Mel came to Jane's window. "I'm sorry," he admitted.
“So am I," Jane said, but her words drifted on the wind as Shelley took off like a rocket.
“So what do you think happened?" Shelley asked when she'd helped Jane up the steps, into her house, and onto the sofa.
“Something awful for sure. I'm still mad at Mel for accusing us of going over there to 'gawk.' There I am, with about three tons of lilies and baby's breath in my arms, and he thinks we just horned in to take a looky-loo.”
Shelley went to Jane's refrigerator, found ice, a plastic bag, and a dish towel. She was putting together an ice pack while saying, "There wasn't a body brought out. That must mean that somebody was just hurt and was being treated. I hope."
“Or that they were waiting for the photographers before moving the body."
“Don't be depressing," Shelley said.
“I am depressed. My foot really hurts again. It was kind of numb for a while, but…"
“Take off your shoe and put it up on the sofa.”
Wincing, Jane removed her sneaker. The foot was red and swollen and had an imprint of everything on the inside of the shoe on her skin. A deep purple mark was along the outside of her foot.
“Jane, that doesn't look good."
“Just give me an hour with the ice bag. It'll be okay."
“Not if you've broken something."
“I didn't fall that hard. Really. I have iron bones. I've never broken one before.”
Shelley sighed with exasperation. "You're going to have to get an X ray. And there's no point in even arguing with me. I'll haul you bodily from that sofa if I have to.”
Jane knew Shelley meant it. She tried to put her shoe back on, but her foot, in mere minutes, had swollen so much she couldn't cram her foot in.
Four hours later they returned home. Two hours had been spent waiting in the emergency room of the local hospital where most of the other patients were elderly people who seemed to regard it as a community gathering place and called cheerfully to one another. One hour had been spent waiting in a room that looked like a prison cell for the X ray to come back, and another hour for the orthopedist to explain Jane had broken the long bone at the outside of her foot and truss her up in a toes-to-knee cast. Then they had to stop at a pharmacy so Shelley could go in and buy crutches.
“They would have given me crutches at the hospital," Jane said.
“And charged your insurance about a thousand dollars. I know where to buy a pair for thirty-five dollars."
“How do you happen to know that?" Jane said, staring down at her leg.
“Had to provide some for a school play once. The kids played with them until they were in splinters. That was in the old days when they were made of wood. Remember? Your Katie and my Denise spent half of one summer seeing how far they could fling themselves by putting them way out in front and swinging forward. Here we are. I'll come around to help you. Stay right where you are.”
Jane managed to bash her other leg twice with the crutches just getting out of the car when they got home.
“Don't hang on them by your armpits, Jane. Hold the handle and barely touch the bad foot to the ground while you bring the good one forward."
“I wish you'd let me at least shave my leg before we went. Think how hairy it'll be by the time this is taken off." She tried to follow Shelley's instructions and lost one of the crutches, which went spinning off down the driveway.
Shelley picked it up and patiently handed it back. "Now, with the steps—”
Jane interrupted. "I'm not doing steps. I'm going up backwards on my butt."
“For several weeks?" Shelley asked.
“If need be." Jane hobbled to the bottom of the three steps up to her deck outside the kitchen and demonstrated how well she could haul herself backwards.
“I hope you don't have any social engagements coming up where there are stairs," Shelley commented.
“Social engagements? No. I'm going to take every advantage of this and lie about looking wan and frail and ask people to bring me ginger ale and Cheez-its at regular intervals.”
TWO
“You did call Katie and Mike, didn't you?" Jane asked when she was installed on the sofa in the living room.
“All you have is Wheat Thins. No Cheez-its. Want wine or soda?" Shelley called from the kitchen. "And yes, I called your kids. Told them not to worry. I didn't call the soccer camp where Todd is, though, because you didn't have the number with you."
“How could you tell them not to worry about me?"
“You want them to worry?"
“It's their turn," Jane said. "I've been the sole worrier in this house for twenty-one years.”
Shelley brought in a plate of crackers and cheese and a soft drink. Somewhere she'd actually found a nice little silver tray and a doily. "Where on earth did you find that?" Jane asked, astonished.
“In that cabinet over your refrigerator. Left over from some party or another."
“There's a cabinet over my refrigerator? I'd forgotten."
“Get your mind off the kitchen. How can we find out what happened to Julie Jackson?" Shelley said, sitting down in a chair next to the sofa.
“I've been so obsessed with myself," Jane admitted, "that I've hardly thought about her. I hope she isn't dead or even seriously hurt."
“It looked serious to me. They don't put up crime tapes when somebody tumbles off a step stool."
“I was looking forward to the botany class starting Monday," Jane said. "I hope this was all a misunderstanding and she'll still be teaching it. I met her at a city council meeting once when the cat-haters were yapping about laws to keep cats on leashes. She had some pretty sharp things to say about the balance of nature and I liked her a lot. That woman coming out of the house looked like her. Wonder if it's a sister.”
The kitchen door opened and Jane's eldest child, Mike, came in. "Wow! A cast and crutches and everything. Cool! Does it hurt?"
“Does it hurt? Of course it hurts!" She paused. "But not a whole lot," she admitted. "The problem is the crutches. I can't control them."
“Let me try," Mike said delightedly.
Since he was about a foot taller than his mother, he had to hunch over like an old man to even reach the handles, but managed to lurch around the room briskly.
“So how are you going to decorate the cast?" he asked, tossing the crutches back on the sofa and lowering himself to the floor with the grace that only twenty-year-old knees can manage. "Shame it's a plain white one. The stuff they wrap it with these days comes in neon colors and with sports emblems, you know. Scott had one for a while on his hand in magenta."
“Neither sports emblems nor magenta goes with my wardrobe," Jane said. "Besides, I wasn't offered another color.”
The doorbell rang and Mike went to let Mel in. "Anything you want fetched, Mom?" Mike asked when he was halfway up the steps to his room.
“Carryout dinner," Jane replied.
Mel had seated himself in the other chair next to the sofa. "Bad break?" he asked sympathetically.
“Just a fracture in a big bone," Jane replied. "I saw the X ray. I never knew there were so many bones in a foot. What happened to Julie Jackson?”
Mel sighed. "She's alive at least. In a coma. She was attacked in her basement, which is a sort of workshop. Lots of lights over seedlings and a desk, computer, and a whole lot of file drawers. Apparently she hit her head on the corner of one that was open as she fell. She was certainly a well-organized person. Each file was labeled, and the contents in one of those paper folders with the clips."
“That's obsessive," Jane commented.
Shelley bridled. "No, it's not. I do that. Haven't you ever reached into a file and thought you pulled everything out, but left behind a small paper that fell out of the bunch?”