Critical Impact, page 6
Anna smiled. She enjoyed the easy way her mother and Stu were getting along. Around the fourth day of Anna’s hospital stay, her mother had suggested that Stu call her Catherine. Anna also reflected on the fact that during this past week she and her mother had gotten much closer, almost closer than they had ever been before. Stu insisted that Anna take his arm and the three of them walked up the front porch.
Leaning against the porch were the old panes of glass from the original windows.
Catherine looked at them and said, “Oh, good. I’m so glad the new windows are in. Everything is ready for you now.”
“I can take this glass away for you if you’d like,” Stu said.
Catherine waved her hand. “Oh, no. Don’t bother. I have a man from church coming to get it all.”
“But this could be dangerous. There are a few sharp pieces here,” he said, examining them.
“I’ll call him when we get in. Maybe he can come today.”
Lois and Marg were sitting in the living room with the television on when Anna, Stu and her mother went inside the cottage.
Catherine stopped when she saw them. “I thought the two of you were going to be at Marg’s.”
“Her television is broken,” Lois said.
Anna thought this was strange. She was sure Johnny Seeley would have two or three flat-screen TVs in that big house. Here there was only one small television.
“Hello, Lois,” Anna said. “And Marg.”
“So nice to have you home, Anna,” Lois said. “I like the pink cast.”
Anna carefully raised her right arm. “It is kinda cute, isn’t it? I had my choice of colors.”
Last week Marg had demanded to be kept up-to-date on the case, yet today Marg’s face was glued to the news channel. She barely acknowledged Anna or Stu.
Lois rose and said, “I’m sure you’re wondering about bathroom arrangements.”
Anna wasn’t, but while Stu carried her bags into the parlor and Catherine brought her many vases of flowers into the house, Lois said, “Come with me and I’ll show you the bathroom situation.”
Anna followed her into the second bathroom. “You and I will be sharing a bathroom. We’ve got a new handheld shower attachment. We also had some grab bars installed, but you ask me, their placement is going to cause more trouble than they’re worth.” She continued, “This half of the vanity is mine. The other side and that towel rack is yours.”
Lois had moved all her bottles, hairpins, spray and pill bottles onto her side.
“It’s okay, Aunt Lois. I don’t want to cause any problems. I’ll keep my cosmetics in my bedroom. I’ll just keep my toothbrush in here.”
“Well, I don’t want to cause any trouble, either, but when you’re used to doing things a certain way for so long, it gets hard to change. I’ve already laid out your towels. Mine are yellow and yours are pink.”
“Oh, good. They’ll match my cast.”
When Anna had had the full tour, including what went under each cupboard and what went above, she followed her aunt back to the living room, where Marg was still staring at the television. “It’s going to begin soon,” she said.
Catherine and Stu were in the parlor and deep in conversation about the new windows and how “safe” they were when Anna came in. The parlor looked charming, the daybed was made up with a spread Anna remembered from childhood—one covered with pink ponies. For privacy, all the blinds were drawn. One of the far windows was open, letting in the warmth of the evening.
“It’s almost press time!” Marg called. Anna went back into the parlor.
Stu followed Catherine into the kitchen to get some glasses of lemonade ready and Anna took the time to do a bit of one-handed unpacking in her bedroom. Anna had certain places she wanted to put things. Her Bible went on the nightstand, and the fashion magazines and novels she was reading would go on the table in the little reading nook next to the bay window. It would be a great place to cozy up and read for an evening on the easy chair.
She was about to join the women in the living room when she heard Lois say to Marg, “I just can’t help but think that this whole thing is the beginning of God’s judgment. It may be what we’ve all been praying for.”
Anna paused, wondering what they were talking about. What was God’s judgment? She was fairly certain the women didn’t know she could hear them, standing as she was behind the door.
Her aunt continued, “We’ve been praying that God would send his fires of judgment on our immoral nation. The bombing of City Hall may only be the beginning.”
Anna froze, felt her face go hot. Why was her aunt saying this? Especially to Marg, who almost lost her husband in the bombing? How could her aunt be so callous?
Anna looked through the crack in the door. Instead of arguing, Marg was saying quietly, “But I didn’t expect it to happen exactly this way.”
Lois said, “None of us did, dear. But who knows the ways of God?”
Anna had heard enough. She couldn’t let Marg suffer like this anymore. She entered the room. “Hello, ladies,” Anna said as brightly as she could.
At that moment Stu and Catherine came in with a tray of lemonade and cookies. The press conference was about to begin. Anna wasn’t sure she wanted to see it, but knew she would regret it if she didn’t. She sat down on the couch. She took her arm out of the cotton sling and rested it on a pillow. Stu sat beside her.
Moments later the news program cut to Whisper Lake Crossing Hospital and the room where Johnny was in bed, his leg elevated in a full cast. He was flanked on either side by the two other mayors, and microphones were set up on a table in front of them. Each of the news affiliates made sure their corporate logo faced the cameras.
Johnny took the lead, as Anna knew he would. He always liked to be front and center of everything. “My friends, we have had a disaster, the likes of which we in our Whisper Lake communities have not experienced before. Our towns are peaceful. In our communities, you don’t even need to lock your doors. That’s the kind of place I grew up in. That’s the kind of place I want to live in again, a place where neighbors take care of neighbors, the kind of neighbors where you can borrow a cup of flour in the middle of the night….”
Anna tried not to roll her eyes.
“But, my friends and fellow Whisper Lakers, we have experienced tragedy.” He paused dramatically.
“The tragic loss of two of our precious young women, the wanton destruction of our landmark building. My colleagues and I promise you one thing. We will not rest until these terrorists are brought to justice, until the safety of our communities is restored….”
Anna leaned her head against the back of the couch, closed her eyes and didn’t listen to the rest. She wondered if what Lois said could have any grains of truth in it. Could God be punishing her for something? Maybe going to California hadn’t been His will. Or getting involved with Peter. But I thought he was a Christian, she argued with herself. He told me that he and I shared the same values. Maybe I should’ve been more discerning. Maybe losing my right hand, even for a short time, is God’s punishment. She felt tears gather in her eyes.
“Are you okay?” Stu asked her softly.
“Just thinking.”
“You know that can be dangerous.”
“You’re telling me.”
When the press conference was over, Catherine suggested that Stu and Anna take their unfinished lemonades outside on the porch and watch the sunset on the lake.
Stu looked down at Anna. “If Anna’s not too tired.”
“I’m not.” She wasn’t, not if it meant spending more time with Stu.
Marg and Lois were still watching the news and Catherine decided to read a book in her room.
The outdoor two-person swing was something that her father made before he died. It had been sanded, repainted and repaired many times and was still in perfect working order.
“You grew up in this house?” Stu asked.
“I was born in Bangor. We bought this place when I was little. When I was ten, my father passed away. Eventually, we sold the house in the city and my mother and I moved here.”
“Those look nice.” He was pointing at a large set of bamboo wind chimes hanging from the roof of the porch.
“I don’t know where my mother got those. They’ve been here forever.”
He got up and gently rattled them with his hand. The sound the chimes made was deep and hollow and woody.
She took a sip of the lemonade. It was tart, just the way she liked it.
“How long has your aunt lived here?” Stu asked.
“Around two years.”
She looked at her sandaled feet. He sat down beside her again and gently moved the swing back and forth. A long time ago she would sit on the swing, her father beside her, holding her hand. It was so long ago she was even forgetting what he looked like. But she would always remember his hand holding hers, always gentle, always warm. She told Stu about him.
He said he would have liked to meet him.
As they sat there chatting about inconsequential things, she was conscious of his presence next to her, the two of them brought together by tragedy.
“Are you any closer to finding out who was responsible for the bombing?” she asked.
“We’re working on a few leads.”
She looked at him and smiled. “Which means there are lots of things you can’t tell me.”
“I’m telling you everything I can. Believe me, Anna. I’m not hiding anything.”
Anna said, “I know you’re good friends with Marg and Johnny. How is Marg taking all this? She seems so confused. I really feel sorry for her. I was thinking of trying to get to know her.”
“That would be good for her. She’s taking this whole thing pretty hard. She’s accusing me of keeping things from her. I’m not.” He took another sip of his lemonade, and they talked some more.
Anna adjusted the blanket under her arm and noticed a movement in the parlor window behind where they were sitting on the swing. Maybe her mother was rearranging the room or unpacking. She should go in and tell her mother not to bother. She excused herself, saying she would be right back.
It wasn’t her mother who was in the parlor room.
Marg’s back was to the door and she was sitting beside the window, obviously listening to everything that she and Stu were talking about. Eavesdropping? Why?
“Marg?” Anna stood in the doorway.
The woman turned suddenly, saw it was Anna, opened her eyes and mouth wide, put her hand to her chest and said, “I just came here to sit beside the window and get a breath of air. I’m so used to just coming in here and sitting in this window seat. Oh, dear, I need to remember that you are living here now.”
Anna wasn’t buying it. The woman was clearly listening in on their conversation. Anna’s emotions veered between angry frustration and sympathy. Marg shouldn’t be in someone else’s room, but she had a close friend who was calling the injuries her husband had sustained God’s judgment. No wonder Marg was a little off center these days. She just wanted to hear what Stu told her about the case.
Maybe Anna just needed to give her the benefit of the doubt.
There were no new messages for Stu when he finally got home. Peter Remington hadn’t called and the address for Jack Habrowser had been incorrect. All week they’ve been trying to find both of these men with no luck.
He had to admit that he was worried about Marg. Since the bombing, she’d been acting strangely. Anna had told him that Marg had been listening in on their conversation and also that Lois had told Marg that the bombing was God’s judgment. He wondered about Marg’s friendship with Lois. Perhaps that wasn’t the wisest friendship in the world. But was there anything he could do about it? Probably not.
Now that Anna was home, he was worried about her, too. He wondered about her, too. So far, he didn’t think she had anything to do with what went on, but Lorraine’s words, and Marg’s accusation, continued to haunt him. He thought of that entirely windowed room that Anna was sleeping in. Anyone wanting to get in the cottage would merely have to punch the glass in. Yet, short of putting bars on the windows, there was little they could do. Was Anna safe there? Had the bomb been meant for her? Had Peter Remington been involved? Where was that guy and why couldn’t Stu and Liz find him?
Restlessly, he stood at his window and gazed out in the direction of Anna’s mother’s place and prayed for her safety, prayed for direction in the case.
Inside, even though it was late evening, he sent her a text message. Just checking to make sure you’re okay.
A few minutes later his phone vibrated. She wrote—I’m fine. Thanks for asking.
He texted back—Be careful. Keep your doors locked.
She wrote—I don’t think my mother ever locks her doors. This is Whisper Lake Crossing, you know.
He wrote—That’s what I’m worried about.
Anna liked it that Stu was worried enough to text her at ten-fifteen just to make sure she was okay. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she’d been sleeping. Her cell phone vibrated and its vibration on the bedside table had awakened her.
This was her first night away from the hospital. No night nurse would be a call button away. So before she went to bed, she made sure her water glass was filled and that her two pain pills were right next to it, along with the bell that she was to ring if she needed her mother. So far she hadn’t needed to take the pills.
She lay back down and soon fell asleep. A short while later she woke up, and thought she saw the shadow of a figure enter her room.
She closed her eyes and when she opened them again the figure was gone. It was just a dream, she told herself. Just like in the hospital, probably brought on by the medication she was taking. Except she was taking different pain pills now, ones that weren’t nearly as strong. Still, she had been through a lot and the doctor told her it might be a while before she got over the trauma of the bombing. Bad dreams and nightmares could be a part of the aftermath.
She prayed and fell back to sleep.
When she woke up again, her arm ached. Perhaps she had slept on it wrong. She tried to ignore the pain. Tried to pray through it, but she couldn’t. She would have to break down and take the medication.
She leaned up on her left side and flicked on her bedside lamp. Her water glass was empty. She stared at it. She was positive she had filled it before she went to bed. Did she drink it in the middle of the night? Or spill it? She leaned over and looked on the nightstand. No puddle of water. She looked down beside her. No water on the floor, either. The pills were missing, too. She suddenly realized that her bell was gone. How could that be?
She got up, pulled her robe around her as best she could and got down on her hands and knees. The bell wasn’t under the bed. Neither were the pills.
By now the pain in her arm was excruciating. She remembered what the nurse had told her. Don’t try to skimp on pain pills. Don’t be brave. Take them if you need them.
With her empty glass in hand, she groped her way into the bathroom. Because Lois’s door was open, Anna didn’t want to turn on the hall lights. But that wasn’t a problem. Her mother had plugged a soft night-light into the bathroom counter outlet. Anna walked toward it.
A few feet from the bathroom door, she saw her bell sitting right on the counter and outlined by the eerie blue light of the night-light. How had the bell gotten in here?
She headed toward it.
Just as she was about to walk into the bathroom, she felt a sharp jabbing pain on her knee and heard the crash of glass. She called out before she fell forward toward the hard ceramic tiles of the floor. At the last minute she reached for the grab bar with her left hand and grasped it tightly.
Her mother was there in an instant.
“Anna!”
She looked up, dazed from where she was kneeling, surrounded by jagged shards of glass.
“What happened?” her mother asked, flicking on all the lights and helping her to her feet.
“I don’t know,” Anna said, attempting to pick the glass out of her legs. “I was just coming into the bathroom. Ow.”
“Why didn’t you ring the bell?” And then Catherine looked down. “Anna! You fell over this?” Catherine bent down and began picking up pieces of broken glass. “This is one of the outside windows! What’s it doing in here? Who brought it in here?”
“I don’t know, Mom,” Anna said, attempting to rub her knees with her left hand.
“And why didn’t you ring the bell?”
“The bell was in the bathroom,” Anna protested.
“Why was the bell in the bathroom? Did you put it there?”
Anna said a barely audible “No.”
“You just sit there.” Her mother sat her down on the closed toilet seat. “I’m going to get a broom and a first aid kit. Don’t move. We have to get to the bottom of this.”
The commotion woke Lois, who stood in the doorway, her hand over her open mouth. “What happened here?”
“We don’t know,” Catherine said. “It looks like one of the old windows was leaning against the doorway into the bathroom. Lois, did you bring this window inside?”
Lois shook her head, eyes wide.
“Well, somebody did. And it wasn’t me. This wasn’t here when I went to bed. This is not good.”
“I may have seen something,” Anna said quietly. She was sitting on the closed toilet seat and rubbing her knees.
“What!” Catherine stared at her.
“I thought it was a dream.”
“What did you dream?”
Anna told her mother and her aunt about seeing a figure in her room earlier, but that she had ignored it, thinking it was a dream brought on by a new medication.
“Well, this whole thing is a mystery, and look at your knee. It’s bleeding. You wait right there while I get some antiseptic and bandages.”
While her mother went into her own room to fetch these things, she and Lois didn’t talk much. Lois stood there, staring, her hand across her mouth, and Anna felt too weak and tired to speak.
When her mother returned, she went to work on Anna with tweezers, antiseptic and bandages. “Stu is on his way. He’ll be here in a minute,” her mother said, wetting a washcloth with warm water.
