When You're Expecting Something Else (19 page)

BOOK: When You're Expecting Something Else
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“Jared’s girlfriend, although he never calls her that,” Maggie says.

 

“Girlfriend?” Now I’m really confused. Jared had a girlfriend when he spent the night with me?

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

It’s late by the time I get back home. I’ve had several calls from Stan that I let go to voicemail while I was out. I’m almost too tired and drained to call him back, but I don’t want him to think I don’t care, or that I’m playing hard to get, or anything other than that I care about him and want to spend more time with him. So, I pour myself a glass of white wine to relax with, gather Isabella onto my lap, and burrow into the softness of my rented couch. For the first time all day, I feel my body relax.

 

“How was your day?” Stan asks first thing. I hardly know him, but he’s such a good listener, and always so good about putting me first. Alex used to always just launch into his speeches before ever even inquiring about my day or my mood. Why do I keep remembering Alex? I desperately want him to get out of my mind.

 

“What a day, where to even begin?” Then I launch into all the sordid details about Jared’s mysterious Aunt Margaret who is calling all the shots, a lady who possibly doesn’t even exist. “And, I learned that Jared has a girlfriend. I have no idea why he bothered with me if he already had a girlfriend,” I say, hearing the whine of jealousy I didn’t even know I felt, hoping that Stan doesn’t recognize the sound.

 

“Is Jared’s grandfather hospitalized at San Francisco Geriatric Center?” he asks.

 

“Yes, but how did you know?” Now I’m awake. I know that I never told Stan about Jared’s grandfather.

 

“Listen, I think that Jared’s friends are right to be concerned. I can’t get into the why of it, but I’m an investigative reporter, remember? If you don’t mind, I’m going to stick my nose into this case. Something definitely stinks. Tell me again the name of the new doctor. Oh, and tell Maggie and Bradley they’d better get Jared’s lawyers involved soon. They should have estate papers that have beneficiaries and next of kin clauses.”

 

“It is intriguing,” I admit, feeling my energy rise. I love the way Stan cares about something I’m involved in. Alex would have told me to walk away. But, who cares what Alex would have thought. I don’t want to walk away.

 

Stan and I talk awhile longer, until I’m yawning into the phone.

 

“Dinner tomorrow?” he asks, and I agree.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-one

 

“Why did you call the police? Of all the stupid, ridiculous things to do,” Marta yelled, her face red, blue eyes popping. “The last thing we need is the police getting involved. We should have just handled it!”

 

“Oh, ye of little faith. Of course we want the police on our side. Why are you so doubtful, Marta? All our paperwork is in order. You heard what that cop said, the law is on our side. Now if Jared’s friends try to cause us any more trouble, we have recourse. Plus, we’ve justified switching to our own doctor. Aunt Margaret wants Jared to have only the best of the best. Dr. Julius Fenway at your service. The deed is done.” Julius bowed in mock respect.

 

“You’d better be right,” Marta said, shaking her head. “Your cockiness better not cost us.”

 

“It’s not going to cost us. Now I’m hungry and your patient probably needs some attention, too. Fred’s in there with him, but you’d better do your thing because, you know, Jared’s the one who could blow this whole thing wide open if you don’t keep him convinced that he wants what you want. You’d better make sure he continues to believe in Aunt Margaret.”

 

“In a minute. I need to call Kaitleen and Cassandra, bring them up to date on these new developments. Did you let them know that you’ve already taken Dr. Matthews off the case and put yourself on?”

 

“Done. Don’t worry your pretty little head about my efficiency,” he said.

 

“Well, I’m calling anyway so that they know about the police, just in case that stirs up any kind of hornet’s nest. Then I’ll attend to Jared. He’s starting to wear on me. One of these days I need to take some personal time for myself,” Marta said. Dark circles were beginning to form under eyes, and her usual freshness had lost some of its glow.

 

On hearing Marta’s report, Kaitleen was as livid as Marta had been. “That Julius is pushing things too far. Cassandra and I are really busy here at the geriatric center this week or I’d come over myself and give him a piece of my mind. Getting the police involved is as stupid as it gets. You guys could have soft pedaled with Jared’s friends, too.”

 

“No, those friends really needed some boundaries,” Marta argued. “I intend to keep them away from Jared from now on. I don’t want any interference. I can’t keep drugging Jared randomly. I have to follow the plan. I have to work systematically to win his trust. He has to love me, remember? I can’t let him get suspicious of me.”

 

“Fine. Do it your way,” Kaitleen said.

 

“Thanks, I’m going in to see Jared now, see if any damage had been done,” Marta said with a sigh.

 

 

 

Jared was sitting up in bed working on some exercises with Fred when Marta returned to him. He smiled at the sight of her, though uncertainty wiggled in his stomach. The black and white images were back again, distorted recollections of Bradley, Maggie and the others. He really wanted to talk to them, Shannon, too. Where were they? It seemed he’d dream them into reality and then just as fast they’d disappear into distorted black and white ghosts, bringing back the clouded twisting flutter kicks in his stomach.

 

“Where’d they go?” he asked Marta, his voice strong, his articulation clearer than she’d ever heard.

 

“Who?”

 

“My friends. They came. You saw them. Why did they have to go?”

 

“I’m here now, Jared. You had a bad dream, remember? Nobody came. Fred’s here with me. We’re your friends.” She smoothed Jared’s face as she talked, treating him the way a mother might treat a small, frightened child.

 

Jared’s eyes darted around the room, skittering over the medical equipment, taking it all in. “It felt so real. I really thought they were here,” he said. “Did you find my phone? Maybe I should just get another one. Can you order a new phone for me?”

 

“Not yet, sweetie. Dr. Julius doesn’t want you talking too much. You mustn’t get excited.”

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

Stan wound his car around the maze of one-way streets in downtown San Francisco until he found the parking lot belonging to San Francisco Geriatric Center. Standing in front of his car, he looked up at the impressive three-story brick building. It had the same architectural style as many of the buildings in the historical Presidio nearby, though not exactly. Clinging ivy vines climbed the brick walls here, winding around the windows, giving the hospital a well cared for look of age, as if the building had withstood the test of time, making him think about the aging residents housed inside.

 

He wanted to see the place first hand, so he’d called earlier to set up an appointment to meet with an administrator, posing as a potential client, seeking placement for his elderly grandmother. At first they’d wanted to put him off until next week, but he’d insisted he didn’t have a lot of time to shop around, and that it was now or never, at the same time dropping little hints that his grandmother was a wealthy woman and not a patient one. Kaitleen Logan said she’d squeeze him in at three-thirty. Glancing at his watch, he was pleased to see he had half an hour to spare.

 

Sure enough, as he’d expected, it was change of shift. Nurses were coming and going, creating what he’d hoped would be the perfect distraction. It was easy enough for him to mingle in with the influx of noise, but, being tall and standing above the crowd, thwarted his efforts to hide.

 

“Excuse me, excuse me, sir! Visitors have to check in at the front desk. I can help you here,” Cassandra Turned called out.

 

“Damn, I was hoping to tour your facility before my appointment with Kaitleen Logan,” Stan admitted, looking sheepish. “My name is Roy Townsend.
 
I have a three-thirty appointment to talk about placement for my ninety-one year old grandmother, but I want to see how things look here before making any decisions. Do you mind if I just walk around? I really don’t want a canned tour. I’m sure you can understand.”

 

Cassandra, in the middle of shift reports and issuing new assignments, shook her head. “Just give me a minute,” she said, turning her focus back to the squabbling of two nurses who appeared to be in a disagreement about their shift assignments. Stan took advantage of her preoccupation and ducked around a corner, out of sight, almost bumping into a nurse.

 

“Can you tell me which room Jared Wise is in?” he asked, flashing his most innocent smile.

 

“Oh yes, I’m Thuy Phan. I take care of Mr. Wise,” she said with a slight bow. “Come, I show you. Mr. Wise not have visitors since grandson not able to come. Good, good. You come. I show you.”
 

 

“How’s he doing?” Stan asked.

 

“Oh, Mr. Wise always the same. Coma, you know,” she said, leading him down the long corridor. She stopped at the door and pointed to the bed. “Here you are.”

 

“Thank you. I’ll just visit for a few minutes, if you don’t mind.” Inside the room, he wondered what he had hoped to accomplish. Jared Wise Sr. was indeed comatose, positioned on his side with pillows all around, behind his back, between his knees, under his head, and even pushed up against the bottoms of his feet. A white bed sheet was fan-folded at the bottom of his bed, his blue patient gown draped across his pale motionless body.

 

For lack of a plan, Stan pulled the bedside chair up close to the man. “Hi,” he whispered, “You don’t know me, but I’m going to help your grandson Jared get out of a mess he doesn’t even know he’s in.” Then, feeling silly and useless, he left the old man and wandered around the hallways looking in resident’s rooms, talking briefly to an elderly woman shuffling her walker down the hallway, and peeking into hall recesses where he found laundry carts and unoccupied wheelchairs stuffed out of sight of casual observers.

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