Chapter 13

I kept vigil all morning and most of the afternoon until dozing off.

Rousing myself, I wiped sleep from my eyes and looked out the window. Seeing it was dark, I checked my watch. Five-fifteen.

Nathan Stroud, my former boyfriend, lived in Baltimore. It would save an hour’s commute time if I could hang out at his place instead of going back and forth to Takoma Park. I dialed his number on the room phone, since cell phones were not allowed.

“Nathan, it’s Laurel. Can you put me up for a few nights?”

“What’s the matter?”

Because I started crying again, I moved as far away from Emma as I could get and whispered what had happened.

“Well, listen. You know I’d love nothing more than to have you, but I sorta have a semi-permanent houseguest. A lady friend.”

“Oh, okay. I understand.” He had a two-bedroom condo. Not much space.

“You’re having a rough time. I heard about Randall.”

“How’d you hear?”

“I stay in touch. In fact, Paula is my current lady friend.”

“Paula Mayfield?”

“Yep.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Long enough.”

“Oh, okay.” How’d I miss that in the rumor mill, I wondered. “I’ll see you another time then. I’ve got to call a cab.”

“Where’s your car?”

When I explained what happened, he said, “The least I can do is give you a ride home. I’m on my way.”

When he got there, Nathan eyed me as if I were a baglady he would have preferred avoiding. “You look like hell, Laurel. Emma’s going to come out of this just fine. They’re doing miraculous things with burns these days, and being unconscious is just the body’s way to focus on healing.”

“You’re right, and I’m going to stay positive. But you’d look like hell too if you’d been me the last couple of days. I get points for being vertical and somewhat in my right mind.”

“When she wakes up, they’ll get that physical therapy going like gangbusters if she should need it. I don’t know Emma all that well, but from what I’ve seen, she’s a tough cookie. Emma is going to get through this. I’m worried about you now.”

We walked through quiet hospital corridors toward the parking lot.

“I hope you’re braced,” he said.

I looked at him as he held open the passenger door of his ice-green Infinity. What had he heard? “What do you mean?”

“Things happen in threes, don’t they? You’re already reeling. What’s going to happen when the third shoe drops?”

I didn’t tell him, but if I counted the pregnancy, Emma was the third shoe.

We drove south on I-95 without saying much. Thirty minutes later Nathan suggested we stop to eat. “Outback all right?”

“No thanks. I’m beat, and I have to see what kind of shape the house is in.” I’d loved my colonial-style house when I bought it four years ago. But with what had transpired between Dennis and me, and now with Emma being hurt in the fire, to say its appeal had soured was putting it mildly.

When I opened my front door, the smoke smell was faint, but there. That meant I’d need new carpet, new drapes and maybe a whole new wardrobe. I looked up at the ceiling, brown with water stains in one area. Everything had to be painted.

Upstairs in my bedroom, Nathan and I stared at the black space where a wall used to be and the boarded-up windows on the other wall.

My bedroom connected to another small room. I had wanted to make it my office, but it was over the garage and always ten degrees cooler than the rest of the house in winter. The fire had apparently started there, since this was where the damage was most prevalent. The remains of a melted ladder formed a grotesque sculpture.

Emma had always said it was a shame to waste this room; she thought baseboard heating would make it nice and cozy. I hadn’t got around to that, either. I had used the room as storage for art I’d grown tired of but couldn’t part with, an odd chair, and a closet for off-season clothes. Picking up a sodden, partially unfurled roll of pink and blue bunny border, I reasoned this was where Emma thought the nursery should go. I dropped the border and went back to my bedroom, frowning at the devastation everywhere. I walked to my overturned bookcase.

“Oh no,” I whispered.

Nathan began picking up my eclectic book collection.

I stooped to my photo albums, which had also been on the bookcase. They were waterlogged, but perhaps some pictures could be professionally restored. I’d meant to scan them all, but had never gotten around to it.

Nathan continued to try to salvage books, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to be here. “Nathan, I’m going to take a leave of absence from work and home. I’m moving to Baltimore to be close to Emma.”

“It shouldn’t take more than a couple of weeks,” Nathan said. “Most clean-up companies are pretty efficient about getting people back in their homes in a timely manner. Anything you want to take with you?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t think what I needed or wanted. “Like what?”

“Insurance info, for starters.”

“I’ve got my records in a safety deposit box. We financial types at least know to do that much, right?”

“Right. What about your computer?” he asked.

I showed him file storage on my keychain. “I got it covered, and I’ve got my laptop, but I will take my two Jacob Lawrence prints from the living room.” I had one print called Brownstone that depicted urban street activity. Its vibrant colors would cheer me wherever I ended up. The other one was called Tombstone. Again, Lawrence’s use of primary colors leapt off the canvas. I liked how it captured the cycle of life with the birth and death symbols it contained, but Emma had always thought that one was rather morbid.

Nathan removed them from the wall. “Okay, I’ll hold onto these for you until you find a place. Where next?”

“The Holiday Inn, I guess.” I’d wash out my underwear and go shopping for new clothes tomorrow.

“What about a car?”

“I’ll rent one through the hotel.”

Back in the car Nathan said, “Call me if you need help finding a place to stay in Baltimore.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

By ten the next day, I’d dealt with my leave of absence, contacted the insurance company and rented a car.

Charlie from the B&B called and told me to meet him at ESPN Sports Center in Baltimore to pick up my car. Perfect. The hospital was only fifteen minutes from there, max. I’d buy Charlie lunch and then spend the afternoon with Emma.

While I picked up a week’s worth of outfits at City Mall, I kept thinking that at least Emma’s face wouldn’t be scarred. But, oh my God, to have to tell her about Dennis and me and that I had intentionally brought a defective heater home. She’d never, ever forgive me. Not in a million years, and I couldn’t blame her.

The drive back to Baltimore would take an hour. En route, I called Tolliver’s Auto Supply to do some research. I pretended to be in charge of Mr. Butler’s accounts payable.

“Sir, we have an illegible receipt.” I gave him the date in question. “Please tell me the items purchased, amount, and time of purchase.”

“Time of purchase. That’s a new one. Let me check.”

He verified what Dennis had told me.

“Thank you,” I said, “he’s a funny guy, isn’t he? Likes those overalls and plaid shirts, wears them everyday.”

“Who?”

“The guy who bought the motor,” I explained. “What’s the name on the receipt?”

“Dennis Butler. I didn’t see him though. Wasn’t here that day. Sounds like quite a character.”

“He is. Thank you for your help.”

Dennis could have sent somebody to get that motor. Or maybe Emma had the Ramada Inn address written down some place. To know for sure if he had been at Tolliver’s, I’d have to go there, find who was working then and show Dennis’s picture. Police work was tougher than it looked, but I was used to hustling.

I’d had plenty of pictures of him and Emma, but they had been on a bookcase in my bedroom. I’d have to find another source.