoro lived, but the street was vacant. She supposed she could knock on a door, but she felt too shy to do that.

Spurred by a sudden inspiration, she walked to the mailbox, hoping to find a name printed on it. To her dismay, there wasn’t. Glancing around again, hoping this time nobody was watching, she pulled open the mailbox and took out the stack of letters sitting inside. Written on each envelope was the name Dr. Allen Petoro. She sighed with relief. “It’s the right place.”

She climbed the ten steps that began at the sidewalk and led to a walkway that ended in front of a massive, ornate door. She marveled at the sight of the lovely garden as she walked up the path. Hanging on hooks from beams near the front door were baskets of lavender. She inhaled, savoring the sweet scent. Rose bushes flourished in large pots scattered around the porch, adding their perfume to the heady mix.

She rang the bell, which triggered a melody of classical music. She waited, but no one came. She was just about to ring again when the door opened. Allen stood before her, freshly showered and wearing jeans and a polo shirt. “You came,” he said.

She smiled timidly. “I almost didn’t, and then I thought you weren’t home, so I was going to turn away—but then you answered the door.”

“Sorry about that. I was out back playing with the dog.”

“You have a dog?”

He whistled and a golden retriever came bounding in, rounding the corner and slipping on the marble tile.

“Whoa, boy,” he said, laughing as the dog came to a skidding halt before him. “This is Barney.”

He wagged his tail and Brenda bent to pet him. “Hello, Barney,” she said.

Barney responded by licking her across the face.

“Barney, no,” Allen remonstrated. Chastened, the dog bowed his head and plunked his butt on the floor.

She smiled down at the dog. “It’s okay. I don’t mind. I like dogs.”

“All the same, it’s bad manners.” He bent his head and narrowed his eyes at the dog—a visual scold. Barney whimpered. Allen kept staring, but he spoke to Brenda. “He’s still young, but he’s catching on. Now, let’s try again, Barney. How do we greet the nice lady?”

Barney stood, faced Brenda, sat his butt down again, and picked up one paw. He waved it at Brenda.

She laughed in delight.

“Go ahead. Shake it.”

She reached out and grasped the dog's paw. He raised the other one and placed it gently over her hand. Then he touched his mouth to the back of her hand as if he were a Prince Charming kissing the hand of a princess. She giggled and made a graceful curtsy.

Allen chuckled joyously. “He needs a cookie now.”

At the mention of the cookie, the dog started to bark and do a tap dance.

“May I give it to him? Then I’ll be his friend.”

He led the way to the laundry room. “I keep them out here, that way he doesn’t drool all over my kitchen floor.” He chuckled. “Nothing worse than stepping in the dog drool with bare feet.”

She laughed.

When they entered the laundry room, her heart skipped a beat. “This is your laundry room?” The room was the size of her kitchen. The floor was tiled, and the walls were painted a sunny yellow with photographs of washing machines as they evolved throughout the years. A drying rack stood against the wall, but nothing was on it. The washing machine and matching dryer were state-of-the-art, very high-end. They were the kind of machines of which Brenda could only have dreamed. “Do you do your own laundry?” she asked, jealous over such modern equipment.

“I have a girl who comes once a week and does it.”

“Let me guess, one of your rescue cases.”

He smiled. “Of course.”

He removed a box of dog biscuits from a cabinet, and she fed a couple to Barney.

“Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

They started with the den because it was closest to the laundry room. Inside were a wall-mounted, high-definition television set, a wine bar, two couches with two matching chairs, a pool table, and a large stereo. The room was paneled, and accented with sage throw pillows, rugs, and window dressings. An array of framed photographs of covered bridges hung on the wall. Allen pointed at them. “My grandparents took every one of them. They did a lot of traveling during the last decade of their lives.”

“They’re not around anymore?”

A deep sadness briefly touched his eyes. “They died on a trip ten years ago, a ten-car pileup on Interstate 40. They were coming back from a trip to the east coast.” He pointed at one of the photos. “That one there, I found it in their camera when I was going through their things. It’s the last bridge they saw.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “They died doing what they loved. I guess I can’t ask for more.” He moved on with the tour. The next stop was the living room. There was no television, only a stereo, couch, two matching chairs, a pair of end tables, and a coffee table in the room, which was illuminated by recessed ceiling lights. On three walls, there was a picture of three different major cities.

Brenda pointed at each one. “Bay Bridge in San Francisco, Eiffel Tower in Paris, and Sydney Opera House in Australia,” she said smugly.

He smiled, impressed. “Girl knows her geography.”

“I read a lot.”

“I do, too, which brings us to the next room.” He opened a door, reached for a light switch, and flooded the room with bright light. The room wasn’t large, but floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined each wall. Two very comfortable-looking chairs sat in the middle of the room, an end table with a two-headed lamp stood between them. The room was devoid of any other décor.

Her mouth gaped with awe. “This would be my favorite place in the entire house.” She caressed one of the bookcases with a stab of jealousy. She thought of the little two-shelved, Walmart-special bookcase in the corner of her bedroom, one small reading lamp next to it, sitting beside an old tattered chair.

“Borrow anything you like,” he said.

Next to the library was his office. It was a shambles. He blushed. “I don’t allow the housekeeper in here.”

She grinned. “Obviously.”

Books lay scattered upon a large desk—mostly medical journals from the looks of them. A trash bin overflowed with discarded papers. He closed the door. “Maybe I’ll clean it tomorrow.”

They passed two closed doors but did not go in. “Those rooms are empty,” he explained as they walked by them.

“Why empty?”

He shrugged. “I have no need of them.”

He opened another door and flipped on the light. The light glowed softly, giving the interior a romantic appeal, showing off the mixture of pink color variations. A four-poster bed stood against the farthest wall. A white coverlet scattered with prints of tiny pink rose blossoms spread across it. Against another wall was a small bookcase with a chair and a tall floor lamp next to it. A dressing table was the only other furniture in the room.

“This was grandmother’s room,” Allen said.

“She lived with you?”

“No. I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t tell you. This home belonged to my grandparents. I inherited it when they died.” He laughed. “You honestly didn’t think I could afford this house on an ER doctor’s salary, did you?”

She blushed and dipped her head. “I don’t know what I thought. Well, okay—I did wonder, but I haven’t a clue what an ER doctor would make.”

“Grandfather was an investment broker.” He swept his arm wide as if to indicate the entire house. “He invested smartly.”

“Your grandparents had separate bedrooms?” She flinched. “Oh, I’m sorry. What a terribly personal question to ask. Forget I asked.”

He laughed again. “It’s okay. As a rule, they shared the same room, but Grandfather had a terrible snoring problem. That’s why Grandmother had this room made up for herself. I didn’t see a reason to redecorate. Everything’s in perfect condition, and it makes a charming guestroom.”

He closed the door, and they moved on to the master bedroom. The very contemporary theme was in sharp contrast to the romanticism of the room they had just left. She liked it. Earth tones were the central color scheme on both the walls and floor. Throw pillows, window coverings, and area rugs in purple and green gave the room a coordinating color.

She walked inside, stood in the center of the room and turned in circles, trying to get a feel for the man who resided there. He watched her, his heart playing a symphony in his ears. She looked his way, and their eyes met.

They watched each other for several moments. She wondered how it would feel to lie in his arms in the big bed with the overstuffed pillows and soft, thick comforter. She wondered what it would be like to make love to him. She believed it would be different than with Peter. She might actually enjoy it. The sudden thought of Peter made her uncomfortable, although she had done nothing wrong. She broke eye contact.

“Is this the bathroom?” she asked, pointing toward a door on the far wall of the room.

Allen cleared his throat and walked to stand beside her. He couldn’t help but respond to her nearness and shifted uncomfortably.

She headed toward the partially open door, pushing it open the rest of the way. There was a separate tub, and a shower stall, both made of jet-black porcelain. The matching sink was round and sat on a pedestal. The towel bars were ceramic and had two stark-white towels hanging from them, a drastic contrast to the black fixtures. Brenda had never seen a more beautiful bathroom. The room was large—three of her bathrooms could easily fit inside it.

“It’s so beautiful,” she said.

“The main bath is an exact match.”

She grabbed him by the arm, dragging him toward the bedroom door. “I want to see the kitchen. I have to see the kitchen.”

“I was saving that for last.”

She followed him back down the hallway and through the living room. He opened a set of louvered doors to reveal a kitchen larger than any she had ever seen. “Oh wow, Allen. It’s wonderful!” She ran from one appliance to the other, turning on knobs, pushing buttons, caressing the marble surfaces. He laughed with delight as he watched her race around the room, just like a child.

She turned to him. “Promise me you will let me cook in this kitchen.”

He chuckled. “A strange request, but I’m sure I can accommodate you.”

He went to a cabinet and opened it. Inside the cabinet was a glass-front refrigerator that held several bottles of wine. He opened it, looked at her and asked, “White or red?”

She hesitated. It was only six in the evening. If she were at home, she never would have dreamed of sipping a glass of wine before dinner. She smiled.
But you’re not at home
, she thought and answered the question, “White.”

Allen pulled out a bottle, popped the cork and took two glasses from a display rack. He filled them half full and handed her one. “Want to sit by the pool?”

Her shoulders slumped, and she looked heavenward. “There’s a pool, too?”

He chuckled again and put his arm around her shoulder, propelling her toward a set of French doors. He opened one, and she followed him out.

The pool, although large, looked small compared to the massive yard. To the left was a dog yard with a large doghouse in it. Half the yard was grass and the other half gravel. Several balls littered the yard. She saw Barney standing at the fence with a ball in his mouth, wagging his tail. “Later, Barney,” Allen said.

They each selected a chaise lounge and sat in it. Brenda sipped her wine, feeling guilty for just sitting there doing nothing. “Do you do this every night?” she asked.

“God, no,” he said, laughing. “I’m usually still at the hospital at this hour. I usually roll in around seven or eight, shower, feed and play with Barney for a while, do a little research, watch the news, and fall into bed.”

“What kind of research are you doing?”

“I have a patient with a rare form of cancer. He seems to be getting worse, and I’m trying to find anything I can to help him.”

“I thought you were an emergency room doctor. Do they treat cancer, too?”

“No. He has an oncologist, but every pair of eyes helps in this instance.”

“He’s dying?”

“I’m afraid so.”

She boldly touched his hand and then snatched it back. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “As much as I’d like to think otherwise, we can’t save them all.”

Her head began to feel dizzy from the wine, so she laid it back against the lounge chair. She turned her face toward the sun. It was warm with the early fall rays. Soon winter would be upon them, and the sun wouldn’t be nearly as effective. The harsh desert winds would soon begin and make it almost impossible to sit by the pool like this.

“It’s a little chilly, I know, but if you’d like to go swimming, there are plenty of suits out in the pool house that would fit you.”

She hadn’t noticed a pool house and now looked in his direction. Smiling, she said, “That pool house is larger than my trailer.”