Secrets to the Grave

27

“Maureen Up-chuck,” Franny said with as much disdain as he could manage and still keep his voice down. “I would call her a stupid cow, but that would be offensive to cows everywhere.”

They sat at the far end of Haley’s hospital room while the little girl slept quietly. Franny had brought tea and tea cakes from the Mad Hatter tea shop and bakery on Via Verde near the college.

“I had her nephew in my class a few years ago—right before you came back to teach,” he went on. “Thank God she, herself, hasn’t reproduced. Somebody burn the nest before that can happen!”

Anne chuckled under her breath, appreciative of the distraction from the day’s tensions. “You’re terrible.”

“I’m terrible?” he said, incredulous. “She reported me to the school board because her nephew was a weenie wagger!”

“Oh my God!” Anne covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. “How was that your fault?”

Franny was delighted, of course. “She claimed it was my ‘gay influence’ that made him do it. But the kid had a well-documented history of weenie wagging from day care on, and she knew it. He got expelled from Sunday school for whipping it out during the Christmas pageant right in front of the Virgin Mary, for God’s sake!

“She was just pissed off at me because I had told her sister her kid was going to grow up to be a pervert flasher if she didn’t make him stop it.”

“And that made her angry. Go figure,” Anne said.

“Yeah. And the next thing I know, here comes Maureen Upchuck like a charging elephant, accusing me of being gay!”

“You are gay.”

“It’s got nothing to do with my teaching abilities. Am I not a stellar teacher?”

“The best in the West.”

“Besides, she’s the biggest, fattest Lickalottapuss around.”

“She’s a what?”

Franny rolled his eyes. “You’re so out of touch, Anne Marie. What do you call a lesbian dinosaur? A Lick-a-lotta-puss.”

“Oh my God!” Anne put her hands over her face to hide her flaming blush.

Franny smiled his eyes into crescents above his apple cheeks. “Made you laugh!”

Anne shook her head, wiping the tears from her eyes. “You’re something else, Francis. What would I do without you?”

“Well, you’d be really boring.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s all right. I’m happy to be your spirit guide into modern pop culture.”

“I don’t know if ‘culture’ is the right word.”

“Anyway, she got me in trouble. She’s a bitter, vindictive bitch. She blames all normal-size people for her being as big as the freaking Good-year blimp,” he said. “Like she doesn’t buy two dozen doughnuts and a bucket of fried chicken every time she goes into Ralph’s. I’ve seen her.”

“Well, she’s plenty mad at me,” Anne said. “I jumped the chain of command.”

“You did what was best for Haley.”

“She doesn’t see it that way. Neither does Milo Bordain. She had a total meltdown. I do feel bad about that.”

“Fuck ’em,” Franny said. “What does Vince think about it?”

“He didn’t want me to do it, but he backed me up.”

“He’s just trying to protect you, sweetheart.”

“I know.”

On the bed, Haley began to stir and whimper. Anne got up and went to her, bending over and brushing the girl’s damp hair back from her face.

“You’re all right, sweetie,” she said quietly.

Haley opened her bloodred eyes and stared up at Anne.

Anne waited for the tears to come, but there were none.

“Do you remember me?”

The swollen, bruised little rosebud mouth pursed for a moment as she tried to decide whether she would answer or not. Anne offered her a sip of water through a straw. She knew from her own experience how her throat had felt after being choked.

Haley sat up and took the drink.

“Do you remember me from last night, honey?” Anne asked again.

The child nodded. “You’re the mommy,” she said in a scratchy little voice.

“My name is Anne. I’m here to help you and make sure you’re all right.”

She took that in and thought about it.

“Hi, Haley,” Franny said softly, joining Anne at the bedside.

Haley studied him for a moment. “Are you the daddy?”

“No, sweetheart. I’m Mr. Franny. Do you remember? You came to my classroom at the school for the Halloween party.”

“I was a kitty,” Haley said.

“Yes, you were. I remember. You were a very pretty kitty.”

She looked around the room and through the glass wall to the desk where people in hospital scrubs were busy reviewing charts and making notes.

“You’re in the hospital,” Anne said. “You got hurt and you were brought here so the doctors could make you feel better. Do you remember getting hurt?”

Haley shook her head, eyes cast downward. She picked at the tape that held her IV catheter in place then turned back to Anne. “Where’s my mommy?”

Pain squeezed Anne’s heart. There was no easy way to do this, but she had decided to give Haley little pieces as she asked for them. There was no point in telling her straight out that she would never see her mother again when she was feeling alone and afraid, surrounded by strangers.

“Your mommy was hurt too.”

Anne held her breath, waiting for the next question. Can I see her? Where is she?

But Haley Fordham didn’t ask. She sat quietly, eyebrows lowered as she thought it over. When she looked up at Anne, she had moved on to other needs.

“My throat hurts. Can I have Jell-O?”

“I’ll go ask,” Franny said. “I’ll bet you can. The Jell-O is very good here. Isn’t it, Anne?”

“Excellent Jell-O.”

Franny went out the door as Vince got off the elevator, laden down with a couple of duffel bags. He came into the room, eyebrows raised at the sight of Haley sitting up in bed.

“This is a good sign,” he said.

Haley looked up at him. “Are you the daddy?”

“I’m Vince,” he said, bending down to her level. “And you’re Haley. And I have something I think you’re going to be very happy to see.”

From out of one of the duffel bags he pulled a floppy-eared, much-loved velveteen rabbit.

The little girl’s face lit up. “Honey-Bunny!”

Vince handed her the toy and looked at Anne. “Has she said anything?”

“She doesn’t remember getting hurt.”

“Did you ask—”

“I’m not going to push,” she warned.

“I know. I know. I was hoping for what the attorneys call an excited utterance.”

“Hmm. No. No excited utterances,” she said as he deposited the duffel bags on one of the chairs and helped himself to a Russian tea cake on the tray. “Will you be in trouble for taking evidence from a crime scene?”

“The CSIs already took everything they thought might be significant. Thank God the rabbit didn’t look suspicious,” he said, nodding at Haley, who had curled up with her old friend and was looking decidedly sleepy again, a thumb inching toward her mouth.

“She’s so precious,” Anne said quietly. “I feel so bad for her.

“I was twenty-three when I lost my mother,” she said. “I was devastated, but at least I have a lot of memories to look back on. She was there for every significant event of my life: my first day of school, Brownies, school plays, my first date, the first breakup, going off to college.

“Haley won’t have that. I can’t imagine being that young, that small and vulnerable, and not having anyone.”

Vince slipped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “She has you.”

“For now.”

Anne gave a long sigh, leaning into her husband’s solid warmth. She watched the little girl’s eyes flutter closed, her impossibly long eyelashes curling against her cheek, and marveled at how quickly she had become attached to Haley Fordham. She would have to be careful not to pass the point of no return. Their paths were crossing now for a reason, and they would eventually go their separate ways—after they had finished helping each other.

She was already dreading that day.

A deputy came to the door and knocked hesitantly on the glass.

“Mr. Leone? I have a message from Detective Mendez. He said to tell you we found the breasts.”