The Treasure of Maria Mamoun (23 page)

“Calm down, Maria.” Celeste fixed her with a stern look. “It is not a Medivac emergency at this time. If he needs to go, he can go in an ambulance on the ferry. But he doesn't want to leave the house, and we can't make him go against his will. You need consent. Sometimes people get tired, and they don't want to keep trying.”

Maria threw her cards down. “Are you serious? Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

“Maria,
habibti
, it's going to be okay,” Celeste said in her soothing-mommy voice. “No matter what happens, it will be okay.”

Maria stood. “It will not! It is
not
okay for him to die! You have to take him to the hospital. If you won't make him go, I will! I'll go talk to him right now!” She headed for the door.

“Maria! I absolutely forbid it!”

Celeste stood. She moved to block Maria. Maria feinted right, then went left. Her mother grabbed her from behind. Though she wasn't much taller, Celeste was still stronger, and she whipped Maria around to face her.

“You don't get it!” Maria yelled.

“No!
You
don't get it!” Celeste yelled back, louder. She hardly ever yelled, but the few times she had were frightening. “This is not up to you!”

“Who is it up to then?” Maria said. “Joanne? If it were up to her, he'd never even get out of bed! She gave up on him a long time ago.”

Celeste closed her eyes and took a breath. “No. It is not up to Joanne either. It is up to Mr. Ironwall. He gets to decide. We don't get to decide for him.”

“Can I at least talk to him? Can I see him?” Her voice came out scratchy and choked. She should be able to see him after the dog walk as she always did. “I still have to walk Brutus, right? No matter what?”

And if she got to talk to Mr. Ironwall she could convince him to go to the hospital. There was medicine there that could save him.

“If he is well enough,” Celeste said. “We'll see.”

*   *   *

Later that night, Maria couldn't sleep. She lay in bed gazing at the carved beams above her head. Though she could barely see them in the dark, she had the carvings memorized.
JM 1689
—Captain Jean Murdefer. Her privateer. But she still did not know who
FH 1718
or
SI 1812
was or what
1230
meant … or anything else, it seemed. Too much was going on, and it was all too confusing.

She turned her mother's words over in her head—people get tired and don't want to keep trying. That wasn't fair. People shouldn't get to stop trying just because they want to. Not if other people care about them.

Maybe he'd just been alone so long he didn't realize that was a rule.

He just needed her to explain it to him.

 

29

T
HE
S
AME
OR
W
ORSE

The next morning, Maria stood at the front window waiting for Frank. When she saw his stony face, her stomach sank.

“Don't jump to conclusions,
habibti
,” Celeste said.

“You only say
habibti
when you're really worried.” Maria stared out the window.

“I'll find out how Mr. Ironwall is doing when I see him,” Celeste said. “How about you maybe bring Brutus to his room as usual, and if he is doing well, you come in?”

“But he isn't doing well,” Maria said. “Or Frank wouldn't look so serious.”

“We don't know that.” Celeste opened the door to Frank and the dog.

“He's the same,” Frank said, by way of greeting. “Or worse.”

Maria didn't stay to hear the rest. She grabbed Brutus's leash and ran him down the driveway. The sooner he was walked, the sooner she could get to Mr. Ironwall. They sprinted through the break in the rose hedge, over the dunes, and onto the beach. She was surprised to see Paolo waiting for her. He was throwing stones into the water, skipping them two, three, four times.

“I already checked out the boat.” He skipped one last stone and fell into step beside her. Brutus ran in and out of the waves, looking expectantly up at Maria. She'd forgotten to bring a tennis ball.

“Just go swim.” She tossed a piece of driftwood into the water. He trotted in, pointed his nose toward the floating stick, and paddled steadily toward it.

Paolo was still talking. “It's really not so bad. I mean, they didn't
destroy
anything—and we have enough line left over on the spool to rerig that jib.”

Maria stared at him. She hadn't even thought of the boat since her mother told her about Mr. Ironwall.

“Are you okay?” Paolo asked.

“No.” Maria suddenly realized she wasn't okay. “I'm really worried about Mr. Ironwall.”

“Yeah, he's pretty sick, my mom told me,” Paolo said.

“I have to get him to go to the hospital,” Maria said. “As soon as I'm done walking Brutus, I'm going to make my mom let me see him. I can make him go. He'll listen to me.”

Brutus was swimming about in circles. She wished he'd get out and take care of business so the walk could end.

“Maria?” Paolo said her name as if he'd already said it a few times. “Will you?” He touched her arm.

“Will I what?”

“Will you come with me to see Taylor?”

Maria headed toward the water. “Come on, Brutus. Go already.”

Prize stick in his teeth, the dog dutifully came out, shook, and peed on a hunk of seaweed.

“But we're not really going to take him … we're just going to let him think he's coming. We'll tell him a different date.” Paolo trotted along behind her. “You have to come with me. I'm banned from the yacht club, and that's where he works. Maria!”

Maria was too focused on Brutus to pay attention to Paolo. Now the dumb dog was eating crab legs. The gulls took the meat from the bodies and left the legs rotting on the beach, and Brutus loved them.

“No crab cookies!” Maria hooked up the leash and pulled him away. “We have to get going!”

Paolo jogged after them. “Maria, are you going to help me or what?”

Brutus was finally circling a promising patch of wrack in the way he did right before he went number two. Maria waited till he squatted, then she turned back to Paolo. “What do you want?”

“Just meet me in the kitchen for lunch, okay? I'll tell you then.” He sounded exasperated.

“We always meet in the kitchen for lunch,” Maria said.

“Whatever. I'm going to go work on the
Privateer
.”

As she watched Paolo heading for the boat, Maria realized she had no idea what he'd been talking about.

“Finally!”

She scooped the dog's mess into a plastic bag. “We have to go see Mr. Ironwall!” She dragged the insulted-looking animal toward the house.

*   *   *

Maria wouldn't take no for an answer. Celeste met her at Mr. Ironwall's bedroom door and tried to take Brutus without letting her in.

“He's exhausted,
chérie
,” Celeste whispered. “Just breathing makes him tired. If he has to talk he will only get worse, heaven forbid.”

“He doesn't have to talk. He just has to listen,” Maria said.

“Let her—!” Mr. Ironwall called. Then he began coughing.

“See?” Celeste hissed. She let her daughter in anyhow.

Maria waited by the door until Mr. Ironwall's coughing stopped. Celeste scurried forward to replace the oxygen mask that he had pushed off. He wheezed with each inhale, but he looked alert enough. He patted the bedspread beside him.

Maria sat on the bed by his feet. “Don't talk. My mom says it makes you tired.”

He made a fist of his hand on the coverlet and bobbed it up and down.

“That means
yes
,” Celeste told her.

“What's
no
?” Maria asked.

Mr. Ironwall made a beak out of his thumb and first two fingers and tapped them together.

“How are you doing?” Maria asked him. Then she winced—that wasn't a yes or no question. Still, he nodded his hand
yes
, and she took it to mean
good
.

“It's okay, Mama,” Maria said. “You can take a break.”

Celeste looked at her warily, but Mr. Ironwall nodded his hand.

“Okay,
chérie
. But I'm going to leave my walkie-talkie. I'll just be down in the kitchen with Hattie, so you can call me there—it is already on the right channel. Just push that button on the side and talk into it. And don't come down to get me, call me and I will come up. I don't want Mr. Ironwall alone for one second.
Compris?
”

“I understand,” Maria said. She looked at Mr. Ironwall. He nodded his hand again.

She waited till her mother was gone a few seconds before she said, “Mama says you won't go to the hospital. Is that true?”

His hand nodded.

“You're really sick this time though, aren't you?”

His hand made the tapping beak.
No
.

“Don't lie to me. I know you're sick,” Maria said. “And you're not going to get better unless you go to the mainland hospital and get the best help you can.”

He tapped the beak,
no.

“But why not? Don't you want to get better?”

He rolled his eyes toward the window.

“Listen.” She took his hand in hers. It felt cool and dry and fragile. “I know you're sick of being sick. But we need you.
I
need you. I don't want to go back to the city
ever
. So if you give up and leave us high and dry you're just being selfish. You are!”

Mr. Ironwall looked at her and wheezed. He pulled the mask from his face and Maria saw he was smiling.

“And your insistence”—he wheezed—“that I get better”—wheeze—“so you can stay here”—another wheeze—“is not selfish?”

“Well, I guess it kind of is,” Maria admitted. “But I don't care!”

Brutus heard her raised voice and looked up from his spot on the carpet.

“And Brutus needs you, too!” She reached for Mr. Ironwall's mask. “Now put this back on or my mom'll kill me.”

He pushed her hand away and kept the mask off. “Why”—he began his halting, wheezing talk again—“would a young girl … want to stay … in this rotting carcass … of a place?”

She looked steadily at him. “Well, I love the cottage, and all the weird, old-timey things in it. I love your dog. I love the beach and the things I find on our walks. I like bringing things to you and you explaining them to me, and you telling me old Island stories … Put your mask on!” She took the mask firmly from him and placed it back over his nose and mouth. “I just like hanging out with you.” She felt suddenly shy. “You know what I mean.”

He tapped his fingers
no
.

“What do you mean,
no
?” She pushed him lightly on the shoulder. “Now you're just messing with me, pretending you don't know what I'm saying.”

His eyes twinkled, and she figured he was still smiling under the plastic mask.

“Don't you dare leave us high and dry,” she said, swiping her eyes. Her hand came away wet. She hadn't realized she'd been crying.

Mr. Ironwall laid his hand on top of hers. He patted her knuckles.

“Will you go to the hospital or what?” she said in a quieter voice.

He reached up and pulled the oxygen mask from his face again. “Call your mother.” He put the mask back on.

“I'm not calling her unless you say you'll go.” Maria stood and held the walkie-talkie in her hand.

He nodded his hand
yes
.

Maria grabbed his nodding hand and held it close to her face. “You have to come back. Promise.”

Mr. Ironwall curled his fingers so they brushed her cheek.

*   *   *

The household scurried to get Mr. Ironwall ready for his trip to the hospital. In the kitchen, Hattie told Maria she'd have to stay with them till her mother returned from the mainland. “And I don't know how long she'll be gone. They're getting such a late start as it is, she'll probably miss the last ferry back.”

“Frank's going with her,” Paolo said. “You can stay in his loft.”

“I guess I should go pack some clothes,” Maria said.

“And we're taking care of Brutus, too,” Hattie said. “Pack his food, dishes, and leash.”

But before Maria left the kitchen, a swirl of red lights filled the window.

“That's the EMTs.” Hattie opened the kitchen door and waved to the driver of the ambulance. “Go around to the front!”

Maria joined her at the open door. She watched the ambulance pull around the drive to the front entrance. The EMTs left the lights on, but there was no siren. Maria started out, but Hattie put her hand on her arm.

“Now, they don't need us getting in the way,” she said. “You wait here with me.”

Maria went to the side garden instead. Brutus followed. At least they could see the front entrance and the waiting ambulance from there.

After a moment, Paolo and Hattie joined her. Hattie put her arm around Maria's shoulders and pulled her close. She kissed the top of Maria's head.

“I know you're worried,” Hattie said. “But he's got your mom and Frank, and they'll take good care of him.”

The EMTs appeared at the top of the grand front stairs with the gurney. Mr. Ironwall hardly made a lump under the sheet and straps. Celeste and Frank followed, carrying overnight bags.

As the EMTs loaded Mr. Ironwall into the back of the ambulance, Brutus barked. Maria held him back by his collar and pushed the big dog's rump down. Brutus sat hard. He scratched the air with his paw, whining.

The ambulance pulled away, followed closely by Frank's truck. Celeste turned and waved out the passenger window.