Arsenic with Austen (34 page)

“Get her gun, Emily. Quick.”

Getting a good purchase on Lizzie and holding her carefully out of the way, Emily slithered across the floor and pulled the gun out of Vicki's helpless hands. Holding it with her fingertips by the end of the stock, she set it carefully on the far counter, muzzle pointing toward the wall.

“Give the baby to Katie and help me.”

Emily laid Lizzie gently into the sobbing Katie's outstretched arm, then untied her other hand.

“What can I do?” The gunshot had blasted coherent thought clear out of her head.

Luke spoke through gritted teeth. “Get a towel or something to stop the blood.”

Of course. She grabbed a clean towel from a drawer, ran it under Luke's armpit, and tied it tightly above his shoulder. He dropped his left hand and transferred the pistol to it.

“Don't think I can't shoot left-handed,” he said to the woman writhing and snarling under his boot. “Game over.”

*   *   *

Deputies Pete and Heather stormed through the back door, each holding a gun in two outstretched hands.

“All right, you two, fun's over. Get this woman up and cuffed.” As Pete grabbed Vicki's hands, Luke lifted his boot and sank into a chair. “Better call me an ambulance, Em.”

“I called them to stand by when you called us,” Heather said as she helped Pete cuff Vicki's hands behind her back and raise her from the floor. “Should be here any second.” The sound of wheels on gravel confirmed her prediction.

Leaving Pete to hold the secured Vicki, Heather went out to tell the paramedics it was safe to come in. As the medics got to work on Luke, Emily tore her eyes from him to glance at Vicki.

In that moment, Emily believed she knew the origin of the legend of the werewolf. Vicki was unrecognizable as the chic, attractive businesswoman Emily had met less than two weeks before. Hanks of brassy yellow hair hung over her lowered face. She glared at her captors through reddened eyes, her breath coming in loud rasps. Her lips, from which the red lipstick had smeared onto her cheeks, curled back over her teeth, and a growl issued from her throat.

She had allowed her malice, envy, and avarice to eat into her soul until scarcely anything human was left in her. She was lower than a beast. And yet somewhere inside her, Emily knew, the image of God still flickered, obscured but unable to be eradicated. Emily's heart stirred with a divine pity.

The medics finished bandaging Luke's shoulder and got him onto a gurney, over his protests that he could walk just fine. “Coming?” he said to Emily.

She looked at Katie, who had put Lizzie to her breast regardless of the crowd around her and was cooing to her as if they were the only two people in the world. “Will you be all right?” Emily asked.

“We're fine,” Katie said, and tore her eyes from Lizzie to look Emily in the eye. “Thanks to you. You saved my baby. I don't know how to thank you.”

“If it hadn't been for me, the two of you would never have been in danger in the first place. Don't thank me. Thank God.”

“Somebody better untie her ankles before we go,” Luke said from his gurney. “In case she needs to pee or something before you get back.”

Emily clapped her hand to her mouth and bent to do as he suggested. She rubbed Katie's ankles to get the blood flowing in them again, then stood. She felt this image of the mother and child would be imprinted on her heart for the rest of her life.

“I hope I'll always be around to protect the two of you. You mean more to me than you can possibly imagine.” She bent to kiss the top of Katie's head and caressed Lizzie's downy red hair. To think she had almost lost them.

It was time Luke knew the truth.

 

thirty-two

She went to Mrs. Goddard's accordingly the very next day, to undergo the necessary penance of communication; and a severe one it was.

—
Emma

Vicki's bullet had entered Luke's right shoulder below the collarbone and exited above the shoulder blade, miraculously avoiding shattering any bones. At the hospital in Tillamook they cleaned and dressed the wound, put his arm in a sling, and kept him overnight to be sure there was no infection.

Emily stayed by his side as long as they would let her, but he was too woozy from pain medication for a serious talk. She returned the next morning, after serving Katie breakfast in bed.

“I'm perfectly fine, Mrs. Cavanaugh,” Katie had protested.

“I know. Just let me do this for you for my own sake. Please.”

She'd held Lizzie while Katie ate, then kissed the two of them good-bye. Now she sat by Luke's bedside again, sipping acidic hospital coffee no amount of cream could palliate and helping him eat his breakfast.

“You never think about how much you need your dominant hand till you lose the use of it,” he said, chasing bits of scrambled egg around his plate with the fork in his left hand.

Emily stood a piece of toast against the plate as a barrier for him to push the eggs against. “Just think what a romantic figure you'll cut in court, with your right arm in a sling. ‘Valiant officer wounded while saving innocent women and children.'”

“Seemed to me like you did most of the saving,” he said with a heightened note of admiration in his voice that made Emily thrill. “The way you dove for that baby and knocked Vicki over in one fell swoop—I've never seen anything like it. I'd've expected that from Katie, maybe—it's amazing what a mother can be capable of when her child's in danger—but I have to admit it surprised me coming from you.”

Emily set down the toast and folded her hands in her lap. “In a way I almost feel as if Lizzie is my child. And Katie too. Odd as that might sound.”

She looked up at him. “Luke—there's something I've never told you. About—what happened after you went away.”

He put down his fork and searched her face. “What is it, beautiful?”

“There was a particular reason I badly wanted to get in touch with you. I mean, I wanted to stay in touch anyway—I wanted us to be forever. But—I couldn't wait till the next summer to see you again. Literally
couldn't
wait.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It had all been over so very long ago—yet in another way it would never be over.

“The thing is—I was pregnant.”

“
Pregnant?
” His voice was a shocked whisper. “And I never knew? What happened? Did you give it up for adoption?” He took in her stricken expression and echoed it with his own. “You didn't—get rid of it? Not our baby?”

“No. No. I could never have done that. But I was desperate.” She took another shuddering breath, willing the tears back. “I was four months along, my jeans were getting tight, and I knew it wouldn't be long before people started to notice. You'd dropped off the face of the Earth, and I didn't dare tell my dad; he would've spontaneously combusted. I told Geoff, or he figured it out—I don't remember. Anyway, he said to go to Aunt Beatrice. She was a bit of a tyrant, but she was kind underneath. I think she would've helped me. I wrote to her.”

The tears refused to be held back any longer. She struggled for air to speak. “I wrote to her. But before I could mail the letter”—Luke reached out to her with his good hand, and she grabbed it like a lifeline—“I lost the baby.”

“Come here, you.” Luke pulled her up onto the bed beside him and folded her tight in his good arm. He rubbed her back and planted kisses on her hair as she sobbed out a lifetime of grief.

When she had calmed a little, he asked her, “Does that have anything to do with your never having children?”

She sat up and reached for a tissue. “When I miscarried, I didn't dare go to a doctor—didn't have a doctor I could trust, because we moved around so much. I just got through it somehow on my own. I bled for weeks—thought I'd never stop bleeding. But years later, when I'd tried so hard to carry a baby and couldn't, I got checked out. They told me there was something wrong from the first miscarriage—scar tissue or something—so an egg couldn't implant properly. I'd never be able to have a child.” She blew her nose vigorously and looked back at Luke. “I didn't just lose our child—I lost all my children. Forever.”

He ran his fingers down her cheek. “My poor baby.”

“So you see, when Katie and Lizzie came into my life—I felt like I'd been given another chance. Katie was like what our daughter might have been grown up—I always thought our baby was a girl, and Katie has your coloring—and Lizzie was like my own baby. I couldn't lose them. Not even if saving them meant losing my own life.”

Luke's face took on a faraway expression. “Katie's parents threw her out, right? And Lizzie's daddy's out of the picture? I wonder if there's some way we could legally adopt the two of them. After you marry me, that is.”

Emily stared, certain she'd heard him wrong. “After I
what
?”

“Marry me.” He saw her gaping and grinned. “No, it's not the pain meds talking. I'd planned to ask you a little more formally. First I thought the cove, but after that got desecrated, I figured maybe another dinner at Gifts from the Sea. And I planned to have a ring to offer you too. But after what we've been through, it seems kind of silly to stand on ceremony. Will you?” He threw off the bedclothes, hoisted himself out of bed, and knelt in his hospital gown at her feet. “Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

Why she should be so stunned, Emily didn't know. After all, she'd known for some time that Luke still loved her; he'd hinted he wanted their relationship to move onto firmer ground. But marriage? After all these years?

“I—I don't know, Luke.” She saw his face fall and put her hand to his cheek. “I do love you—you know that—but … I can't explain it. I just feel like we need to take more time.”

“Thirty-five years isn't enough for you?”

She gave a pale smile. “But we've only been back together for a couple of weeks. And it's all been so crazy. I've hardly had time to breathe, let alone sort out what I feel or what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

Half-formed thoughts from recent days began to take shape in her mind. “And we have to think about—well, whether we're really compatible. I mean, obviously the passion is still there, and we've been getting along pretty well, but—we haven't had any time together that was just normal life. We're really very different people, Luke. Where would we even live? I can't see myself in your house with your gigantic TV, and I'm not sure you'd be comfortable at Windy Corner, tripping over antiques every time you turn around.”

Luke shrugged his good shoulder. “That's all details. We can work all that out.” He gripped her hand. “I wasn't kidding when I told Granny you were the love of my life. Were you?”

She softened. “No. I wasn't kidding either.”

“Then it'll work itself out. It's got to.”

“And I believe it will, Luke. I really do. I just don't want to rush into anything. Don't forget that as of now, I still have a job in Portland nine months of the year. I don't want a marriage where we only see each other on weekends.”

He sighed and climbed back into bed. “All right, you win. We'll take some time to work things out. But will you promise me one thing?”

“What is it?”

“Don't disappear from my life again. Ever. I don't think I could survive that a second time.”

She leaned over the bed and kissed him. “I won't disappear. I promise.”

*   *   *

Luke was discharged later on Saturday morning and sent home with instructions to rest for the remainder of the weekend. For once he seemed inclined to cooperate, so Emily tucked him in and went home. She needed some time alone to think about her future.

Levin and Kitty greeted her with reproachful yowls over her long neglect. She took a few minutes to fuss over them. Bustopher had apparently deduced that Katie was the new source of good things to eat and had taken to following her everywhere like a puppy. But Levin and Kitty, though they liked their dinner as well as the next cat, held a loyalty to Emily that could not be so easily swayed.

Katie served Emily's lunch in the dining room—a delicious hot quiche lorraine, with fresh strawberries and spinach salad. Emily took a bite and sighed in contentment. “You know, Katie, you're really too good a cook to be cooking for just me. Not that I want you to stop.”

Katie finished filling Emily's water glass. “I've been thinking about that, actually.” She moved around the table and pulled out a chair. “Can we talk?”

Emily's heart sank. Surely Katie wasn't going to say she wanted to leave and find a professional cooking job in Portland or somewhere. After all they'd been through.

She forced a smile. “Sure. What's on your mind?”

Katie sat and leaned toward her, elbows on the table. “You remember when we fixed up that room for Ms. Grenier? And I said the house would make a great B and B? I'm sure you haven't had time to think about it, with everything happening, but I've been thinking about it. And if you did want to do it, I would absolutely love to be the manager.”

“You think you could handle that? With Lizzie? It'd be a lot of work.”

“I know, but I think we could do it. You'd probably want to make some changes to the house first—like adding bathrooms, for a start. That would take a while, so by the time we got going, Lizzie'd be a little older, wouldn't be nursing every five minutes. Women keep house with babies all the time—this would just be on a little bigger scale. And maybe—if you agree—I could get in a little help when things got really busy. Somebody to change beds and stuff.”

“Goodness, now it's beginning to sound like a hotel. I don't know, Katie. That would be a big step for me. If I'm going to be living here full-time, I'm not sure I want to share my house with a lot of strangers.”