Cast a Pale Shadow(44)

Trissa looked regretfully at Cole and sighed. "Very well. I'll go home when Augusta gets here."

"Good," said the nurse. "In the meantime, I'll see if I can scare up a sandwich and a piece of fruit for you off one of these lunch trays. Aren't you going to eat any more of this, Mr. Brewer?"

"Leave the pudding, I guess. And the coffee."

The nurse whisked away the rest of the tray and left them alone. Cole ate the vanilla pudding in silence, letting its cool, smooth sweetness slide down his throat like a balm against his scorched senses. Trissa turned her back to him and gazed out the window.

"I'm sorry about your father," he said at last.

Her shoulders sagged. "And I'm sorry to hear you say that. Nicholas would not have."

"Might he have... might I have killed him?"

She whirled to face him and he saw that her horrorstricken eyes contained the very same question. She wanted hugging and holding and comforting, but there was no one to do that now. Now that Nicholas was gone. She flickered like a spark from a chimney, wavering on the brink of flying away. Or dying.

Cole opened his arms to her -- a natural act, no more than any human would do for another human in distress -- and she flew into them. He did not know if it was a memory that stirred in him, or a fear, or a need, but he let his arms encircle her and he held her.



*****



Cole Brewer woke with his sweet, pretty wife asleep in his arms. Trissa's tear-streaked face was tucked against his chest and Cole's cheek nestled in her softly tousled hair.

He reached with his free arm to his bedside tray, wincing with the effort to reach a napkin. Dampening a corner in his pitcher of water, Cole touched the dried tears from her face, just as Dr. Fitapaldi appeared in the doorway.

"Trissa. Trissa, Dr. Fitapaldi's here." Trissa squeezed her eyes tightly and momentarily resisted his gentle awakening. But Cole ever-so-lightly tapped his finger to the tip of her nose and her eyes flew open. He did his best to resist the heart-melting smile she gave him. "Trissa, I think you've met Dr. Fitapaldi."

Slowly, mindful of Cole's injuries, Trissa crept from the bed, self-consciously tugging at her skirt. "Excuse me, Doctor, this is the second time today I've been caught in a compromising position."

"Sleeping, fully clothed, in your husband's arms is not what I would call compromising," Fitapaldi said. "I am pleased you two have resolved your estrangement."

"Nothing is resolved," Cole said.

"No," Trissa confirmed, shaking her head sadly. "Nothing." She clasped her arms tightly against her chest, took a deep breath, and let her words out in a rush. "In fact, we're in terrible trouble. My father has been found dead and Nichol -- we -- uh, no one knows what happened."

"Dead?"

"Murdered," Cole answered, his face like granite.

"You can't think that--" Fitapaldi began. "No, it's not possible. Cole would not be capable of such--"

"We're talking of Nicholas here, Doctor," said Cole. "Have you ever met him? How would you know what he is capable of?"

"But -- even if..." Fitapaldi paused, tugging at his brows, thinking. "Look at you, surely the police could see this could be no more than self-defense!"

"Yes!" cried Trissa, as if she now had the solution to the whole problem. "My father threatened him! I heard him. If anything, it has to be self-defense."

Cole shook his head. "He was buried, they said. In an unauthorized grave. That seems a bit beyond the limits of self-defense."

Trissa reached back to clasp Cole's hand as she turned toward Fitapaldi. "No! No, that couldn't be. He couldn't have done that. Nicholas is not a complete stranger to me. Not to me. He could never have done something like that. You have to believe me. I know him."

Fitapaldi approached and put an arm around her shoulder. "I believe you, my dear. I believe you."

Cole raised his eyes to the ceiling then shut them, unwilling to share in their theory or their confidence. "Could you get her home, Doctor?" he asked wearily. "She needs her rest. There is a long road ahead, I'm afraid."

Before Fitapaldi had a chance to answer, Trissa said, "I should wait for Augusta. I'm sure she'll be here any minute."

A woman Cole had no recognition of swept into the room and took Trissa's hand, giving her a motherly kiss on the cheek. "I'm sorry I'm late. I -- Oh, Trissa, honey, look at you. I should have insisted you come home last night. You look about ready to collapse."

She turned to greet Fitapaldi and Cole. "Good afternoon, Doctor. And Nicholas! What an improvement! A little green around the gills still, but, really, you look like a whole different pers -- oh. I mean you're so much better."

The woman Cole presumed to be Augusta dropped Trissa's hand to swoop down and engulf Cole in an eager hug.

"Oh, I almost forgot! I brought you some candy, some of those wonderful sorbets from Crown's. I wanted to bring Mavrako's Chocolate but I was afraid that would be too naughty. Sour balls couldn't hurt anybody, could they? I know how awful this hospital food can be. These should kill the taste." She reached into the large purse she had slung over her shoulder and pulled out a white paper sack that she plunked into Cole's lap like a bag of gold nuggets. "And, oh well, I couldn't resist. Easter candy was half price. So I got you a dark chocolate bunny. Dark because it's got more vitamins and less sugar. But just a tiny bunny. Promise me you'll only nibble the ears first until you see if it agrees with you."

Cole nodded dumbly as she delivered the chocolate bunny into his hand.

"Now, if no one objects, I'm going to take this poor child home and tuck her in bed and make her stay there for at least twenty-four hours." She turned to shake a finger at Cole. "And you, you take advantage of that time to get well enough to come home. Everybody misses you but I told them they all couldn't come in here to visit. Hospitals are for recuperating, not socializing. Are you ready, Trissa, dear?"

"Yes, Augusta. Dr. Fitapaldi, will you come by this evening? I need to talk."

"I will."

"Come for dinner, Doctor," added Augusta. "About six-thirty?"

"Thank you. I believe I shall."

"Good night, Nicholas." Trissa hesitated, one arm half in her jacket sleeve. Then she dropped the jacket to the floor where she stood and walked lightly and swiftly toward Cole. He read her intent but expected no more than a peck and primed himself to receive it.

Trissa had more ambitious plans. She leaned over bracing her hands on the pillow on either side of his head, trapping him as effectively as the collar he wore around his neck. She made a slow circle of tiny kisses on his face, zeroing in on her mark. Cole's fingers flexed open and shut on the bed, poised either to push her away or delve into her hair and stroke down the back of her neck.

When the true kiss began, a muffled grumble of surprise or protest escaped from him but was quickly lost in his effort to continue breathing steadily. But not even Cole's thick, tested, glacial wall of indifference could withstand the sweet, melting onslaught of this girl's determined kiss. His hands did reach up and hold her at last, if only for dear life. When she finally pulled away with a heartfelt sigh, he felt swamped in a befuddled mix of wonder, desire, and dismay.

Suddenly, inexplicably shy and pink to the tips of her ears, Trissa glanced at her forgotten audience and stepped back to take the jacket Augusta held out to her. "Um, I'm sorry, Cole. It's just that I learned to kiss from a very good teacher, and I don't think he'd be happy if I let my skills lapse for want of practice." She flashed a winsome smile that held more than a trace of saucy mischief and was gone.

"Amazing," Fitapaldi said. "I have to admire her resiliency."

"A human roller coaster," muttered Cole, gingerly easing himself to the edge of the bed.

"Should you be getting up?"

"I have to. I feel like I've hit a brick wall."

"I think you have. There will be no budging that girl now that she's made up her mind."

"We'll see."

Fitapaldi lent a shoulder while Cole boosted himself to his feet and took a few shuffling steps across the floor. Using a chair and the windowsill to support himself, he looked out at the blank, blue sky. "I don't remember any of it. I don't remember her. I don't remember her father. Hell, I don't even know what city I'm in."

"St. Louis."

"Yeah, that's right. That's what the police said. Jesus Christ, the police. Duncan's son also rises. It's what I always feared. Should we plead insanity and get it over with? It should be easy enough to prove."

"You are assuming that you killed him. I don't think you did."

"Yes, Dr. Jeckyl may not have, but what about Mr. Hyde?"