“Something’s come up,” he said quietly as he put the gallon jugs of milk in the refrigerator, closed the door, wadded up the plastic bags and tossed them under the sink. “I’m gonna have to go and take care of something.” He heard her little gasp of dismay and steeled himself against it.
“These are for you,” he continued, keeping his tone matter-of-fact, not letting himself look at Summer’s face as he calmly spread the radio, flashlights and batteries he’d bought out on the counter. “In case I don’t get back…in case the power goes out-as you know it can.” His mouth twisted, more a quirk than a smile. He took a breath, then headed for the stairs, jerking at his tie and talking as he went. She followed him silently. “If it does, the security system for the house has a battery-powered backup that should last for a couple power’s never been out for more than an hour or so at the most, so you should be okay. Let’s see…there’s bottled water in the cupboards, and you can use what’s in the pool for washing and flushing and such…”
He turned into his bedroom, and she stopped in the doorway and leaned against the frame. He could feel her watching him as he undressed, tossed his jacket, shirt and tie on the bed, then sat down on it to take off his shoes. His movements were jerky with anger-not at her, although she couldn’t know that. How could she know he felt guilty for leaving her, resentful for having to, and defensive because of it? He strode into his dressing room wearing only trousers, footsteps heavy with his anger, resentment and guilt.
“They’re evacuating the islands,” he called back to her as he rummaged for Dockers and windbreaker, polo shirt and athletic shoes. “I’ve got to go and help somebody…somebody I’m responsible for.”
“Is it Brasher?” Summer asked, though she didn’t want to.
For a moment there was silence, and then quietly from the depths of the closet, he replied, “Yeah, Brasher’s one…”
“And the woman…the one I saw you talking to?” Oh, she wished she hadn’t said that! She’d tried not to, felt miserable the moment she did, but somehow it just wouldn’t be denied. Too late to contain the words, she stood dumbly with her hand clamped over her mouth and watched Riley come slowly around the corner from the dressing room, carrying his shoes in one hand and holding his pants together at the waist with the other. Neither Rhett nor Prince nor hero now, but just a man, an ordinary man with a life and secrets she couldn’t share.
He came across the room, his face hard, his eyes shielded from her, and sat down on the bed. She watched him as he methodically peeled off one dress sock, put on a cotton athletic sock and then the shoe. Watched him repeat it with the other foot. Finally, with both feet once more on the floor, he rested his forearms on his knees and raised his face to hers. What she saw in his eyes shocked her There was no anger there at all, but only a deep, incomprehensible sadness.
She muttered a stricken, “I’m sorry-”
He shook his head, stopping her there. And then said, in a slow, careful way, as if every word pained him, “Her name is Modeen Kemp-the woman you saw me talking to. She’s Brasher’s granddaughter. She’s a licensed practical nurse, and I pay her to take care of…someone…for me.” He paused and looked away, but she saw his throat move and suddenly knew how he was aching. And her throat, her chest, every part of her ached for him. “That someone,” he said harshly, “is my mother.”
Though she’d already guessed by then, she made a tiny, involuntary cry. She would have gone to him, but he held her back with a look. “You asked me if my mother was alive, and if I ever saw her, and I told you yes. What I didn’t tell you was that she has no idea who I am.”
“Alzheimer’s?” Summer whispered.
There was no humor whatsoever in his smile. “Among other things-in recent years, anyway. The alcohol had done its work long before that.”
Once again she whispered, “I’m sorry.” But he had already risen and turned away with a shrug, his face cold.
“She’s happiest on the marshes with Brasher and Modeen, and she’ll stay there as long as they can care for her. Sometimes she gets hard to manage-when she’s upset…scared. I’ve got to go and help get her moved, settled down in a strange place-”
“I understand,” Summer murmured. “Don’t worry about us-we’ll be fine.”
In the doorway he paused and looked down at her for a long, silent moment, then enfolded her in his arms and held her the way he’d held and comforted her when they’d discovered Helen in the tree. Only this time she knew beyond any doubt that it was he who drew comfort from her.
And when he had gone, she went on standing there hugging herself and aching inside, thinking, My God, Riley-what’s wrong? What else is it that you’re not telling me?
Because what she’d seen in the depths of his eyes and felt in the tremors deep within him was as unmistakble as it was bewildering. Why should so strong and capable a man know fear?
Mirabella was frustrated. And when she finally succeeded in getting through to Special Agent Redfield on the telephone number he’d given her, he sounded just as frustrated as she was, maybe more so.
“I’ve been trying to reach you all day,” she said accusingly. “The circuits have been busy.”
“It’s this damned hurricane,” Redfield growled, then apologized for his language with a sigh. “First they had us ready to evacuate, then they changed their minds, said it looks like it’s gonna miss Savannah, after all. It’s complete chaos around here…” All of a sudden it seemed to occur to him who he was talking to, and Mirabella could almost feel the electricity coming through the line. “What’ve you got? You’ve heard?”
“Well, I think so…” But in spite of her caution, she couldn’t keep a thrill of excitement out of her voice. “He said he was from Summer’s class reunion committee. His voice was kind of muffled-you know, like he was talking through cloth? But it was Hal-I know it.”
“And you gave him the address?”
“Of course,” Mirabella said impatiently, “I did exactly what you told me.”
“Okay… okay…” It was an exhalation, almost a sigh. Then, brisk once more, he said, “Okay, thanks very much, Mrs. Starr. Let me know if you hear from anyone else-same procedure, okay? We’ll be in touch.”
And he broke the connection before Mirabella could tell him she hadn’t had any luck getting through to Summer’s number, either. As a result, she felt more frustrated than ever. And more afraid.
“She be fine now.” Brasher’s fingers, gnarled as twigs, briefly touched the lined and haggard face of the woman asleep in the hotel bed. Her sallow skin hung loose over the bones of her skull; gray hair with touches of rusty gold, like tarnish, lay sparse on her blue-veined temples; a snore issued from between thin lips sunken over empty gums, the teeth for which were on the nightstand beside her, submerged in a hotel water glass. “Let her sleep…”
Modeen, who was sitting on the bed taking her patient’s pulse, looked up at Riley and nodded. “It’s just a mild sedative. She’ll sleep now, tomorrow probably be a little bit more disoriented than usual, but once she gets back in her own place, she’ll be okay.” She stood up, coiled the blood-pressure cuff that had been lying across her lap and put it in the medical bag on the other bed, closed it, then went into the bathroom and closed the door.
“She was beautiful once,” said Brasher softly. Tender and sad, his eyes rested on the woman’s gaunt face. “When she was a girl. You know, she had so many dreams.”
Riley said nothing. He felt no connection to the woman in the bed at all. He felt nothing. His heart was like stone. “Well,” he said, “I guess I’d better be getting back.”