Lie, Lie Again(109)
Reality punched her in the gut, and she lurched upright. Hugh was dead. Her mind eagerly showed her clips of the tragic evening, but she forced them away. Hugh had been a terrible person. No need to attempt any sentimental thoughts about him. She gripped her sheets. None of this was her fault. Sure, she had led Lily to the truth, but she hadn’t killed him. No one could accuse her of a thing. And if anyone found the burner—well, it could be traced back only to Hugh. She was free of guilt.
Exhaling, she showered and dressed quickly. It was time to visit Jonathan. Armed with a box of tissues, a sleeve of saltine crackers, and a quart of orange juice, she let herself into Nadine’s apartment once more.
All was quiet.
Setting her groceries on the kitchen table, she summoned her courage and headed for the bedroom. Jonathan was on his side, slumped like a corpse. Blergh. Her mind was certainly morbid today. She couldn’t blame herself after all that had happened. The man wasn’t dead. He was only sleeping, just like he had been last night. “Good morning!” she called.
Jonathan stirred, and her body went limp with relief. She hadn’t realized she’d been stiff with tension.
“Wha’s . . . Where?”
Channeling her mother, whose bedside manner had been efficient rather than warm, she strode to the window and threw open the curtains before turning to him. “You must’ve caught a nasty bug. How are you feeling?”
“Huh? Did I sleep here?” he asked, his voice sounding like he had a mouth full of cotton. Glancing at his body, he said, “Looks like I did. What happened?”
She gave him a pitying look. “Don’t you remember?”
“Not really.” He rubbed the side of his head as he sat up, touching his feet to the ground.
“I brought you some orange juice and crackers. Based on how you seemed last night, I wasn’t sure if it was a cold or the flu that hit you.”
“Right. Yeah. We were talking and had that wine . . .”
She frowned. “You did have two glasses. I know you said you can hold your alcohol, but if your immune system were already compromised, it might not have been a good idea.”
He suddenly jumped from the bed. “My meeting!”
Holding up a hand, she said, “It’s okay. After you fell asleep on me, I waited here for your guy to show up, but after an hour passed and no one had stopped by, I tucked you in and left. Your phone rang while I was here, but I didn’t want to answer it. Maybe it was him who called?”
He stuck his hands through his limp hair and turned to her. “Thanks. You’ve been really helpful. I just don’t know what came over me. It’s true I’ve been going hard and fast. Maybe I picked up a virus in Europe.”
She frowned. “Or on the plane. The incubation period can be a week or more.” She looked around the room. “Is there anything I can get for you? Do you want me to pour you a glass of juice before I go? I have to get to work.”
“Uh, no. I’m okay.” Standing, he said, “I’m embarrassed you had to take care of me like that.”
“Don’t be. And maybe the investor had to reschedule anyway, so it will all work out, right?”
He patted his pockets for his phone and slid it from a front one. “Yeah. I’ll just check my messages.”
“One last thing.” She softened her voice. “I hate to tell you this, but a friend’s husband fell down my stairs last night.”
“What? The broken step?”
She nodded, even though it wasn’t true. He should have had that stair fixed when she’d asked him to. “He fell from the landing. It was horrifying.” Her eyes drifted to the ground as she tried to block the vile memory. “He’s dead.”
Jonathan flinched. “Dead? Someone died here last night?”
“Yes. It was a terrible tragedy. I’m so sorry to have to share this, but I thought you should know.”
“Yeah. Thanks. This isn’t my fault, you know. They didn’t say anything about liability, did they?”
“No, they didn’t.” Always looking out for number one, aren’t you, she thought. “I’ll leave the juice and crackers here for you. Make sure to stay hydrated.” She gave him a sad smile and walked down the stairs.
Back in her apartment, she sat on the sofa and wrapped a throw blanket around her shivering body. The morning sky was layered with ominous clouds, and she couldn’t escape the feeling that Hugh’s ghost was storming through the sky. She reached for the note from Nadine. She needed some comfort to slough off the sorrow of the previous night. She unfolded the pages and began reading.
Dearest Sylvia,
If you’re reading this, it means I’ve passed on to the great hereafter. I’m hoping the letter will be frayed and soft with age by the time you do, but we never know when our time is up, do we? Over the last few years, you have become like a daughter to me. I’m so proud of all you’ve accomplished with your life. I know you keep your childhood secrets close to your heart, but from what you’ve shared, I know you grew up without much. If you had been my little girl, I would have loved you every second of every day. It’s what you deserve—what any of us deserve, really. I loved Jonathan that way, but for reasons I still can’t comprehend, he wasn’t able to love me in return. Some days it makes me quite sad, to the point where I look at old photo albums and cry. But then I dust myself off and look at the person who’s not related by blood but who is here for me every day, whether it’s something small, like loaning me a stick of butter, or something big, like taking me to the doctor and sitting by my side. You, Sylvia, have been here for me unconditionally. I love you for it. And I love you for the wonderful person you are. Don’t forget that, dear. As I told you once before, this book by Maya Angelou is one I’ve treasured. Read it when you’re ready. My hope is that it will mean as much to you as it’s meant to me. It is the best gift I could think to leave you with.