Missing Pieces. Heather GudenkaufЧитать онлайн книгу.
grew quiet.
“Hey.” Sarah nudged him gently. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“I just can’t shake the feeling that I saw my dad,” Jack said. “You must think I’m nuts.”
“Of course not,” Sarah replied, trying to comfort him, though she couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. “Last month I thought I saw my grandpa at the grocery store and he died when I was seven.”
“Yeah, but I bet you’d be happy to get the chance to see your grandpa again. I can’t say I feel the same way about my dad. I won’t ever be able to forgive him.”
“Never?” Sarah asked. “You’ll never be able to forgive him?”
“Would you be able to forgive your dad if he killed your mother?” Jack asked pointedly as he motioned to leave the cafeteria. Sarah followed as Jack bypassed the elevator and pushed open a heavy metal door that led to the stairs. The stairwell was windowless and weakly lit by dusty fluorescent bulbs. Cobwebs swung precariously in the corners where drab cement block walls met the ceiling and Sarah quickened her pace.
“I don’t know,” Sarah answered honestly. “I’d like to think I’d be forgiving, especially if it was an accident.”
Their footsteps reverberated on the metal stairs as they wound their way upward. Sarah almost preferred the rickety old elevator to the confines of this dingy, damp stairwell. She felt relief when Jack pushed open the door to the fifth floor. They were both slightly winded from the climb.
“You must be a better person than I am,” Jack said somewhat breathlessly, and Sarah decided it was best to end the conversation there.
When they returned to the waiting area, Hal was sitting by himself, staring up blankly at a television set affixed to the wall.
“Found your hat,” Jack said, handing it to his uncle. Hal set it on his bald head and adjusted it into place.
“No coffee?” Hal asked, noting their empty hands, and Sarah realized they were so distracted they had completely forgotten to get the coffee. She instantly longed for the rush of caffeine.
“Coffee looked like sludge,” Jack replied, and Sarah wondered why he didn’t just tell Hal the truth. “Where is everyone?”
“Amy’s still with Julia, and Dean and Celia went to see if they could find out what time the doctor is doing rounds tomorrow.”
“I’ll go see if Amy needs a break,” Jack said. He gave Sarah a peck on the cheek and she smiled warmly as he turned and exited the waiting area, leaving her alone with Hal.
Sarah sat down in one of the stiff-backed chairs next to Hal. Purple rings of exhaustion circled Hal’s eyes and were magnified by the thick lenses of his glasses.
“I shouldn’t have left her home alone,” he said, sliding his thumb and forefinger beneath his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “Her balance hasn’t been very good lately. She’s been stumbling a lot.”
Sarah thought again about the phone message that Julia had left on their machine and the tremble in her voice.
From across the corridor Sarah watched as Jack entered Julia’s room. Moments later, Amy emerged handling a pack of cigarettes as she moved toward the elevator.
“I wish she’d give those things up,” Hal said.
“It must have been terrible for Amy to find Julia after her fall.”
“She found Julia at the bottom of the steps and called an ambulance right away. Then called me.”
“That probably saved her life.”
“I think so, but a social worker came to talk to me this afternoon. Have you ever heard of that? I mean, after an accident?”
“A social worker?” Sarah repeated. “Why?”
“She was asking all these questions about Julia’s accident. I wasn’t even at the house when she fell. I was in town. She asked if there were any problems in the family, any reason Julia wouldn’t feel safe.”
“They probably have to ask those kinds of questions when there’s an accident in the home,” Sarah said, though she wasn’t quite so sure and didn’t want to let on to Hal that it worried her. “What did you say?”
“I told her what I just told you. That she’s been stumbling a lot lately. I mean, hell, so have I. We’re getting older.
“The social worker said someone reported that the fall might not have been an accident, after all. Why would someone say such an awful thing?” he asked incredulously, rubbing the sharp gray stubble on his chin, his blue eyes clouded with worry.
“What did Dean and Amy say? Did the social worker talk to them, too?”
“Just to me, I think. I haven’t told anyone. I didn’t want to bother them with it.” He shifted in his seat, pulled out a white, linen handkerchief from his pocket and smoothed it with his blunt fingers. “Do you think we should be concerned?”
“I think you should tell them. Tell Jack. They can help you talk to the social worker,” Sarah advised, and Hal said that he would.
“It really helps having family here,” he said, and crossed one leg over his knee, his heavy brown work boot weathered with age and toil. “I know Jack doesn’t like coming back here.”
“He wanted to come. We wanted to be here for you and Julia.” Sarah reached out and patted Hal’s knee and he covered Sarah’s hand with his own.
“Well, I can’t tell you how much it helps,” he said, and cleared his throat. For a moment Sarah wondered if she should seize the opportunity to ask Hal about Jack, about the ghost of his father he thought he saw earlier. But instead she allowed silence to fall between them.
* * *
For the next hour Sarah sat in the waiting room while Jack’s family took turns sitting with Julia. Hal was the last and after what felt like aeons he finally emerged from the room, haggard and weary.
“I think we’re all tired,” Dean said, pushing himself up from his seat with difficulty. “Maybe we should all go home and get some rest. The nurses will call if there’s any change.”
“What if she wakes up?” Hal asked, twisting his hat in his hands. “She’ll be scared if she wakes up and no one is here.”
“Everyone can stay at our house,” Dean said. “We’re close enough to the hospital that we can get here quickly if she wakes up. Jack, you and Sarah are welcome to stay with us. We’ve got the room.”
Jack rubbed the shadow of bristle that had grown on his chin. “I don’t think that’s the best idea, Dean.”
“No shit,” Amy muttered from her seat.
“Be quiet, Amy,” Dean said, tossing a magazine onto the coffee table. It slid across the surface and fluttered to the floor.
“Fuck you, Dean,” Amy snapped.
“Whoa, settle down,” Celia interjected.
“Amy,” Jack pleaded. “Please don’t.”
“Really, Jack?” Amy’s tone softened, the anger replaced with hurt. “You think that coming back here after twenty years is going to make everything okay?”
“None of this is good for Julia and that’s who we need to be worrying about,” Jack said. “Hal, why don’t you stay at Dean and Celia’s tonight? Sarah and I will get a hotel room.”
“What’s the matter, Jack?” Amy asked archly. “You don’t want to spend a night in the house of horrors?”
“Amy, just shut the hell up.” Dean’s face flushed with anger.
“What do you mean, house of horrors?” Sarah