Our Husband (a humorous romantic mystery) (25 page)

"Are she and the baby all right?"

The nurse swallowed, her eyes bouncing around the room as she fumbled beneath the counter. "Have a seat. Someone will

be with you shortly."

"I need to see her," Natalie said, now imagining the worst. Ruby hemorrhaging, scared, alone. How could she even have

hesitated to come to the girl's aid? "I need to see her
now
."

"Er, right this way."

Chapter 22

Against the white sheets, Ruby looked like Sleeping Beauty, pale and ethereal, waiting to be resurrected from

semiconsciousness. She'd been crying and Natalie wouldn't have been a bit surprised if she'd found her sucking her thumb.

Natalie's eyes inadvertently filled with tears of helplessness. Damn Raymond for the impossible position he'd left them all in!

As if she felt Natalie's presence, Ruby's eyelids fluttered open. She squinted, then focused on Natalie standing at the end of

the curtain, and smiled. "I knew you'd come," she whispered.

The quiet despair in her voice tore at Natalie, but she put on her best doctor's face. "It took me a while, but I'm here."

"My baby—"

"Is fine," Natalie said quickly, moving to the side of the bed. "You didn't tell me you were diabetic."

Ruby touched the gauze taped across the back of her left hand. "I didn't know it was so important."

"But now you do?"

Ruby nodded, looking like a contrite child, then held up a brochure. "Diabetes is a leading cause of death and disability in

the U.S."

"Didn't your family doctor tell you those things when you were first diagnosed?"

She shrugged. "That was a few years ago, and he mostly talked to Mom. I just remembered that I had to watch my sweets

and take my insulin every day."

"How many times a day do you inject?"

"Four, sometimes five."

"You should talk to your doctor about having a small pump installed in your stomach to regulate your insulin."

"That's what Raymond said."

Well, at least the bastard was dispensing good medical advice in addition to romance. "You were very lucky this time."

Ruby teared up, her blue eyes swimming. "I've never been lucky before. Maybe this baby is my good luck charm."

Natalie smiled. "Maybe. Is there anyone I can call for you? Family? Friends?"

"No." She sat up and pushed her hand through her red hair. Dazzling, even in the shapeless, faded hospital gown. "When

can I go home?"

"The nurse told me you're free to go if you have a ride home."

"I don't. My Camaro is at the club."

In for a penny, in for a pound. "My brother and I will see you home."

Ruby brightened instantly. "Thank you, Nat. Can I call you Nat?"

"Um, sure."

"Oh, and you can meet Miss Mame!" Just as quickly, her face fell and her lower lip began to tremble.

"Are you in pain?"

"No. But I feel just awful about that television interview I did. That reporter twisted my words and made you sound really

bad."

"I didn't see it." But she could imagine.

"And I'm sorry you were arrested, Nat. I know you didn't kill Ray."

Natalie swallowed. Did Ruby know she hadn't killed Raymond because she'd killed him herself? She obviously had

access to syringes, and knew how to use them. Was her little girl facade an act to conceal street-smart cynicism? What was it

Tony had said?
You always could see only the best in people
. She spoke carefully. "My lawyer is certain the charges will be

dropped."

"Oh, good. Do you see my clothes anywhere?"

Another act, or was her attention span really as short as her skirts? "Here," Natalie said, retrieving a plastic drawstring

bag from a sterile chair. She opened the bag and withdrew a black leather bra, minuscule panties, and a sheer white vest. "This

is all you have?"

"Uh-huh."

"What about shoes?"

Ruby frowned. "I had boots. Tall ones."

Natalie found them under the bed. They weighed at least twenty pounds. Each.

"I'm feeling much better," Ruby said, sitting on the edge, swinging her legs. She stood and disrobed in one motion.

In an instant, Natalie's medical sensibilities fled. Pure feminine envy clutched her as she took in the long, lean limbs, the

narrow waist, the incredibly full and high breasts reserved for youth. In comparison, Natalie felt like a tall prune with thin hair,

and she suspected the tightness in her chest was the precursor to her own breasts caving in, in protest.

"I'll see if I can find you a robe or something," Natalie said, then escaped to the hall, her heart pounding. But Ruby's body

was branded in her mind, and all she could think of was Raymond's hands on Ruby's breasts... Raymond lying with Ruby...

Raymond impregnating Ruby. Natalie pushed the heels of her hands against her eyes. Why had she come? To honor her

Hippocratic oath, as she'd pretended, or to satisfy some perverse curiosity about her husband's young lover?

Tony stood when she returned to the emergency waiting room. "Bring the Cherokee around," she said, then informed the

nurse that they would take Ruby home. After managing to wangle a disposable sheet from the woman to cover Ruby, she

returned to her scantily dressed charge and convinced her to drape the sheet around her shoulders to ward off a chill in her

weakened state. The nurse eyed them warily as Ruby signed release papers.

Her brother's expression, on the other hand, was something other than wary when Natalie introduced them. Appreciative.

Masculine. Traitorous.

Since Tony was driving, and since the patient was relegated to the comfy bucket passenger seat, Natalie found herself

tucked in the back seat, her knees to her chin, feeling very unnecessary. Ruby and Tony chatted like old friends, and although

Natalie couldn't hear what they were saying, assumed they were getting along famously from the occasional fit of giggles that

erupted from Ruby.

She frowned at the back of her brother's head—an hour ago he'd been ready to lay Raymond's murder at Ruby's feet.

Judging from the cocky angle of his chin, he now wanted to kiss them. After he told what appeared to be a particularly hilarious

story, Natalie reached forward and discreetly flicked him on the back of the ear. He straightened, then shot her a sheepish

glance in the rearview mirror.

He followed Ruby's gesturing directions, and a few minutes later they pulled into the parking lot of Pink Paddy's Dancing

Palace, which wasn't a palace, but was surprisingly busy for a Sunday afternoon in the Bible Belt. Tony offered to drive the

Camaro and follow Natalie and Ruby to Ruby's home. When Natalie agreed, she told herself she wanted to make sure Ruby

didn't return to work before resting, but in reality, she was burning with curiosity over where and how the girl lived.

But she hadn't expected a shabby trailer park. Granted, the double-wide red-and-white trailer Ruby called home was the

nicest of the lot, but the desolate surroundings were enough to have Natalie looking over her shoulder as Tony helped Ruby up

a set of wooden steps to the front door.

"Ray built and painted the steps," Ruby said proudly, then pointed to a stack of wood lattice sheets lying near the corner of

the trailer. "He was planning to put lattice around the bottom to hide the wheels, but didn't get to it."

Natalie pursed her mouth. Raymond—the same man who once hired someone to come to their condo in St. Louis to hang

pictures? She tried to imagine him in a tool belt, lovingly building a set of steps and handrail while his young new wife planted

pink begonias in the red clay mud. The image simply wouldn't materialize.

The door swung open to the sound of hysterical yapping. Ruby knelt and swept up a little dog that resembled a dust mop

wearing a perky yellow ribbon. "Miss Mame, meet my new friends, Tony and Nat."

Natalie had never been introduced to a dog before, so she allowed Tony to extend their mutual greeting with a quick

scratch to the mop's head. Ruby invited them in with an excited wave. "Want some iced tea?"

"Sure," Tony said.

"No." Natalie shot him a sharp glance. "You need to rest, Ruby. I want to check your vitals and your blood sugar level

before we go." The interior of the trailer was warm, uncomfortably so, and although the furniture was neat, and the beige carpet

showed signs of recent vacuuming, the faint odor of urine—Miss Mame?—emanated from the cramped living room. "We'll

wait here while you change into something comfortable. And warm," she added, lest the girl emerge in lingerie.

Ruby pouted, but kissed the mop on the nose and lowered it to the floor. "Y'all have a seat, and I'll be back in a sec. The

clicker's on the table," she added, flashing a grin at Tony.

He grinned back, and Natalie elbowed him in the ribs. Ruby disappeared down a carpeted hallway, and while Tony

inspected the television that was big enough to tip the mobile home to one side, she scoured the walls and shelves for pictures,

knickknacks, anything to prove that Raymond had actually lived there. Her head knew he had, but her heart, stubborn organ,

needed some bit of tangible evidence to further torture itself.

The living room featured mass-produced landscape prints in drab colors that complemented the furniture, and a large wall

hanging of brass-colored metal leaves with matching sconces. The whatnots around the room consisted of bean bag animals,

sea shells, and a Bride Barbie doll on a stand. Nothing of Raymond there. No favorite magazines or videos, no photos, no

shoes. The computer, not a brand she recognized, sat silent on an end table.

The kitchen, visible through wooden rails that topped a half wall, had sprouted strawberries on every conceivable surface.

No pasta cookbooks, no copper-bottomed pans that Raymond preferred, no gourmet spices he liked to keep handy on the

countertop.

Before she could stop herself, she stepped onto the linoleum and opened the refrigerator door. Lots of lunchmeat, plenty of

soda... and a half-f jar of the premium brand anchovies that Raymond fancied. She inhaled sharply against the quick pain,

"Did you change your mind about the tea?" Ruby asked behind her.

Natalie whirled. "I, uh... yes."

Ruby smiled. "Good."

She was dressed in a familiar navy sweatsuit featuring the University of Virginia's insignia—Raymond's alma mater. A rip

on the left sleeve. Natalie tried to swallow. She'd worn the same sweatsuit herself to lounge around in, although not to the same

voluptuous effect.

"I, um... no, thank you," Natalie said, closing the refrigerator door. "I changed my mind again." She inhaled deeply to clear

her thoughts. "Did you test your blood sugar level?"

Ruby bobbed her head. "It's in normal range."

"Are you sure?"

"Uh-huh."

"Do you need test strips for your blood glucose meter?"

"Nope." She had pulled her riotous hair into pigtails, shaving another couple of years from her appearance.

And in six months this child would give birth to a child. "Sit down so I can take your pulse and blood pressure."

Ruby obeyed, sitting in a kitchen chair and pushing up her sleeve. Her skin was cool and baby soft, and her vital signs

registered normal. Satisfied, Natalie suddenly couldn't get away fast enough. Her own skin crawled, as if she were the

unwilling partner in a ménage à trois. Her conscience rebelled, spurring her. She stood and stuffed the blood pressure cuff into

the small emergency bag she kept in the Cherokee, her hands flying, her feet moving toward the door.

"Would you like to see the nursery Ray and I worked on for the baby?"

Natalie jerked her head up in synch with her heart dropping to her stomach. What she would like was to break the speed

barrier going home, but Ruby's hands were clasped beneath her chin and her eyes shone like a child's on show-and-tell day.

No, no, NO! I don't want to see the nursery that my husband and you created for your child
! But once again she was

consumed with raging curiosity. "Of course."