Together Again: Spirit Travel Novel - Book #4 (Romance & Humor - The Vicarage Bench Series) (11 page)

Who knew his life could become so complicated in just a short while? One day a single bachelor without a care in the world, following a great lead—the next, a broke, botched-the-job reporter with an adopted puppy and invaded by a mystical, endearing, demon teenager. What the hell was that all about?

****

Hospital noises swirled in the background as soon as he entered the old building. Various voices over the PA system called for specific doctors and nurses. Cries of children, groans of adults, and the commotion that exists inside every ER clamoured all around him. A lone floorwasher aimlessly swiped at the grey tiles with a wet mop, stopping every so often to dunk the dirty strands back into the pail of water nearby. Cleaning agents overpowered most of the other smells, but pain and fear had their own scent that nothing could cover.

Unembellished heartbreak, screamed in an old woman’s voice, perked up his ears. His reporter genes kicked in. Glancing around, he saw a multitude of stories hovering everywhere. They called out to him—to the part of him that was full of questions aching to be asked.

Wanting to understand.

Needing to learn.

The folks who had endured tragedies today were chock full of painful anecdotes waiting to come to light and be shared, and he was just the person to collect them. Local papers normally bought freelance work if it ranked high in quality and interest, and his work had placed among some of the best. Articles on behind-the-scenes action, special coverage, and stories of the heart always sold.

He evaluated his interviewing prospects. Grandpa, who’d introduced himself in the taxi as Edmund Conway, would be his introduction into the piece. In this specific review, Troy could add a lot of background filler, thanks to being a part of the action himself. Descriptions from others were fine, but having had a first-hand view of the tragedies at the fire would help big-time. Experiencing the feeling of fear, the heat of the blaze and the atmosphere from inside the burning building would bring a special kind of reality to his writing.

He found Edmund resting in the visitor’s room, praying and waiting to hear the doctor’s diagnosis on Mary. His head of messy white hair leaned against the back of the sofa, while his eyes stared at the empty grey ceiling. Low murmured prayers, whispered in a raw voice, could be heard if one took the time to listen. Troy sat next to the old fellow and put his hand over the ones clenched and trembling. As soon as Edmund looked over and saw Troy, he started to babble. His worries came across in his words, and his fear came through in the way he clutched Troy’s hand.

Compassion struck just as it always did when Troy faced the heartbreak and terror of others. He decided now might be just the perfect moment to take Edmund’s mind off what had happened earlier. He’d query the fellow and get him to reminisce—good medicine for a worried soul. Besides, it would be necessary background for the piece he’d be writing.

Dani returned just then. “Troy, you’re not serious? How can you even think of questioning him at a time like this? It’s—it’s indecent.”

He not only heard Dani’s horror—he felt it. She opened herself up to him completely, and he experienced her instinctive shock. Her repugnance created a sickness in his stomach that forced his muscles to tighten and the saliva to build up in his mouth. Sadness swept over his spirit, and he had to blink repeatedly to stop the sensation from overflowing to leave traces on his cheeks.

“Hey, little girl, hold on there. I’ll not hassle the old guy; I’ll just get him to talk. Dani, it’s my job.”

“Have some sensitivity. He’s worried sick about his wife. He doesn’t need anyone badgering at him now.”

“Folks will want to read about what happened. They have a right to know more than bare facts. They care about people—people like Mary and Edmund. It’s my job to help them see the individuals involved in the tragedy, not just an old building that burned down. Try and understand?”

“Don’t the victims have rights also, like their right to privacy during such a painful time?”

“Look, sweetheart, you have to have faith in my integrity. This is my job, what I do for a living, and I’m good at it. Trust me!”

“I do—but promise me you’ll be careful.”

He sighed.

He waited, not saying a word. He felt her re-assessing, thoughts speeding through with an astuteness that surprised him, made him proud. Seconds built into a minute, and still—he didn’t speak.

“Sorry! I do trust you, ever so much.”

“Thank you.”

An hour later, an hour in which Troy took copious notes, the bustling doctor arrived in front of Troy and Edmund with the good news.

“Edmund, Mary wrenched her ankle quite severely and sustained mainly first-degree burns. The smoke inhalation at her age worries us somewhat, but the main reason we’re keeping her in hospital is because she was unconscious at the time of rescue. There’s some minor pain from the knock on her head, and we’d like her to stay here with us under observation. If you’d like to remain with her, you’d be welcome. She’s fretting for you, so whenever you’re ready, come to Room 201.”

Edmund had reached for the doctor’s hand at the beginning of his speech and never did let it go until the younger man kindly put his arm around the old fellow and began to lead him to Mary’s room. Troy followed to peek in on her himself.

Still in shock from the disaster of losing everything, and unnerved from her close call with death, the pale old woman lay swathed in a white hospital gown, with a bandage the same colour wrapped around her head. Physically, her condition looked better than some of the others he’d seen in the hallways and on stretchers. All in all, it was excellent news for the Conways, at least about Mary’s health. But what about their home?

Everything Troy gleaned from Edmund’s ramblings pointed to one conclusion. All the inhabitants of the Kingsly boarding house had co-existed for years, living as a large, extended family. They’d shared with each other through thick and thin, good times and bad. Now disaster had struck, and nothing could be worse. They would be homeless, many without funds to help themselves, without relatives to take them in.

“My God, Troy! Whatever are they going to do? These poor people need someone to come to their aid!”

Chapter Sixteen

“I jolly well know it’s been a week, Mrs. Howard, but Dani is still not recovered from the rash. The doctor says as long as she has them sores, she’s infectious.”

“I know what my brother says, Mrs. Dorn. I still insist on speaking to Daniell. I doubt if I’ll catch anything over the phone.” The acid in her voice seemed to burn through the wires.

Yanking the receiver away from her ear, Mrs. Dorn exploded in a violent whisper, her hand over the mouthpiece. “Bloody hell! The stupid cow never lets up!”

The agitated mother to whom she referred didn’t hear the housekeeper spout off and demanded her attention once more.

“Mrs. Dorn? Hel-lo? Are you still there?”

“Hang on, luv. I dropped something. Now, what were you saying? Oh, yes, you wanted to talk to Dani. She can’t talk to you, as you very well know. It were the doctor’s idea to keep her doped up to stop her scratching, and if you ask me, it was a smashing idea.” Agitation was evident in her words, but her slippered foot kicking the wall emphasized it.

Roused by the thumping, Nurse Joye stayed secreted behind the slightly opened sickroom door while spying on the conversation. She hung back until she grasped that her help was vital, then revealed herself and sped toward the frustrated woman by the black wall phone in the hallway.

Mrs. Dorn looked up at the nurse and grimaced. The small red knob at the end of her nose stood out grotesquely, and her narrowed eyes snapped with indignation. Obviously at the end of her tether, Mrs. Dorn needed rescuing.

“I’m most annoyed with my brother, to tell you the truth, Mrs. Dorn. I don’t see why he can’t keep her conscious long enough for me to have a proper conversation with her. I’ve asked around at the hospital, checked with my friends, even enquired at my doctor’s office, and so far no one has been able to tell me a thing about this so-called virus. I shan’t be put off much longer. I’m very concerned.”

“Iffen you ask me—”

Nurse Joye plucked the phone from Mrs. Dorn’s hand and put it behind her own back while she waited for the larger woman to extricate her arm from the twisted cord.

She spoke softly. “Mrs. Dorn, I’ll take this call. You go and make a nice cuppa and calm down. I’ll be in to see you as soon as possible.” The housekeeper looked fit to be tied. It took a few seconds for her to close her mouth and nod. She stomped toward the kitchen, her satin slippers slapping the hardwood floor with each step.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Howard. Nurse Joye here. Mrs. Dorn had to go to the kitchen to—to stop her pudding from boiling over. I couldn’t help overhearing part of the conversation, and I gather you’re troubled about Dani.”

“Nurse Joye, thank goodness. Sometimes I feel you’re the only sane voice I can talk to in that house. I keep praying Daniell will call and tell me she’s back to normal, but I’ve heard nothing. If I didn’t telephone each day for updates, I don’t believe I’d ever hear from Robert. I’m going mad with worry. She’s my baby, she’s…” Sobs from the anguished mother echoed straight into the single woman’s heart.

Tears clogged Nurse Joye’s eyes and shivers darted every which way throughout her body. Her voice, reflecting her distress, wobbled until she got herself under control.

“Mrs. Howard, please don’t upset yourself this way,” she murmured, speaking with the velvet tones of a born caregiver. “You know how much Robert loves his niece, and what a wonderful doctor he is. You must believe he’s doing everything in his power to make Dani as comfortable as possible. It’s the reason he’s kept her here, in such lovely surroundings, rather than the cold atmosphere of the hospital.”

“That’s exactly what my husband tells me, and I am grateful. Please don’t misunderstand. It’s just so hard not being able to see her and be with her. Is her condition improving at all?” Marion’s fretfulness had receded slightly, but the mournful tones of a woman kept away from her sick child remained.

Connecting with that expressed pain left Nurse Joye no other recourse but to give in to the obvious plea for reassurance. “My dear, we’re hoping to have her up and around by Saturday. She’ll still be weak, but at least you’ll see her then.”

“Goodness, that’s days away. I only hope I can last that long.”

Finally, after many more minutes of evasive tactics, Grace hung up the phone and leaned back against the wall, her hand covering her cheek in a common reflex during moments of stress. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Lying was abhorrent to her, and normally she wouldn’t allow herself to be put in a position where it became necessary. But in this case she had no other option.

Robert knew his sister extremely well, and Grace had to concur with his assessment. If he’d tried to explain to Marion what he’d told Grace, she had no doubt in her mind, none at all, that the frenzied woman would not only have her daughter into a clinic immediately but would also be seeking professional care for her brother.

It would be disastrous for Dani to be removed from the vicinity of the mysterious roses. Grace firmly believed the only way to get that girl back to her normal self was to have her body by that specific bush at noon on Saturday. With luck and prayers, all would go according to plan. She made the sign of the cross. Asking assistance from a higher presence wouldn’t hurt at all.

Aware of her duties, she peeked in on Dani to assure herself all was well. Then, satisfied of her patient’s comfort, she headed toward the kitchen to tackle Mrs. Dorn. Before entering the room she smoothed her hands over her proper white uniform and forced her shoulders to relax.

Mrs. Dorn, bent over and rummaging in the cupboards under the sink, jumped a foot when she realized the nurse stood in the kitchen behind her.

“Strewth! I didn’t see ya there, miss. You startled me, ya did.” She put back the odd-looking container and straightened to face the nurse.

“Mrs. Dorn, do you have any children?”

“No, but I have a sweet little kitty.”

“With all due respect, my dear, I don’t believe it’s quite the same thing.”

“Not exactly, but Pearl’s getting on. She misses me something fierce, according to me sister, who is cat-sitting her while I’m staying here to assist the doctor.”

The woman literally oozed righteous virtue when stating her employer’s need for her services. She always spoke the doctor’s name with a reverence that indicated her position, as his housekeeper, was probably a bragging tool with her family and her pals.

“If you have a sister, who I’m sure you care about, you should be able to understand how difficult it is for Marion Howard to have Dani, a beloved daughter, sick and out of her reach. Any mother would be frantic, and she is particularly vulnerable, according to Dr. Andrews. After years of trying to conceive, she’d given up the possibility of ever having children. So Dani was something of a miracle.”

Mrs. Dorn’s head lowered a bit more with each of Nurse Joye’s points until she resembled a castigated child. “I know I can be a bit full on sometimes. Look ‘ere, that girl
is
a miracle, a lovely lass, respectful and kind whenever she comes to visit himself. Always takes a few minutes to come in and wish me a good day and beg for one of me special cookies.”

“If you like her so much, you’ll want to do what’s best for her and her mother, right?”

As if Grace hadn’t interrupted, the woman ranted on. “It were the doctor’s idea to have me stay and help with her care, and I’m happy to do it. But taking the mickey out of his sister is wearing a bit thin. She won’t give over, hounds me until I’m flaming ratty.”

All the time she talked, Mrs. Dorn filled the copper kettle, fetched china cups and saucers, and set the table for two. Lovely teacakes, which she’d made and decorated with different colours of icing, were arranged on a pretty platter and placed on the white lace doily covering the well-scrubbed wooden table.

A cozy rocker and footstool positioned near the fireplace looked to be the woman’s retreat, and the basket next to it, filled with bright red wool and knitting needles, her pastime.