Luanne Rice (15 page)

Chapter 14

E
xcuse me,” the security guard said. “But may I
see your ID?”

“ID?” Liam
asked, watching the elevator doors close behind Lily.

“Your work badge, for here at the hospital.”

“Oh,” Liam
said. “I don’t work here.”

“Well, sir,
visiting hours don’t begin until eleven. It’s only eight forty-five now.
Doctors have to make their rounds.”

“I’m here
to see someone in the Pediatric ICU,” Liam said. “I think the visiting hours
are more flexible up there.”

“Yes, they
are, sir.
Family member?”

“Well, no.
Close family friend.”

“Sir, only
family members are allowed in that unit. We have very strict rules about that.
Very strict.”

Liam
nodded. He knew better than to argue with a security guard—he did. But he had
to get up there, had to be with Lily and Rose. He nodded toward the elevator.
“I’m with that woman, who just took that last car.”

“The small dark-haired woman who ignored me?
Shrugged
me off?” the guard asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Uh, maybe.”

“That one.
That one ignores me every morning. It’s like
I’m not even here. That’s
right,
I’ve seen you with
her before. I took notice of you, on account of—” He stopped himself.

“My arm,”
Liam said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, I
caught you this morning.
One of you, anyway.”

Yeah, the one of us that’s not a natural
phenomenon
, Liam thought, picturing Lily weaving through
the crowded lobby like a waterspout.
High velocity, with the
speed of a tornado and even more force.
Touching down just long enough
to gain more strength from the water’s surface, then whirling on her way to Rose.

“You’re
welcome to wait in the lobby for your friend,” the guard said sternly. “But I
can’t allow you up on the unit without a special pass.”

“How would
I get one?”

“From a doctor.
As well as permission from a
parent of the patient.
It’s best you just wait here.”

“Right,”
Liam said. “Thanks.”

But
instead, he walked back outside. He crossed the street, went over to the
reflecting pool,
looked
up at the monument. He touched
it with his good hand, thought of how strange it was that a big piece of stone
would outlast so many of the people he loved: his parents, Connor. Now he gazed
down the length of the pool, to the pond at the far end. He peered into the
shadows, looking for the heron.

If she was
there, she was too well hidden for him to see.

Lily hadn’t
wanted to pause long enough to look. Forces of nature were like that. They were
too busy fulfilling their purpose.
Hurricanes, waterspouts,
heat waves, Lily Malone.
Nothing was going to keep her from Rose for two
seconds—not even the poetry of a blue heron, the same color as Lily’s own eyes,
in this city park.

Liam walked
slowly along the west side of the long reflecting pool. He stayed in the
shade—not because the sun was so hot, but because he wanted to stay hidden. He,
his brother, and Jude had prided themselves on being able to sneak up on
wildlife. They could swim silently into a pod of fin whales and not even
disturb them. Connor had once swum up to a beluga and touched her dorsal ridge.
And they had tracked a pair of snowy owls one winter solstice, crawling to
within fifteen feet of them.

He had his
cell phone on vibrate, and checked it to be sure: he hoped Lily would at least
call him if there was some change.

The idea of
Lily as a force of nature was not new to him. In fact, it had inspired their
entire unbalanced, undefined, and completely confusing relationship. He thought
back nine years, to the first time he’d ever seen her.

She had
driven into town in a rusty old Volvo, with holes in the floor and the hood
literally held down by baling wire. She had cut her hair very short, she wore
glasses,
then
, that she hadn’t really needed. Since
his family basically ran Cape Hawk, her first encounter had been with Camille,
his aunt, the family grande dame and owner of Neill Real Estate. Lily had been
looking for a place to live. It had seemed odd enough to Camille—a pretty,
young, and, oh yes, extremely pregnant woman, obviously American, looking for a
house in Cape Hawk—to discuss at the family Friday night dinner. Although she
was clearly trying to hide her pregnancy with bulky clothes, it was obvious to
everyone.

“Cheap,”
Camille reported. “She actually said that was her main requirement.”

“Where’s
her husband?” Jude, Camille’s son, had asked.

“He’s a
fisherman,” Camille said.
“Gone for weeks at a time.”

“What
boat?”

“That’s
precisely what I asked. She was vague, to say the least. Do you think he’s a
drug smuggler?”

“Probably
runs the maritime heroin trade,” Liam said. He hadn’t wanted to attend the
dinner—he never did—but tonight his aunt had insisted. Sitting next to Anne, he
felt her jab his side with her elbow. But she connected with his hard
prothesis, so the whole table heard the crack.

“Don’t be
fresh, Liam,” Camille said, giving her daughter-in-law an evil look. “As a
matter of fact, this is why I wanted you to be here tonight.”

“Because of my expertise with drug smugglers?”

“No.
Because she is looking for something cheap, and I thought of that cabin on the
back end of your property.”

Liam’s
stomach churned. The building had started out as a shack—it had been his and
Connor’s fort, when they were kids.
Two rooms that, over the
years, his parents had turned into a fairly decent guest cottage.

“I thought
you might rent it to her. But first, I thought you should meet her. If you get
a bad feeling, or sense that there is indeed something suspicious about her and
her husband—well then, we’ll find something else. Do you know what I think?”

“No,” Anne
said. “Please, tell us, Camille.”

“I think
there is no husband. I think she’s an unwed mother!”

“How vile,”
Anne said.

Now it was
Liam’s turn to jab her. But Camille took her seriously and nodded gravely.
“Precisely.
I think she may have moved to Canada to take
advantage of our health system. The States’ is so abysmal. I don’t like the
idea of supporting anything like fraud
… .”

“But it’s
better than a drug dealer husband,” Liam said.

“So true, my dear.
Well then—I leave it to you. She is staying
right here at the inn.
Room 220.
Will you take her to
see the property?”

“Don’t
forget your revolver,” Jude said.
“Just in case.”

“Don’t you
be fresh,” his mother said,
then
hailed the waitress
to clear their dessert plates.

As Liam
prepared to go to room 220, Anne stopped him.

“It was
nice to have you at dinner tonight. Jude was just saying
,
you’ve been such a stranger.”

“It’s hard
to resist a Friday night with Camille,” Liam grinned.

“I know. I
find it’s the centerpiece of my week,” Anne said. “I think her whole problem
comes from the fact that when she married Frederic, her name became Camille
Neill. That’s quite a handle. It sounds a little like something out of a comedy
skit.”

They
chuckled, glancing around to make sure Camille’s spies—her favorite waitstaff
and chambermaids—weren’t listening.

“Seriously,”
Anne said. “Where have you been? Have you fallen madly in love with that girl
shark researcher who came up last summer?”

Liam shook
his head. “No. She was just a colleague from Halifax.”

“She was
pretty. And she liked you, Liam. Jude and I both noticed.”

“Hmm,” Liam
said.

“Well, at
least you’re not growling at me, the way you usually do when I try to ask about
your love life. I wish you had more of one. You’re my favorite in-law.”

“Same to
you,” he said. “Now, I’d better go do my duty.”

“Oh, right.
Vetting the mysterious unwed drug dealer.”

Liam had
gone down the hall, not knowing what to expect, just wanting to get the whole
thing over with. The hotel was big, rambling, with two long wings. Room 220 was
all the way at the end of one, on the second floor. It was on the side of the
hotel that faced the employees’ parking lot, instead of looking out at Cape
Hawk bay.

He
knocked—no answer. So he tried again. He checked his watch—it was eight-thirty.
Could she already be asleep? There wasn’t much to do after dinner in Cape Hawk.
Perhaps she had taken a walk. He leaned closer to the door. Small sounds were
coming from inside.

Holding his
breath, he listened. At first he thought it was the TV. A high thin voice came
through the door. It sounded unnatural for a human—more like the keening of a
seabird. Or the singing of a whale, picked up on hydrophones. But the sound did
something to Liam’s heart that made him realize that the source was very human
after all, that it was the woman crying.

Liam had
heard crying like that only once before: his mother, the day Connor died. He
raised his hand to knock again, but stopped himself. The stranger’s grief was
too terrible and private to disturb. So he backed away, deciding to return the
next morning.

He didn’t
have to.

Camille
left him a message at his office:
“Never
mind about the rental. She has found lodging elsewhere.”

Liam felt
relieved. Whatever had been going on inside that room was too much for him. He
had spent the night wondering what was wrong—and he warned himself that he
couldn’t get involved. Not that that would be so hard; not getting involved was
what Liam did best. Just ask the Halifax shark researcher Anne had mentioned.
Julie Grant. She still sent him letters—or did, until the last one, where she’d
said,
“
Call me when you realize that people are better
to spend time with than sharks. I thought we had a chance, but now I know I’m
wrong. Goodbye.”

Liam had
learned that it was easier on the heart to stay distant from people—even, or
especially, the ones he cared most about. After Connor’s death, his mother had
disappeared. Not in body, but in spirit. She had gotten quieter, lonelier, more
distant, until it was just her and the bottle. No matter how hard Liam had
tried to bring her back to life, remind her she still had a son, she wouldn’t
listen. When he had gone for surgeries on his arm, his father had dropped him
off. His mother couldn’t even bear to visit the hospital where Connor had been
pronounced dead.

Now,
walking the length of the reflecting pool, Liam looked over his shoulder at
that same hospital. Lily and Rose were in there now. Lily’s way of being a
mother was so different, outwardly at least, from his mother’s. Inwardly, he
suspected they were exactly the same. Two women who loved their ailing children
so much, it controlled every aspect of their lives.

The heron
was right there—where he had seen her with Lily. Walking quietly in the
shadows, Liam took a few steps closer. The heron didn’t move. She held her
elegant pose, blue neck craned, yellow bill pointed downward. The pond seemed
as still as glass, but the heron saw movement and in one swift shot lunged,
stabbed, came up with a silver fish.

Liam
watched her swallow; when she was finished, she resumed her pose. He felt the
surge and amazement of watching nature at work—much the way he felt watching
Lily the natural phenomenon.

He figured
the security guard had to take a break at some point, and in any case, regular
visiting hours would soon commence.

So he
turned and headed back toward the hospital, to keep the promise Lily had never
even wanted him to make, wished he wouldn’t keep, just because he really didn’t
feel he had a choice.