He didn’t identify himself; he just asked to speak to Laurie. Mary Beth’s mother said she would put Laurie on.
“Hello?”
“Laurie? This is Crane.”
“Crane! Why you must be calling about Boone.”
“Why, yes...”
“Who told you? Did her husband call you about it?”
“About what?”
“About Boone. About her taking all those pills. Last I heard, she was still in a coma.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Laurie asked.
“Yes,” Crane said.
It was dusk. The trees lining Boone’s street were skeletal, abstract shapes; the ground was white and brown, patches of leaves showing through the light covering of snow. It looked peaceful to Crane. Peaceful like death.
“I’d rather you came and stayed with us,” Laurie said. “Mother would like you to. We have the room.”
“No, thank you, Laurie, but I could never stay in that house.” He didn’t look at her as he said this; he’d been with her since late this morning, when she picked him up at the airport, but he hadn’t looked at her much. She was still too much a plumper, slightly older version of Mary Beth for him to be comfortable looking at her.
“You’ll be staying at the motel, then?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“As long as it takes.”
“Crane, she could be in that coma for a year.”
“Or forever.”
“Or forever. The doctor as much as said so. And if she does wake up, she could...”
“Be a vegetable. He as much as said that, too.”
“Not necessarily. He did say they got to her within the first hour. He said that was encouraging.”
“Somewhat encouraging.”
“Somewhat encouraging, he said. But you can’t stay around here forever, waiting for Boone to wake up. It’s crazy.”
Crazy. Crazy was Boone in Intensive Care with tubes in her. That was what crazy was.
“Laurie, I want to thank you for everything. Picking me up at the airport, driving me to the hospital at Fair View, sticking around till I talked to the doctor. Everything.”
“It’s all right, Crane. You were almost my brother-in-law, remember?” She smiled at him, a little.
“I remember.” He couldn’t find a smile to give her back. He tried, but it wasn’t there.
“You’re sure you want out here? Not at the motel?”
“This is where I want out.”
There were lights on in Boone’s house, in the downstairs. Two cars were parked at the curb: an MGB and Boone’s yellow Datsun. There was snow on the Datsun. Laurie was double-parked with the motor running.
Though they’d been together for some hours, he and Laurie hadn’t said much. It had seemed to him that Laurie had tried several times to say something and hadn’t been able to. He glanced at her now, as he opened the car door to get out, and realized she was trying one last time.
“Crane... you and Boone. You must’ve gotten... close.”
He closed the door and settled back in the seat.
“Laurie,” he said, “I love her. That doesn’t take anything away from how I felt about Mary Beth. I still love Mary Beth, and she’s dead. And now Boone, and she’s in a coma. I love them both, and I let them both down, or they wouldn’t be where they are right now.”
“Don’t say that.”
He shrugged.
Laurie was struggling again.
Crane said, “Say what’s on your mind. Go on.”
“It’s just... you told me you were leaving town... told mother the same thing... then you move in with Boone. You never called or anything, saying you’d changed your mind about going or anything. But I knew you were still in Greenwood, and with Boone. This is a small town, Crane, in case you haven’t noticed. Word gets around.”
She had tried to keep the resentment out of her voice, but it was there.
He said. “I didn’t want to bother you and your mother again. I didn’t want to worry either of you with my suspicions.”
“Suspicions?”
“About Mary Beth’s death.”
“Is that why you were asking questions around town?”
“Yes.”
“Then, what? You think Mary Beth was, what? Murdered?”
“Yes. I’d convinced myself that it was something else, but now...”
“Now Boone attempts suicide, too, and that’s just one too many suicides for you to swallow. Sorry. Poor choice of words.”
“Not so poor. You said this was a small town. Hasn’t anybody in Greenwood noticed that suicide is going around like the mumps?”
“Of course.”
“And?”
“People think it’s strange.”
“And?”
“They just think it’s strange. Not suspicious. Just strange.”
“What do you think?”
“I think it’s suspicious. But I don’t know what you’re going to do about it, if that’s why you’re staying around.”
“Well, I have no plans for suicide... so if I turn up some morning sleeping under an exhaust pipe, it wasn’t my idea, if anybody asks.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get into this.”
“Crane.”
“Yes?”
“What are you going to do?”
“Nothing. Go home to your kid, Laurie. I appreciate you picking me up, driving me around today.”
He got out of the car.
“If you want a ride to Fair View to see Boone tomorrow, or any day,” Laurie said, “just call. Mom can sit with Brucie.”
“Thanks.”
“Maybe she’ll wake up, Crane.”
“Maybe she will.”
Laurie drove off.
He turned and looked at Boone’s house. One of the upstairs windows was boarded up. Odd.
He knocked on the door.
Billy answered. He seemed to have grown a little.
“Hello, Billy.”
Billy looked at Crane through squinty eyes, not recognizing him at first. When recognition came, it was a wave of disgust over the six year old’s face. He turned away and yelled, “Daddy!” and disappeared.
A moment later, like a special effect in a movie, the young version of Billy was replaced by the older one: Patrick. He was in a white shirt with his collar and tie loose. His eyes behind the wire frames showed confusion, though it was clear he, unlike Billy, knew Crane immediately.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, without hostility.
“I could ask you the same thing,” Crane said.
Patrick shrugged. “I moved in the day after it happened. That’s, what? Two days ago. Come in, come in.”
Crane did, but they did not advance to the living room; they stayed right in the entryway, standing awkwardly, like strangers thrown together at a cocktail party. Or a wake.
“Don’t you have an apartment in Fair View?” Crane said.
“Yes. And I considered staying there, to be closer to Annie. Not that I could do anything for her at this point.”
“Why move in here?”
“Greenwood’s where Billy goes to school. Fair View is thirty miles from here. So I moved in to be with Billy. So his life wouldn’t be too disrupted.”
Billy was sitting on the floor in the next room watching TV.
“It’s hell to have your life disrupted,” Crane said.
“Look. I have had some rough damn days, here, you know. Yesterday I didn’t get into work at all. Today at work I had to make up for yesterday. I haven’t even had a chance to get back to the apartment to move some of my stuff here. I just packed a bag and came, to be with my son.”
“What about your wife?”
“My ex-wife. A disturbed, irrational woman. I can’t say I feel much love for her anymore. The only thing I feel is sorry for her.”