Goose in the Pond - Earlene Fowler [127]
“Hey, kid,” Nick said. “Heard you had a rough night.” In the background, I heard a burst of laughter, the tinny sound of a jukebox, and the clack of pool balls.
“How’d you hear so fast?”
“First Peter called me. Then Evangeline called and then five other people. I finally left because I couldn’t stand talking about it anymore. I’m down in Pismo at Harry’s Bar. I’ll feel more like dealing with it tomorrow. I’ll have to, I guess. It’ll be in all the papers. How are you feeling?”
“Well, as Dove would say, I’m still suckin’ air. My head feels like a cracked walnut, but they say I’ll be okay.”
“Really?”
“I’ll get there.” I paused for a moment. “You will, too, Nick. It’ll just take time.”
“I just can’t believe it,” he said. “Jillian, of all people. I thought we were friends. And Ash and Dolores. And that part about burying her husband under the library’s patio. The next thing you know, they’ll be making a movie-of-the-week about it. This sounds crazy, but I feel responsible, like I should have seen it, somehow saved Nora.”
“There’s no way you could have, Nick,” I said. We listened to the static on the phone for a few seconds.
“I’m leaving San Celina,” he said abruptly.
“I can understand why. What about the land?”
“Maybe I’ll sell it, maybe I won’t. Right now I just want to go somewhere quiet and think about it. The lawyers say I’ve got a month or so to make the decision, so I’m going to take it. Maybe there’s a way I can figure out a compromise. Just sell part of it or something.”
“Giving the decision some time is a good idea,” I said.
I heard him take a deep breath. “Benni, I’m sorry you got hurt and that in a roundabout way, Nora caused it. Please understand, she wasn’t an evil person, just hurt. Just real, real hurt.”
I didn’t know what to say. There was so much I didn’t understand about how people handled the pain in their lives, how some, like Nora and Jillian, wanted to hurt others as they’d been hurt, and some, like Evangeline, took their hurt and became someone who wanted to help others. All I knew was I never wanted to be like Nora or Jillian.
“Are you going to be able to get home all right?” I asked.
“Don’t worry, Peter came with me. He’ll make sure I get home in one piece.”
“Call me if you need to talk. Promise?”
“Sure,” he said, and hung up.
“What’s going to happen to Dolores?” I asked Gabe.
“She’s an accessory, but if she’ll agree to testify against Jillian, they’ll probably make a deal with her for less prison time. Ash’s case is a little more complicated. He’s an accessory, too, but he didn’t actually see Jillian commit the crime. This is the part where the attorneys take over. We suspected Ash and Evangeline from the beginning simply because of their backgrounds. But Jillian? That came out of the blue.” He shook his head and stared at the wall behind me. I knew he’d think about this one for a long time—try to go back and piece together where they’d missed the boat. I knew, as he did, that there was nothing anyone could have done until Jillian showed herself. He and his investigators did their best—sometimes that’s all there is to say.
“It’s all so sad,” I said, pulling my thin hospital blanket closer. “Gabe, I need to tell you something. I found out about Evangeline and Ash’s background on Sunday. I was going to tell you, I swear. But then we fought, and the next day—” I stopped, not wanting him to know I followed him to St. Celine’s.
He sat on the edge of my bed, his face sober. “Querida, when you’re feeling better we’ve got some things we need to discuss. Things like boundaries.”
“I agree.”
“Boundaries in my work you shouldn’t cross over.”
“And boundaries in your life you need to stretch a little.”
He sighed. “We’re going to be fighting about this on our fiftieth wedding anniversary, aren’t we?”
I smiled and took his hand in mine. “If we’re lucky.”
We stared at each other for a moment. He spoke first, studying my hand as he talked. “When the dispatcher called me and told me