Tracie Peterson (38 page)

The bed had been pushed out of the way, along with Deirdre’s quilt stand and free-standing mirror. Erica supposed this was done in order to give the paramedics more room in which to work. Either way, the room looked to have been completely trashed.

“Just get your things together,” Mattie suggested. “Take whatever you think you’ll need and if we have to come back later . . . well . . . we’ll worry about it then.”

Deirdre nodded, but it wasn’t until Erica moved to push her in the direction of the closet that she actually turned away from the death scene.

“I can help if you’ll just tell me what you want,” Erica said, happy for a task that took her away from the ghastly sight.

“I don’t know what to take,” Deirdre replied. “I don’t know what to do.” She looked at Erica with mournful eyes and an expression that suggested she was about to break down.

Erica wrapped her arms around Deirdre and hugged her close. “I don’t either, sis,” she murmured. “Guess we’ll figure it out together.”

Chapter 33

Brook tied her long chestnut hair back into a ponytail, then tried Ashley’s telephone in Estes Park for the fourth time. There was no answer. Even the answering machine refused to pick up. It was just as well, Brook reasoned, for she’d never leave a machine message telling of Dave’s suicide. Especially since Ashley was alone.

Dave Woodward was dead. It was impossible to believe such a statement. Just like that—the snap of fingers, the blink of an eye—and a person she had known and cared about was gone.

Equally troubling was the fact that this death had come at his own hand. Brook sat down and tried to comprehend the situation. Why had Dave killed himself? Erica had given her very little information and none of it answered this question. Deirdre and Dave had seemed so happy. Of course, there was that issue of Dave canceling their anniversary trip, but even so, that wasn’t related to the marriage so much as to Dave’s job.

Brook shuddered. Death seemed to have a strong hold on their family. Within the last few months Rachelle had died, Ashley had lost a baby after defying her own death, and now Dave was gone.

“
Life and death walk hand in hand
,” Grammy would say when they were young. Brook had never really understood it then. Yet she wasn’t sure she was any better at understanding it now. Oh, it was easy to see that death was an unavoidable part of life, but to Brook it came as much more than that. She was afraid of dying. Especially of dying alone with no one to mourn her passing or be at her side when the end came.

She thought of Ashley and how much her sister loved her. In spite
of this, Ashley couldn’t be expected to drop everything and give her life over to Brook. Ashley had told Brook she would always have a home with Ashley and her family, but Brook knew that was a less than perfect arrangement.

Thinking of Ashley, Brook wondered if she should try to call again. She’d not heard a single thing from her sister since returning to New York. Her own schedule had been nonstop since stepping off the plane, but Brook had made numerous attempts to reach Ashley. It bothered Brook a great deal that her sister was back to making herself unavailable. At least that’s what it appeared she was doing. There didn’t seem to be any other logical explanation.

Brook thought of how troubled Ashley was by Jack’s lying. It seemed to come as a final blow to her sister, and Brook couldn’t help but worry that Ashley and Jack might be headed toward a separation—maybe even a divorce. This thought seemed to rear up to contradict her earlier concerns about isolationism and dying alone. A person could find a wonderful mate, only to lose them like Deirdre had. Then what?

Brook shook her head, unable to fathom what Deirdre must be going through. She longed to be with her. To be with all of them and know the comfort of family. Thoughts of things her sisters had said about Brook’s tendency to keep herself confined in New York came back to haunt her.

“
If you came around more often
. . .”

“
If you lived closer
. . .”

“
If you really wanted to spend time with us
. . .”

Brook put her hand to her temples and rubbed the throbbing pain with her fingertips. Her life was like a pyramid turned upside down. Family was at the base, but the base was small and minute compared to the top portion—her career. Family and its responsibility was smaller than every other aspect of her life. It was no wonder that at times like this Brook felt the pyramid was about to crash to one side or the other.

Going to her desk, she pulled out the top drawer and took out
her address book. She’d given little thought to what she was to do in regard to Dave’s funeral. She knew she needed to be there, but she had also agreed to film a television commercial. Getting out of it would be impossible. They were already into their second day and the crew and sponsors were all rather cranky that things had taken so long on day one.

Brook stared at the telephone number for the airline. She didn’t even know when the funeral would be, but if she judged it by other funerals, then it would probably be set up to give everyone enough time to come from far away. Perhaps they’d set it at two or three days at the most. She could always reserve a seat and pray that the filming would conclude within that time. Maybe if she explained the situation, the sponsor would find a way to step up the production—at the very least perhaps he could arrange for the rest of her filming to be concluded first. She’d never pulled the prima donna act on anyone in all the time she’d been modeling. Maybe now was the time to pull out the stops and demand a few rights for herself.

She picked up the receiver and dialed the airline. Explaining the situation, she booked a ticket out of New York for the day after tomorrow. And then, without really thinking as to why she was doing what she was doing, Brook dialed Ashley’s home in Denver. Maybe Jack would go and break the news to her sister in person. After all, telling someone that their brother-in-law had just committed suicide wasn’t exactly the kind of thing that suited a phone call. Ashley would need someone to be with her when she learned the truth.

Brook waited impatiently as the phone rang once, then twice, and finally three times. She was about to hang up when Jack’s voice sounded on the other end.

“Hello, Dr. Issacs here.”

“Jack, it’s Brook.”

“Oh, Brook. How are you?”

“Not so good. Something has happened and I need to get ahold of Ashley.”

“What’s wrong?”

“This is hard to believe, but Deirdre’s husband killed himself,” Brook replied matter-of-factly.

“What!” Jack’s voice boomed out the question.

“I had the same reaction,” Brook admitted. “I don’t know many of the details, but I got a call from Erica. I guess he shot himself earlier this afternoon.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“I know. I can hardly believe it myself. I don’t know when the funeral is planned, but it will probably be in Kansas City. I’m hoping to go and figured I’d call and coordinate things with Ashley.”

“She’s not here.”

“Is she still up at the house in Estes? I tried calling her but there was no response.”

Jack issued an audible sigh. “She’s not up there. She came back to Denver with me, but she’s making plans to take off. She wants to go to Mattie’s.”

Brook felt an uneasiness settle over her. “By herself?”

He didn’t answer right away and Brook was instantly sorry that she’d questioned the situation.

“No, she wants to take the boys. She plans to go see Mattie and enjoy some time with the boys before school starts up.”

“Will she fly?” Brook questioned, wanting to know whatever details Jack could give her.

“No, at least I don’t think so. She had me go with her to pick out a new car to replace the one she wrecked. She’s off finalizing the purchase right now.”

“Would you have her call me when she gets back?”

“Sure. Do you want me to break the news to her about Dave?”

“That would probably be the best thing,” Brook said, chickening out of her obligation. After all, she could scarcely believe she’d gotten through the announcement to Jack without feeling that old sensation of queasiness creep up on her. No sense in pushing it.

“I’ll tell her and then have her call you,” Jack promised.

Brook thought of what Ashley had told her about Jack lying and
wished she could say something to help matters. Instead, she mumbled a hasty good-bye, then sat staring at the phone feeling completely foolish for not having confronted Jack with the truth. After all, he’d been the one to tell her that Ashley was on her way home from seeing him at the clinic when the accident happened. Whatever his reasons for lying to Ashley, he couldn’t have the same thought when it came to Brook.

She reached for the telephone, determined to call Jack back, then stopped and shook her head. “I’m not very good at confrontations and relationships,” Brook muttered. “I keep telling people this, but no one seems inclined to listen to me. If I call back, I’ll probably just make matters worse.”

Steeped in feelings of remorse, Brook realized the one person she still had to deal with was Miriam. If she waited until tomorrow to explain the situation, there would be too great a price to pay. Dialing the number of her pager, Brook left her number and waited for her manager to return the call.

“God, you have to show me how to handle this,” Brook prayed aloud, eyes open and fixed on the silent telephone. “I don’t know where you’re leading me or what I’m supposed to do, but I need you to be in charge of the details.”

The telephone rang.

Brook shuddered and looked away. “And I need for you to protect me from Miriam’s wrath.”

It was Mattie who made the call to Dave’s parents in St. Louis. She talked first to Julie Woodward and then to Mike, Dave’s father. Both were stunned silent for several moments and then both began to cry and ask questions. Concluding that call was one of the hardest things Mattie had ever done. She knew what it was to lose a son. She knew the need for a lifeline to someone who could help—someone who would listen or, better yet, give some answers.

But there was too much yet to be done. She had managed to get
Deirdre packed, and after a few calls to area hotels, she had settled on a reliable hotel chain near to where Erica lived. Morgan and Deirdre had followed her lead like silent soldiers heading off to battle. Their expressions were fixed, their stares were glassy-eyed and empty. They were shell-shocked in a sense. They’d seen too much—endured too much.

To Mattie’s relief, the hotel had a small suite with a sitting room and adjoining bedroom. In the bedroom was a king-sized bed and in the sitting room the couch pulled into a queen-sized sleeper. Mattie had encouraged Deirdre to take the bedroom with Morgan, while she would make her bed on the couch. Deirdre had argued with her only briefly. It had taken nothing more than Mattie explaining that certain calls had to be made and arrangements decided upon for Deirdre to see the sensibility in the suggestion.

The room itself was rather comforting. The colors were rich and the decor appeared to be English Victorian. Thick swag drapery dressed the windows in deep forest green, while the wallpaper held the same dark green against pinstripes of burgundy and gold. Mattie felt a certain comfort in the room. The dark tones and richly polished woods seemed to warm the room—if not physically, then certainly emotionally.

However, as Mattie stared at the clock, she couldn’t help but wonder what the night ahead had in store for them. A comfortable room would hardly resolve their problems. “Eight-thirty,” she said aloud, then yawned. It felt more like midnight.

“She’s asleep,” Deirdre said, coming out from the adjoining room. “I left the light on, but I’ll close the door so we can talk.”

Mattie smiled and nodded. Deirdre seemed a little more like herself now that she’d put the horrors of the house and the earlier events of the day behind her. Mattie patted the sofa. “I guess we have plenty to talk about.”

Deirdre had changed into a comfortable-looking nightshirt and shorts. She sat down on the couch and tucked her legs up under her before meeting Mattie’s gaze. “This is all my fault, Grammy. I might
as well tell you that up front.”

Mattie gazed at her granddaughter. “How do you see this as your fault?”

Deirdre took a deep breath and looked away. “Remember when I told you about my friend? The one with the gambling addiction?”

“Yes,” Mattie replied. “I remember.”

“There was no friend, Grammy. That was me. I was talking about myself.” She looked back at Mattie, and the pain in Deirdre’s eyes nearly made Mattie wince. “I couldn’t tell you it was me because I didn’t want to face your disappointment or your lectures. But it got away from me. I took a great deal of money out of our checking account, and I even pawned an antique necklace Dave’s mother had given me. But I lost it all. I lost every cent and then some.”

“I’m so sorry, Dee,” Mattie said, praying she’d say the right thing.

“Dave found out about the money, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about the gambling. He wanted to know where the money had gone, but I just couldn’t confess it to him. I was too ashamed. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen victim to something I clearly knew was a danger.”