The Lucky Ones(77)

“I’ll get back to you about it quickly,” she pledged. “I... It’s just a lot to think about, never going back to Kentucky, owning my own small business.”

“No denying it’ll be work. But maybe you can talk a certain ex-monk we know into helping out. He’s great at heavy lifting.”

Allison came off the bed and wrapped her arms around Dr. Capello’s thin shoulders and held him for a good long time.

“Thank you, Dad.”

“My pleasure, doll face. Now you get to bed, and I’ll get to bed.”

“Great idea.” She helped him to his feet and made sure he was comfortably situated before she turned off the light and left him alone in his room. When she emerged into the hallway, she saw she’d left the attic light on. A moment’s paranoia sent her heading back up the stairs to double check that Dr. Capello’s trash fire had gone out completely. He knew what he was doing apparently, because the fire was dead, completely, though a light smoky smell remained in the room. Out of curiosity, Allison opened the top filing cabinet drawer. The key was in the drawer lock, but now that the drawers were empty, Dr. Capello hadn’t locked it up. There was nothing left in it at all but empty hanging folders. She flipped through them and found nothing. Not until she came to a file folder near the very back. Dr. Capello had missed one small scrap of paper stuck to the bottom of the file. In plain type at the top of the page was written “Pre-Op Instructions.” Underneath in Dr. Capello’s slanted and angular handwriting were words Allison found legible and yet utterly incomprehensible.

Operation: Partial hippocampectomy.

Patient: Larsen, Roland J., age 8

Date: 8-8-93

Time: 7:00 a.m.

Anesthesia: General.

They were medical notes to an anesthesiologist named Dr. Penn about an upcoming operation. An operation on an eight-year-old boy named Roland J. Larsen. An eight-year-old boy named Roland J. Larsen in the year 1993. Which meant that eight-year-old boy named Roland J. Larsen was now thirty years old.

Dr. Capello had operated on Roland. Her Roland. It had to be him, didn’t it? It’s not as if “Roland” was a very common name. It wasn’t a huge surprise to her that Dr. Capello had operated on him. He’d operated on Deacon and Thora and Oliver. But why wouldn’t Roland tell her he’d been operated on? And what was the operation for? There was medical jargon at the bottom of the page that was beyond her. Dr. Capello could translate it for her but he’d been burning these records. He wouldn’t be pleased if she admitted to nosing through them. And if Roland had wanted her to know, wouldn’t he have told her already?

Too many secrets in this house.

So many they were starting to feel like...

Lies.





Chapter 22

The bed was empty when Allison woke up the next morning. Try as she might to wake up before Roland, he was still on monastery time and always got out of bed at five in the morning.

But that was fine by her, as she didn’t know what to say to him yet. There was a note on the pillow that said, You forgot to wake me up, sleepyhead. Tonight. Love, Roland.

She would have smiled if she could have but she didn’t have it in her. There were too many unknowns now. Too many secrets. She wasn’t going to be able to rest easy until she had a few more answers to her too many questions.

It was late enough in the morning that Allison had a good feeling Deacon and Thora had already gone to The Glass Dragon, but not so late that Roland and Dr. Capello would be downstairs yet. If she could time it just right, she could leave the house without having to answer any awkward questions about where she was going.

She dressed in her leggings and boots, her wraparound sweater and jacket, and without stopping in the kitchen for breakfast or coffee, she walked out the front door.

Once in her car, she took off, driving up the hill to the highway. Immediately her phone began to buzz. She ignored it until she reached the first scenic viewpoint area and pulled in and parked.

Where are you going? You disappeared.

He must’ve heard her car tires on the gravel when she left. Of course he’d wondered where she’d run off to. Allison thought fast and replied a few seconds later.

Your father offered to buy me a bookstore in Clark Beach. I need to think about this, go see the place.

Thank God it was just a text message. She wasn’t sure she could pull off a lie like that face-to-face. It seemed Roland bought it.

Why am I not surprised he wants to buy you a bookstore? I love that crazy old man. Have fun in CB. Call me if you need to talk about it. Bring me back ice cream! Pralines and cream or chocolate, not picky. Just nothing mint.

Allison sighed with relief that he hadn’t called her bluff.

Mint, it is, then. See you tonight.

Roland replied with a heart. She replied with a heart in return and hated herself for the deception. No mint, he said, like nothing was happening and nothing was wrong. She wanted to believe that. She truly did. Roland was wonderful, handsome, funny, sexy, kind. She didn’t have to nag him to do the bare minimum of decent behavior like she had to with McQueen. Roland just did it on his own, without prompting. He left his life at the monastery to take care of his father. He’d been nothing but understanding with her about McQueen. He’d gone with her to Vancouver on her wild-goose chase to find out if Oliver had been the one to push her or prank-call her aunt. Roland cooked her breakfast. He made her coffee. He made her happy when, by all accounts, she should be miserable and heartbroken after the end of a consuming six-year relationship. Back home he was alone with Dr. Capello helping him bathe and dress and eat and make it through one more hard day without thinking too much about how the days left could probably be counted on two hands. Roland wasn’t just nice, he was good. He was a good man. But she couldn’t let her feelings for him cloud her judgment. McQueen had warned her where there was smoke there was fire. And she’d seen the fire herself last night in the attic. Nothing left to do but search out the source of the flame.