Reckless Moon (14 page)

“Nothing. A good campaigner knows when to retreat.”

Mindy groaned. “Where did you get that? Translating Caesar’s
Commentaries
in Galsworthy’s Latin class?”

“I can read Bram very well. It would be a mistake to push him now; he has to realize how much he needs me, misses me on his own.”

“Oh, boy. Watch out. The last time you got that determined look on your face we both wound up suspended for setting all those guinea pigs free.”

“I was right then, and I’m right now.”

“I feel like calling Bram up and warning him. The poor guy doesn’t know what he’s in for.”

“Whose side are you on?” Beth demanded, outraged.

Mindy held up her hands. “I intend to remain neutral.” She clicked her spoon against the side of the bowl. “What does Marion think of all this?”

“She doesn’t know about it. I haven’t talked to her since before it happened.”

“I meant, what does she think of you and Bram?”

Beth snorted. “She’s in marriage world with Jerry the stockbroker, perfect husband and perfect man. Bram is about as far removed from Jerry as you can get. Marion hasn’t changed since we were kids. She still thinks Bram is bad news.”

“If she can’t understand your attraction to Bram, she should see a doctor. I don’t care how much she loves perfect Jerry, any woman on earth could appreciate the lure that Bram exerts. He’s like some dark, exotic mystery waiting to be explored.”

Beth stared at her friend, surprised and touched. “That’s it, exactly.”

Mindy made a face. “Don’t sound so shocked. Do you think because I’m spending my days reading Golden Books and changing diapers that I’m incapable of poetic sentiment?”

Beth grinned, chastised. “Certainly not.”

“Anyway, don’t be too hard on Marion. She loves you and she tries, but she’s just like your father.”

Beth shrugged. “Sometimes I think I underestimate her. The other night she asked me if Bram took my breath away. I wouldn’t have thought she could even formulate the question.”

“It’s hard to believe Jerry ever took anyone’s breath away, including Marion’s,” Mindy observed dryly.

“Jerry’s a nice enough guy,” Beth qualified hastily, feeling disloyal to her sister. “But he’s very straight and conservative. Bram, on the other hand, quit school, joined the merchant marine and sailed around the world. Now he has the scars and the cynicism to show for it. How could a woman who married Jerry Westfield possibly understand Bram? Marion thinks Bram is wild, primitive, and dangerous. She’s afraid of him.”

“And you?”

“I think he’s wild, primitive, and dangerous. And I’m crazy about him.”

Mindy sighed heavily, closing the carton of ice cream and rising to put it in the freezer. “My friend, I hate to tell you this but I think you’re in for a hell of a lime.”

“I know that. I won’t get him easily, if I get him at all.” She met Mindy’s eyes squarely. “But I have to try.”

Mindy turned from the refrigerator and faced her. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Beth smiled slyly. “I’m glad you asked that question.”

Mindy closed her eyes. “I’m already sorry I said that.”

“Do you remember when you told me about Jacinta, the housekeeper who used to work for Bram’s father? She’s a nurse at Johnson now.”

“Sure. What about her?”

“What ward does she work in? I want to go to see her.”

“She’s in pediatrics, the three to eleven shift. Why do you want to talk to her?”

“I want to ask her about Bram.”

“Good luck. Do you think you’re just going to waltz in there and give her the third degree about her former employer’s kid? Do you imagine you’ll get her to tell all, like one of those lady cops on television?”

“She may talk to me if I tell her the whole story. Everybody says she really liked Bram.”

Mindy nodded. “She and your mother were his biggest boosters. He didn’t have many.”

“Something happened to drive Bram out of his home, and I think it caused the attitude he has toward women now. He can’t trust me—he really has trouble trusting anybody. His stepmother gave him a hard time, and I feel that was the beginning of his problems.”

“The beginning of yours, you mean.” Mindy leaned back against the refrigerator and folded her arms. “There’s no guarantee that Jass knows anything.”

Beth pushed her hair back from her face. “She was living in the same house with Bram all those years. She has to know more than I do.” Suddenly she sat up straighter. “I forgot to tell you about the mouse tattoo.”

“Mouse tattoo?” Mindy said, looking at her strangely. “You mean mouse as in Mickey?”

Beth shook her head emphatically. “No, no, listen. Have you ever heard Bram call me ‘mouse’?”

Mindy’s brows arched. “Yes, I did notice that. I always meant to ask you why.”

“I told him about the time I was one of the dancing mice in the Christmas pageant.”

“Yeah,” Mindy said, grinning hugely. “You crashed into the tree and knocked off about ten ornaments.”

Beth stared at her with exaggerated patience.

“All right, all right,” Mindy grumbled. “You were saying?”

“The other night I noticed he had a small tattoo on the inside of his arm.”

Mindy shuddered. “I hate those things.”

“So does he, apparently. He said he did it on a dare; I got the impression he was with a group and they were all drunk or something. Anyway, it’s a mouse.”

Mindy’s expression changed. “I see. He had it done after...”

Beth inclined her head, not letting Mindy finish. “About six weeks after. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“It tells me that you were on his mind, all right.”

“That’s correct. And he never had it removed, even though he said he’d thought about it.”

“Sort of like a brand, isn’t it? Like saying, ‘This animal belongs to—’”

Beth threw a dishtowel at her.

“It was just a thought,” Mindy said, laughing. “Look, much as I dislike changing this intriguing subject, there was a method to my visit tonight. I need to borrow your black beaded purse.”

Beth feigned offense. “And here I thought you rushed over to listen to my tale of woe.”

“That, too. But I still need the purse. I have to go to a formal with Hal next week, and I’m not going to put myself in the poor house running around buying a bunch of fancy accessories. I can’t afford them and I’ll never use them again.”

“Come on,” Beth said, smiling. “I know it’s somewhere in my room, but it may take some time to find it.”

Mindy followed her out of the kitchen. “Time I’ve got. What I don’t have is a black beaded purse.”

Laughing, the two women climbed the stairs.

* * *

On Wednesday evening Beth drove out to Johnson Memorial at about seven-thirty, thinking that she might catch Jacinta Lopez on her eight o’clock break. Mindy knew another nurse who worked the same shift, and had told Beth that the staff broke for their meal at about that time. Beth had no idea where Jacinta lived, and neither did Mindy. If Beth wanted to contact her at all she would have to do it at work.

Johnson Memorial was set in a pretty grove of trees on a rural road, and as Beth turned into the asphalt drive leading to the main entrance, she wondered if she was following a blind alley. But she didn’t know what else to do. She needed to get some insight into Bram’s character and she wasn’t going to get it from him.

The woman at the information desk told Beth that pediatrics was on the fourth floor. She took the elevator up to what was obviously a new wing, spotless, with cream colored tiled walls and a floor that shone with recent waxing. The nurses’ station was in a nook at the center of the corridor. She stopped an RN, who was assembling medications on a tray, and asked her where she might find Mrs. Lopez.

It appeared that Mrs. Lopez was doing a treatment in one of the rooms. Disappointed, Beth asked if she could wait to see her. The nurse pointed to a small lounge at the end of the hall and told Beth that she would send Mrs. Lopez down there when she was finished.

Beth waited for ten minutes, leafing through the outdated magazines provided by the management She was just giving up on an article about refinishing furniture, a subject about as interesting to Beth as terrace farming, when Mrs. Lopez appeared in the doorway, looking at her curiously.

“You wanted to see me?” she asked Beth.

Beth rose, approaching the older woman. She looked unchanged from Beth’s memory of her; perhaps the threads of gray in the glossy black hair were new, or the lines etched around her mouth, but she remained the handsome, dignified Hispanic madonna Beth recalled.

“I’m Bethany Forsyth, Mrs. Lopez,” Beth said “Carter Forsyth’s younger girl. Do you remember me?”

The woman smiled. “Of course I do now. You look a lot like your mother. You can call me Jass.”

“Thank you. I wonder if I could talk to you for a few minutes?”

Jass hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. “I have to get back to the station.”

“Aren’t you due for your break in a short while?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes. How do you know?”

“My friend Mindy told me. She told me you worked here, too.”

Jass smiled at the mention of Mindy’s name. “That one. Always into everything.” Her black eyes flicked over Beth, quick with intelligence. “Why did you want to see me?”

“I wanted to ask you about Bram Curtis,” Beth replied.

Alarm crossed Jass’s face. “What about Abraham? Is he all right?”

“He’s fine,” Beth said reassuringly. “But I need to talk to you about him. I know it’s a lot to ask, but all I need is a few minutes to explain. If you don’t want to talk after that I promise I’ll go. Can I just wait until you get your break and see you then?”

Jass was silent as she made up her mind. Then she said abruptly, “There’s a staff room at the other end of the corridor. Wait outside the door for me. I’ll be there as soon as I check back in at the desk and let them know I’m going off the floor.”

“Thank you so much,” Beth said, relieved. “I’ll see you then.” She hurried to the appointed spot and waited impatiently for Jass to return.

She did so momentarily, walking soundlessly in her crepe soled shoes. She gestured for Beth to precede her into the room, which was occupied by two other nurses.

Jass nodded to them pleasantly, and headed for a table across the room from theirs, putting as much distance between them and herself as she could. Beth followed, noticing that they could hardly hear the murmur of voices from the other two people as they sat down.
 

Jass did not want to be overheard.

Jass sat back wearily, sighing, and unpinned her cap, plain white, without the band the registered nurses wore on theirs. She set it on the table between them and leaned forward on her elbows.

“So, pretty Miss Forsyth,” she said, her Spanish accent discernible but slight, “what is it you want to know?”

“I want to know why Bram left home at seventeen. I want to know why he quit school and joined the merchant marine to get away.”

The woman’s eyes flickered warily. “What makes you think I know?”

Beth shrugged. “You were there. Nobody else will talk about it, especially Bram.”

Jass shook her head incredulously, as if she couldn’t believe Beth’s innocence—or nerve. “And you think I will tell you? You think I’ll break the confidence of an employer who was good to me, and a boy I cared for, to satisfy your curiosity?” She waved Beth away, using a Spanish word Beth didn’t understand. “No,
niña,”
she concluded. “Go home.”

Beth panicked as it appeared that she would not be able to penetrate the older woman’s wall of silence. “But you must tell me,” she cried. “You’re my only hope and it’s very important to me, and to Bram.”

Jass looked over at the other nurses, who had glanced around at Beth’s raised voice.
“Silencio!”
she commanded Beth in a fierce whisper.

Beth got the message. She shut up.

Jass waited until the other nurses were talking again, and then said to Beth, “Why is it so important?”

Beth’s eyes filled as she realized that this woman probably had the secret to Bram’s past, but instead of giving it up was subjecting her to an inquisition that was getting them both nowhere. She bit her lip, trying to think of the words that might unlock the door to the treasure trove of Jacinta’s memory.

“I love Bram,” she said finally, opting for plain truth. “I love him very much, and I’m afraid we’ll never be together because he can’t trust me.” She wiped hurriedly at a tear that had slipped from her eyelash onto her cheek, looking away. Why did she have to cry at the most inopportune moments? It was humiliating.

Jass’s face softened, and she folded her arms, regarding Beth with tolerant concern.

“Why can’t he trust you?” she asked quietly.

“That’s what I want you to tell me!” Beth burst out, frustrated, then immediately lowered her voice. To her immense relief the other nurses got up and, after depositing their trash in a receptacle near the door, left the room.