“I was in it already,” I said. “Hell, I was in it before I was even born.”
I stood up and paced around. While I did, a couple came hustling through the waiting room. The man was tall and thin, and except for the nice suit he was wearing he looked a great deal like Neal Nelson. The woman with him was wearing a fur coat, and even from across the room I could see multiple gold rings on her fingers as she patted her helmet of hair into place. They spoke to the volunteer on duty. I saw relief spread through their posture and across their faces. The volunteer made a phone call, and the clipboard-bearing nurse came out and led the couple back through a set of doors, presumably to a post-op recovery area. I took it to mean Neal was doing okay.
And we had done everything we could do at the hospital.
“Do you have somewhere to go?” I asked. “Or do you want to take a drive down to Dover?”
Beth didn’t hesitate. “It doesn’t look like my house is a very safe place to be, does it?”
“Probably not.”
“Then I’m game. What do you have in mind?”
“Would you still recognize Gordon’s handwriting?”
Beth and I didn’t talk much while we made the one-hour drive to Dover. We were both worn out, exhausted from the evening’s events as well as reliving the things that had happened to her over the previous thirty-seven years.
And we both knew something else—there was still more to come. Things weren’t over. Not even close.
During the ride, Beth leaned over and turned the radio on low. I didn’t recognize the program, but it was a guy giving people advice on all sorts of problems—some financial and some personal. He gave his number at every break, and at one point I said, “We should call him and tell him about us. His head might explode.”
Beth smiled a little, but she didn’t say anything. Her life had been brutal, and I hadn’t even heard the half of it. If I knew all the details, they might make my head spin. I wanted to ask her if she’d gotten help, therapy or something. And I wondered whether she felt she’d managed to beat her addictions once and for all. But I didn’t. I gave her space and time to think. I couldn’t take anything for granted, but it looked as if the two of us would be getting to know each other even more in the future.
I did ask one question. “Did Mom like to read when she was young?”
“All the time.”
“That never changed. She thought every problem could be solved with a book.”
Beth didn’t say anything else, but I understood why Mom wanted that book from Mrs. Porter. Beth had no doubt told Mom much of the same story—or some sanitized version of it—and I knew Mom would have taken it all to heart. I hated to think how much guilt she would have felt over the life her daughter led when she was sent away. At least she died knowing Beth was still alive.
When we got closer to Dover, Beth said, “You still haven’t told me what we’re doing. Do you want to see Ronnie?”
“Not exactly,” I said. “Although we can do that later if you want.”
“Visiting hours are probably over,” Beth said. “I kind of figured we weren’t seeing him.”
“Visiting hours,” I said, my voice mocking. “Do you think a little thing like posted visiting hours can stop us? After all we’ve been through? We’re Leslie’s daughters, right?”
Some cheer returned to Beth’s face and voice. “Right.”
Dover Community looked appropriately deserted. We parked close to the door and stepped out into the cool night. The sodium vapor lights overhead illuminated us, casting our faces and bodies in a half glow. I stopped before we went in.
“You’ve been here before, right?” I asked.
Beth nodded. “I came to visit Ronnie. Once. It didn’t go well.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want, but what was it that upset him so much about your visit?”
Beth hugged herself against the cool air. We had left her house in a hurry, and she was wearing only a light sweater. It had a dark stain on the front. I thought it might be coffee, then realized it might be Neal’s blood. I looked down. I had some on my jeans and shirt as well. We’d make a pretty sight walking into a mental health facility after dark.
“It’s stupid, really,” she said. “Stupid on my part. I wanted to talk about Mom. I didn’t have anyone else I could do that with because I didn’t know you yet. I had read in the paper that Ronnie had been taken into custody or whatever, so I wanted to see him.”
“What if you’d run into one of us?” I asked. “Me or… or Paul.”
“I went at an off hour, hoping no one would be there. But you know, I kind of wanted to run into one of you. God… Paul. He’s my uncle. He was my favorite uncle all those years ago. Such a sweet, sweet man.” She shook her head. “It’s strange. I never wanted to come back when I was young. But now I kind of just wanted to belong to a family again.”
“And it was too much for Ronnie?”
“He was pretty doped up,” Beth said. “I think he thought I was Mom. When he started to flip out, I just left. I couldn’t handle it. I hated to think I brought him any pain.”
“He’s tough too,” I said. “And understanding.”
The door was locked, so I rang the buzzer. A young nurse I had never seen before came to the door and pointed at her watch. She spoke to us through the thick glass. I had hoped to see Janie, but she wasn’t in sight—she must have been out having fun with her girlfriends.
“Visiting hours are over,” the nurse said. “We open at seven tomorrow.”
“We’re not here to visit anyone,” I said. “We just want to talk to you.”
The nurse gave us both the once-over. She took in our tired features and frazzled looks. Who knows if she saw the blood? She stepped away and made a phone call. I knocked again, and when she looked, I made a waving gesture toward the door.
“Come on,” I said.
The nurse didn’t budge. Instead a trim and fit security guard, a young black man with a razor-thin goatee and a shiny gold badge, came over to the door. He approached us with his thumbs hooked in his belt. He meant business.
“I don’t like cops very much,” Beth said as he walked up.
“He’s a rent-a-cop.”
“Those are the worst,” she said. “They have the most to prove.”
The guard didn’t hesitate. He pushed the door open and used his body to block the opening.
“Visiting hours are over, ladies.” His voice sounded surprisingly high, almost effeminate. I didn’t know whether that put me at ease or gave further support to Beth’s theory.
“I know that,” I said. I tried to smile, to look harmless and pretty. The guy was about my age. Shouldn’t he fall for that stuff? “We just need to talk to the nurse and look at your logbook. You know, the one where guests sign in.”
He shook his head. “You have to come back in the morning and talk to the supervisor. Her name is Miss Hicks.”
“You know Janie Rader, right?” I asked. “She’s a friend of mine.”
He shook his head again. “I can’t comment on our personnel. But you can speak to Miss Hicks in the morning.”
“I don’t really have that much time,” I said.
“I know,” he said. “Everyone has an emergency.”
“Yes,” I said. “I do.”
“Miss Hicks. Seven a.m.”
He started to shut the door, so I stuck my hand out, stopping it.
“Now wait—”
“Ma’am—”
“Just listen—”
“Elizabeth,” Beth said. “Maybe we should—”