fifty-three

Frank and I stood on the Harbor House porch. I was scared and tired, and I couldn’t get myself through the front door of my own house. I considered relocating permanently to the porch, maybe screen it in, add a daybed. It might work, but Frank, sensing my hesitation, placed a firm hand on my back, opened the door, and forced me across the threshold.

My eyes danced wildly around the room. The first person I saw was Vicky, Katrina’s midwife, who welcomed me with a bear hug. I barely knew the woman, but her hearty embrace was much appreciated, although undeserved considering I had ditched Katrina and her on my way out earlier in the day. I introduced the midwife to Frank, and the three of us headed into the library.

Katrina, positively glowing, cradled a swaddled bundle close to her chest. A tiny hand poked through the striped blanket, and I sighed openly. Jonathan, her boyfriend and our absent housemate, sat proudly next to his new family on the couch. In a threadbare, winged-back chair sat a lovely young girl with a terrible dye job.

“How?” It was all I could think of to say to Gayle.

“Shit happens.” She shrugged.

“But, how did you end up here?” Frank said. “We thought you were at the labs.”

“I was, but once I realized I could get Dr. Prentice, Lonnie, and the police to the labs, I knew it wouldn’t be safe for me to stay,” Gayle said. “I kind of wanted to stay. See how it turned out.” Her voice, full of teenage optimism, revealed her age. The lilt and rhythm matched that of a young girl, although physically, she could—and had—passed as a woman in her early twenties.

“So shit doesn’t just happen,” I corrected. “You actually arranged for all these people to be at the labs.”

“It seemed—” She paused. “Efficient? You know, like, why waste time going after all these people separately?”

A teenager concerned with waste and efficiency? Screw the blood test. This kid is mine.

“Lonnie Drummond is dead,” Frank said. “He was killed at the labs.”

Gayle’s face fell and she seemed to grow years younger. “He pushed Bob,” she said quietly. “I saw it.”

“We know,” Frank said. “None of this is your fault, but it would have been nice to know what you had planned as opposed to walking in unaware.”

Gayle nodded and I could see she was just a girl who had gotten in over her head.

Frank motioned to the kitchen. Gayle turned to Katrina and Jonathan and said, “Thanks for letting me sit with you. Your baby is beautiful.” She rose from her chair and I was immediately taken with her height; she was easily five inches taller than me.

I watched, in awe, as she glided past me toward the kitchen. “She’s so tall,” I whispered to Frank.

“Your dad and your aunt will be here in a few minutes,” Frank advised Gayle as we sat down at the kitchen table. “Since you’re underage, I won’t ask you any questions until they arrive.”

Gayle nodded. We sat in silence, and I was thankful for the lack of distraction because it gave me time to stare. And stare I did. I couldn’t take my eyes off this young woman, with her slender fingers and bright blue eyes. Her skinny jeans narrowed gracefully along the curve of her calf, leading my eyes down to her feet.

“Eight and a half,” she said, referring to her shoe size. “You’re shorter than I expected.”

My god, I thought. She knew exactly who I was. “So, it was you I saw at Bob’s house?” I asked.

She lowered her head. “I didn’t break in. The door was open, and Bob’s a friend,” she said as she considered her words. “I needed something from his house.”

“A home dialysis machine?” Frank asked.

“Maybe,” she said. “But you’re not supposed to be asking me questions.”

Frank laughed and leaned into Gayle. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but I believe we can convince Health Associates that Lonnie Drummond acted alone. If that’s the case, then there is no case, since both Bob and Lonnie are dead. That is, of course, if Maid Marian retires her avatar.”

A mask of worry clouded Gayle’s face. “But people are dying. Bob was upset about it.”

“And Lonnie?” Frank asked.

“Lonnie was worried he’d lose his job. He pushed Bob, but I think it was out of frustration. I don’t think he meant to—” She started to cry.

“I promise we’ll find a way to help,” I said, finally reaching out for Gayle.

She took my hand easily and said, “Bob liked you.” A warm feeling flooded my body, and I had an urge to sketch every emotion bottled up inside me. We released our hands as Carolyn and Kelly entered the kitchen. Gayle ran to her father, and he drew her into his arms. It was a tight embrace, but I knew, eventually, there’d be room for me.