The Last Word

Chapter 6

Faith is an oasis in the heart which will never be reached by the caravan of thinking.

—KAHLIL GIBRAN

For the first time in her life, Olivia didn’t know what to do with Haviland. She couldn’t bring him into the hospital and she couldn’t leave him sitting in the Range Rover for the second time in one day. Desperate, she pulled in front of The Canine Cottage and raced inside with the befuddled poodle.

One of the groomers smiled at her over the sudsy back of a Great Dane. “Hi, Ms. Limoges. We didn’t expect to see you today.”

Olivia hesitated. She hated begging for favors and it was plain to see that the groomers were very busy. “I’m in a tight spot. My sister-in-law is having a baby and I can’t waltz Haviland through the labor and delivery unit. He’s been in the car all day and he’s hot and tired.” She paused. “I never expected my sister-in-law to ask for me. I think something’s wrong . . .” She took a deep breath and finished the thought. “When my brother called, I could tell he was terrified. Can you help?”

The young woman touched the Dane on the flank and walked around the tub. “Don’t you worry about a thing. Haviland can stay here until we close. We’ll pamper him so much that he won’t even notice you’re gone.”

“Thank you so much. I won’t forget this.” Olivia kissed Haviland on the snout and rushed out to her car.

When she reached the hospital, she found Hudson prowling around the labor and delivery waiting room like a caged leopard. Caitlyn was there as well. Clutching a picture book in one hand and a ragged Barbie in the other, she seemed to be trying to shrink into her chair. Her knees were drawn up to her chest in a protective gesture, and she watched her father through dark, worried eyes.

Olivia grabbed her brother’s hand. “How’s Kim?”

He squeezed hers in return, the desperate pressure of his conveying his distress. “It’s not her. It’s the baby. Something’s not right with his heart.”

“Why aren’t you back there?” Olivia asked without judgment.

Hudson shook his head. “They took Kim into an operating room for a C-section. I couldn’t leave Caitlyn out here all alone.” Hudson swallowed hard. “A doctor stopped by a few minutes ago to explain our ‘options.’ There’s some kind of surgery that could fix the baby’s heart, but they can’t do it here. I gotta tell you—I didn’t understand what the hell the man was talking about. It was like he was talking in another language.” Still holding on to Olivia’s hand, he nearly crushed her bones with the force of his grip. “Help us. Please.”

A lump formed in Olivia’s throat, but now was not the time to get emotional. “It’ll be okay, Hudson.” She reclaimed her throbbing hand. “Go comfort your daughter. She knows something’s wrong. I’ll go back there and find out exactly what’s going on and what needs to be done.”

Olivia paused only long enough to put her hand on Caitlyn’s shoulder. “Hey. Long day, huh?”

Caitlyn nodded.

“Sit tight for a little while longer and then you and I will hunt down some ice cream. I hear this hospital has a pretty cool cafeteria.” Olivia did her best to sound calm and in control. “First, I want to check on your mom. Be back soon.”

The little girl didn’t say anything, but her body relaxed a fraction. She unfolded her legs and opened her book. Hudson took the seat next to his daughter and pretended to be interested in the illustration of a princess choosing which accessories to wear with her gold and ivory ball gown. Caitlyn leaned toward her father and whispered, “Once upon a time . . .”

Olivia pressed a button on the wall and announced herself to the nurse on duty. A buzzer sounded and the door leading into the ward was unlocked. Olivia squared her shoulders and stepped through. She walked briskly up a hallway lined with dozens of photographs of smiling babies, but she kept her gaze locked straight ahead. At the moment, it was disconcerting to see the apple-cheeked faces of those healthy infants.

“I’m here to see Kim Hudson,” she informed the nurse seated behind a low counter, and then quickly added, “She’s been asking for me.”

The nurse made a quick phone call and then suggested Olivia take a seat, but Olivia shook off the suggestion and remained where she was. When the nurse looked up from her paperwork, she must have realized that Olivia wasn’t going to sit and wait quietly.

“I’d like to know if my sister-in-law is out of surgery,” Olivia said, looming over the counter.

Another nurse approached the desk. She smiled at Olivia and said, “Mrs. Hudson is doing just fine. She’s in her room. I was heading in that direction anyway, so you can come on back with me.”

Olivia felt a slight loosening of the knot that had formed in the pit of her stomach. “And the baby?”

The nurse walked briskly down a silent corridor, her rubber-soled shoes making no noise on the white laminate flooring. “They’re going to take him to Pitt Memorial, but I’ll let the pediatric nurse explain everything.”

Him? Olivia slowed her pace. A boy. Before she had time to take this in, the nurse knocked lightly on a door marked with the name Salter and entered. “Mrs. Hudson? Your sister-in-law’s here!” she announced brightly.

Seeing Olivia, Kim’s face immediately crumpled. Tears ran in rivulets from her eyes onto the stiff white pillow. “Oh, thank God. I don’t understand what’s wrong with my baby! Why can’t I see him?”

Olivia had little skill when it came to bedside manner. Trusting her instinct, she laid a hand on Kim’s arm and promised to do anything she could to help. As she spoke, she spied an African American woman wearing a scrub top covered with pink and purple hearts. She was standing quietly near the window, the afternoon light casting a white corona around her head, giving her an angelic appearance. She walked around the bed and introduced herself to Olivia as Dru Ann Love. Her name and the heart design on her shirt were certainly comforting, but it was the woman’s sense of calm that inspired confidence.

“Mrs. Hudson asked for me to explain things after you arrived. I don’t have much time, but I’ll explain as quickly and succinctly as I can,” Nurse Love stated plainly and looked at Kim. “Your son was born with a congenital heart defect. It’s called atrial septal defect. In layman’s terms, it basically means that there’s a hole in his heart.”

Kim made a whimpering sound, and Olivia stroked her arm, her gaze never leaving Nurse Love’s warm brown eyes.

“In a normal heart,” the nurse continued, “blood that is low in oxygen passes through the right ventricle and into the lungs where it receives oxygen. These two chambers of the heart are separated by a thin wall called the atrial septum. Because your nephew has a hole in his atrial septum, the oxygen-rich blood is mixing with the oxygen-poor blood, and the lungs are receiving an increased amount of blood. Basically, they’re getting too much blood.”

“And this doesn’t show up in utero?” Olivia asked.

Nurse Love shook her head. “Not always. Sometimes pediatricians discover the condition when they hear a heart murmur and sometimes the stress of labor makes it obvious, but the bottom line is that your nephew requires a pediatric cardiologist and we don’t have one at this hospital. As we speak, he’s being prepped for transport to Pitt Memorial in Greenville. They have an excellent pediatric cardiology department there.”

Kim tried to sit up in bed. Wincing in pain, she cried, “I have to be with him!”

Olivia didn’t need a medical degree to know that her sister-in-law wasn’t going anywhere. The last thing she wanted to do was volunteer to take her place. To sit in an ambulance with a newborn infant stuck full of wires and tubes and requiring emergency surgery was Olivia’s idea of hell. The truth was that Olivia Limoges was afraid of babies. She’d never held one in her life. Children were disconcerting enough, but a baby was the epitome of helpless fragility. Still, she couldn’t ignore the agony on Kim’s face, and she’d promised her brother that she’d do anything to help.

“There, there,” Nurse Love tried to soothe Kim. “I’ll be with him every second of the drive and for the surgery too. We’ve already made a connection. I just came from his room. He’s quite a handsome little man.”

Kim collapsed against the pillow. “But he needs one of his parents. I’m stuck here and Hudson has to look after Caitlyn.” She shot Olivia an apologetic look. “She likes you, but I’ve never left her with anyone before. I don’t think she’d handle it too good.”

The nurse came forward with a clipboard and a pen. The family’s arrangements were secondary to the health of her tiny patient. “I need you to sign some consent forms, Mrs. Salter. Or would you prefer I let your husband handle this so you can rest? We need to be on our way now.”

Kim glanced at the pile of forms and blanched. “I don’t even know if our insurance will cover the surgery.”

“Trust me, you’re covered.” Olivia took the clipboard from Nurse Love’s hands. “I’ll take these to Hudson, explain what’s happening, and then drive to Greenville.”

There, she’d spoken the words and there was no rescinding the offer now, no matter how uncomfortable it made her.

When Kim’s eyes filled with fresh tears, Olivia knew that she’d done the right thing. This woman was her sister by marriage, and her half brother waited in silent anguish on the other side of the hospital. Her young niece was confused and frightened and they had no one else to turn to. They needed her.

Olivia felt a warmth spread through her chest. These people needed her. They were her family. In that moment, she believed she’d have gone to any length for them but knew there was no time to express how this realization made her feel. Instead, she told Kim that she’d be in touch and then gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Wait.” Nurse Love reclaimed her clipboard and handed it to Kim. “There’s one form you do need to complete to get a birth certificate. Have you chosen a name for your son?”

Kim accepted the pen. “Before I went into labor, Hudson and still I couldn’t agree on one . . .”

“Pick the name you liked,” Olivia ordered. “You’re the one with staples in your belly. Hudson will accept your choice.”

“Kyle, after my father.” Kim wrote swiftly. “And then Anders, my maiden name. Kyle Anders Salter. And I do believe I’ll call him Anders. He’s got to grow into Kyle.” She handed the clipboard back to the nurse, her lips trembling. “Please give Anders a kiss for me. Tell him that his mommy loves him. That I’ll be there as soon as I can. Tell him I’ll be praying that I can hold him soon . . .” The rest of her words turned into sobs.

Olivia escaped from the mother’s heart-rending grief. She knew that Kim desperately wanted to be with her baby, but necessity required her to settle for Olivia’s presence instead.

With the weight of her obligation lying heavily on her shoulders, Olivia strode out to the waiting room and explained to Hudson why his son was being transferred to another hospital. Before he could ask a single question, she assured him that she planned to drive to Greenville as soon as she made arrangements for Haviland.

“Your wife is terrified,” she whispered to Hudson before leaving. “Go to her. I’ll call you the minute your son comes out of surgery. Don’t worry.” She gave him a brave smile. “It’s amazing what doctors can fix these days.”

Relieved to see Hudson take Caitlyn gently by the hand and turn toward the labor and delivery ward, Olivia pulled out her phone and began to make the first of many important calls.

It was nearly midnight by the time Olivia returned to the quiet and comfort of her own home.

Under any other circumstances, Olivia would have deemed it downright rude to call Diane, Haviland’s vet and Flynn McNulty’s girlfriend, at eleven forty at night in order to pick up her dog, but after the day she’d had, she didn’t feel a single twinge of regret. She needed Haviland.

“At least you had a nice dinner,” Olivia told the poodle, who was giving her the canine version of a cold shoulder by averting his gaze. “I feasted on mystery meat from the hospital cafeteria.”

Haviland groaned and trotted away.

Ignoring the blinking light on her answering machine, Olivia wearily climbed the stairs, changed into her nightgown, and fell into bed. She expected sleep to come immediately, but her mind was still pacing the halls of Pitt Memorial Hospital.

Nurse Love had been a gem. True to her word, she’d scrubbed in and stayed with Anders throughout his surgery. Olivia wiled away the hours watching CNN, flipping through insipid women’s magazines, and drinking cup after cup of watery coffee, but the dedicated pediatric nurse left the operating room only to let Olivia know that the surgery was complete and that her nephew was doing fine.

“How long will the recovery take?” Olivia had asked.

“It varies. Some children go home after two weeks, some three. There’s really no science to this sort of thing.” She removed the blue cloth cap she’d worn for the past four hours and ran a hand over her short, black hair. “Do you want to see him?”

Olivia shook her head. “Not with all those tubes and things,” she admitted. “I just want to be able to call his parents, say that he’s doing well and that they needn’t worry, and go home.”

Nurse Love smiled knowingly. “His mother’s going to ask if you saw him. Trust me.” She put a hand on Olivia’s shoulder. “You’ve been sitting here for hours wondering about your nephew. Now come meet him face-to-face.”

Incredibly nervous, Olivia had waited until the baby was admitted to the NICU and, after being given instructions on how to wash her hands and forearms and dress herself in a sterile gown, she’d entered a room populated by nurses and miniscule babies in incubators.

Olivia had never been so frightened in her life. Her navy eyes grew round as they took in the sight of the tiny arms and legs of the diapered forms. Even the crying sounded undeveloped. They were more like bird cries than the lusty howls she’d heard from full-sized babies in the grocery store. These were pitiful, like the mews of a kitten. Olivia wondered if these miniscule infants would all make it, and the thought redoubled her fear and discomfort.

“Jesus,” Olivia breathed.

Nurse Love put a hand on her shoulder. “Yes, I do believe our Lord and Savior pays special attention to these little ones. Come on, you’re not the only person who’s been scared to death by the NICU. Look at it this way. Most of these babies just decided to move up their arrival dates. They’re not fat and pink like the full-term ones, but they will be soon enough.” She stopped in front of an incubator bearing a paper sign that read, “Salter, K.”

Olivia had exhaled slowly. Here he was, the child that had been taken from her sister-in-law’s womb mere hours ago and had spent the first day of his life in an operating room instead of cradled in his mother’s arms. Olivia reached her fingers toward the letters of the baby’s name, and then hastily withdrew them.

“My daughter tells people that babies are brought here to finish cooking,” Nurse Love had said with a quiet chuckle. “Look at Anders. He weighs over seven pounds. In here, that makes him a giant. He’s going to do great.”

Olivia had forced her gaze down to the still form of her nephew. He slept on his back, arms splayed wide, eyes closed. Like most of the babies in the room, his body was connected to a network of tubes and wires, and Olivia’s heart ached at the sight.

“You can put your hand in that hole if you want to touch him.” Nurse Love had pointed at the side of the incubator.

Olivia had been astounded that she really did want to reach out, to make a physical connection with the little being in his nest of white cotton. Timidly, she’d stretched her fingers forward, touching the blanket lining the incubator and then, the skin of her nephew’s arm. She stared at his small fingers, noticing the long and nearly transparent fingernails. They reminded her of dragonfly wings.

“Oh, my God,” she murmured, her eyes filling with tears.

Nurse Love had sighed at the scene. “I never get tired of watching people do that for the first time.”

The women fell silent, wordlessly observing the rapid rise and fall of Anders’ chest.

“I’m ready to go now,” Olivia had whispered. “I can’t do anything for him.”

“You already did,” the nurse had assured her. “You were here. On some level, through some wonderful and mysterious means, he knows it too.”

Brushing the moisture from her cheeks, Olivia had cast one more glance at her sleeping nephew and hurriedly left the ward.

After calling Kim with the news that Anders’ surgery had been a success and that he was resting peacefully in the care of a team of skilled doctors and nurses, Olivia had driven over to the closest hotel offering suites with kitchens and paid in advance for a two-week stay. “I need a list of area restaurants that make deliveries,” she told the manager. She then drove to the nearest grocery store, where she bought a cartload of food and sundries, including several coloring books and Barbie dolls, and put everything away in the suite. Lastly, she placed a few hundred dollars in cash in the room’s safe.

It was her intention to bring Kim the room key when she was released from the hospital in two days’ time. Kim had already informed her that Hudson refused to shirk his duties at The Bayside Crab House during its first weekend in operation, so she and Caitlyn would stay in Greenville until Anders could go home.

Olivia had pointed out that the assistant chefs could handle the grand opening but was honestly relieved to know that Hudson would be in the kitchen later that weekend.

Now, in her dark bedroom, Olivia tried to relax, but failed.

“If I don’t get some sleep tonight,” she spoke to Haviland, “it won’t matter how many chefs are in the kitchen. I’ve got to bring my A game to tomorrow’s staff meeting.” Olivia thumped the space on the bed beside her. “Come here, Captain. Chase those hospital images away, would you?”

Haviland jumped onto the bed, licked her cheek, and snuggled against her, sighing contentedly. As Olivia listened to him breathe, the sights and sounds of the tiny babies in the NICU finally released their hold on her.

The next morning, she stood with coffee cup in hand and listened to her messages. There were half a dozen calls pertaining to Friday’s grand opening, one from Harris asking what she’d discovered at the art museum, and a surprise call from Nick Plumley. Apparently, he was still renting the house down the beach from hers and said to stop by anytime she wanted.

Olivia copied down his number from her caller ID and then dialed.

When Plumley answered, she immediately apologized for phoning so early in the day. “It’s just that I have a historical object here that you might be interested in seeing,” she explained.

“Don’t tease me,” he complained good-naturedly. “I haven’t even had my coffee yet.”

Olivia hesitated. She wanted to see Nick’s face when he first looked at the painting, but something prompted her to show more of her hand right now. “Harris found a watercolor hidden inside one of his stair treads. Turns out, the artist was Heinrich Kamler. Does that name ring a bell?”

She heard a sharp intake of breath over the line. The name definitely meant something to Plumley. “Is there a connection between this artist and your sequel? Didn’t you already write about how he murdered a prison guard in order to make his escape?”

There was a long moment of silence. “May I see the painting today? How about now?” The eagerness in Plumley’s voice was transparent.

“Sure,” Olivia replied brightly. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, but I expect an answer to my question first.”

“Kamler’s story might not be finished,” Nick murmured cryptically, and Olivia could sense that a measure of anxiety, perhaps even a little desperation, tinged the writer’s mumbled words. Soon, she would discover why Heinrich Kamler was so important to him. Was it possible Kamler was still alive?

Olivia glanced at the canvas tote containing Harris’s painting. “Walk time, Captain,” she told Haviland and jogged upstairs to put on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

Outside, the air bore all the signs of summer. The edge of crispness lent to the breeze by spring had been replaced by the heavy breath of humidity. Memorial weekend was supposed to be hot and sunny, and Olivia predicted that both of her eateries would be packed with tourists.

She gazed out at the sparkling ocean as she walked, feeling incredibly distanced from yesterday’s highways and hospital rooms. Haviland splashed about in the surf, eagerly searching for gulls or crabs to chase, but the beach was quiet, as though its creatures still slumbered in their burrows of damp sand.

Reluctant to disturb the serenity, Olivia took out her cell phone and dialed Harris’s number. When he picked up, he shouted a hello over the throb of hip-hop music. “I’m heading to work!” Abruptly, the music stopped. “Sorry, this is how I get fired up for the day. A cup of joe and some P. Diddy.”

Having no idea who P. Diddy was, Olivia repeated what she’d learned during her visit with Shala Knowles.

“Holy crap!” Harris exclaimed. “Good thing I’m at a red light or I might have just driven into the ditch! That little winter scene could be worth twenty grand?”

“Yes. In fact, I believe the curator was being cautious in her estimation. She indicated that if the painting were sold at auction, it could bring even more.” Olivia grinned, imagining her friend digesting this bit of happy news. “What are you going to do?”

Harris exhaled loudly. “Dunno. I wouldn’t even know which auction company to take it to.”

“The curator gave me a name. Before you sell the painting, however, she and her colleagues would like to examine it further. They’re also willing to give you a document stating that they believe the artist is Heinrich Kamler.”

“Sweet!” Harris declared. “I’ve got to tell Nick about this! He probably knows all about this guy after researching him for The Barbed Wire Flower.”

Olivia’s mouth curled into a wry smile. “I’m headed to his place as we speak. I didn’t think you’d mind if I let him have a look at your soon-to-be-famous painting.”

“Not at all,” Harris stated with his customary affability.

Leaving her friend to his rosy visions of newfound wealth, Olivia pocketed her phone and picked up a stick. She hurled it into the water and watched Haviland lunge into the waves in pursuit.

As she paused to wait for the poodle, a memory of her return home after her father’s death crept into her head. Once her father was gone, Olivia had fled Okracoke Island immediately. She’d called Rawlings and asked him to meet her on the beach in front of the lighthouse. Without requiring her to explain where she’d been, he’d simply registered the need in her voice and had been there, waiting for her.

She remembered seeing his figure in the shadow of the lighthouse and feeling such a burning impatience to reach him, to be held by him, that her longing felt like pain. In fact, when the shoreline was close enough, she’d swung her leg over the side of the boat and leapt into the sea. Rawlings had rushed toward her at the same time, and their bodies met, knee-deep in cold water. Wet and shaking, they’d grabbed hold of each other and kissed hungrily, tasting salt on each other’s lips.

They’d ignored Haviland’s barks and the shouts of the boat captain, pressing ever closer together, their melded bodies illuminated by a swath of moonlight. In that moment, the police chief who wore tacky Hawaiian shirts, drank chocolate milk, took up oil painting as a hobby, and lost his wife of over twenty years to cancer had filled up the emptiness in Olivia’s heart.

Now, standing near the spot where he’d waited for her that night, Olivia knelt down and scooped up a handful of warm sand. She watched it flow from her palm, the warmth as fleeting as those hours she’d shared with Rawlings.

Wrapped in blankets, they’d curled up on her living room sofa. As the fire in her stone hearth crackled, she’d told him everything that had happened on Okracoke. She described her father’s death, the pain he’d caused her when she was a child, and her discovery that she had a half brother.

Rawlings had listened silently, stroking her hair as she spoke. She found comfort in his scent of soap and sandalwood and paint thinner, in his broad, solid chest and the tenderness of his fingers.

The next morning, she’d sent him on his way with a thermos of hot coffee and her thanks.

And she hadn’t let the chief get close to her since.

“I miss him,” Olivia confessed to Haviland, who had retrieved the stick and brought it back for another round of fetch. Standing up, she shouldered the canvas bag again and tossed the stick for the last time. She then increased her pace and traversed a series of dunes obscuring the path leading to Nick Plumley’s rental property.

If the author had been in search of both privacy and luxury, he’d chosen the perfect house. Olivia had been inside when it had first been built and thought it magnificent, but too pretentious for her tastes. Of contemporary design, the house had been constructed with one thing in mind: the view. One could see the ocean from three of four sides. Instead of walls, the exterior was composed of floor-to-ceiling windows. The interior floor plan was also exaggeratingly open. The entire first floor was a single room interrupted by only support beams.

Olivia rang the doorbell and waited. When she heard no movement from within, she peeked in through the clear panes, but Nick Plumley didn’t appear. She could easily see into the kitchen and noted the evidence of the author’s breakfast—half a bagel, an apple core, and a coffee cup.

“We hardly want to start banging away if he’s in the shower,” Olivia said to Haviland and decided to wait for Plumley on the back patio.

After placing the canvas bag containing the painting on a wooden dining table, she settled onto a cushioned chaise lounge, crossed her legs, and sighed.

“Maybe I can come up with ideas for the rest of my chapter,” she told Haviland, who had begun a round of investigative sniffing.

Ten minutes later, Olivia became too impatient to remain seated. When the doorbell went unanswered once again, she decided to peer in the windows on the side of the house, allowing her a glimpse of nearly every square foot of the lower level.

With her inquisitive poodle at her heels, Olivia followed a flagstone path around a group of low bushes, walked over a bed of raked gravel, and blatantly stared into the house.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to a splash of blue in the middle of the bleached pine wood floor. It took her a moment to understand what she was seeing, but when it became clear, she sucked in her breath and jumped away from the window.

Fumbling in her pocket, she withdrew her cell phone, cast a frightened glance over her shoulder, and dialed Rawlings’ direct line.

“Good morning, Ms. Limoges,” he said cordially.

“Chief, you need to get down to Nick Plumley’s rental house. I think he’s dead.”

She took a step closer to the window and then hastily stuck the phone back in her pocket, cutting off whatever Rawlings had started to say.

Olivia raced to the front door and grabbed the handle, but the door was locked. She ran to the back door, adrenaline surging through her, but experienced the same result.

Sensing her agitation, Haviland began to bark.

“He could still be alive!” Olivia yelled, searching the ground for a large rock. There was nothing but gravel.

Desperate, she grabbed one of the patio chairs, dumped the cushion on the ground, and raised it waist high into the air. Made entirely of metal, it was cumbersome, but Olivia smashed it into the glass door with all the force she could muster.

The glass splintered but didn’t break. She heaved the chair against the fractured door again and again until it crashed inward, chunks of ragged glass scattering across the floorboards, shards lethal as icicles raining everywhere.

“STAY!” Olivia shouted at Haviland and, only after being certain that he would obey, darted inside and fell to her knees alongside the prone writer.

Gently, she rolled him over and then cried out in shock. Covering her mouth with a trembling hand, she retreated.

“Too late,” she whispered, her voice echoing in the light-riddled room.