A Midsummer Eve's Nightmare (8 page)

“But could it have been intended for someone else? Her understudy, for example?”

Tori’s eyes lit up and she leaned forward. Then she sat back, shaking her head. “Great idea, but I don’t see how. She carries her makeup in a pink-and-purple case that is distinctively hers.”

“Would she have kept it locked backstage?”

“No, of course not. Anyone could have tampered with it—but they would have known it was hers. And no one else would have used it by accident.”

Richard nodded. “And we
know
the pills were meddled with. So who has a motive to harm Erin?”

The lilting strains of James Galway, now playing a tin whistle accompanied by a Celtic harp filled in the silence around the table.

Finally Tori sighed. “I suppose Sally had the best motive—she got her part.”

“Lot of good it did her.” Everyone winced at Gregg’s words.

“Maybe there’s something from Erin’s past,” Elizabeth probed. “Her father sounds capable of hiring someone to scare her.”

They looked at each other, processing the thought. No one spoke.

Finally Richard said, “Dirk?”

“He seems the best choice,” Elizabeth agreed. “But he couldn’t be working for Wooton, could he? Erin said her father hated Dirk.”

Tori nodded. “Erin as much as said that was Dirk’s main attraction for her.”

Elizabeth pursued that line of thought. “Funny that Erin would want to annoy her father after she had such a perfect childhood. . .or funny that her childhood could have been so perfect if her father was so domineering.”

Richard wrinkled his forehead. “I’ve heard tell of fathers who only get that way when their little girls start dating. Especially if they take up with playboys like Dirk.”

Elizabeth nodded. “And you have the feeling she’s tired of him now, Tori? Maybe Dirk doesn’t want to be thrown over. Maybe he’s got some notion of scaring Erin into marrying him so he’ll get her money.”

“Well, he looks like he has plenty of his own.” Tori bit her lips. “Of course, you never know.”

Elizabeth nodded. “We really don’t know much, do we? Richard, why don’t you try talking to Dirk. Gregg, you see what you can learn from Larry.”
And I’ll watch, you, Gregg,
she concluded mentally.

At that moment Victoria slipped her hand into Gregg’s on the table, just as Elizabeth’s own still rested in Richard’s. The intimate gesture reminded Elizabeth that there was a young woman here whose future concerned her far more than Erin’s. And that the search for truth they had discussed earlier could mean a lot more to her sister’s future than the one they were pursuing at the moment. She sought a way to turn the conversation without seeming too obvious. Then the line from
Pericles
came to her: “We must keep searching for ‘truth can never be confirmed enough, though doubts did ever sleep,’” she quoted, then looked at Richard.

He took up her meaning. “I’ve got a great idea. Let’s have another round of pastry.” He signaled the waitress. “And while we’re indulging, Gregg, you can tell us how you’re coming with your own search for Truth.”

There was a slight movement as the hand that held Tori’s gripped tighter. “Well, I haven’t had much time.”

Elizabeth looked at the couple across from her. Tori looked so young and innocent in her white cotton dress, her long black hair pulled back in a mother of pearl clip; and Gregg, his azure eyes looking even clearer than usual above his blue, open-collared shirt, his appealing hesitancy clearly a part of what made him so attractive to her sister.

Richard, however, was not one to be put off so easily. He dealt with Gregg as he would have with a reluctant student. “I’ve found that most people purport to place a high value on truth, but it’s really a lackadaisical effort. Most people just accept popular culture—absorb what the media spews out as philosophy. Very few people have a real program for reading and examining and asking, ‘what does this mean to me?’”

Gregg rubbed his forehead in a manner that showed Richard’s shot had gone home. “The trouble in looking for values is whose values are you going to accept? Whose truth?”

Richard grinned as if he had been waiting for that one. “Yes, many of my colleagues in education use that as an excuse for not teaching values—the cry of ‘whose values?’ As if there is no objective truth.”

Tori jumped to Gregg’s defense. “Yes, but really—try to look at it from the viewpoint of someone who hasn’t grown up always believing in absolutes. Where
do
you start?”

“Look to the lives of people to whom the search for truth was important. People who found a personal Truth that changed their lives. Truth should mean something in a person’s life. Don’t waste time on the lives of nihilists or on the lives of people for whom what they found didn’t matter to them.”

Gregg nodded, looking more serious than Elizabeth had seem him look before. “So who do you recommend?”

Richard thought for a moment. “Start with people who started where you are. People relying on their own intellectualism or working for superficial success who then found deeper meaning.”

Elizabeth held her breath, hoping Gregg wouldn’t be insulted by Richard’s implication that he was shallow. But if Gregg caught the inference, he took it placidly. “Like who?” he asked.

Again Richard thought. “Well, some of my favorite are Pascal, St. Francis, C. S. Lewis, Malcolm Muggeridge, Wilberforce and John Newton.” He stopped and grinned. “That should keep you busy for the night.”

Gregg looked at his watch. “Especially since I have makeup call in half an hour. But you really do believe, then, that there is objective Truth?”

“No one deals with that any better than Lewis when he points to the great commonality of the ethical requirements of the religions and philosophies of the world.”

Gregg leaned forward. “That’s my point exactly. They all believe the same—so how do you sort out who’s right? That’s why I don’t think it matters what you believe—or if you believe.”

“Congratulations.” Richard held out his hand to a bewildered Gregg. “You’ve taken the first step. You’ve seen the commonality. You’ve seen that there is objective Truth. The next thing you need is to find its source.”

Gregg pushed his half-eaten tart aside. “Time to go to work.” He looked at Tori. “Is Erin doing Olivia tonight?”

“Yes.” Tori jumped up. “I should go see if I can do anything for her. Her first night back, she may need a little extra support.”

Gregg paid their part of the bill and he and Tori left together. Elizabeth sighed as she poured her absolutely last cup of tea. “I don’t know what to think. I want to like Gregg. But we know so little about him I’m afraid Tori’s really in over her head.”

Even after a swallow of hot tea she couldn’t suppress a shiver.

Chapter 11

RICHARD GROANED AS HE stood up and held Elizabeth’s chair for her. “Ooh, what idiot suggested a second round of pastry?”

Elizabeth turned and just brushed his cheek with her lips. “My favorite idiot.”

“Oh, yeah.” He gave her a quick hug. “Let’s see what we can do about walking this off before the play.”

Their first bit of walking was around the antique shop, admiring a heavily carved, dark Victorian dresser with a marble top and beveled mirror among the many other treasures the shop held. “Oh, Richard, if we get that Victorian bungalow we’ve been admiring, wouldn’t this be perfect!”

Richard looked at the price tag. “Yes, it would. But it looks like you’ll have to choose between the bungalow and the dresser.”

“Why in the world was I so impractical as to marry for love rather than money?”

They left the shop laughing, but the sharp breeze that had come up while they were inside made Elizabeth catch her breath. “I didn’t think to bring a sweater since we’re going to be indoors tonight. The short-sleeved shirt with coral and blue flowers that matched her blue chambray skirt provided little protection. Even Richard’s arm around her, while very nice, wasn’t really enough warmth. “Well, I guess we can take our walk going back to the Bard’s Haven, but the park would be so much more romantic.” She started to turn toward their B & B.

“How about just popping up the street and borrowing something from Tori?”

“Good idea. See, I married for love
and brains
.”

“Yes, but still no money.”

A few minutes later Tori was rummaging in her bedroom. She came out with a paint-spattered sweatshirt and a red sweater. Elizabeth started to reach for the sweater, no matter how it clashed with her blouse. “Oh, just a minute. I almost forgot—my new jacket. Erin borrows it so much I don’t think of it as mine.” Tori dashed into her roommate’s room and returned with a soft coral jacket trimmed in blue that looked as if it had been made for Elizabeth’s outfit. “Pull up the hood if your ears get cold. It’s really snugly.” Tori walked them to the door. “See you backstage after the play.”

Elizabeth turned in surprise. “You will?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? Just a very little party to welcome Erin back to work. We didn’t want to do much or it would look disrespectful for Sally—but the show must go on, and all that. Anyway, come back and tell Erin how great she was. She can use the reassurance.”

Before entering the park Richard and Elizabeth stopped at a little island where the road divided and went on either side of a turn-of-the-century gazebo covering a fountain bubbling up cool, crystal clear Lithia water, the mineral-rich water some claimed offered great health benefits. “Have to taste it, it’s part of the Ashland experience.” Elizabeth gestured for Richard to go first.

He took a mouthful of the clear, bubbling liquid. Just one. “Blahh!” He put his hand to his throat. “I’ve been poisoned! You set that up so you could marry a rich husband next time.” He cupped his palm for a handful of water and flipped it at Elizabeth. She shrieked and whirled away from him, off the island and into the street. Laughing, he turned to scoop up more water when a squeal of tires jerked him around again.

A girl nearby on the sidewalk screamed. The car with the screeching tires was inches from Elizabeth.

Richard lunged.

His long fingers caught just the hem of her full skirt. He jerked her back.

It was enough. By a quarter of an inch and the grace of God it was enough.

The little silver car streaked on down the street.

Shaking so violently he could hardly move, clutching her fiercely with both arms, Richard half carried, half led Elizabeth across the street to a bench just inside the park. “Oh, Elizabeth. Thank God. Oh, my darling.” He buried his head in her hair.

Although Elizabeth’s heart thumped so loudly she could barely hear Richard’s words, the experience had been far less terrifying for her. She hadn’t seen the car until it was past, and by then she was safe in Richard’s arms. But she knew it had brought back to him the anguish of losing his first wife. Elizabeth felt again the pain she had experienced vicariously that night at The Eyrie when he had told her about it. That had been just one of the times she had fallen in love with him.

And this was another. She wrapped her arms around him, offering reassurance to them both. Was that what marriage was all about—at least the ‘for better’ part—a lifetime of falling- in-love experiences?

“Richard, darling, it’s all right. I’m fine. Not a scratch.”

“Thank heaven.” He let his breath out in a rush and hugged her tighter yet.

They sat for several minutes, locked in each others’ arms, trembling and rejoicing in just being together. Alive.

Then from across the park, the clear notes of a recorder group floated to them gently as an angel’s song, “Abide with me. Fast falls the eventide. The darkness deepens; Lord with me abide. . .” Without speaking, barely loosening their grasp on each other, Richard and Elizabeth stood and began strolling across the park. They paused at the stone bridge curving across the creek and listened to the last phrase of the song, “. . .through life, through death, O Lord, abide with me.” They smiled at each other and, arm in arm, crossed the bridge, the breeze blowing the notes of a new song after them. This time “Morning Has Broken,” even though it was almost evening.

Beyond the playground the narrow, winding path led gently upward through verdant bushes and under thick trees as the early evening shadows lengthened across their private, green world. Nothing could have been more soothing to their shattered nerves. The path was so narrow Elizabeth clung close to Richard in order to be able to walk side by side. Concentrating on the strength of his presence and the beauty of nature, she forced all her doubts, fears and questions from her mind to revel in this time alone with the husband who was such a gift. Once again she was convinced of the fallacy of the popular notion that marriages weren’t made in heaven.

She felt it was almost a calling to be an object lesson in this world of broken marriages and broken hearts and shattered dreams to the fact that marriage wasn’t as outmoded as so many claimed. Nor was happiness impossible, even in an imperfect world.

They walked for some time over the rough dirt trail before the sound of pounding feet and heavy breathing behind them penetrated Elizabeth’s consciousness. Her arm tightened around Richard.
Oh, no. What now? Was someone coming after them to break in on their idyll with bad news?
They could almost feel the footfalls on the earth and the breathing on their backs when they turned and stepped aside into the bushes.

Without a sideways glance the straining jogger pelted past them. “Was that Larry?” Elizabeth asked. “He looks so frail. I had no idea he was into athletic training.”

“Or that he would leave his wires and circuits long enough to take a run in the park?” Richard grinned at her.

They walked on, the trail becoming increasingly rougher and steeper as they went further into the wilderness area. Richard’s arm remained warm and sheltering around her, but Elizabeth still couldn’t get the incongruous image of Larry jogging out of her mind. Larry: Sally’s boyfriend—maybe? Larry: Alone in the kitchen fixing Erin’s light —and what else? Larry: jerking the cord that knocked her off her feet at the college—an accident, surely? Larry: Now racing through the park—why?