The Mill River Recluse (32 page)

Despite the nondescript exterior of the office building, the small waiting room was quiet and elegantly furnished. A beautifully upholstered sofa and loveseat were placed against the walls. Polished cherry tables held neat stacks of magazines. The carpet was plush, a deep blue that made Mary feel as if she were sinking into velvety water as she stepped onto it.

A receptionist at a counter in the center of the room smiled a greeting. There were two other people waiting. Mary looked at each of them. The people seemed ordinary enough, and only glanced up from reading their magazines for a moment as the front door of the office opened.

As Daisy went to the window of the front office to sign in, Father O’Brien led Mary to a pair of chairs in the far corner of the room. She felt more brief stares as they passed, though the sedative kept them from bothering her. He eased her into the more sheltered inside seat and sat down beside her.

“This isn’t too bad, is it?” he whispered.

“No.”

Daisy walked over to them then, clutching her notebook and smiling. “They said Dr. Mann will be ready to see me in just a few minutes. I can’t wait!”

Her enthusiasm was loud enough to cause the others in the waiting room to look up at her again.

“Well, Daisy, why don’t you sit for a few minutes until they call you?” Father O’Brien asked. “There’s an open seat right behind you.”

“Okay.” Daisy backed herself into the open seat, next to a woman with mussed blonde hair and bloodshot eyes. The woman was engrossed in reading a magazine article. She did not look at the little round woman seated next to her until Daisy leaned in close. “Hello there,” Daisy said. She peered at the magazine over the woman’s shoulder and read aloud the title of the article. “‘Get to Know Your Sexual Self.’” Startled, the blonde woman snapped the magazine shut and glanced around the room. “Looks like a very interesting article,” Daisy continued. “But I actually prefer articles about potions and magic.” Daisy smiled and waited for a reply. The blonde woman managed a half smile before abruptly moving to a chair on the other side of the room.

Daisy’s jaw dropped down in surprise, and Mary was certain that it was only a matter of seconds before she said something even more embarrassing. She sat in her corner, feeling guilty for wanting to laugh, not knowing what to do about poor Daisy.

The little round woman looked at Father O’Brien and started to say something, but he quickly closed his own open mouth, put a finger to his lips, and motioned for her to approach.

“Father, is she mad at me?” Daisy asked.

The priest stood up and spoke quietly to her. “You see, Daisy, some people who are waiting to see the doctor don’t like to talk to anyone in the waiting room. For them, seeing a doctor is very private. Not everyone is like that, but some people are. Like that lady,” he said, looking over at the blonde woman. “It doesn’t mean she’s angry at you. She just wants some privacy.”

“Oh. I can understand that, I guess. I like to keep my potion recipes private.”

“Exactly,” Father O’Brien said, sitting down again. He persuaded Daisy back into the open seat. It was only a few more minutes until the receptionist called Daisy back to see Dr. Mann. After she left, Father O’Brien helped Mary to her feet. “We’ve got a little while until she’s finished, so we’d better get you over to the outpatient clinic.” Mary shuddered but went quietly with him back to the truck.

The next hours were a surreal nightmare. Father O’Brien stayed with her as she signed the consent forms. Mary knew he could not be with her through the medical procedures. Alone, she and the Valium fought back terror as unfamiliar nurses removed her eye patch, revealing her cloudy gray eye and misshapen brow bone. They helped her into a hospital gown and took a blood sample. She couldn’t look directly at any of them. Although the tranquilizer had muted her anxiety, she felt the fear begin to seep through the sedative’s shield. She trembled as her body inched through the cold metal cylinder of the CT scan.

Terror finally overtook her when she was surrounded by the stainless steel of the operating room. The silver walls reflected light and sound and trapped stringent odors of alcohol and iodine. The surgical technicians transferred her to the operating table and turned on the bright overhead lights. The cruel beams penetrated her sensitive left eye. She screamed. Her arms were bound to the sides of the table, useless to shield her face. She jerked her face away, crying out until one of the nurses covered the eye with a soft piece of gauze.

She vaguely heard a man’s voice speaking to her, telling her about the ERCP procedure, that she was going to sleep, that it would be over in no time. The last thing she felt before the anesthesia took effect was her heart thumping through her back against the hard operating table.

When she opened her eyes, two faces looked down at her.

“Mary? Can you hear me? How are you feeling?”

She blinked. The two faces blurred and changed. She struggled to focus on them.

The man above her bed spoke again. “Not too close, Daisy. She’s just barely awake.”

“Hello, Mrs. McAllister,” the little round woman said. “I hope you’re feeling better.”

“Mary, can you hear me?”

She knew it was Michael now. She tried to speak but managed only a croak. Her throat was painfully dry.

“Everything went well, Mary,” he told her. “You’re in the recovery room.”

“I want to go home.”

“I know, Mary dear. It won’t be long. Right now you just need to rest. The doctor will be by to check on you in a while.”

Daisy leaned over the edge of the bed, holding up a Styrofoam cup. “Do you want some ice, Mrs. McAllister? The doctor said you could have some when you woke up, if you wanted.”

Daisy spooned a small ice chip into her mouth. Mary held it there as it melted, providing cool, exquisite relief to her sore throat.

As the minutes passed, the anesthesia continued to wear off, and Mary felt herself becoming more alert. She squinted up into Daisy’s eager eyes. For being in her mid-sixties, the woman peering down at her had such a youthful, happy face.
There’s something familiar about her
, Mary thought.

Daisy looked up at Father O’Brien as he whispered something Mary couldn’t hear. It didn’t matter, though, because Mary’s attention was still focused on the little round woman’s face.

“Look, Mary,” Father O’Brien said. He touched her hand as it rested atop the white sheet covering her. “Your skin isn’t nearly as yellow as it was.”

Mary looked down at her arm. It was true--the improvement was readily apparent. She smiled a little. “Maybe everything is all right now.”

It had to be all right,
Mary thought to herself.
Perhaps nothing serious had been wrong with her
. She fervently hoped that the procedure had cured whatever the problem was and vowed to do everything she could to fight her anxiety and recover her health. As she looked up at Daisy and Michael, she knew now that she needed more time to live.
Her hope was short-lived. The look on the oncologist’s face as he entered her room a few minutes later told her all she needed to know.

~~~

Chapter 19

It smelled of pastries in the darkness.

Claudia opened her eyes. Her initial belief, that it had all been a dream, was quickly disproved as Kyle stirred in his sleep beside her.

She had made a horrible mistake.

What time was it? Claudia raised herself up on one elbow, just enough to squint over Kyle toward the digital alarm clock on the nightstand. Its flashing neon numbers read two twenty-eight, waiting to be reset after the power outage. She sniffed again, and her stomach growled. If Ruth Fitzgerald had the baking going downstairs, it was probably closer to six. She carefully slipped out from beneath the blankets, feeling goosebumps rise up on her bare skin. She listened for the howl of the storm outside, but the apartment was quiet. With any luck, she could get dressed and walk home before Kyle awoke and started asking questions.

Claudia tiptoed around the bedroom, gathering up her clothes. She fumbled with her bra in the darkness, couldn’t find her thong panty, decided to put her jeans on without it. She pulled the sweater over her head and began to feel around on the floor for her boots.

Why, why had she given in and done it? Especially since she had never been with anyone else and hadn’t said anything to Kyle about it being her first time. That fact had, of course, become apparent to him, and he had been surprised. What he must think of her now she could only imagine. She had done too much too soon. She had been too eager, had gone from being a formerly-fat virgin to an easy broad who slept with men after having dated them for only a few days.

No matter that Kyle had been her first real lover, her first date, the first man to genuinely reciprocate her interest, her first everything. A wonderful first everything.

Plagued by morning-after regrets, she felt cheap and ashamed. Now that she had given him everything, he might not want her any more. She had no intention of sticking around to hear this from him once he awoke.

Having found both boots, she stood up and stepped into them. She felt an urge to cry and inhaled sharply to stifle it. She felt a more powerful urge to gorge herself on the doughnuts and pies and fresh bread whose smells emanated from beneath the floorboards. She began to salivate in the darkness. She thought of a warm, gooey cinnamon roll, of unwinding its spiraled layers and biting into the spongy, spiced center.

She would go home and cry and eat.

Claudia stepped quietly toward the bedroom door and pulled it open. It creaked, as if to warn the man sleeping in the bed. Kyle rolled over and opened his eyes.

“Claudia? Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“What?” He sat up, blinking, but she was already down the hall, grabbing her coat from the hook by the door. He jumped up to follow her, looked down at his nakedness, and yanked a blanket off the bed to wrap around himself. “Claudia! What’s wrong? Wait, don’t leave! It’s freezing outside! Claudia?”

She was out of his apartment and almost to the exit to the building. He stood at the top of the stairs above her. She turned and looked up at his sleepy, confused face. “I think I made a big mistake. I’m sorry,” she said.

“Claudia, wait a minute, whatever’s wrong, let’s talk about it,” he pleaded, but she pushed the door open and hurried outside.

~~~

As Claudia fought her way through the fresh snowdrifts and up the main road to her house, Father O’Brien sat in his chilly kitchen. It was still dark outside. Even if he had looked out the window, he wouldn’t have been able to see the young teacher passing in front of the church. He sipped a cup of hot tea and unsuccessfully tried to concentrate on reading his Bible.

The town meeting was now only fifteen days away. In the next day or so, he expected to see the agenda in the Gazette, including mention of his announcement. It would be unusual, and would surely pique the interest of the residents of Mill River. But after the stir caused by the appearance of the police department’s new Jeep, considering the fact that many in town suspected his involvement in the years of anonymous gifts, he didn’t think the problem would be attracting people to hear him make the announcement.

The real problem was that he might not finish the arrangements in time. He’d taken care of everyone who he knew had some immediate need, but for a little town like Mill River, Mary’s wealth could do so much more. It
would
do more.

The money would, of course, be held in trust for the benefit of the town. It could be divided among separate accounts and reserved for different uses. He and Mary had discussed how the money could benefit the most people, and yet there was still so much left. Now, he had less than two weeks to decide what to do with it and to have all the legal documents in place. He put his chin in his hand and closed his eyes. The comforting steam from his mug silently rose up over his face.

He remembered lying in bed the previous night, listening to the storm assaulting the thick walls of the parish house, feeling thankful to be warm and healthy and happy. He had few possessions, but he had everything he needed. Not everyone was so lucky, he knew.

Just like that, it came to him.

He opened his eyes.

It was so simple. With Mary’s fortune, he would make sure that everyone who lived in Mill River was warm and healthy and happy.

~~~

Jean opened her eyes and looked toward the bedroom window.

The faintest morning light shone through the curtains, enough to be caught and reflected by the new ring on her right hand.

She still couldn’t get over how the ring Ron had given her was almost exactly a miniature version of Mary’s. There was no way he could know how much she had loved the old woman’s ring, or even that such a ring existed. He had never seen it.

Maybe, after thirteen years of marriage, he was learning to read her mind.

The most surprising thing was that, even though Ron’s diamonds were tiny compared with the massive diamonds in Mary’s setting, his meant so much more to her. She would always remember how he had looked when he had given the ring to her--his rumpled hair, stubbly beard, and pleading brown eyes. Her dear Ron.

She loved him so much. It wasn’t his fault if her life was at times mundane.

She was incredibly lucky.

Her husband was the sweetest man in the world.

~~~

It took Kyle only a few moments to pull on his clothes and coat and run outside to his truck. When he saw the two feet of snow that had accumulated around it, he almost decided to follow Claudia’s example and walk up to her house. Almost. It was less than a mile away, and the snowplows had already cleared the main road. He had no idea why she had decided to leave and was eager to find out. Then it occurred to him that perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to approach her immediately. He had obviously done something wrong and didn’t want to drive her further away.