The Widow's Walk (8 page)

Clutching three tubes in her hand, Liz maneuvered back upstairs and to bed, lowered herself to the mattress, then slipped the crutches underneath. She arranged things on the nightstand, adjusted pillows, and eased down.

Mike turned off his back to face her, still sleeping. As soon as he sensed her close, his arm instinctively draped over her. The length of his body pressed against hers was the only solace she needed at that moment, even if he was unaware that she was there. She slipped her good foot in between his ankles. So deep in slumber, he didn’t react to cold skin against warm.

Being reconnected to her living, breathing husband banished the eerie afterglow of Jared’s ghostly vision. The contact meant nothing to Jared, and likely nothing to Mike. But being among the living was far more comfortable than among the dead. That would be where she’d stay–and be grateful for the second chance.

Chapter 13

Every time Liz dozed off, a radiator’s hiss compelled her to check if Jared had returned. Whenever Mike stirred, the gap between them widened and cold air slipped in, insolating them further and further from each other.

Mike’s sudden, rapid departure depressurized the cocoon. The chill flooded the quiet, intimate space. He quickly tucked the covers around her, no doubt thinking she’d slept as well as he.

As soon as he disappeared into the bathroom, and the pinging of water against the plastic curtain began, she hauled herself to a sitting position and inched toward the edge of the bed.

A cloud of medication hangover and exhaustion clouded her head. The dull pounding in her immobilized ankle was background music, but the pain in her knee rose to a crescendo. She struggled to her feet, got the crutches under her, and made her way to the closet.

Liz ignored Eddie’s empty crib. The painful tension in her overfull breasts dueled with an ache in every muscle. Her body was locked in a vise of misery, and she welcomed every twinge if it served to silence Elisabeth.

Where had Mae put the dress, and what condition was it was in? No local dry cleaner could handle an antique, and no seamstress she’d met outside the museum would know how to repair and restore it. Should she just burn the damn thing, or bury it with the crystal? The thought conjured a wave of terror, of foreboding. That dress held special significance to Elisabeth, and great power. If it was destroyed, who knew what might be unleashed?

Liz chose loose fitting, terribly unattractive sweats, then contemplated whether to take off the knee brace and reapply it over them, or just leave it under. Mike startled her just as she’d pulled on a bra and panties.

“Need some help?” He rubbed his damp curls with a towel, then readjusted the one cinched around his waist.

She shivered looking at him. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Nah. Take off the brace, and I’ll help you get the leg into those pants.”

Embarrassed by her helplessness, her nudity, she pulled the sweatshirt on, then unhooked the straps on the brace. Whatever wedge the restless ghosts–or Sandra’s spells–had driven through the heart of their intimacy had affected her, too.

Mike’s well-practiced hands guided the elastic band over the cast, then eased it over her sore knee. How the towel didn’t pop off, Liz couldn’t imagine. She quickly thrust her good leg into the pants and struggled to pull them up.

“Stand and lean against me.” Mike rose, his makeshift loincloth still holding fast as he pulled her against him.

It might have been very sexy, she half-naked, pressed against his bare chest–if she wasn’t clenching her teeth. Or if his embrace held any trace of passion, or even affection, as opposed to the detached Good Samaritan spirit of friendly assistance.

She pulled the waistband up until she was covered but didn’t want to let go. Maybe the physical contact would rekindle even just a little romance.

He eased her down. “I better get dressed. Don’t want to keep Kevin waiting.” No kiss, no hesitation. Done.

When one part of the couple could no longer buy into something mutually pleasurable, even cuddling, it didn’t bode well. Liz re-threaded the Velcro straps and tightened them over the fabric. She crutched like a pro to the bathroom, and her heart sagged as she caught a glimpse in the mirror.

Balanced on one leg like a sleeping heron, the bunch under the brace made her leg appear deformed. Angry red scratches dotted her face. A bruise had made its appearance on her right temple.

The scabs pulled as she brushed her teeth, snagged as she smoothed on makeup, and looked just as bad after she combed her hair. No wonder Mike didn’t want to be near her.

Already familiar with the ritual of sitting on the landing, holding the crutches so they didn’t slide down before her, she thumped her bum down each of the thirteen steps. Voices buzzed in the kitchen as Liz hauled herself up and maneuvered through the swinging door.

Kevin and Mike looked up from their tea and toast.

“Mary, Mother of God.” Kevin bounded to her side, then paused as he tried to figure out how to hug Liz without knocking her off balance. “How can I help?”

“I have to do this myself, Kevin.” Was everything she said one big metaphor for her crazy life? She stabbed the floor with the rubber tips and sat.

“We’ve go to get going or we’ll miss the tide.” Mike glanced at the door and poured her a cup of tea. “Toast’s already buttered.” He plunked a plate down like a busy waiter.

“Mae will be here in a minute. She was feedin’ and dressin’ Eddie when I left.” Tears filled Kevin’s eyes, and the heartfelt distress etched on his face conjured wetness in Liz’s eyes as well.

“I need to explain what happened.” Liz glanced at Mike, who disappeared into the mudroom.

They’d been talking about her. She knew it as sure as she knew the sun would come up.

“Just promise me ya won’t do anythin’ like that again.” He grabbed her hands across the table with more emotion and power than Mike had exhibited since the accident.

“I won’t, Kevin.” She squeezed his fingers between hers.

Deep inside, so deep Liz could barely parse it out as different from her own, Elisabeth’s voice echoed,
I won’t Paul.

“God, love ya, Lizzy. There isn’t anythin’ worth more than a life. All the money stuff will get figured out.”

Mike came back into the kitchen, his jacket and cap already on. He pulled on his gloves. “Truck is warmed up, Kevin.”

“Right.” Kevin leaped to his feet and grabbed his coat off the back of the chair. “I wonder where Mae is.”

Mike exhaled. Kevin fidgeted. The cuckoo clock ticked.

They didn’t trust her alone. And she could prove it. “I’ll just sit and finish my tea. She’ll be here any minute.”

“We have a few more minutes . . .” Mike’s voice trailed off as Mae’s footfalls echoed on the back porch.

Kevin ran to the door, an angry lilt in his voice. “Will ya look at the time?”

“Go on now. Late one day and yer givin’ me grief. I had to tend to Eddie, and bundle him up.”

Sobered, dismissed, Kevin pecked her on the cheek.

“Thanks, Mae. Feel better, Liz. Don’t forget to call the physical therapist.” Mike made a silly face at the baby, and he and Kevin hurried out.

Eddie leaned toward Liz, extended his arms, and whimpered.

Her nipples tingled as the milk let down and seeped through her shirt. At least her maternal instincts and abilities were still intact.

Mae undressed Eddie and brought him to her. “He’s been fine, but of course as soon as he sees ya he’s got to have it.”

The baby snuggled, nuzzling his mother’s neck. The second genuine show of affection today, likely the last. Mae looked like she’d swallowed a lemon, and her vibes were as frosty as Mike’s.

“Thanks for taking care of him last night. And for saving my life.”

Mae bit her lip, looked away. “It hurts to even talk about it. Later. Maybe when the shock of seeing yer poor face wears off.” She stroked Liz’s bruised temple and smoothed her hair.

Glad she was sitting, and that Mae couldn’t see the brace and cast, Liz let the baby stand on her thighs. He leaned forward to embrace his long lost mother, then pressed his face against hers. Chubby fingers pounded her chest, reminding her it had been almost twenty-four hours since he’d nursed.

Eddie smelled like powder, and his unabashed joy at finally being back in her arms brought tears to Liz’s eyes. What had she almost done?

She pulled up the sweatshirt and tucked him against her breast. He nuzzled the heavy fabric away and got to work.

“He’s happy to see his mama.” Mae tousled the baby’s hair and put a bowl on the table. “You need a good solid breakfast.”

Liz took a spoon of oatmeal–with brown sugar, raisins, and vanilla soy milk. “ I didn’t tell Mike about the dress, not yet. There were so many other things to discuss, and we just talked around it. Tonight.” She took another spoon and sat the baby up to let him burp.

Mae stared at Liz’s leg. “I thought your knee would snap, that you’d crack your head open like an egg.” She trembled and sank into a chair, then buried her face in her hands and cried.

Liz tried to stand and comfort Mae. But with the baby, without her crutches, she was helpless as a beached whale. “I’m so sorry. I swear I will never allow myself to do something so foolish again.”

Elisabeth quavered.
He’s taking you away from the house.

Mae mopped her nose with a napkin. “Ya promised me that not an hour before it happened, so forgive me if I can’t trust what ya say. The dress needs a good cleaning and those tears repaired. I have a mind to burn it.”

Even though Liz had thought of destroying the dress, the threat of someone else doing it caused a mini-earthquake inside her. The few spoons of oatmeal threatened to come up. Even Eddie, who had settled onto the other side, reacted to the rumbling in her gut. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I’ll get the name of a seamstress from my old museum buddies. For now, just keep it in the closet.”

Mae’s eyes bored into her. “You and Mike didn’t talk about this at all?”

“We talked about selling the house, which isn’t going to make a difference. I need money now.”

Mae clapped a palm across her forehead. “The school district called yesterday. Eddy Elementary right here in Brewster needs a classroom teacher for the fourth grade. One to two weeks. I told them you’d call as soon as ya got home. Number is on yer desk.”

“Great, how am I going to teach looking like I’ve been beat up?” She needed that money desperately and would have to do it, no matter what.

Despair painted her insides as black and blue as the outside. Liz forced herself to finish the oatmeal. Eddie dozed in her arms. “Can you take him upstairs? I have a lot of calls to make.”

Mae took the sated infant. “Marianne said she’d call at 10 a.m. Poor thing was really worried. Wait until she hears about this.”

“I have no intention of telling her. I’m embarrassed enough, and have no plausible way to explain my actions.” Liz struggled to her feet.

“Sure don’t. Do ya need help?”

“No, I’m getting very good at this.” She made her way to her desk in the hallway.

Two quick phone calls later, she had the doctor’s follow up appointment for the next day, and physical therapy set for Wednesday.

Mae’s note jutted out from under a pile of yesterday’s mail. More bills, of course. She left a message that she’d be happy to fill in, leaving out the part about the cast and crutches. The calls were getting progressively more important–and difficult. Time to call Marianne.

“Liz, are you okay?” She must have caller ID.

“Doing all right.” Disclosing more information than necessary was never a good idea.

“I have some good news. Combing over your estate, I found a treasury note for $10,000.00 in yours and your late husband’s name, coming due next month.”

“That was money Gerry and I set aside for a rainy day. It’s pouring now.” Relief settled across her shoulders like a warm heating pad.

“I’ll ask that it be redeemed at maturity and have it transferred.”

“Thanks, Marianne.” Tears of relief choked her. They turned to grief at the memory of she and Gerry having the conversation about when that note would mature just after his diagnosis, knowing he’d be dead.

“Okay, Liz. Be well. I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear anything.”

The receiver clicked. Selling the house might not be necessary. Liz pulled out her account ledger and drew up a budget. Ten grand would go along way, if she was careful. And if she could prove she was in control.

Chapter 14

Was she in total denial? Mike paged through the expense ledger. The CD would gain them a month or two, maybe a little more. “What about the doctor bills, the physical therapy?”

“I paid the insurance premium for this quarter, before any of the claims were filed. We’re good.” She chirped like a bird hunting worms after a rainstorm. “The physical therapy will be only $15.00 a visit. I can use my substitute’s salary for that. Wasn’t it good luck that they needed me again?”

“So you’re saying we’re not putting the house on the market?” No matter what spin she tried to put on this, Mike wasn’t twisting himself into knots to follow. “If we let the ghosts take over, we might never regain control.”

Liz gripped both his arms. “I’ll keep the job. No more crazy stunts. I’ve got to get busy on the book. That will occupy my mind. Along with Eddie, the physical therapist and all the other things to do around here.” Her eyes were intent, full of determination.

She wasn’t giving up. She wasn’t facing facts. “Did you forget that you’re in a brace and cast? That you could have killed yourself? You ask me to accept your word, your plans, your thoughts, but you refuse to let me ask Sandra . . .”

She clapped her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to hear about that woman. Give me a chance.”

“One more strange thing and I’m going back to talk to Sandra about the ghosts. I can’t take much more of this.”

“It’s going to end here, Mike. I swear. Elisabeth will not do that to me again. I won’t let her.” Her mouth was set in a straight line, her eyes fixed on his, bright, alive.

He could almost believe her. Almost. Liz was focused, stable, serious. But as the stress built, the relationship with her son went south and the financial problems got worse, she’d become flighty, distracted. Had that allowed Elisabeth to gain strength, or had the ghost been insinuating herself since the night Edward visited, leaving behind the twice bereaved, confused, vulnerable and newly pregnant widow Mike would incomprehensively meet and marry? Why her? Why him? Why them? Why?

“We’ll see.”

The phone rang, and Liz peered at the caller ID. Her eyes widened. “It’s Jay.” She grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”

Why the hell wasn’t the ghost of Liz’s first husband haunting Jay and Bill Jeffers?

He walked out. The situation had just gone from doubtful to hopeless.

Liz’s heart sagged into an empty space in her chest, as it always did when she became a wishbone between her past and present. Today, she had no energy, no desire, to be stretched until she snapped.

“What do you want, Jay?”

His voice sounded much like Gerry’s, making it harder.

“Mom, I need to see you, talk to you about what happened with Bill.”

Liz fought the urge to give in, to get involved. Jay would pounce and stomp on her whenever she went belly up, exposing true feelings, expressing any emotion. “Not now. I don’t need you getting into another confrontation with Mike, and there isn’t much to say, is there?”

“I didn’t know anything about what Bill was doing. I trusted him.”

She snapped anyway. “You put more faith in him than me. Now I’m ruined financially. That money was all I had left to live on–and it would have been plenty. Not to mention all the effort your father put into building that partnership.”

“Mom, do you believe in ghosts?”

Liz’s blood turned to ice. “What?”

“I keep having these dreams. Dad is angry at me for ruining your life, for destroying his practice.”

So, Gerry’s ghost was on his case. Good. “Well, Jay, you’re old enough to reconcile with your own restless spirits. I have enough of my own demons to battle right now. And if it weren’t for your daft, incompetent mother removing the estate from that son of a bitch Jeffer’s control a year and a half ago, you’d have lost your trust fund. Spare me your tears. You jumped in the pile with both feet. Good luck getting it off your shoes.”

“Mom, I don’t blame you for being angry. But I want to see you, and Eddie.”

She wasn’t falling prey to his charms. “No, Jay. I’m nearly bankrupt. I hurt my leg in an accident. I’ve got doctor’s appointments, physical therapy, more bills . . . leave me alone.”

“I can’t sleep. I can’t eat, Mom.” His voice quavered.

Her resolve wavered, just for a second. “Me, either. And I have nothing left. Nothing.” She disconnected. How could she have such contempt for her own son? He was just a stupid kid who’d made a very adult mistake. He’d be was fine. She was the one suffering and no one cared about that.

“Liz.” Mae stepped into the frame. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help but overhear.” She put her arms around Liz and hugged her tight.

No consolation. “That’s all right, Mae.”

She patted Liz’s back. “Yer right. There’s enough fightin’ around here now. But don’t shut him out of your life.”

Liz wriggled away. “Maybe once things settle out, I’ll feel different. I’m such a terrible mother, aren’t I?”

“God, no. You’ve been more patient with that boy than most would’ve been. I mean all the legal nonsense he’s stirred up. The lad really needed his father to kick his rear onto the right path. From what I’ve heard, Gerry would have seen to it.”

Liz decided not to share Jay’s ghostly portents. “I believe he’ll help his son out. We know something about how ghosts works, don’t we now?”

Mae chuckled at Liz’s mimicry. “Ya still have some joke left. Good to know.”

Very little joke left. Gerry, you have to handle Jay
.
I have to deal with Jared and Elisabeth or Mike and I are finished.

Fear, desperation choked her, like it had Elisabeth when her home was threatened. Nothing else mattered, and it had blinded her to reason, it had killed her.

If you’re alive, there’s hope, right? Then why do I feel so helpless, so hopeless?

“Good morning, Mrs. Keeny. Take off the brace and let’s get started.” The tiny Filipino woman had more energy than anyone should have at 9 a.m. in the middle of winter. “I’m Ava, and we’re going to get you moving.”

“Take the brace off?” Give up her best friend and protector? She eased herself down on the table and undid the Velcro.

“Lie down. Good.” Ava took Liz’s leg and tucked it under her arm. Practiced fingers traced the damaged ligament.

Pain shot around the kneecap. Liz squirmed. “Do you have to touch it?”

Ava didn’t answer. “See how the knee is already frozen?” She gently flexed.

Liz answered through gritted teeth.” Yes, but it hurts to move.”

Ava stretched Liz’s leg up as far as it would go, then moved it in and out like it was a lever. Six weeks, and you’ll be fine.”

“Six weeks?” How could she stand being driven everywhere, crawling up and down the stairs on her butt, not being able to carry anything, do anything for herself?

Ava kneaded the muscles of Liz’s inner thigh, and stroked toward the knee. “You’ll come here three days a week. I’ll give you exercises to do at home. The more you do them, the faster things will heal.”

Either the woman had a magic touch or Liz was getting used to the pain. The knee was thawing. “I have to go to work Monday.”

“No problem, we’re open until 7 p.m. Now some ultrasound treatment. After that, the bike.” Ava went across the room, stopping to greet other patients busy at their tasks. As long as she didn’t twist, it only twinged. This was already working. But ride a bike?

Ava returned pushing a machine with what looked like a futuristic magic wand antenna. “Ultrasound brings circulation back to the area. That helps healing. Magnetic jewelry will help, too.” She handed Liz a paper and pulled up the sweatpants.

The wand traced the injured knee, cooling it, soothing it.

Liz looked at the instructions. Stick figures demonstrated all the exercises she had to do at home. Under supplies needed, Ava had written resistance bands in blue and purple, and a magnetic ankle bracelet. Available at
Moonstone Candles and Crystals
, West Harwich.

Shit.

Liz hobbled out to the car, the ice pack still strapped to her knee. She eased into the passenger seat. Eddie squealed a greeting from the back seat, but she was in too much pain to do more than smile at him.

“So?” Mae waited until Liz buckled her seat belt then pulled out of the parking lot.

“So what? She kneaded me like bread dough until I softened up. Then I had to ride a bike and do some more stretching. Now it hurts like hell.”

Mae stared at the road ahead. “Whatever it takes, Liz. I don’t mind drivin’ ya places.” Mae almost smiled, smug, no doubt secretly pleased Liz couldn’t get out of her own way, couldn’t get into trouble.

“I hate being so dependent.” Somewhere beyond the whining, Liz accepted her cosmic punishment for doing something so stupid.

“One day at a time, Liz. Nothin’s broken that can’t be fixed.” Her quick sideways glare, eyebrows raised, betrayed the real sentiment: that she was alive.

“Could you take Route 124 into Harwich and run into
Moonstone
for me? I need these things.” Mae would go in, and Sandra would never even know who they were for. She took a pencil out of the glove box and added
Rescue Remedy
to the list.

Mae glanced at Liz then quickly back at the road. “Why are we goin’ there?”

“Therapist’s orders.” She stared straight ahead. Mae could read her in an instant.

“Okay.” She pulled into a spot in front of the shop. “Give me the list. What charge card should I use?”

“What’s today’s date?” She’d lost track.

“The twentieth of February.”

“
Discover
.” That billing cycle closed on the eighteenth. Defer, defer, defer.

Mae left the car running, the heat on. Eddie dozed in his seat. Liz fiddled with the radio. What was taking so long? She contemplated calling, but the shop door finally opened and closed.

Mae hopped into the seat and gave Liz the bag. “Sandra says hello. She’s sorry to hear about your injury and strung this ankle bracelet special for you.”

Anger gurgled in her throat, but before she had a chance to ask why Mae had told her anything, she volunteered.

“Took one look at me and knew who I was, where I worked. Once she asked who in the house got hurt, you or Mike, could I lie?” Mae shrugged, buckled in, and drove off.

Liz’s heart raced. Sandra
could
read minds, or at least intent. She rummaged in the bag. The
Rescue Remedy
was taped into bubble wrap. A pack of three resistance bands were in their own box. She unwrapped the tissue paper around the ankle bracelet: oblong moonstone insets between black beads–a perfect match for the pendant Mike had given her. Heavy magnetic catches snapped closed like a hungry alligator’s jaw when she pulled them apart. Dare she wear this thing?