He didn’t know what to do with that. It didn’t make sense.
Faith knew how to stop the grin on his face. “What about Angie?”
He shrugged, as if Angie hadn’t left so many messages on his home and cell phone that both voicemail boxes had run out of space. Each message got nastier and nastier. Each threat more severe. Will had listened to every message. He couldn’t help himself. He could still see Angie with that gun in her mouth. He could still feel his heart rattle at the thought of pushing open his bathroom door and finding her bleeding out in his bathtub.
Thankfully, Faith didn’t dwell for long on the negative. “Have you told Sara you’re terrified of chimpanzees?”
“It hasn’t really come up.”
“It will eventually. That’s what happens in relationships. Everything comes up whether you like it or not.”
Will nodded, hoping his quick acquiescence would shut her up. He wasn’t that lucky.
“Look.” She put on her mom voice, the one she used when he wasn’t standing up straight or wore the wrong tie. “The only way you’re going to screw this up is if you keep worrying about screwing it up.”
Will would rather be stuck in Mrs. Levy’s trunk again than have this conversation. “It’s Betty I’m worried about.”
“Really.”
“She’s become quite attached.” That much was true. The dog had refused to leave Sara’s apartment this morning.
“Just promise me that you’ll wait at least a month before you tell her that you’re in love with her.”
He let out a stream of breath, longing for the isolation of the Corvair. “Did you know that Bayer used to own the trademark for heroin?”
She shook her head at the subterfuge. “The aspirin company?”
“They lost the trademark after World War I. It’s in the Treaty of Versailles.”
“You learn something new every day.”
“Sears used to sell preloaded syringes of heroin in their catalogue. A buck fifty for two.”
She put her hand on his arm. “Thank you, Will.”
He patted the back of her hand once, then again, because just once was probably not enough. “It’s Roz Levy you should thank. She’s the one who figured it out.”
“She’s not quite the sweet little old lady, is she?”
There was an understatement. The old biddy had made sport of watching Evelyn’s worst nightmare play out. “She’s a bit of a devil.”
“Did she give you her ‘pigeons and bluebirds’ lecture?” Faith turned around when she heard talking. The door to her mother’s room opened. Jeremy came out, followed by a tall man with a military haircut and a square jaw that instantly brought to mind the word jarhead. He held Emma on one of his broad shoulders. The baby looked like a sack of frozen peas hanging off a skyscraper. Her body gave a slight jerk as she hiccupped.
“This should be fun.” Faith pushed away from the wall with a groan. “Will, this is my brother Zeke. Zeke, this is—”
“I know who this douche is.”
Will extended his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Emma hiccupped. Zeke glowered. He didn’t shake Will’s hand.
Will tried for light conversation. “I’m glad that your mother’s okay.”
He kept glowering. Emma hiccupped again. Will felt bad for the man. As the owner of a Chihuahua, he knew the difficulties of acting tough while holding something impossibly tiny in your hand.
Jeremy saved them from their staring contest. “Hey, Will. Thanks for coming.”
Will shook his hand. He was a scrawny-looking kid, but he had a strong grip. “I hear your grandma’s doing better.”
“She’s tough.” He draped his arm around Faith’s shoulders. “Just like my mom.”
Emma hiccupped.
“Let’s go, Uncle Zeke.” Jeremy grabbed him by the elbow. “I told Grandma we’d move my bed downstairs so Mom can take care of her when she gets out of the hospital.”
Zeke took his time breaking eye contact. Emma’s continued hiccups probably had something to do with his decision to follow his nephew down the hall.
“Sorry,” Faith apologized. “He can be a bit of an asshole. I don’t know how it happened, but Emma loves him.”
Probably because she couldn’t understand a word he said.
Faith asked, “Do you want to go ahead and talk to Mom?”
“I was just here to check on you.”
“She’s already asked for you a couple of times. I think she wants to talk about it.”
“She can’t talk about it with you?”
“I’ve got the gist. There’s no reason for me to know the gory details.” She forced a smile onto her face. “Amanda told her that she promised you an hour.”
“I didn’t think that’d actually happen.”
“They’ve been best friends for forty years. They keep each other’s promises.” She patted his arm again and started to leave. “Thanks for coming.”
“Wait.” Will reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the envelope that had come in the mail this morning. “I’ve never gotten a letter before. I mean, other than bills.”
She studied the sealed envelope. “You didn’t open it.”
Will didn’t need to. She would never know how much it meant to him that she’d known that he could read the letter. “Do you want me to open it?”
“Hell no.” She snatched it out of his hand. “It’s bad enough Zeke and Jeremy saw those videos I made. I had no idea I was such an ugly crier.”
Will couldn’t disagree.
“Anyway.” She looked down at her watch. “I need to take my insulin and eat something. I’ll be in the cafeteria if you need me.”
Will watched Faith walk down the hallway. She stopped in front of the elevator and looked back at him. While he was watching, she tore the letter in two, then tore it again. Will saluted her, then pushed open the door to Evelyn’s room. Almost every surface was covered with flowers of all kinds. Will felt his nose start to itch from the heavy perfume smell.
Evelyn Mitchell turned her head toward him. She was lying in bed. Her broken leg was elevated, Frankenstein bolts jutting out of a hard cast. Her hand rested on a foam wedge. Gauze was packed where her ring finger should’ve been. Tubes ran in and out of her body. The gash on her cheek was held together with white butterfly tape. She looked smaller than he remembered, but then, what she had been through was the sort of thing that could reduce a person.
Her lips were chapped and raw. She held her jaw still, talking with as little movement as possible. Her voice was stronger than he’d imagined it would be. “Agent Trent.”
“Captain Mitchell.”
She showed him the trigger for the morphine pump. “I’ve held off on this because I wanted to talk to you.”
“You don’t have to. I don’t want to cause you any more pain.”
“Then please sit down. It hurts my neck to look up at you.”
There was already a chair pulled up beside her bed. Will sat down. “I’m glad that you’re well.”
Her lips barely moved. “Well is a bit down the road. Let’s just say I’m hanging in there.”