The Summer of Mrs. MacGregor Page 10

  Lillina still didn’t move.

  “Hurry up!” Caroline ordered. “He’s breathing so funny—I don’t know what’s happening.”

  Like someone walking in her sleep, Lillina moved down the hall to the kitchen. Her voice shook as she gave the message; she sounded like a frightened child.

  “Mr. Jameson. Please wake up. Please!” Caroline touched the bony hand. She felt his throat again, and it seemed to her that his pulse was weaker than it had been before.

  Lillina returned. She was shivering, though the house was sticky-hot. “The paramedics are coming right away,” she said. “Has he said anything?”

  Caroline shook her head. She was very close to tears. “He must have lost his balance when he reached for the light switch,” she said. “He’s been lying here all this time bleeding.”

  “Well, it isn’t your fault,” Lillina said, sounding a little more like herself. She knelt next to Caroline. “Poor old man. It must be terrible to have nobody care what happens to you.”

  “He has a very nice niece in Missouri,” Caroline said sharply. “She loves him a lot. And he has me.” But I let him go on stumbling around the house without his walker, when I knew darned well he might fall.

  “Well, of course, dear.” Lillina stood up and went back to the living room. Caroline would have liked to follow her and wait for the ambulance there, but she couldn’t leave Mr. Jameson by himself. He has me, she repeated to herself.

  With the arrival of the ambulance, the house seemed to fill up with people. Joe was one of the first to arrive. “You should have called me, Carrie,” he said. “I didn’t even know you’d left the house.”

  “I didn’t stop to think,” Caroline explained. “I saw the bathroom light, and it didn’t go off—so I just ran over here. After I found him I didn’t want to leave. I was afraid he’d wake up and think he was still alone.”

  They moved into the kitchen, keeping out of the way while the paramedics worked over their patient. Lillina and Mrs. Kramer and the Millikans were there, too, Lillina standing by herself near the window. Caroline looked down at the note pad positioned precisely beneath the telephone. The Cabots’ number was there, and beneath it the number of the visiting nurse.

  “I should call Mrs. Morton,” she said. “Otherwise she’ll come tomorrow morning and wonder where Mr. Jameson is.”

  “Good thinking.” Joe nodded approval, and listened while she made the call. Mrs. Morton said she would check with the hospital in the morning and find out how Mr. Jameson was, then call Caroline. She promised to notify his niece, too, and the housekeeper who came to fix his dinner in the evening.

  “It’s lucky you were watching, Caroline,” she said warmly. “He should be grateful to you, and I know he will be. He’s very fond of you.”

  The paramedics appeared, guiding the stretcher toward the front door. Caroline hurried after them, and Joe and the neighbors followed.

  “He looks dead,” Mrs. Kramer whispered. “Poor soul.”

  “It’s going to rain any minute,” Mrs. Millikan announced. “They’d better hurry with that stretcher.”

  At the curb, Caroline bent one more time over the beaky face. “Mr. Jameson, it’s Caroline. Can you hear me?”

  “Better move back,” Joe said gently and put his arm around her shoulder. The stretcher was swung up into the ambulance, and a minute later the flashing red light moved down Barker Road. Caroline had the same lost sensation she’d known when Linda was taken to the hospital at the beginning of summer vacation.

  “Well, that’s that,” Joe murmured. “I hope he’ll be all right.”

  “So do I.” Caroline’s voice trembled, and Joe looked at her sharply.

  “Want me to go back in there with you to lock up?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll be home in a few minutes,” she said.

  She looked for Lillina and decided she must have left when the stretcher was carried out. That was all right. Caroline wanted to be by herself for a while.

  The neat little house had an abandoned air. Caroline went into the living room and straightened the pillow on Mr. Jameson’s television-watching chair. Then she wandered out to the kitchen. It was spotlessly neat except for a cup which she washed, dried, and put back in the cupboard. Now everything’s ready for him to come home, she thought. It was a little like a prayer. When he comes home. Tomorrow. Or the next day.

  A floorboard creaked in the back of the house. Caroline swallowed hard. All old houses make noises, she told herself. There’s no one here but me. But she tiptoed down the hall, just in case. The bathroom light was still on, the bedroom dark. She had reached the bathroom doorway and was trying to force herself to go on when Lillina stepped out of the bedroom.

  Caroline squealed with fright. “I thought—” She blinked at the tall figure, a ghostly wraith in black shorts, shirt, and scarf.

  Lillina stood very still. Her arms were folded tightly under her skimpy breasts. “I was just checking the windows, Caroline. I wanted to do something for that poor man. Everything is locked now.…”

  “Good.” They stared at each other. Lillina took a step forward, but Caroline didn’t move out of her way.

  “I have to go home,” Lillina said. “Aunt Louise will wonder where I am. She worries so.”

  “She knew you were coming over to my house, didn’t she?” Caroline’s voice was cold.

  “Well, of course, dear. But it was just to be for a few minutes—to tell you all my good news. Ever since that silly business with the Kramers’ dog, she frets about my going out at night.” She took another step.

  “I don’t believe you.” Caroline reached out and pulled, hard, on one of Lillina’s clasped arms.

  “What’s the matter with you, Caroline?” Lillina backed away quickly, but not quickly enough. A shower of bills fluttered from the bottom of her shirt.

  Both girls stared at the money scattered on the floor. “I knew it,” Caroline said dully. “I knew it when you came out of the bedroom. That’s Mr. Jameson’s money. You’re stealing from a poor, sick, old man.”

  “No!” For a minute, Lillina appeared as shocked as Caroline felt. “How can you say that, dear? I was just—I would never—”

  “Yes, you would! You did!” Caroline wanted to scream her outrage at this betrayal, but the events of the last hour had left her drained. She could only stand there in the hall, looking at Lillina.

  Lillina the thief.

  “How did you know where his money was?” But as she asked the question, she remembered the night she’d sat on the front steps with Joe and told him about the cash in the dresser drawer. Lillina had been standing silently at the corner of the front yard. What in heck is that? Joe had asked when they finally saw her there.

  “You heard me telling Joe.” Caroline answered herself.

  Lillina shoved Caroline out of her way and ran down the hall. More bills fluttered behind her.

  “I hate you!” Caroline shouted after her. “I hate anybody who’d steal from a helpless person. You were right last Sunday when you said you made mistakes.…”

  The screen door slammed. Caroline leaned against the wall, trembling. After a moment, she got down on the floor and gathered up the scattered bills. They were mostly fifties and twenties. She went into the bedroom and switched on the light. The top dresser drawer was open, the stationery box lying on the dresser next to Mr. Jameson’s brush and comb. A few bills remained in the drawer.

  She lifted out the stationery and put the money into the box. Lillina wouldn’t have another chance at it, and neither would anyone else. I let him fall, but I won’t let anyone take his money, she thought fiercely. She hurried through the house, checking the back door and the windows, turning off the remaining lights.

  When she got home, Joe was in the kitchen. “I was just coming over to see where you were,” he said. “What took so long?”

  “I decided to bring Mr. Jameson’s money home with me,” Caroline told him. “Someone could break in and take it whi
le he’s away.” She laid the stationery box on the table.

  Joe started to protest, but her expression stopped him. “Well, I see your point,” he said slowly. “Not that I like having charge of his money without his permission. I’ll take it down to the bank first thing tomorrow and open an account in his name, okay?” He studied Caroline with concern. “You’ve had quite an evening, haven’t you? How about some warm milk to relax?”

  “Yuk!”

  “Cocoa, maybe?”

  “I don’t think so.” She was more tired than she could ever remember being before. Joe was right; it had been quite an evening, and he didn’t even know what Lillina had tried to do. “I guess I’ll just go to bed.”

  Joe nodded. “You handled yourself pretty darned well tonight. It was smart to notice that Jameson’s bathroom light stayed on too long. And you got help for the old man in a hurry. Your mother’s going to be proud of you when she hears about it.”

  For just a moment, Caroline let herself enjoy his praise. It was true she’d helped Mr. Jameson when he needed it. She’d taken charge and hadn’t panicked. She hadn’t been good old Caroline, waiting for someone to tell her what to do. But her good feelings about herself didn’t last. Mr. Jameson probably wouldn’t be in the hospital now if she’d alerted Joe, or the visiting nurse, to the fact that he refused to use his walker. What possible excuse did she have for keeping quiet, except the worst excuse of all: I didn’t want to lose my job.

  “I just hope he’s okay,” she said. “’Night, Joe.”

  “Good night.”

  She was in her bedroom, pulling her T-shirt over her head, when Joe called to her again. “Meant to tell you, Louise Reston called. Wanted to know if that girl—what’s-her-name—was here. Said she’d left the house without telling them. I told her about Jameson, and I said I saw the kid over there. She must have wandered in with all the rest of the neighbors.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Caroline climbed into bed and pulled the sheet up to her chin.

  So Lillina had lied about having permission to go out, just as Caroline had suspected. She was a sneak as well as a thief, and Caroline hoped they’d never meet again.

  Raindrops pelted the window, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Caroline couldn’t hold back her tears any longer. She cried for Mr. Jameson, who might be dead at this very minute. Then she cried for the friendship that had made this whole long summer interesting and had been destroyed in five ugly minutes. The rain covered the sounds of her sobs and eventually put her to sleep.

  Chapter 16

  It was raining lightly when Caroline woke to the ring of the telephone. She felt as if she’d been sleeping for years. Her head was heavy, and she longed to slide back into sleep even before she remembered the events of the night before.

  The phone kept ringing. Either Joe was sleeping later than usual because it was Saturday, or he was already out in the backyard in the rain, putting the finishing touches on the gazebo. Caroline slid out of bed and stumbled down the hall to the phone in Linda’s room.

  “Caroline Cabot?” It was the visiting nurse, Mrs. Morton. “I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Jameson is ever so much better this morning.…”

  Caroline realized she’d been holding her breath. “Oh, good!” she exclaimed. Good, a thousand times, a million times over!

  “He may have a concussion,” Mrs. Morton hurried on, “so they want to keep him in the hospital for a while and watch him. But he’s awake, and he’s growling at the nurses, so he must feel like himself.” She chuckled. “I’ve called his niece. She was very concerned—he never even told her about the stroke last winter. She’s coming up here as soon as she can find someone to look after her children.” She paused. “Are you still there, Caroline?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Well, I think it’s likely the niece will invite him to come to Missouri to live with her. And I for one think it would be a fine idea. I have this feeling that Mr. Jameson doesn’t use his walker as much as he should. He can be a very naughty boy, you know. Did you notice whether he had the walker with him when he fell?”

  Caroline squirmed. “I guess he didn’t.”

  “Just as I thought. Well, no use fretting about it now, I suppose. Anyway, I left a message with the floor nurse. I told her to tell Mr. Jameson that you were the person who found him and called for help. I thought he should know that.”

  Joe came in from the backyard just as they were saying good-bye. Caroline told him the good news.

  “That’s great,” Joe said. “And what about you? You looked pretty shaken up when you went to bed.”

  “I’m better, too.” At least, she was better than she’d been last night. Knowing Mr. Jameson was going to be all right had taken a tremendous weight off her shoulders. It even made her a little less angry with Lillina.

  The telephone rang again before they sat down to breakfast. This time Joe answered it. He listened for a moment, then called Caroline. “It’s Louise Reston.” He was obviously irritated. “Something about that kid again.”

  Caroline picked up the phone cautiously, as if it might burn her fingers.

  “Caroline, would you come over here, dear? I must talk to you.” Mrs. Reston sounded as if she were crying.

  “I—I don’t know if I can.” She glanced at Joe, who was listening from the doorway. Going to the Reston house was the last thing she wanted to do, and she knew Joe would refuse permission if she asked him.

  “Please, dear. It’s very important.”

  Caroline wished she could snap her fingers and fly away. To England, she thought. I wish I were with Jeannie in London right this minute.

  “Lillina won’t want to see me,” she told Mrs. Reston. “We had—a kind of argument last night.” Joe’s eyebrows shot up.

  “But that’s the point!” Mrs. Reston exclaimed. “Lillian isn’t here, Caroline. She left this morning, and I just don’t know where to start looking for her. She was very upset, and so was I. I thought, since you know her so well—”

  But I don’t really know her. I thought I did, but I don’t.

  “Do you mean she left because of our fight?”

  “No, no, no! I don’t know anything about that. Caroline, this is very serious. Won’t you please—”

  Caroline gave up. “Okay,” she said, careful to avoid Joe’s eyes. “I guess I can come for a little while.”

  Joe waited for her to hang up. “I told you I didn’t want you to see so much of that girl,” he snapped. “Can’t you tell she’s trouble?”

  “Lillina’s not there,” Caroline explained. “Besides, I think she’s going to go home in a few days—maybe right away. Mrs. Reston just wants to talk to me.”

  “Well, I don’t like it.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and scowled. “I was counting on you to do some housecleaning today. I don’t want your mother to come home and start right in working.”

  Caroline felt as if she were being pulled, hard, in two directions. “I’ll just be gone for a little while,” she said lamely. “I have to go, Joe.”

  He sighed. “Then that’s it, I suppose. But you can tell that woman for me, I hope she doesn’t have any more houseguests for a long, long time.”

  He stomped down the hall to the kitchen. Caroline hesitated a moment, then decided to forget breakfast and get the visit to Mrs. Reston over with as quickly as possible.

  What would Eleanor do? After all, Eleanor was Lillina’s sister and would be even more upset than Caroline was. What would she do? Asking the question had become a useful sort of habit. It helped to have a friend who knew how to face up to problems.

  Eleanor would try to stay calm. She’d be understanding. She’d keep her feelings about Lillina to herself.

  By the time Caroline reached the Restons’ front door, she had a plan. She would explain, as quickly as possible, that she couldn’t even guess where Lillina might be. She would tell Mrs. Reston that she and Lillina weren’t close anymore, without saying why. And then she’d hurry home and con
centrate on getting ready for the homecoming. She would clean the house. Pick flowers for Linda’s bedside table. Make brownies.

  “Caroline!” Mrs. Reston, red-eyed and shiny-cheeked, looked as if she would like to wrap Caroline in a hug. “Oh, I’m so glad you could come. My husband is away for the whole weekend—a lodge convention—and I just don’t know what to do. Come in, dear.”

  Caroline’s courage began to dissolve in the face of this desperate-sounding welcome. Reluctantly, she followed Mrs. Reston into the stuffy, overfurnished living room.

  “Look at this!” Mrs. Reston thrust two envelopes into Caroline’s hand. “Read the letters,” she urged. “Read them before we talk.”

  The letters were addressed to modeling agencies in New York City. Except for the addresses, they were identical. Each of them said that Lillina MacGregor would be arriving in the city next week and requested an appointment.

  “Lillina MacGregor is Lillian,” Mrs. Reston explained unnecessarily. “Our Lillian Taylor! Making appointments—in New York! What do you think of that?”

  “Well, she told me she’s going home soon,” Caroline said, trying to sound calm and understanding. “I guess she thought as long as she was going back to New York, she’d better get started on her career—”

  “Whatever are you saying?” Mrs. Reston sank down on the sofa. She dabbed at her eyes with a wad of tissues. “What do you mean, back to New York? She’s going home, all right, as fast as I can get her there, but home is a long way from New York. Her home is in Graham, Michigan. The Upper Peninsula. The closest Graham’s ever come to a model is in the Sears catalog. I ought to know—I was born there.”

  Caroline stared at her.

  “What has that girl been telling you, anyway? Has she been filling you with a lot of lies about herself? I wouldn’t put it past her. You know, if we’d had any idea what we were getting into, we never would have let her mother send her to us. If we’d known she was a thief—”

  “A thief!” Caroline jumped. Had Lillina told Mrs. Reston about last night?

  “Yes, a thief,” Mrs. Reston repeated. “There’ve been at least three times that she’s taken money from us. Mr. Reston is the treasurer of his lodge, you see, and he’s missed money a couple of times. We knew Lillian took it—she was the only one who could have done it. We made her stay in her room as punishment. But she never admitted what she’d done—not for a minute!” Mrs. Reston shrugged angrily. “This morning I actually caught her in the act. She knew I’d taken money from the bank for a shopping trip, and she had her hand in my purse when I happened to walk into the bedroom.…” She wiped her eyes again. “I don’t like to ship her home, but I’m going to do it. I won’t have a person like that in this house. I can’t stand it. Our girls never gave us such problems.”