The Cinderella Hour (28 page)

Luke declined to poke around on his own. Kyle was the best
there was. He had been trained by the best. Luke did accept Kyle’s invitation
to walk the scene with him—and the police—at
9
:
00
a.m.

During the five hours until then, Kyle was going to get some
sleep.

Maybe Snow would sleep, too, after she found Ellen O’Neil and
left whatever message she decided to leave. Luke knew she had been thinking
about finding her mother and communicating with her. He had watched her during
his conversation with Kyle. She had tried to focus on their words, and would
succeed for a while, but inevitably her thoughts would drift.

Snow would begin the search soon, on Luke’s computer in the
house where Noah had lived, then Luke and Noah, and now Luke alone. But before
leaving Pinewood, there was something he wanted to get from the ravine.

“Where in the ravine?” Snow asked.

“You know where.”

Luke had a flashlight. He would have left it in the truck, Snow
thought, if he had been alone. There was a time when she could dash through
their forest after dark, when she had known without sight its every twist and turn.

But it had been sixteen years, and the forest had matured.
Even in broad daylight, it would have taken her a while to find the path.

Luke knew the way as if he walked it, in darkness, every
night since she had been gone.

“You’ve been here recently.”

“It’s been a couple of weeks. I come here when I can.”

To visit Wendy? Oh, Luke, to visit our baby girl?
“Why?”

“You. Us. Privacy.”

“Do you still collect coins?”

“No. Do you?”

“No. When did you stop?”

“After you left.”
When Snow and Luke were no more
. “You?”

“Once I came out of my depression enough to even notice the
coins in the street. For a long time, it hurt to be reminded. Now I make wishes
on the coins I see.”

“What do you wish?”

“That whoever finds them needs them, the way you did, and
treasures them . . . the way we did.”

They reached the meadow where they
had hidden the treasures in a fallen log.

The log was there, illuminated by Luke’s flashlight, and he
was walking toward it, following the beam, instead of toward the unmarked grave
where their daughter lay.

Luke didn’t know Wendy was here.

Of course he didn’t know.

Luke removed the glass jar from its hiding place and withdrew
from it a small blue box.

“I bought this the day I got to L.A. There was a jewelry
store in Westwood, and I had time before I had to swim. I was planning to buy
matching gold bands, but when I saw the bride’s ring with sapphires the color
of your glass-slipper charm, I decided my ring could wait. I hoped, when you
saw it, you would agree.”

With trembling fingers, Luke lifted the lid.

And, with trembling fingers, Snow touched what had been
nestled within for sixteen years. The gold had lost none of its shine, and the
small sapphires, flanked by smaller diamonds, sparkled as if the jeweler had
cleaned them earlier that day.

“It’s not very grand,” Luke said.

“It’s
beautiful
.”

“It needs larger stones.”

“No, Luke. It’s perfect. It’s what we could afford when you
asked me to marry you. What our jar of treasures could buy. It’s the only
wedding ring I could ever want.” A trembling fingertip caressed a tiny
sapphire. “The color is identical to the charm.”

“Do you still have it?”

“No.” The word ached with despair.

“Snow, it’s okay. So you’ve thrown away a memento from the
Glass Slipper Ball. So what?”

“Wendy has it.”

“Wendy?”

“I wanted her to dance, Luke. And dream. I thought if she had
the Cinderella slipper, maybe she could.”

“I love you, Snow. I loved our Wendy.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“So many times.”

“Here?”

“Always here.”

“She’s here, Luke. In a little house, wrapped in the gown I
wore to the ball, with the charm you put in the jar before you went to L.A. I gave it to her when she died.”

“Where is she, Snow? Where’s our baby girl?”

Snow reached for him, and hand in hand, they walked to the
pine tree that protected their daughter’s grave.

Heads bent, they knelt and whispered as tears fell.

“Thomas?”

He lifted his gaze from the uremic frost on Daniel’s
eyelashes to the woman in the doorway. “Vivian.”

“I wasn’t going to interrupt, but the nurse said it was all
right if I did, that you’d told her Bea might be calling, or that Blaine or I
might want to tell you about Mira.” Vivian’s unnecessary explanation ended with
a smile. “She woke up.”

“She did?”

“For less than a minute. But she recognized us, Thomas. Both
Blaine and me.”

“Does she remember what happened last night?”
Or yesterday
afternoon?

“I don’t think so. She seemed confused by the question. But
she was barely awake and went back to sleep pretty quickly. I thought you’d like
to know—and maybe see her?”

“I would very much like to see her. Thank you. Vivian? Please
come in.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Please.”

“All right.”

She approached with trepidation. The closer she got, the more
uncertain she became.

“Vivian, I’d like you to meet Daniel Hart.”

“Daniel Hart? Wendy’s father?”

“That’s right. And I’m hoping he’s hearing what we’re saying.
So . . . Vivian, I’d like you to meet Daniel Hart. Daniel, this is Vivian.”

“Hello, Daniel.”

“Vivian is the family law attorney who was going to make sure
the letter you wrote me would be regarded as legal by the courts. As you can
see, Vivian, it’s no longer necessary. Daniel’s on the road to recovery.”

No, he’s not!
“I’m so glad, Thomas. And Daniel. Does Luke know? I’m
referring to Lucas Kilcannon, Daniel. The firefighter who rescued Wendy from
your farmhouse roof. Well, that’s not quite accurate. Luke says
you
rescued her,
you
saved your little girl.”

“Luke does know. And he’s as thrilled as I am.”

“As we all are,” Vivian said.

“Vivian’s sister, Mira, is also in the ICU,” Thomas said,
speaking to Daniel again. “She’s going to be fine, just like you will be. She’ll
be sleeping much of the time, and when she’s awake, she may have visitors with
whom she might enjoy a little privacy—even from her sister.”

Thomas had been looking at Vivian in a way that felt quite
wonderful to her. With approval. With admiration. Trusting her to participate
in his effort to lure Daniel back to life. Just as he had entrusted her to make
certain Wendy was legally his.

“I could wander down here and chat with you, Daniel, when
Mira’s sleeping . . . or wants private time with her other guests.”

“I’ll answer that one for you, Daniel,” Thomas said. “That
would be very much appreciated.”

“I’m not sure what Daniel wants me to talk about.”

“I can answer that, too. Anything you feel like talking about
will be fine with him. Four years ago, Daniel and I took turns keeping his wife
company in this very ICU. I worried, in the beginning, that what I had to say
would be boring for Eileen. Daniel convinced me it wouldn’t be, that she would be
interested in the weather, the news, the Christmas lights on Michigan Avenue—and even me. I’m confident that Daniel would enjoy learning about you, Vivian,
and about Mira and Luke and Quail Ridge, and the practice of family law. From
time to time we can remind him that he’s gotten this far—against all odds—and that
he had damned well better make it all the way back. But for the most part, I
think, he’d prefer hearing about something other than himself.”

Trepidation returned. But it was no longer the fear of being
so close to a man so close to death. What Vivian feared now was that she might
let Thomas, might let
Daniel
, down.

“Vivian?”

“I’d be happy to stay for a while now, Thomas, if you want to
check on Mira. Blaine’s with her, and he’ll come looking for us when she wakes
up. But maybe if she senses you at her bedside . . . As you’ve probably
guessed, Daniel, Thomas is one of those visitors with whom my sister is going
to want to be alone.”

If she remembers me, Thomas thought. If she remembers us. “I
think I’ll take you up on that, Vivian. Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome.”

“Excuse me, Dr. Vail?” the third-year medical student on the
thoracic surgery service spoke from the doorway. “One of the nurses asked me to
let you know you have a call from a Mrs. Evans.”

“Thank you. I’ll be right there. That’s Bea Evans, Daniel.
She’s watching Wendy. She’s wonderful. But she and Wendy just met. It may be
time for me to go home, to be with your little girl. I’ll be back when I can.”
Thomas leaned closer to Daniel’s ear, his hand on Daniel’s shoulder, away from
fractured bones. “Keep fighting, Daniel. She loves you so much.”

Wendy Hart loved her daddy.

But it was the man who stepped into her life when Daniel
disappeared that she needed now. According to Bea, Wendy needed to know he hadn’t
vanished as well.

It was a frantic need, and it had descended without warning.

Bea didn’t waste time with preamble.

“Can you be here in twelve minutes or so?” she asked.

“Can and will.”

“Good. I’ll have you tell her. Wendy? Here he is.”

“Thomas?”

His mind’s eye saw quivering lips. “Hi, sweetheart. You sound
worried. You don’t need to be. I’m on my way home.”

“You are?”

“I am. And you know what would taste really good when I get
there? A mug of that hot chocolate you like. Think you and Bea could whip some
up for me? For all of us. Wendy? Are you nodding?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Terrific. I’ll see you very soon.”

I’m a grown woman, Mira had told
him. And she’s a little girl. I can wait.

Thomas recalled the promise as he neared Mira’s room. He
wouldn’t have time to go inside, even if he saw that she was awake.

She wasn’t. She slept beneath a blanket that afforded modesty
from toes to chin. Such coverings could wreak havoc with cardiac monitors and
central lines, and certain modifications were often required. But the
commitment to privacy, while giving optimal care, was a pledge made by every
member of the staff. The dignity of those who, due to circumstances beyond
their control were dependent on others to do it for them, would be meticulously
maintained.

Mira was draped, and her room was shadowed. But there could
be even more privacy for her as she slept. She could be alone.

Meaning the police officer standing in her doorway should be
dismissed? No. That wasn’t the intrusion that bothered Thomas. In fact, he
found himself feeling grateful the officer was there.

It was Blaine’s presence at Mira’s bedside that troubled him
as he drove home to Wendy.

He was feeling a little jealous, he decided. Blaine was sitting where he wanted to be. And Blaine had already passed the critical test.
Mira recognized Blaine, remembered who he was.

He was feeling jealous. Territorial. And vulnerable.

Fine.
The emotions were his to deal with. Mira could sleep in peace.

But would she, Thomas wondered, if she knew Blaine was
watching her? Sleep was an intimacy to be shared by choice, and to be withheld
for the same reason.

It was Vivian who had made the
choice for Mira. It was Vivian’s right to make until Mira could once again make
choices for herself.

Forty minutes after Thomas left the ICU, Vivian reversed her
decision and evicted Blaine from Mira’s room.

The amazing thing was that she told Daniel beforehand she was
going to do it—and why.

“Blaine says Mira’s infatuated with him. I’m not sure I
believe it. Which, as I imagine you’re thinking, is another way of saying I’m
not sure my husband is telling me the truth. Isn’t that an unfortunate state of
affairs? It gets worse. It’s only one of several things he’s told me about Mira
that feel like . . . lies. She’s gotten a number of obscene phone calls. Or, according
to Blaine, so she says.”

She paused a moment to lower her voice. “The suggestion that
Mira would make up something like that is ludicrous. And it feels mean to me
that Blaine would say it. Mean to Mira. She’s remarkable, Daniel. Confident and
so generous. You’ll see when you meet her—which you definitely will. She and
Thomas are in love. That’s lovely for both of them, wouldn’t you say? I’ve
always liked Thomas. I’ve always felt I could tell him my most shameful secrets
and he’d never betray me. Or judge me. I haven’t told him any of this, of
course. It seems, instead, that I’m telling you.”