The Second Man (5 page)

“You need time. Of course. I understand.” Max held out a business card as they walked to her door. “Here’s my cell number. Will you call and let me know about dinner?”

His hand was warm and she saw relief in his face. And something like joy.
Attraction?

Slow down
, she told herself. “Of course. I’ll call you tomorrow some time.”

“Thank you, Jill.” He cocked his head sideways, a twinkle in his gorgeous eyes. “Don’t forget.”

“That’s a bit fresh for you to say.”

He looked stricken for a moment, and relieved when she chuckled.

“I won’t forget,” she said. “Talk to you later.”

They exchanged brief kisses on the cheek before Max walked away. Jill watched him, his stride relaxed and easy. Jaunty even. He was relieved. She closed the door and leaned against it.

She did not feel relieved. Her legs were rubbery and, for a moment, she considered slipping down to the floor and taking a nap in the foyer, but one thought gave her enough energy to head for the bedroom.

While she had been dreading tomorrow’s Easter lunch with her mother at the nursing home because it would mark a new era of loss, she now had something to look forward to that might be positive. The man she once loved, and lost, was back, seeking a chance to reconnect.
That had to be a good thing, right?

Jill shook her head, wishing for a moment she could see into the future.

Later that night, the man who killed Ben Pierce stared out his hotel room window and the starless dark sky.

He was not particularly sentimental, but Jill Farrell had triggered a confrontation with the painful truths he seldom allowed into his thoughts.

He could have taken a different path, despite his father’s example, and become a different man.
Am I getting soft? Soft would be deadly.

He sat for a moment longer and then turned out the lights and lay down in the strange bed. The sheets were cool but his mind remained fevered.

With a groan, the man turned over and squeezed his eyes closed.

It was the reunion.

Perhaps he should abandon his plan, and not expose himself to so many people all at once?

No.

If he wasn’t bold now, when so many people who could reveal the truth about him were gathered in one place, he would live in fear for the rest of his life.

And the next time someone discovered the truth about him, he could lose everything.

He thought again of Jill Farrell and sighed.

Chapter 5

Friend’s House was bustling with visiting family. Jill parked the car and grabbed the plastic-encased orchid corsage she had brought for her mom. Her mother had always acted surprised when her father presented her with one, even though he had made the gesture every Easter Sunday they were together.

Her mother’s surprise today would surely be more real than in old times.

“Jill, wait up!” a man shouted as she reached for the door.

She turned in surprise to find Carly’s dad, Dave Hart, dapper as always in a plaid sport coat and dress pants, hurrying up the sidewalk.

“Dave! Hi!” They hugged at the doorway, the bright sunshine making her squint. “What a nice surprise. Happy Easter.”

“Happy Easter to you. Carly called last night and told me your mom moved in here ahead of schedule, so I thought I’d come see her.” He squeezed her arm. “How are you, honey? You look great. Excited that my girl is hitting town?”

“I can’t wait to see Carly. And the baby. I bet you and Leslie are excited too.” Jill said this even though Dave’s second wife did not get along very well with Carly, probably a big reason why her best friend was staying in a hotel.

“We are.” He took her arm and they walked inside, registered, and headed for Dorothy’s room. “I hear a lot of your old comrades in arms are coming in for the reunion. That Norwegian kid, too, right?”

“Swedish. Max. Yes, that’s true.” She kept silent, not ready to share with anyone that she had already talked with Max.

Dave nodded. He was an ex-cop, an old comrade of her dad’s days on the police force. Her father had held Dave in high esteem and said he was a great listener, not a lecturer, and was a man he could always trust.

“How’s Dorothy doing?” he asked.

“She’s only been here two days, but yesterday she seemed anxious. It’s going to take time.” They stopped so Jill could enter the door code, set at 7777. The residents in the Alzheimer’s wing had to be kept locked in. Jill had doubted the wisdom of a code with all digits the same number, as people forgot codes, but might accidentally keep hitting the same button and get out.

Dave held the door for her, but closed it quickly as a resident Jill had been warned about, Mrs. Meeks, dressed in head-to-toe polka dots, rushed toward them.

“Hi there, Mrs. Meeks,” Jill said. “Happy Easter.”

“Where are my roller skates?” Sandy demanded. “And Frisky. Where’s my dog?”

“I haven’t seen him.”

Mrs. Meeks squinted and then meandered back toward the dining room.

Jill and Dave continued down the hallway. “I’ve seen her waiting by the door every time I’ve been here. She knows there’s a way out. The Alzheimer’s is not quite as advanced with her as it is in my mother case.”

“This disease is so harsh. If your father was here, it would kill him to see Dorothy in a place like this.”

“It would be tough for him, but I can’t help but think that maybe Mom wouldn’t have gone downhill so fast if Daddy had still been around.”

Dave squeezed her arm. “He wouldn’t have done anything more than you have. My wife’s sister has Alzheimer’s, and her doctor says it’s not stress or grief or anything else that makes a person get worse. It’s the body making too much of that protein that clogs up all the brain cells, and the fact we don’t have any medication to stop it.”

“I know, I know. I’ve read a million articles, but still . . .”

“You’ve done the right thing by Dorothy, all down the line. She’s lucky to have you to make these decisions for her, kiddo.”

“Thank you for saying that. I try, but I wish I could do more.” Jill knocked lightly on Dorothy’s door then opened it and found her mother sitting in the chair by the bed, rocking slowly back and forth.

“Hey, Mama. You’ve got a couple of visitors.”

“Buketa bucketa. Uncle Bill. Bucketa, bucketa,” her mother whispered.

Jill touched her shoulder. “It’s Jill, Mama. And Dave Hart is here to see you.”

Dorothy squinted up at them. “Who’s that man?”

“It’s me, Dave. How you doing, beautiful?” He kissed her on the forehead. “Nice place you got here. Lots of light.”

“Uncle Bill. Uncle Bill. Uncle Bill,” Dorothy replied.

She did this often, repeated words and phrases. But until lately she’d only done it late at night, when she was tired.

Jill took a rattling breath. “She’s sleeping too much lately. I’m going to talk about the meds with her doctors this week. Don’t take it personally that she doesn’t seem to know you.”

Dave’s expression reflected shock. It had only been a month since he had seen Dorothy, but it was clear she was getting worse every day. “Don’t worry about me. And it’s hard to adjust to new surroundings. It’s like that for everyone. She’ll settle down.”

“I hope so.” Jill set the orchid down on the table. Her mother was wearing a lavender print dress and tennis shoes. “Why don’t I fix Mom’s hair and we’ll walk up and see you in the lobby? Would you like to come have a bite with us in the cafeteria before you go?”

“No. No, I wanted to give Dorothy a hug.” He made no move to do that, however, as her eyes had closed and she was leaning back in the chair. Instead, he hugged Jill. “I’ll see you next week when Carly gets in. All you kids can come over if you get a chance. Even that Swede.”

“Okay.”

“You take care now.”

“I will. Thank you for coming to see her, Dave.”

“Sure thing.” His eyes glistened. With a last glance at Dorothy, he hurried out of the room.

He had lasted about three minutes, but Jill didn’t blame Carly’s dad for making a quick retreat. It was disconcerting for anyone who had known her mother to see her as she was now. She thought of Max, who would not remember her mother as she once was, and then pushed all the jumble of emotion that was Max out of her mind.

She glanced at her watch. It was a quarter after twelve and the luncheon started promptly at twelve-thirty. All residents were to be in their chairs then, according to the hot-pink flyer that was pasted on her mother’s door.

“Okay, Dorothy. Time to wake up.”

She touched her mother and Dorothy opened her eyes.

“What day is this?”

“Easter Sunday. Look what I brought you.” She held up the corsage.

Dorothy turned in Jill’s direction. Due to the progression of her Alzheimer’s, she had difficulty focusing. “Hello.”

“It’s Jill, Mom. How are you feeling today?”

“Fine.” She blinked several times. Her eyes, once a clear bright blue, were faded and infused with an odd, shining spark inside the irises, almost like the red-eye look you see in poorly taken photos. Jill had noticed this glint for several months, but when she asked during check-ups what caused it, none of Dorothy’s doctors seemed to see what she described.

“Can I put your corsage on? I thought you might like to wear it today. They’re having a special meal in the dining room for Easter.”

Dorothy didn’t look at Jill as she wrestled the creaking, snapping piece of plastic open and pinned the thing to her mother’s dress.

“That looks beautiful.”

Dorothy sniffed and made accidental eye contact. “It smells funny.”

“Do you want me to take it off?”

She sniffed again. “I have a cold.” She sniffed twice more. Dorothy did not have a cold, but she constantly sniffed as if she had hay fever.

Jill wondered if this was a survival instinct. Maybe the pieces of her brain that still worked told her to rely on other senses more now. Maybe she thought her sniffing instincts could lead her out of the forest of confusion that was her daily life.

“The orchid looks nice on your dress, mom. That’s the one we got you last summer. At Nordstrom’s.”

Her mother turned and waved at the window. “Who’s that man?”

Jill stared outside. “There’s no one there.”

A long silence followed and Jill knew that was the end of the conversation.

Dorothy felt around her neck for the antique locket she wore at her throat. It was the only piece of jewelry she decided their mother could keep while living here, as the nurses could work around it when they bathed her.

Dorothy received it from her mother when she was only a child, and had given it to Jill when Jill was sixteen. Dorothy had asked to wear it again last year when they came across it emptying out the family home.

With a shock, Jill remembered that inside was a strand of her mother and father’s hair in one side of a locket, the other of which held some of her own, intertwined with a strand of Max Kallstrom’s hair.

She had put it in one night after she had cut his hair for him, joking that she would shave him bald if he did not sit still. Jill blinked. “Guess who I saw last night, Mom? Max Kallstrom.”

Dorothy rubbed the locket, but said nothing.

“Do you remember my boyfriend when I was in college? Max with the dark hair. He loved tea with sugar and lemon.”

Tears trickled down Dorothy’s face.

Jill hugged her. “Oh, please don’t cry. Do you remember Max? From Sweden?”

“Buketa. Buketa buketa buketa,” Dorothy said and moved out of Jill’s embrace.

Jill swiped her hand roughly over her eyes. “Okay then. Why don’t we go eat? They’re having ham and scalloped potatoes. And there’s cake for dessert.”

Dorothy’s eyes met hers in the mirror. “I want to leave,” she whispered.

“I know.” Jill said. “I know.”

When she got home at three P.M., Jill considered calling Max to say she was not up for dinner, or anything more. Half of her brain had argued a hundred times to just leave the past alone, and not invite the new Max into her current life.

The other half of her brain had told her to let go and help the guy. She could have a new relationship with him. They could be friends.

But she couldn’t make up her mind what she could handle. She considered calling Carly, but dismissed that. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling yet, so she was going to give herself more time.

Time to decide what she could handle. She accepted Max’s story about why he hadn’t contacted her for all these years, but she wasn’t completely ready to forgive him.

Why?

Fear, she realized. For even though he had no relationship memories of her, hers of him were suddenly as hot and merciless as a bed of coals.

Can I be around this new Max and not see the man I loved?

Jill blew out a breath and went and took a long shower, followed by a short nap. When she woke up she felt refreshed. Outside her window a soft breeze sent the aroma of honeysuckle into her room, and she decided it would be foolish to not at least have dinner with Max.

Spending time with him would give her new memories of the man, and help her overcome the past ones, or at least partition them from reality.

The stiffness and anxiety she had felt last night, she realized, was because her feelings were still stuck in the past. She needed to make some in the present, and dilute the power the old ones had over her emotions.

Satisfied she had given the situation enough consideration, Jill called and agreed to meet Max at seven. He was more business-like on the telephone, and she relaxed even more.

Think of him as a new friend
, she told herself.
Because that is what he is.

She chose her clothes more carefully than she remembered doing for years, white slacks and a soft silk blouse that wasn’t too clingy, along with her favorite navy jacket. She added hoop earrings and a delicate pearl and gold chain, dabbed a touch of lavender perfume behind her ears, more to relax herself than tempt anyone, and slipped on her sandals.

Max rang the bell promptly on time and she greeted him with a genuine smile.

He leaned across the threshold and kissed her cheek, his mouth warm on her skin, and held her close a moment longer than necessary when they hugged hello.

Jill did not ask him to come in, just pulled the door shut and smiled, listening to him complain mildly about traffic as he walked with her to his rental car. A silver convertible, and the top was down.

“I hope you don’t mind. But sunshine at seven in the evening is addicting to a boy raised in a place where it’s only around a few hours a day, six months of the year.”

She pushed her hair behind her ears. “No, this is great. How is Södertälje?” She said it carefully, as he had once taught her to. “Do you get back much?”

Max held the door for her. “No, not much.”

He explained he went to the city where he was born because of a client, and named a huge pharmaceutical company. “And Scandia has a big office there. I have worked with them in the past, so I chat up a finance guy I trust to tell me the truth about European markets. I don’t make it out to the hamlet where my folks’ house was, but I do go. Last Christmas I took Olivia for a visit. I wanted her to see it in all its snowy glory.”

“Did she love it?”

“
Ja
. She did, I think.” He grinned and they drove off.

Jill guided Max through her neighborhood and up into the hills toward Ashley, the rustic town where she had grown up, a half hour from Santa Barbara, in the hills near Los Olivos.

“I want to thank you again for agreeing to see me.” Max kept his eyes on the road. “This is like a first date for me. Not for you, I guess. Although I am certainly a changed man,
ja?
”

“Not so changed,” she said, surprised that this was true. “I thought we could drive by my parents’ neighborhood, maybe get out and walk around a bit, and then come back to dinner someplace along the water.”