No Perfect Secret (13 page)

Clara-Alice
pushed around him. He flung out an arm to stop her. She ducked under, and went for Anna.

“Slut! I knew the minute I laid eyes on you, you weren’t right for my Kevin. You’re not supposed to have men in the house when Kevin’s not here! And you were digging in my things.
Don’t touch my things!
They’re mine! Evil slut! Evil slut—”

Anna stood so fast the chair toppled.

“Mrs Nesmith,” said Helen calmly, holding out her cell phone. “Kevin wants to talk to you.” She set Anna’s chair to rights. Clara-Alice stopped in her tracks.

“Kevin?”

“Yes ma’am. Sit right here,” she said holding out the phone. Sitting down, Clara-Alice accepted the phone, and put it to her ear. Helen placed her hands firmly on Clara-Alice’s shoulders. “Frank, why don’t you see who’s at the front door?”

Caburn turned, and Anna gasped.

“Frank! Stop,” Helen said. “Stand still.”

“Make up your mind, Helen.”

“I’ll answer the door,” said Lila, and within a moment was back with the EMTs. Clara-Alice looked up puzzled, then realization swept over her features. She started crying.

“Holy Hannah,” said the first EMT. He took Caburn by the arm, twisted a chair around and told him to sit sideways.

“I’m not the patient,” Caburn told him, jerking his left arm out of the man’s grip. He felt a burning sensation rip through his back.

“Don’t move your arm, buddy.”

Lila looked over the EMT’s shoulder with her RN-trained eye. “Those are embroidery scissors, sharp-pointed. The blades are about three inches long.”

The whooping siren and flashing lights of the second ambulance brought the neighbors out. Within twenty minutes, a resigned and tearful
Clara-Alice was gently walked out to the first, and a dazed Caburn was placed face-down on a rolling cart in the second. Helen was on the phone to Albert Phipps explaining the situation. The neighbors retreated out of the cold into their homes. Anna stood on her front stoop, cold and speechless.

Lila stood next to her. “I am suddenly so tired, I can’t stand up,” she told Anna. “I’m going home and going to bed. Call me, if you need anything.”

Anna came out of her fugue. “Thank you, Lila. If you hadn’t made that call to Helen Callaway, I’d probably still be sitting in the basement freezing my fanny off.”

Lila shrugged. “That’s debatable. You know
—it didn’t turn out too well. I can’t seem to get my mind around the fact that Clara-Alice stabbed Frank. I mean, I’ve seen her in those flash-flood temper tantrums she has now and then—but, wow—this one beats them all to heck speck.”

Anna agreed. She watched Lila into her front door, then her gaze swept up and down the street. Everyone had Christmas lights or decorations on their homes except her. Even Mrs Nagi, wheelchair bound, had a little tree twinkling with colored lights in her window. She determined she’d put up something, even if it was only a wreath on the door.

In the house she found Helen Callaway sitting on the sofa, Caburn’s jacket across her knees. She was on her cell phone, bending forward to write in her notebook that was open on the vast coffee table. She looked up when Anna came in and held up a finger. “Good,” she said into the phone. “That will take a lot of stress off on this end. Yes, I’ll meet you at MedSTAR.” She flipped the phone closed. “Sit down a minute, Anna. Let me fill you in. Both Frank and your mother-in-law are at MedSTAR. The hospital needs Mrs Nesmith’s insurance info. She’s committed a felony so she can be held past the seventy-two hours.”

Anna paled. “You’re going to charge her?”

“Only if we have to. Once she’s stabilized we can move her into a residential home for seniors. My boss had his mother in one in Maryland until she died and she was very happy there. They take the residents out on day trips, movies, the hairdresser; they even hold tea dances on Wednesday afternoons. They have an activity director, an RN and a doctor on staff.”

Anna
ppondered for a moment. “What you’re proposing is fine with me, but shouldn’t Kevin have a say-so in this? I mean Clara-Alice is
his
mother.”

“My boss is going to meet us at the hospital and talk to you about Kevin.”

“This affair that Kevin is having...is it inappropriate?”

Helen inhaled. “
Very
inappropriate.” Helen watched Anna tremble for a few seconds before the younger woman regained her composure. “If it’s any consolation, Frank and I both pressured our boss to meet with you early on to let you know what is going on. Unfortunately, there are other issues, sensitive issues, and other people involved.”

“I see.”

“Yes, you probably do. There’s one other thing. Did Frank talk to you about Kevin’s diaries, the calendars?”

“Yes, that’s why I was in the basement. We keep a file cabinet down there for warranties, insurance policies, old tax returns, stuff like that. I thought Kevin might have filed them there.”

“Did you find them?”

“No. But the light went out, and then
Clara-Alice locked me in.”

“Would you mind if either Frank or I look for them
—at your convenience, of course.”

“No, I don’t mind. Help yourself.” In her mind’s eye
Anna was seeing Frank Caburn on the stretcher, the scissors sticking out of his shoulder, the confusion on his face as he was wheeled out to the ambulance. She was recalling, too, how he’d sat down on the basement steps next to her, his arm around her, and the goose bumps that swept up her arms and legs that had nothing to do with the chill in the basement. “Umm, has anyone said how Frank is?” His name felt good on her tongue. Strong and comforting—like the man himself.

“He’s in X-ray. We should know more when we get there.”

“I’ll just get Clara-Alice’s things and my coat and purse. I won’t be a minute.”

Helen smiled. “You might want to wash your face.”

In the bathroom Anna stared at her reflection. She was an utter train wreck! Her face was smudged, as dirty as a five-year-old; her hair bunched up on one side and draped with cobwebs. It took five minutes to repair the damage—with comb, brush, a soapy washcloth and a bit of pink lipstick. She wasn’t going to church or out to dinner. This was a hospital visit fix. It would do.

She went into
Clara-Alice’s room, found her purse hanging on a closet knob, quickly checked inside for wallet, ID and insurance card. All there. She hurried down the hall to her own bedroom. She opened the door and switched on the overhead fixture. Like she’d done a thousand times. A small yelp escaped. Helen came into the hall just as Anna was sliding down the door jamb.

“Whoa!”
Helen tried to catch Anna; too late. Anna was on her butt, her forearms on her knees with Clara-Alice’s purse swinging between them.

“This is what she was doing while I was locked in the basement.” Anna choked out the words in a whisper.

Every drawer in the room had been emptied, the clothes and shoes from her closet—once so organized—were scattered in heaps about the room. The feather bed had been shredded, feathers lying like snowflakes on every surface. Only the smell of mustard kept Anna from fainting. She spied the bottle, then the empty ketchup bottle and another, empty of honey. Even the dirty clothes basket had suffered—the clothes streaked with mustard splats. Oh. Her books. Some ripped and shredded into confetti, others splatted with mustard.

“Holy Hannah,” Helen whispered. The destruction was so complete it felt like
a sin to speak in a normal tone of voice. She knelt down next to Anna. “Please, let’s just close the door on this. We can put you up in a hotel, and we’ll get you some help on Monday to clean it. But the psychiatrists need to know about this, Anna. This kind of destruction suggests incredible rage. No. It
is
rage.” She got to her feet, knee bones cracking. “I’m going to say something I shouldn’t. You cannot let this woman back into your life. Just imagining what might have happened if Mrs Hammond had not called me. Those scissors could’ve been plunged into your back—or worse.”

It did not need
saying. Anna had gotten there on her own. She looked up at Helen. “I don’t know where in this mess is my purse and coat.”

“I’ll look. Where do you usually put them?”

Anna pointed to the door. “On the back.”

Helen stepped into the room, kicking aside clothes so she could look behind the door. She held out a shoulder bag and navy wool car coat. “She missed these, I guess. They look okay.”

“My lucky day,” Anna said, getting to her feet.

Helen took one last look around the room. “At least she didn’t break the mirror.”

“No, she wouldn’t do that. She’s superstitious.” Heart heavy, Anna closed the door on the destruction.

At the hospital
Anna went to Emergency Admittance and gave the clerk Clara-Alice’s insurance information. She waited thirty minutes for the attending psychiatrist—a woman of an uncertain age, a bit wrinkled about blue eyes that emanated a gentle kindness. Anna liked her at once. The name tag read: Dr Joan Neal.

“Mrs Nesmith is your mother?”

“My mother-in-law.” Anna’s mind felt as cold as a chill winter wind.

“Her blood pressure is a bit high. We’ve given her a mild sedative. We’ll run a complete battery tomorrow. Wouldn’t do any good tonight. She’s very upset.”

Anna looked the doctor in the eye. “So am I.” It took Anna only five succinct minutes to give the psychiatrist Clara-Alice’s background and the events of the evening.

“Yikes,” said the doctor, softly. She contemplated Anna with empathy. “What about you? It seems you’ve been riding an emotional rollercoaster
.”

Tears burned Anna’s eyes. “I feel guilty because
Clara-Alice crossed a boundary, and others were there to see it happen. On the other hand, it’s a relief that I don’t have to make excuses why I don’t want her in my home ever again.”

Dr
Neal smiled. “Ah, Nietzsche’s conundrum,
amor fati...
”

Anna blinked in surprise. “That’s it exactly
—a celebration of fate. Whichever way fate take us—good or bad, celebrate it. Thank you for getting it.”

“Just to clue you in, I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I didn’t.”

Anna held out Clara-Alice’s purse. “Would you see that my mother-in-law get this, please?”

“Normally, I’d tell you to keep it
—give it to her later, but under the circumstances—sure. I’ll give to the floor nurse, have her bag it. You know I’ll need to talk to her son for more background before we make a complete diagnosis.”

Anna flushed. “You’ll have to talk to Helen Callaway or Frank Caburn about Kevin. He isn’t
...he isn’t around.”

Dr
Neal was seeing layer upon layer of emotional pain in Anna’s face. She became pensive. “You’ve been carrying a really big load, for a real long time, haven’t you?”

Anna could only nod. It was a struggle to speak in the face of such warm compassion.

Dr Neal handed her a card. “What’s your first name?”

“Anna.”

“If it ever gets too much, Anna, call me. Any time, day or night. People get in trouble when they pretend a strength they don’t have, or their strength is exhausted.” She touched Anna on the shoulder. “Call me, okay?”

“I will.” Thoughts tired and diffuse, Anna made for the emergency desk to ask about Frank Caburn. Before she reached it, she spied Helen Callaway and another man emerging from a cubicle down the wide hall. She went to meet them.

Helen made the introductions. Albert Phipps was tall, and thin and reeked with the odor of tobacco. His face was anidian and his ears were what Anna’s mother would have named an unfortunate aberration. Yet, his smile was warm, if apprehensive, and his handshake firm.

“Frank told me you were super intelligent, but he didn’t mention how lovely.” Anna murmured thank you as Phipps took her elbow and guided her back into the cubicle he and Helen had just vacated. It was a kitchenette of sorts, with a small table and chairs. “Please sit down. One of the nurses made coffee for us, so if you’d like a cup?”

“No thank you.”

“Helen filled me in on the unfortunate events at your home.”

“How is Mr Caburn?”

“He’s fine. Th
e...um...scissors chipped a bone in his shoulder blade. The surgeon removed the fragment under local anesthesia. I’m told the muscle damage will heal on its own. I believe they’re taping it up now.”

The worry about Frank Caburn that had consumed Anna began to trickle away like sand through a sieve. Phipps was still talking, his voice a soothing cadence. She came alert when he mentioned Kevin.

“We’ve kept something back from you. I’m convinced now that we shouldn’t have.”

Anna swallowed. “You mean about the...
The other woman?”

Phipps exhaled. “It’s far more serious than that, I’m afraid. You see, Nesmith had a heart attack. He just keeled over in de Gaulle airport as he was walking to board his flight.”