The Missing Year (21 page)

Lila and Ross made the return trip to Lakeside in silence.

Lila stared out the partly open window, her long hair blowing in the breeze. Her chest rose and fell with slow, heavy breaths, punctuated by occasional sniffles.

Ross, figuring she was airing out the diner smells, turned on the heat. “Aren’t you cold?”

She didn’t answer.

“Lila?”

She turned and stared at him with the vacant look of someone whose thoughts were a thousand miles away. “Promise you won’t tell.”

Ross could barely hear her over the wind and the vent fan. “Tell who what?”

“The hospital, Dr. Oliver. Promise me you won’t tell any of them what I did or why.”

“You have my word.”

Ross pulled into the Lakeside parking lot around midnight, well after ten o’clock lights out.

Guy paced outside the entrance, wearing a winter hat, a parka, and gloves. There was no telling how long he had been out there. He hurried toward the car as soon as Ross shifted into Park.

Lila met him halfway across the lot.

“Lila, are you okay?” Guy set his gloved hands on her shoulders and looked her over by the glow of the motion-activated parking lot light.

“I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

Mark, who Ross had noticed was watching from the window, joined them, looking less than pleased.

“Mark, I’m sorry,” Ross said. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I did what I had to—”

Guy interrupted. “Mark, take Lila to her room, please.”

Mark shook his head as he did what he was told.

“What were you thinking taking Lila out of here?” Guy said.

“I followed protocol, Guy. I left everything Mark needed for Lila to be on an authorized outing.”

“In the middle of the night?” Guy’s face was red, either from anger, the brisk wind, or both. “Where did you take her?”

“I don’t like the suspicion in your tone.”

“Where, Ross?”

“We were at the Downtowner all night. You can call and check with our waitress, Morgan. She’ll remember us if you mention a larger than usual tip.”

“What were you doing at the diner?”

“Talking, going over the past. Getting to the bottom of what you wanted me to.”

“Did Lila tell you why she tried to kill herself?”

“She did.”

“And?”

“I think this is a conversation better had inside. I need to grab my things.” Ross headed toward the front door with Guy close behind him.

“Ross, what did Lila say?”

Ross turned on his office light. “I swore myself to secrecy, but in my professional opinion, Lila is no longer a threat to herself.”

“What do you base that on?”

“Change of circumstances.” Ross gathered his few personal belongings.

“What
circumstances
?” Guy ripped off his gloves and hat, flustered.

“You’ll have to ask her.”

“You know she won’t talk to me. That’s why I brought you here in the first place.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. There has to be a reason Lila doubts you. To be honest, after all that’s happened, I don’t trust you. Treating Lila is all about the money for you, isn’t it?”

“Do I need to remind you that you are currently a Lakeside employee, or that I can terminate your employment in Chicago with a single phone call? In case you’ve forgotten—”

“I didn’t forget, Guy.” Ross reassembled the cardboard box he’d arrived with and taped the seams. “But you’re only half-right. You can call the hospital. At this point, I’m not even sure I care if you do, but I
do not
work here. Wasn’t that what all the fuss was about earlier? The state doesn’t consider me an employee, which is why they’re all over you about Joshua.”

“It’s paperwork, Ross. I have a call in to HR in Chicago to get what I need.”

“Don’t bother. I’m going back.”

“To the hospital?”

“To Mattie, my girlfriend. There’s been an accident.”

“Jesus, Ross. I’m sorry.”

“I wish I could believe that. You know, I came here as a favor because you said you needed help. You misled me and then dumped Lila’s case on me when you knew how hard it would be.”

“I didn’t know—”

Ross pointed a finger at Guy. “Don’t do that. You
knew
.”

“I did this for your sake, Ross, as much as for Lila’s. I know how hard things have been for you since losing Sarah. Dan’s told me—”

“
What
has Dan told you? That I’m losing it at work? That I’ve gone over the deep end? Southeast Memorial chews people up and spits them out. I’m not the only one with problems there. I do what I have to to get the job done.”

“Which is why I knew you could get Lila to open up. You understand each other. I thought if you saw your situation from a different perspective—”

“My
situation
? Losing my wife isn’t a circumstance, Guy. It’s a tragedy. It’s not something you can fix with pills and weekly therapy. That’s where you went wrong with Lila. She’s not mentally ill. She’s sad and she needs someone to talk to.”

“I tried talking to her.”

“Someone other than you.” Ross piled the last of his things into a box and folded the ends in to seal it. He pushed the over-pruned bonsai tree across the desk and said, “Do me a favor? Make sure Lila gets this.”

Ross’s phone had been ringing all morning.

Guy had left several messages, all of which Ross promptly deleted. He’d had enough of Lakeside and the evasiveness that went with it. He thought back to when he had accepted the job offer, on how bleak things had been. The job offer seemed a godsend after fighting with Mattie and being forced to take leave from the hospital.

Now he knew better.

“Good riddance,” he said, packing the last of his toiletries.

He had overstayed his welcome.

The motel room hadn’t been cleaned in two days. The sheets were wrinkled, the pillow case stained with drool, and the trash cans were overflowing. The tiny bar of soap in the shower had been worn paper-thin and he was adding water to the bottle to get shampoo.

He couldn’t think of a better time to be checking out.

Ross booked a red-eye flight and headed for the cemetery, stopping at a local florist along the way for an arrangement of lilies, which had always been Sarah’s favorite.

He lowered the window far enough for the cool breeze to blow through his hair and tried to push the doubts Lila had planted out of his mind. Sarah’s had been a natural death. That he had no hand in it provided him comfort, sparing him shame and guilt. Pulling up to the cemetery gates, the sick feeling he anticipated had been replaced by the need for closure.

Camille was already there, leaned against her car, waiting.

“You ready for this?” She tied a giant helium balloon bouquet to a cooler handle.

“I think so.” Ross eased the floral arrangement out of the passenger’s seat and helped Camille with her things. “What is all of this?” The cooler’s wheels dug into the dirt as he dragged it along.

“It’s a birthday party, right?” Camille carried a bag with a blanket and who knows what else inside.

“It feels like we’re moving in.”

“Maybe we should. It’s almost as nice here as your last motel room.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you? It was convenient.”

“It was a dump.” Camille led the way down the worn central path to the plot where Sarah was buried. Red, orange, and brown leaves blanketed the grass. “Happy birthday,” she said to Sarah’s headstone, brushing the grass clippings from the black granite ledge of the heart-shaped marker. “Guess who’s finally here to see you?” She gave Ross a nudge. “I know,” she whispered skyward. “I’m shocked, too.” She carried on the one-sided conversation as if she didn’t know to be sad.

Ross stared at the epitaph: “Beloved wife and daughter,” and the memory of Sarah’s burial came rushing back. She had appeared so diminutive, even in the smallest adult coffin. Her skin was an off-shade, her face caked with flesh-colored makeup. A coral color painted her lips, the ends of which were unnaturally sealed. She died looking twenty years older than her chronological age, the cancer having taken her youth but not her beauty.

“Ross? Are you all right?”

For as sad as he was, seeing Sarah’s headstone reinforced her death’s finality. “I think so.”

“Then aren’t you going to say something to her?” Camille spread out a blanket and unfolded the beach chairs that sat only inches above the grass.

“Like what?”

“Like, uh, ‘Happy Birthday’ for starters.”

Ross sat in one of the chairs and said a reluctant “Happy birthday.”

Camille scowled.

“What? I’m no good at this. I can’t carry on a conversation with someone who isn’t here.”

Camille pulled a few weeds and settled in. “She’s here. Aren’t you, Sarah?” She produced a pitcher of pink liquid and two plastic cups from out of the cooler. “Hold these.”

Ross held the cups while she poured. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Cosmos. What else?” She held up her cup in cheers. “To Sarah.”

Ross tapped his cup to hers. “To Sarah. Happy birthday, baby.”

Camille smiled. “That’s more like it.”

* * * * *

Time didn’t work the same at the cemetery as everywhere else. A pitcher of cosmos, a picnic lunch, and the better part of a six pack of confetti cupcakes later, Camille and Ross were laughing and reminiscing the way they had that first night at Mick’s Tavern.

“Do you remember your wedding day when I asked you when you knew Sarah was the one for you?”

Ross leaned back in the chair, watching the sunset and attempting to sober up in time for his flight. He sipped from a bottle of water, recalling childhood memories. “Since she kicked me in the shin in the first grade,” he said.

“In fairness, you did try to kiss her.”

“And I’d do it again. Sarah was as close to perfect as any woman I’ll ever know.”

“What about Mattie? She wouldn’t have lost it over the bra incident if she didn’t care about you, Ross.”

Ross had come to feel Sarah’s presence, enough that the conversation had him uncomfortable. “I don’t want to talk about that here.”

Camille set her cup in the chair’s cup holder and leaned forward. “If you believe Sarah’s spirit is with you, she knows everything anyway.”

“I hope that’s not true.” Ross rolled his eyes. “She’d never forgive me.”

“Why? That ridiculous promise you made?”

“She told you about that?”

“Couples say those things. That if one of them dies the other will pine for the rest of their lives, or whatever. I believe you both meant it, but when someone dies as young as Sarah did, no one expects the other to live alone.”

“Sarah expected me to.”

“No, she didn’t.” Camille finished her drink. “There’s something I never told you. Something I should’ve said sooner, but couldn’t. I was too angry at the cancer and at Sarah for accepting what it was doing to her.”

“Oh?” Ross drew his eyebrows together.

“Sarah told me to make sure when the time was right that you knew she wanted you to be happy. She said, ‘Don’t let him be alone’ because she knew you’d have a hard time moving on.”

“That doesn’t sound like Sarah.”

“It’s true. She said it the day she found out her chemotherapy stopped working.”

“She didn’t mean it,” Ross said. “She couldn’t have meant it, or she’d have told me herself.”

“Some things are too painful. Sometimes you need someone to say them for you.” Camille forced a sympathetic smile. “All I’m saying is that you need someone to take care of you. Someone like Mattie. Best friend resentment aside, I think Sarah would approve.”

“I’ve burned that bridge, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute,” Camille said. “Trust me, all Mattie needs is a grand gesture.”

“Maybe it’s time I give her one.”

Ross made it to the airport four hours before his 1 AM flight. He returned his rental car and caught a few hours sleep in the terminal before boarding the first plane. He was exhausted, but something had changed.
He
had changed. The time spent with Camille at Sarah’s grave had relieved him of an enormous weight he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying.

All he could think of was Mattie.

A single layover in Philadelphia and a frustratingly long cab ride through rush hour traffic had Ross arriving at the hospital a little after eight. The tension of having been on administrative leave made his return to the hospital uncomfortable.

Walking through the main entrance, it was as if everyone expected him.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Reeves.” The woman behind the reception desk was the first to acknowledge him.

“Good morning,” he said, unsure of her name.

“Good morning, Dr. Reeves.” Patty, one of the unit nurses, said in passing.

“Good morning, Patty.”

“Ross, I heard you might be here.” Dr. Daniel Long walked up beside him, dressed in a navy suit and red tie. He looked fresh from the conference room rather than patient rounds. “Can we talk?”

Ross would have thought the fact that he was toting weeks’ worth of luggage was an adequate indicator. “No. We can’t, Dan. I need to get to Mattie.” He turned to the smiling young receptionist. Can you please verify a room number for me please? The patient’s name is Mattie Jensen.”

“Room B2307,” the woman said and handed him a slip of paper with the room number written on it.

“It’s important,” Dan said.

“It would have to be for you to interfere with me seeing my injured girlfriend. I don’t owe you anything, Dan. You suspended me.”

“I know, and I know what happened at Lakeside.”

“Well that makes one of us.” Ross turned to the receptionist. “Mind if I leave these bags with you?” He was shoving them behind the desk before she could answer. “Thanks.”

“What I have to say will only take a minute.”

“I don’t have a minute.” Ross pressed the call button at the nearest bank of elevators.

Dan followed him inside. “We can talk on the way.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to come back to work.”

“
Now
you want me back? What about Arlene Pope?”

“Recovered, released, and currently the state’s problem.”

“All is forgiven that easily?”

“We’re overwhelmed, Ross. Tammy Peterson resigned this morning.”

Tammy was one of the other on-staff psychiatrists. Budget cuts and call coverage had their department spread too thin already.

“I will, too, if you don’t leave me alone. You said six weeks. Things have come up, and I’m not sure how I feel about coming back.”

“You mean now?”

“I mean ever,” Ross said. “I know Guy kept you from firing me, Dan, and I don’t appreciate you talking to him about my personal life.” The door chimed. “This is my floor. Please don’t follow me out.”

Ross followed the second floor B-wing wall signs to room 307 and found Mattie asleep in the bed next to the window.

Dr. Jamar Maas, a colleague of Ross’s for years, documented her vitals. “Ross, I’m glad you made it.” His dark hair and olive complexion contrasted his white dress shirt and lab coat. “I was just about to wake her up.”

“How is she?”

“Comfortable. She’s been asleep a few hours now.”

Ross moved to Mattie’s bedside and scanned her for injuries. Her auburn hair lay flat against the pillow, her face pale and showing only the trace of days’ old makeup. An IV extended from her left hand, connected to a bag of saline.

“Are her test results back?”

“Everything looks good,” Jamar said. “MRI and CT with myelogram are clean. She had some initial swelling, but it’s gone down. We have been giving her medication for the pain, but she should be switching to acetaminophen for the next dose.”

“When can she go home?”

“Later today or first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Ross?” Mattie’s eyes rolled open and she blinked as though adjusting to the light. “What are you doing here?”

“Tim called. Emergency contact, remember?”

“I forgot to change that.” She smirked, moved her IV tubing, and sat up in bed.

“Take it easy.”

“I feel fine, just stiff from being in this bed and a little drugged.” She turned to Jamar. “Am I going to be able to leave today? I have so much to do. I don’t even know where my car is.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Ross said. “We’ll figure everything out.”

“
We’ll
? There’s no
we
anymore, Ross.”

“I should let you two talk,” Jamar said. “I want to have the radiologist take one more look at your films, Mattie, and then yes, I think we’ll be able to get you out of here later this afternoon. You’ll need to take it easy for the next couple of weeks and follow up with your personal physician after that.” He pulled two cards from his pocket. “Here is the contact information for the consulting neurologist and the orthopedist. If you have any problems, feel free to contact them. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Thanks, Jamar,” Ross said.

“Anytime. Don’t mention it.”