September Love Page 15

  “I get this kind of sick feeling,” Doug said. “I hope… I hope that things go right, but at the same time I…dread the time when, if things do go right, we might see the last of him. I’d hate to not know where he was, how he was doing, if—” He stopped.

  Doug was right. The angry, confused little boy had somehow touched her heart, too.

  She took his hand. “Me, too. I think we mentioned before, that if things do go right, maybe they could stay here in Seattle so we could…” So they could what? What was she getting herself into?

  “Yeah, I agree with that. And if and when the time comes, I’d exert any influence I had to keep them from going off into the world somewhere so we…wouldn’t know how things were going. I would need to know, Beth. How he was doing. If he was okay or not.”

  So he realized it, too. Kayla’s instability couldn’t be discounted. Even if she were successful in this new effort, could she stay successful? What about Adam? Suddenly Beth couldn’t bear the thought of Adam somewhere, frightened, confused, clinging to some thrift-shop skirt as Kayla wandered on.

  “I really love that little boy,” Beth said thoughtfully. “I don’t think I could stand it if…if we lost track of him. If we didn’t know he was all right.”

  “Me, too,” Doug said softly, a sigh in his voice.

  “I was thinking I’d like to try next Sunday, or the next, to see if he’s ready to mix in with other children at Sunday school.” Or was this wrong? Was she starting to give Adam a life, only to have Kayla snatch it away?

  “You could try it,” Doug said without hesitation. “He should learn to be with other kids. Learn to play. I don’t think the little guy ever has learned to play.”

  Beth knew he was right. What kind of world was it when a child didn’t know how to play?

  “He needs that,” she said firmly. “It’s part of learning. I’ve noticed that he doesn’t have much vocabulary. He should be talking more. He—” She stopped, uncertain how much she could say without offending Doug.

  “I agree,” he answered. “And I’m sorry I got childish about painting another Shilshole Bay scene. If I have a talent worth money, I should use it and not be such a nitwit. And if I’m right about his highness there, if he gets as far as college, I have a good hunch about who’s going to have to pay for it. You do realize, don’t you, my love, that I have a responsibility with this?”

  “We have a responsibility,” Beth corrected. “Your life is my life.” She would have continued, but the phone rang again. She got up quickly to answer it, instinctively assuming her perfect hostess voice. She loved her small business and nothing—absolutely nothing—would ever take it away from her.

  For most of the following week things went smoothly. For one thing, the weather cleared and Doug was able to resume work on another painting of Shilshole Bay. He worked hard at it, and Beth concentrated on preparing Adam for next Sunday’s attempt to get him accustomed to being with other children.

  In between the many tasks of running her business, she made time to talk with Adam, trying to really communicate at his limited level. He was a bright child who simply hadn’t had a normal enough life to allow for adequate development. It was a pleasant, peaceful time with Kayla gone. It seemed—somehow or other—things would work out. It seemed—somehow or other—Kayla would succeed in rehab. If Kayla didn’t succeed in rehab, then—somehow or other—Kayla would be elsewhere. But Adam would be all right. Somehow or other. Life was too good to waste the lovely spring days on worry.

  Mr. Jessup came out of the hospital in time for them to embark on the drive back to their ranch.

  “I guess you’ll write off Seattle as a big-city holiday,” Beth said, laughing as she checked them out.

  “Not on your life,” Mrs. Jessup said. “We’ll try again next year if you’ll put us up again.”

  Beth watched them go with a happy heart. She loved this work. Adam was doing well; he was more secure, talking better and not so restless during the night. Doug was working on his painting. She successfully tackled making the breakfast minimuffins herself because Kate was temporarily unable to do the B and B baking. Using Kate’s recipes, she found she could do just as well. Although it meant more work for her, she managed to fit it all in.

  Adam came through like a champion at his first entry into social life with his peers at Sunday school. He only got into one battle with another three-year-old. They fought over one of the colorful Sunday school books. Adam did love books.

  “Well,” Doug said philosophically, “I hope the other little kid doesn’t have a black eye. The flip side is it may indicate that Adam is a potential book lover. That would be good. I mean, I think it would be good.”

  Beth laughed. “Adam’s going to be fine,” she assured him. “I can see him in years to come. He may be the family’s first Rhodes Scholar or something else impressive.”

  She felt optimistic about Adam. He was responding, as all children will, to the affection and attention he was receiving. It seemed to center on the bed-sitter, which he considered his home base. He was somewhat possessive about his half of the closet.

  Doug had brought up a small bookcase from the basement for Adam’s growing collection of books. She and Doug had both bought him books. Beth fell into the habit of rushing through her work on Tuesdays so she could take Adam to the library to hear the storytelling lady. He was fascinated. The top of his bookcase was reserved for his two greatest treasures. They were the card with the gold stars stuck on it to show how many times he went to Sunday school, and his plastic library card. There was one small battle. He had to accept the fact that he had to give books back to the library so he could get more. But Beth was able to get him through this little crisis.

  Without actually discussing it, she realized that she and Doug were accepting that Adam could become a permanent part of their lives, an ongoing responsibility. She assured herself it wasn’t something to worry about.

  On Sundays during Coffee Hour, Pastor Cooper never failed to ask about Kayla, and Beth knew, with a sinking heart, that Doug had been right about him.

  “Yeah, he’s smitten all right,” Doug said, driving home one Sunday.

  And Beth said nothing in response. There was nothing she could say. Instead, she changed the subject.

  “How many weeks has Kayla been in the rehab center now?”

  “Five. Things must be going well,” Doug said contentedly.

  “I think you told me she could have visitors and calls after six weeks, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. I’m planning to go over next week. See if she needs more pocket money or anything else. Have you any ideas?”

  “Not really. Give her my best, of course.” It was going to work. She felt a great sense of happiness, mainly on Doug’s behalf. He would be so disappointed if Kayla failed again.

  So it was a double shock on Monday, the beginning of Kayla’s sixth week, to get a phone call from Dr. Hanson, the facility’s director, asking for Mr. Colby.

  “Mr. Colby isn’t here. I’m Mrs. Colby. Can I help you?” Beth said, her heart starting to beat faster.

  “Yes, of course. And perhaps you’ll talk to Mr. Colby when he returns. I’m more sorry than I can say, but his daughter Kayla has left the institute. She wasn’t in her room this morning, and her bed hadn’t been slept in. I was rather hoping she had gone back to her father. I take it she hasn’t?”

  “No, she hasn’t come here,” Beth said, her mouth feeling dry. Adam. What about Adam? “What…what do you suggest we do?”

  “Do you know who her friends are here in Seattle? Do you know if she would have gone to anyone?”

  “No. She doesn’t have any friends here,” Beth explained. “She knows almost no one. The last time she gave up and dropped out of the program, she came here. And she hasn’t,” she added, feeling queasy.

  “I see,” he said thoughtfully. “Will you have Mr. Colby call me when he returns? Perhaps he’ll have some ideas. We try to work with parent or guardian if we can
, but since Kayla is over twenty-one, it’s difficult.”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll…I’ll talk to Mr. Colby, and he’ll get back to you,” Beth promised, knowing her voice sounded bleak.

  “One other thing,” Dr. Hanson added, almost as an afterthought. “She did have a friend here, another patient—also missing. I’m not sure I should mention it, but perhaps it might help, if you also know the person.”

  “No, I don’t. I have no idea who she knows there, or who she has made friends with in the Institute. I suppose you can’t give me a name, can you?”

  “I’m sorry, no,” Dr. Hanson said firmly.

  Beth hung up the phone feeling annoyed. It might have helped if Dr. Hanson had told her, but she supposed it came under the doctor-patient confidentiality rules. Everything seemed too complicated.

  She and Doug had a bad evening staying near the phone and the front door. Two guests checked in about five and went out for the evening after they’d put their luggage in their room. Doug was pacing. Beth could feel his anxiety about Kayla.

  At eight o’clock Beth put Adam to bed and rejoined Doug for their vigil. Where was Kayla? Would she come back? It was maddening. Finally, at about eleven, they gave up and went to bed.

  At three o’clock the bedside phone shrilled. Beth felt Doug jerk awake beside her. He snatched up the phone. Why did phones sound so piercing in the small hours of the morning? She sat up, snapping on the bedside light, listening to his side of the conversation.

  “Yes, this is Mr. Colby. I can’t hear you. Can you speak up? Yes. Okay. Yes, all right. Who is this? Yes, of course.” He was silent for a time. Once more he said, “Please speak louder. Okay, will you repeat that?” He had begun writing something on the bedside notepad. “All right. Yes, a light would be helpful. Thank you.” Slowly he hung up the phone and turned to Beth.

  “Was that Kayla?” she asked, trying to keep the dread out of her tone.

  “No. It was somebody called Wanda. Apparently she’s the friend Kayla made in rehab, the other patient. It appears they left together. This Wanda person called to tell me that she and Kayla decided to abandon the program. And they just took off! She sounded quite drunk. She said she and Kayla are staying with friends. I suppose she means her own friends. Anyhow, she thinks I should come get Kayla. She gave me an address.” He held out the slip of paper.

  Beth looked at it. “That’s not a very good neighborhood, Doug. Why does she want you to come and get Kayla?”

  “It was rather garbled. I gather the friendship is being somewhat strained at this point. It seems Wanda had a boyfriend—that’s where they are staying. And now Wanda seems to feel that Kayla is…well, it seems that three’s a crowd now and she wants Kayla to leave.”

  “Didn’t Kayla want to?” Beth asked uncertainly. Now what?

  Doug smiled grimly. “To put it in Wanda’s somewhat indelicate manner of speaking, ‘Your daughter’s out cold. Come and get her!’ So apparently they’ve both celebrated and had a few too many. Well, I’d better go.” He got up.

  “But, Doug, that’s a bad neighborhood. Maybe you should call Ian or Greg—have one of them go with you.”

  “Nonsense. Your husband may be over the hill, but don’t forget I’m a fairly big guy. Thugs seldom attack the big guys. Plus, I did my bit in the military. I can handle a brawl if it comes to that. Don’t worry, love.”

  Beth sat huddled in the bed, watching him as he dressed quickly. Yes, Doug could probably take care of himself in any brawl. Scrambling into her robe, she went downstairs with him in the silent house and saw him out the front door. She shut it quietly behind him, willing herself to remain calm.

  She wanted to scream.

  Adam! Somehow I must protect Adam’s little world. With his books. And his gold stars. And his library card. Dear God, it was little enough.

  Chapter Ten

  Beth went into the bed-sitter. She looked down at Adam, sprawled in deep sleep in the middle of the big sofa bed. He looked so little. So innocent. So defenseless. There was a feeling of dread in her stomach.

  Kayla is coming back.

  She should probably feel some guilt about this, because Kayla needed help as much as Adam did, but try as she would, she could feel little sympathy for Kayla. Kayla was a user, a loser. She was a threat to her own child’s well-being. And—because of Doug’s feeling about the situation—she could be a threat to their perfect life.

  No! Never! Nothing must threaten my marriage to Doug! Somehow she would need to cope with Kayla’s return. Beth went to the wall phone and quietly dialed the church’s number. The office would be closed now, of course, but she could leave a message on the answering machine. When the mechanical sound of Bessie’s voice finished speaking in her ear, Beth said very quietly, “This is Beth Colby. Will you ask Pastor Cooper to give me a call, Bessie? Thank you.” Help me, she was pleading in her mind. Help me, God. She went to the kitchen table and sat on one of the stools. The only sound was the ticking of the kitchen clock.

  It was almost four, too early to start any preparation for breakfast. Vaguely she thought about going back upstairs to dress, but didn’t move. There came the sound of gentle spring rain outside. It was an oddly comforting sound. Good old Seattle night rains. It would be gone before daylight, leaving the streets and sidewalk cleanly washed and the lawns and gardens nicely watered.

  Then she heard the dripping sounding on the service porch. Oh, no. Not another leak in the roof!

  Hurriedly she got up and went onto the service porch, which protruded from the house, sheltered by its own roof. As soon as she stepped onto it, she felt water under her feet. In one motion she snatched up a bucket and placed it under the leak. It was not exactly a stream, but would be before the day was over. It meant more of the ugly blue tarp, if they could get emergency help from the roofing company. What next? This was going to cost even more money they couldn’t really afford. Then, suddenly, the recollection sprang into her mind. She had had two offers for the flourishing B and B. And one had been a firm offer—from a middle-aged couple who had taken early retirement and then regretted it. They had wanted—intensely—to have some work to do. No! Never! Never would she sell her B and B!

  She might as well go up and get dressed, she thought angrily, but going back into the kitchen she was startled to see the guest from the back bedroom, Mr. McCormack. He was an elderly ginger-haired man who had come to Seattle to settle an estate matter.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Ah, I see you’ve got the same problem.” He had noticed the mop bucket as she shut the service porch door. “I’m afraid I’ve got a leaky ceiling. I came down looking for a pot or something.” He seemed quite good-natured about it, and Beth felt a flush of embarrassment rise to her face.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Here, let me get you something. There’s another bucket.” She opened the back door again to get it. A leak in the back bedroom, too? That was the part not protected by the blue tarp. We can’t afford a whole new roof.

  “Do you mind if I go up with you? I’d like to see what…what damage—”

  “I don’t think it’s real damage,” he assured her, reaching for the bucket. “The carpet on that side is soaked, but it’s just clean rainwater. Could that do damage?”

  “I suppose not,” she said, “and I have one of those carpet cleaners that sucks up water, but I can’t use it before everyone’s up and gone. It’s so loud it’d raise the dead, which I don’t think anyone would appreciate.”

  Together they went up to the back bedroom and placed the bucket under the steady drip, drip, drip from the ceiling.

  “That should do it. I’m a light sleeper or I wouldn’t even have noticed it,” Mr. McCormack said.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said again. “I’ll give you our off-season discount rate—”

  “Nonsense. Don’t worry about it. Life’s full of interesting little challenges. I’ll be fine now. And I’ll see that the bucket doesn’t overflow, I
promise.”

  Back in her own room, Beth took a quick shower and dressed. Where was Doug? Surely he should be coming back soon with Kayla.

  Kayla. Her heart sank. Adam was doing so well. And what would this failure do to Kayla’s already low self-esteem?

  It was almost five-thirty before she heard Doug coming back. She had just started the breakfast preparations. Breakfast hours were eight until ten. She opened the back door and went down the back steps to meet them. The predawn air was chilly.

  “Are you all right? Is Kayla all right?” she asked as she saw them get out of the car. Doug was helping Kayla, who was staggering and weaving.

  Doug looked grim. “I guess you could say we are all right,” he said. Then to Kayla, he said, “Watch it, dear. There are steps.”

  “Okay,” Kayla said agreeably, “I can do steps.” And holding on to her father, she managed fairly well. “Hi, Beth. It’s the bad penny coming back. Sorry about that.” She looked half asleep.

  “I’ll get her into the bed-sitter,” Doug said, sounding embarrassed and apologetic. “I see we’ve got another leak,” he added, noticing the filling bucket on the porch.

  “And one in the back bedroom. Mr. McCormack reported it a while ago.”

  “Two leaks, huh?” Doug added. “Looks like the beginning of another perfect day.”

  Feeling helpless and trying to hide her disgust, Beth followed them. In the bed-sitter Adam was still sleeping deeply, and Kayla headed for the broad window seat.

  “Love that window seat,” she said. “Good old window seat.” She collapsed onto the long padded cushion, saying in a singsong tone, “Oh, lovely, lovely, lovely,” and promptly fell asleep.

  Both Doug and Beth looked at her. In a moment she curled up like a child, her blond hair tousled, her lovely face flushed.

  “What do you think?” Doug asked. “Should she just sleep there?” He turned to Beth. His eyes looked so sad and defeated that she wanted to cry.