Weekend Warriors (Sisterhood #1)(47)
“I’m counting the minutes,” Alexis said as she snuggled with Murphy.
Jack Emery rubbed at his tired eyes before he picked up the stack of papers he’d printed out. They could just be papers or they could be something else. He leaned back in his swivel chair as he scanned the sheets in his hand. Why would women in their late 30s and early 40s be playing bridge with an old lady like Myra Rutledge? Just by scanning the sheets he’d say they were more likely to belong to the same gym as Nikki. But they were at Myra’s.
A prominent plastic surgeon married to a United States senator might conceivably travel in the same circles as mega-rich Myra Rutledge. He’d seen the power couple’s picture in the paper at least once a week but never with Myra Rutledge. The name Isabelle Flanders tickled his brain but he couldn’t remember where he’d heard it before. Alexis Thorne and Yoko Akia. And of course Nikki. Myra said Nikki wasn’t there the day he’d walked through the ruptured gates. He frowned. Were the others in the house that day? If they were, he hadn’t seen them. But that didn’t have to mean anything. They could have been in the sunroom or the dining room. So what? People like Myra Rutledge played cards in the middle of the day and served little finger sandwiches to the cardplayers.
Unlike his mother, who cleaned houses for a living to support his three sisters and two younger brothers while he was growing up. She was always home to make dinner and then left again to clean offices at night. She didn’t know the first thing about playing cards. She probably didn’t know how to make little finger sandwiches either. He thought about the hundred bucks a week he kicked in along with his siblings to pay for her care in a nursing home. He didn’t begrudge the money because he loved his mother. He just wished she would get better but he knew no one recovered from Alzheimers disease. His eyes burned when he remembered his last visit to the nursing home. For one minute she’d recognized him and called him Jackie. A second later she asked him if he was a doctor.
No, his mother didn’t know people like Myra Rutledge.
He wondered now if he should have told Nikki about his mother. Why hadn’t he? Why did he let her think he didn’t know how to manage money, that he was a playboy D.A.? Why did he trade in his old reliable Honda for the Lexus and was now sucking wind because the lease payments were strangling him? Why did he do half the things he’d done where Nikki was concerned? Had he in some cockamamie way been trying to compete with the life she had with Myra Rutledge? Did he think a boy from the Bronx couldn’t measure up? Yeah, yeah, that’s exactly what he thought.
He looked at his watch. If he drove like hell, he could make the nursing home before they got his mother ready for bed. Maybe she’d call him Jackie again tonight. Maybe.
Jack made it to Winchester just in time before lockdown. He waved to the charge nurse and beelined down the hall to his mother’s room. He stood in the doorway watching her for a full minute before he said, “Hi, Mom!”
“Is your mother here, young man? I don’t see her.”
“I guess she left,” Jack said perching on the side of the bed. “Would you like some company?”
“I always like company. Where is your mother?”
“She’s close by. She won’t mind if I stay and talk with you for a little bit.”
“I think I’m a mother. Do you know if I am, young man?”
“I think you’re probably the best mother in the whole world. I’m Jack. Do you remember me? Think, Mom. Jesus, I miss you. I try to get out here as often as I can but I can’t always make it. I just want you to know I try.”
“Are you going to cry, Jackie? It hurts me to see you cry, honey. No one is here so if you want to cry it’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”
Jack dropped to his knees. He almost swooned when his mother stroked his hair and started to hum under her breath, “Hush little baby…” He blubbered like a baby and didn’t know why.
Jack moved away and reached for his mother’s hands. “Mom, listen to me. If someone killed Betty Ann, what would you do?”
“Who’s Betty Ann?”
“Your daughter, Mom. My sister. What would you do if someone killed her?”
“If I was Betty Ann’s mother, I would kill them. What would you do, young man?”
“I tried to stop her, Mom, but I wasn’t quick enough. I was going to send her to jail for the rest of her life but she skipped out on me. I have to find her.”
The woman sitting in the chair grappled with what he was saying. Jack watched as she struggled to find words to respond. “Mothers are…they love…they protect their young with their lives. Are you sure I’m a mother? Do you need someone to protect you, young man? I think I can do that. Tell me what you want me to do.”
Jack leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Just say good night Jackie. The nurse is here to get you ready for bed.”
“Good night, Jackie.”
“I’ll see you next week, Mom.”
“If I see your mom I’ll tell her I saw you. What’s your name again?”
“Jack Emery. Good night, Mom.”
Outside in the hall he heard his mother say, “That young man lost his mother. It’s so sad.”
Outside in the warm spring night, Jack sat down on an iron bench in the little courtyard by the main entrance. He bit down hard on his lip, his shoulders shaking. He didn’t see the tall thin man walk through the doorway, nor was he aware of him when he made his exit a half hour later. He did see the man talking on his cell phone when he passed his car on his way to the Lexus that was parked three aisles away.