Phantom of Riverside Park (31 page)

“Yes, I have a question. What does all that
mean?”

He laughed, which surprised her even more.
“Arrhythmia is the abnormal heart rate that caused your grandfather
to black out. In WPW syndrome, an extra electrical pathway exists
between the upper and lower chambers of the heart, the atria and
the ventricles, and it’s this extra pathway that may at times
encourage a rapid heart rhythm. This condition can go undetected
for years, then suddenly it rears its ugly head.”

“Is it fatal?”

“It generally responds extremely well to
medication, and that’s what we expect with your grandfather.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“There is a procedure we can do called a
catheter ablation which will destroy the abnormal pathway by means
of heat delivered through radio-frequency waves. I’d like to stay
away from an invasive procedure with your grandfather if I can.” He
smiled again. “Anything else?”

“When can I see him?”

“I’ll take you back.”

Papa looked shrunken and helpless and
extremely fragile. For the first time in a long while, Elizabeth
let herself think about his age... and his mortality. She’d been
traveling the river of life in a leaky boat for so long she didn’t
know what it would be like to have a solid craft under her feet,
but with Papa always at the helm she’d barely noticed her plight.
Now it rose up like fire and brimstone from Hades’ own inferno. If
she didn’t do something quick, she was fixing to choke to death.
They all were. Papa ... Nicky...

Papa had his eyes shut, and she tiptoed
across the room so he could get his rest. She was halfway to his
bed when he jerked awake.

“What are you pussyfooting around about?” he
said. “Get on over here so I can talk without having to shout.”

She kissed his cheek and held onto his hand.
“Don’t try to talk, Papa. Just rest.”

“What’s wrong with me?”

She knew better than to lie to him, or even
to sugar-coat the truth.

“Your heart, Papa, but the doctor believes he
can treat you with medication and you’ll be all right.”

“Then I’m not gonna die?”

“Someday we’re all going to die.”

“Did I ask for a philosophy lesson? Answer my
question.”

“No, you’re not going to die.”

“Good.” He shut his eyes. “Thank you, God.”
When he opened them again he was Papa once more, strong-willed and
ornery, a rock, a mountain, the captain of Elizabeth’s ship. “Now,
tell me what in tarnation David Lassiter told you about gettin’
Nicky back?”

She told him as briefly as possible, for even
if news that he would live suddenly made Papa think he was
invincible once again, Elizabeth knew better. Sometimes she had to
be hit on the head with a ton of bricks to learn a lesson, but by
George, once she learned she didn’t stand around waiting for the
next landslide.

Papa was under too much stress, and she was
the only one who could lessen the load. All of a sudden, it came to
her what she was going to tell David, the only thing she could tell
David. He had given too much already: it was not fair to ask him to
give more. And so she not only recounted David’s proposals, she
also told Papa what her answer would be.

He pursed his lips, thinking it over, then he
nodded.

“That’s a good decision, Elizabeth. I’m proud
of you. I’ve always been proud of you.”

She was going to cry again. She could feel
the tears clogging up her throat. She was so tired of crying she
didn’t know what to do. After all this was over, she was going to
grab hold of every joyous moment that came her way and not turn
loose till she’d laughed and danced and sung herself silly.

“What are you standin’ there for, girl?
You’ve got a man to see and child to get back.”

“I can’t leave you here like this, Papa.”

“Pshaw. I’ve got so many doctors and nurses
taking care of me I’m gonna have to beat them off with a stick. Go
on and get the ball rolling, Elizabeth.”

“Are you sure you’ll be all right, here all
by yourself?”

“With this little buzzer and all these people
at my beck and call? I’m liable to get used to this and not even
want to go home. Besides, I’m not here all by myself.”

Papa winked at her, and when he began singing
“Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, let me stand,” Elizabeth
could might near swear Mae Mae was standing over by the bed holding
his hand.

Peter was waiting for her. “I’m ready to go
now,” she said.

“Where to? Home?”

“No. Take me to David.”

Peter was still at the hospital with
Elizabeth, the report sounded encouraging, and now instead of
worrying that Elizabeth would have a death to deal with, David got
into one of his contemplative moods and started thinking of himself
as Cyrano de Bergerac. Ashamed of his looks. Sending somebody to
take his place with the beautiful woman.

Hiding under the balcony while somebody else
sang the love songs he’d written. Or in his case, hiding in a
tower.

That was ridiculous, of course. David was not
in love, didn’t even have the slightest notion what being in love
meant, and this was the twenty-first century, not the
seventeenth.

He was beginning to think he’d stayed cooped
up in his ivory tower too long. Years of isolation had robbed him
of his ability to separate reality from fantasy.

But more than that, he was so incredibly
lonely he felt like climbing onto the rooftop of Lassiter Building
and howling at the moon. His loneliness hadn’t merely grown through
the years: it had multiplied exponentially so that instead of
having a huge aching void inside him, he was totally empty. A shell
of a man. He was skin stretched over bones with nothing underneath.
No dreams. No future. No heart. Especially no heart.

What would it be like to care so deeply for
another that you bled when they cut themselves, ached when they
stumbled and fell, cried when they said goodbye?

He loved his sister. Of course, he did. But
that was a connection of blood and bone, home and history. And
though their bond was strong, it wasn’t the same as a connection
purely of the heart.

The intercom interrupted his musings. It was
Peter, calling from downstairs.

“David, Elizabeth Jennings is on her way
up.”

The news shook him to the core. He’d always
been in control of their meetings. He’d always had time for
elaborate preparations.

“Thanks, Peter.”

There was no time for questions. Of course,
his secretary would stop her in the outer office, but David didn’t
want her turned away. He merely wanted to prepare for her
visit.

He began to press buttons. The heavy
draperies slid shut and the lights went out. Even though it was
early afternoon, his office was plunged into complete darkness.
David hurried to the bathroom to wash his face and comb his hair.
When he caught a glance at himself in the mirror the irony struck
him. He might as well be pouring perfume on a muskrat or putting
that legendary side-saddle on the infamous Southern
hawg
.

He hurried back to his office and switched on
the lamp beside Elizabeth’s chair. Funny how the chair had become
hers from the first time she ever sat in it. David couldn’t look at
it without thinking of her, without conjuring up images of her
sitting there in her old-fashioned pink dress with her hands
twisted in her lap or tugging on the short skirt of her pink
uniform from the bakery or biting her lips and bowing her head
while her shining hair slid across her cheek.

“Mr. Lassiter, Elizabeth Jennings is here.
She doesn’t have an appointment.”

He wasn’t ready for her. He had the horrible
feeling that he’d forgotten something vital, that she would unmask
him and discover that he was not her hero at all but a monster with
a hideous face.

He slid into his chair behind his desk and
turned the left side of his face to the wall.

“Send her in.”

She stood blinking in the darkness, then
smiled.

“I see you’re prepared for me.”

“Yes.”
No.
He was never quite
prepared for the sight of Elizabeth Jennings. “Please come in. Sit
down.” He watched her arrange her skirt, cross her legs at the
ankle, probably the way she’d been taught. There was no artifice in
her. She was the genuine article: a Southern belle, through and
through. Perhaps one of the last of the true belles, a woman with
magnolias on her skin, honey dripping from her speech, soft ways
and sweet manners that cried out for white gloves and a hat with a
perky little veil, and a big dose of pure steel in her
backbone.

“How’s your grandfather?”

“Giving orders, bossing me around, which is
always a good sign. I don’t even like to think of what would have
happened if it hadn’t been for you. How can I ever thank you?”

“You just did.”

“That’s what Peter said.”

“He’s a good man.”

“He’s absolutely wonderful.” David felt an
unaccustomed stab of jealousy. “He watched over me like a mother
hen with one baby chick. It would have been comical if I hadn’t
been so worried and so very, very scared.”

“I don’t want you to ever be scared again,
Elizabeth.”

It was too late to call the words back. They
went flying across the dark room and landed straight in some soft,
sweet part of Elizabeth. Her smile was warm and tender. David had a
hard time not taking it personally.

“That’s a lovely thing to say. You’re a good
man, David.”

It wasn’t the moon, but it would do.

Suddenly Elizabeth looked as nervous as he
felt. Was it any wonder? She was carrying a load too heavy for one
small woman to bear, and she’d been carrying it all by herself for
a very long time. Plus, the options he’d given her weren’t easy.
Nor were they foolproof. In spite of everything he could do,
Elizabeth might still lose her son.

“I guess you know why I’m here,” she said,
finally.

“I have a very good idea.”

She twisted the hem of her skirt in one hand,
then self-consciously released it and tried to smooth out the
wrinkles.

“I meant to take more time to think about
everything you said, but when I was with Papa at the hospital it
suddenly occurred to me that there is only one decision I can make,
only one option I can choose.”

Shouldn’t there be drum rolls somewhere in
the background? Shouldn’t Oprah Winfrey be standing by with an
expectant smile on her face?

One way or another the entire course of his
life was going to change, and here he was sitting in the same chair
behind the same desk in the same room, the same building where he’d
hidden for as long as he couldn’t bear to remember.

“Have you changed your mind about either of
your proposals?”

Her sudden question threw him off balance.
Here he is so tightly wound he’s set to explode, and Elizabeth
jerks the rug out from under him.

“No. Nothing has changed. I meant every word
I said. Whatever you decide, I will abide by my part of the
deal.”

She drew a ragged little breath. “This is not
easy, you know. The whole thing still feels like charity.”

“Elizabeth...”

“No, let me finish. If anything less were at
stake I would say
no, thank you
to both proposals. But my
child is at stake. And now my grandfather. I can’t keep putting him
through the wringer.”

“Is there anything I can do to make this deal
more palatable to you, Elizabeth?”

“If there is, I don’t know what in the world
it would be. You seem to have thought of all the angles. I wish I
could say I’ve been that thorough, but I haven’t. All I know is
that I can’t ask you to give up your anonymity because of me.”

An absurd hope leaped in David, an outrageous
joy.
The heart has its reasons of which reason knows
nothing
. Pascal had said that. David figured it might be one
of the most powerful truths ever spoken.

“You’ve done too much already,” she said. “I
can’t let you make that sacrifice. Reporters would hound you to
death.”

She didn’t know the half of it. Still,
something in him thrilled that Elizabeth was the kind of woman who
would consider his feelings, even in her time of greatest
trouble.

“I’ve decided to marry you, David... in name
only.”

He wished she hadn’t added that. Some of the
glow went out of David. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that
the next chapter of his life might be the most exciting one to
date. And the scariest. The thought of being husband to Elizabeth
Jennings terrified him.

Even if the marriage was a façade. She was
waiting for him to say something. What was there to say?
You
pop the champagne cork while I pass out cigars? No. Cigars were for
the birth of a child.
There would never be a child from this
marriage. There would never even be a wedding night.

“That’s settled then.” He hoped he sounded
businesslike without being brusque. All of a sudden he needed to be
alone. He had a lot of thinking to do, a lot of planning.

“Not quite,” she said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said, it’s not quite settled. First,
there’s something I have to do.”

“Of course. There are many things you’ll want
to do in order to get ready for your move, and the ceremony. I’ll
make all the arrangements. We’ll do this as quickly as
possible...because of Nicky.”

He couldn’t bring himself to use the word
marriage. Even as he thought about the ceremony he was wondering
how he would keep Elizabeth from seeing his face. Maybe the groom
should wear the veil. McKenzie would get a kick out of that when he
told her.

“I’m not talking about making arrangements,”
she said. “I’m talking about right here, right now. I have to see
you.”

“Here I am. You are seeing me.”

“No. I want the lights on. I have to see
you.”