Jar Of Dreams Part 18

"Sure." Lucy nodded, smiling.

But I'm leaving after the first of the year...

Well. She set down her gla.s.s and ladled a bowl of soup for Landy Walker, then shared noisy giggles with Jenny from the cafe over the unfunny subject of serving food to the same people no matter where they went. Lucy wasn't going to think about leaving. Not now. She was having too much fun.

"Being sixty doesn't mean calming down a lot, does it?" Kelly swept up confetti and cake crumbs while Lucy stripped the tables. "That's encouraging."

"It is, isn't it?" Lucy loaded the washing machine and came back with a bottle of white zinfandel. "I have no idea what one of them was doing in the laundry room-they must have gotten lost searching for the john-but this was sitting on the washer. It's been opened and it's still cold. What do you say?"

"Do you know how to play poker?"

"Badly."

Kelly grinned, leading the way into the kitchen and putting away the broom and dustpan. "All the better."

"The cards are in the junk drawer." Gert, in a robe, white socks and Birkenstock sandals, came into the room with Kinsey draped over her arm. "I'm feeling much better. I can enjoy some wine and something to eat. Lucy, can you loan us some change?"

Lucy dug handfuls of quarters out of the pickle jar, accepting bills in exchange. "We brought you home some stuff from the soup supper," she said, "but we were hungry for something besides hors d'oeuvres and birthday cake crumbs after the partiers went home, so we ate most of it."

"It's all right." Gert came out of the pantry with a jar of the salsa Lucy had made and a bag of tortilla chips. "I'm feeling snacky anyway. How was the supper?"

They gave her a blow-by-blow report on the soup supper, lying shamelessly about Crockett and Boone's performances while they told attendees where to park. "I doubt they're really playing poker." Kelly dealt five card draw as she spoke. "They're probably in jail. Tom can only cover for so much before he has to quit being the buddy and be the law."

Lucy groaned. "Oh, yuck. You deal like a lawyer."

"I am a lawyer."

"Not in your heart. In your heart, you're...well...not. I'll take three cards."

After winning the first hand, Kelly asked, "So what am I in my heart?"

"I don't know." Lucy flinched at the hand she'd been dealt. She'd thought she and Kelly were getting along better, but there was no way a friend would do this to her. "Maybe a used car salesman? I'll take three. Again."

"None for me." Gert smiled smugly. "I don't need them."

It was almost midnight when Lucy threw up her hands. "I'm done. I've lost my entire twenty dollars."

"And I don't have to be a lawyer anymore because I won it." Kelly put the deck back into its box. "I need to get home anyway."

"No, you don't. You need to stay here. That gla.s.s of whatever it was you and Lucy concocted from fruit juice and beer after you drank a bottle and a half of wine sent you right over the edge." Gert waved toward the back stairs. "Your room's always ready."

Kelly nodded, her eyes dark with fatigue. "I'm not going to argue. I'm too tired. Although it does bear mentioning that Lucy and I didn't drink that wine by ourselves, Aunt Gert. You swilled at least a water gla.s.s full of it."

"It was purely medicinal."

Lucy and Kelly both snorted. "For sure," Lucy said. "That'll hold up in court, all right."

They loaded their gla.s.ses and plates into the dishwasher and went to bed, Kinsey trotting along beside Lucy.

"Got any PJs I can wear?" Kelly asked from behind them. "I think the only ones in my room are from junior high and have rock stars on them. Remember Mr. Big? I was in love with their lead singer."

"Sure." Although Lucy didn't remember the band Kelly mentioned. The radio in Dolan's kitchen had always been tuned to a news channel and the music in the dining room was Irish-she hadn't been to a concert until her one-time fiance had taken her to see Bruce Springsteen. She'd been so enthralled by the Boss she hadn't wanted to leave.

Barely awake but with a Springsteen song playing in her head, Lucy gave Kelly a pair of pink plaid pajama pants and a matching tank top. "Sleep tight."

"Thanks. You, too." Kelly hesitated. "I was wrong about you, Lucy."

Lucy shrugged. "You were protecting your family from an unknown quant.i.ty who came out of nowhere. It's hard for me to fault that."

Kelly shook her head, a skeptical smile on her face. "Good G.o.d, woman, don't you ever hold a grudge?"

"Nope. Life's too short and I'm way too sleepy. Not to mention all the times I watched that movie."

"Point taken, Pollyanna. Good night."

Lucy put on pajamas, tossing her clothes in the general vicinity of the hamper before crawling into bed. Kinsey crept up to lie in the curve behind her knees, and Lucy reached to scratch her head. "It was a nice day, Kinsey," she murmured, and was asleep in minutes, the words and music of "Born to Run" a lullaby for her mind.

While it was true that her purr was l.u.s.ty enough to nearly shake a bed, Kitty Kinsale scarcely ever meowed, and when she did it was very soft and polite. Gert said the little cat was asking, "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, would you feed me now?" Boone called her rude names, but he spent as much time petting her and catering to her gently placed requests as everyone else did.

This being the case, Lucy was surprised to be awakened by an insistent cat patting her face and meowing. The clock on the table by the bed said it was 1:07 a.m., and she groaned. Even though she didn't usually sleep through the night, her uninterrupted slumber almost always lasted at least a couple of hours. "What's wrong, Kinsey?" She scratched the cat's head and tried to make her lie down, but Kinsey responded by biting her chin.

"Ouch!" Lucy pushed her away and sat up. "What's gotten into you?"

Kinsey ran to the bedroom door and scratched at it, another first, and Lucy climbed out of bed. Her eyes felt as though they were full of crumbled saltines. She pushed her feet into flip-flops and stepped into the silent hallway. Even though there was a nightlight on the wall, the steep back stairs seemed unusually dark as she followed Kinsey toward the kitchen.

Halfway down, she smelled it.

No, no, no.

She twisted around on the staircase and rushed back up, crossing the wide hall to Kelly's room and bursting in. She ran to the bed, yelping in pain when she tripped over the shoes in her path. "Kelly!" she yelled. "Kelly, get out now!"

Kelly moaned, yanking loose from Lucy's grasp. "I just went to bed, for Chrissake. Where's the frickin' fire?"

"I don't know, but it's there somewhere. I can smell it. Come on!"

Still groggy, Kelly followed her from the room.

"Go down. Get Gert out. I'm going to get Boone and Crockett." When Kelly hesitated, Lucy yelled again, "Go now!"

Kelly headed down and Lucy went up, shouting all the way. She expected the men to meet her halfway, but they didn't, and she ran across the sitting area of the third floor to Boone's door, pushing it open.

The room was empty, the bed still made. Lucy slammed the door and opened Crockett's. Empty too. They weren't even home yet, and she'd wasted precious time searching for them. The thought made her angry, even though the part of her mind that wasn't scared to death understood that they were adults who didn't have to report their comings and goings to her.

She dashed into her room for her cell phone, punching in the emergency number as she ran down the stairs.

"They're on their way. You're the second caller," the dispatcher said tersely. "Get out of the house now."

There was smoke in the kitchen and the sunroom, though Lucy didn't see flames anywhere as she burst out of the house. Kelly was in the driveway, and Lucy cast a wild gaze around. "Where's Gert?"

"I couldn't find her," Kelly said. "She must have gone over to Sims's. Her car's gone."

"No, she didn't. She's still not feeling that well, plus she'd have said something if she left. You know she would have."

"Her car's gone, Lucy." Sharpness and weariness laced through Kelly's voice. "It's gone. She's got to be all right. I checked her bedroom and bathroom and she wasn't there. She's probably-"

"No." Panic washed over Lucy in a wave accompanied by nausea that would have brought her to her knees if there'd been time. Oh, G.o.d, please, please, pleasepleaseplease. "Crockett and Boone have her car. She has to be inside. Wait here."

And she ran back into the house.

"I can't believe we played cards this late." Boone yawned. "If Gert catches us coming in, we'll be grounded."

"Nah. You're not driving, so she won't care. She trusts me." Crockett turned off the River Walk to head through the three blocks of Taft's downtown. "Do you hear sirens?"

"No." Boone rolled down his window. "Yes." He listened. "Lucy's got me as paranoid about fire as she is. Sirens even make me jumpy in Chicago."

Crockett didn't answer, but he pushed his foot down on the accelerator to go through a yellow light and didn't slow down even when he made a hard left onto Twilight Park Avenue.

Boone didn't see flames, but smoke was rolling from behind Tea on Twilight. When Crockett turned into the driveway, the headlights lit immediately on Kelly. She wore pink pajamas and had the garden hose in her hand. She was spraying the house.

Before the car came to a complete stop, Boone was out of it, sprinting across the drive to his sister. "Where's Lucy?" he demanded. "And Gert?" When she didn't answer immediately, he shouted, "Kelly! Where are they?"

Her eyes were wide with horror when she turned to him, part of the water shooting uselessly at the gra.s.s, the rest tumbling to her bare feet. "I couldn't find Aunt Gert, so Lucy went back in and she hasn't come out. When I tried to go in again, I couldn't get past the smoke. She hasn't come out, Boone. She hasn't come out."

"Oh, G.o.d." He grabbed the hose from her, soaking his shirt with the water. At some level, he felt his sister clutch his sleeve, but he pulled away and went into the house, holding his wet shirttail over his mouth. "Lucy!" he yelled. "Gert!"

Panic roared through his voice, the sound rushing in his ears. His heart felt as though it were trying to burst through his chest. Stay calm. Stay calm. Oh, dear Jesus- "Lucy, where are you? Gert!"

He moved forward slowly. Even as adrenaline surged, so did terror. He prayed in a silent, trembling voice. I'll go, G.o.d. I'll go. I'm scared and I'm not worth a d.a.m.n, but if they can be safe, I'll go. You have Maggie. You have Mom and Dad and Lucy's folks. Please don't... "Lucy!" he shouted again. Or tried to. Smoke was splintering his voice.

He moved again, b.u.mping the corner of...something with his hip. Where was he? What had he run into? He tried to judge how far he'd come into the kitchen and which direction he was going. "Aunt Gert, where are you? Lucy?"

At least if he lost her...them...he wouldn't have to learn to live with that new emptiness, because he wasn't leaving the house without them.

Crockett, I hope you're praying-you're a priest so He has to listen to you, doesn't He? Take care of Kelly, okay?

Boone was losing focus. Not consciousness, because he was still thinking, still praying, still scared-oh, h.e.l.l, was he scared-but he was lost in the maelstrom of smoke. Lost. He didn't know where he was. His throat hurt. His chest hurt. It was...oh, holy s.h.i.t, it was hot. And he couldn't find them. Despair tore a jagged trail through him, the pain so acute he nearly doubled over with it. Instead, he went to his knees. "Lucy?" he rasped. And again. "Lucy?"

"We're here."

Lucy's voice was close, but when he tried to pinpoint its source, the smoke was impenetrable-he couldn't see anything at all. G.o.d, what did they do in the movies when there was a fire? Why hadn't he taken cla.s.ses on what to do or at least paid attention when someone told him? Noise. Yes, noise. "Bang on the floor so I can find you." He was afraid to breathe, even more afraid he'd pa.s.s out if he didn't.

Something thumped the hardwood floor and he went toward the noise-at least he hoped he did-and nearly tripped over Gert. "She's unconscious." Lucy was there, her voice hoa.r.s.e and barely audible. "I did something to my ankle. I can't walk. Take her out and I'll crawl behind you."

Boone drew Gert into his arms, one arm behind her knees. What if she was more than unconscious? What if she... Please, G.o.d.

"Here." As he had for two thirds of their lives, Crockett showed up at Boone's side. His voice was low and calm. "The experts are right behind me. Let's make a chain. Stay down-" he pushed Boone back to his knees when he tried to rise with their aunt in his arms, "-we'll pa.s.s her man-to-man."

It was probably less than a minute later that Boone carried Lucy outside, followed and supported by a firefighter, but it felt much longer. A lifetime longer. Emergency medical technicians were already lifting Gert onto a stretcher for transport. There was a mask over her face, and Boone exchanged a look of dread with his sister and Crockett.

"I'm fine." Lucy drew his attention by arguing with an EMT in a raspy voice. "Put me in a chair and go to the hospital. Take care of Gert."

"Pardon me, miss." The technician shook her head. "You need to go too. Smoke inhalation's nothing to mess with. Your family can follow the ambulance."

Boone met Lucy's eyes in the harsh light from the vehicle. It was like seeing a scream. "Go. Take care of Gert for us till we get there." That would make her go. He knew now-if he hadn't before-that there was nothing Lucy wouldn't do for Gert Taylor.

A black Blazer parked in front of the house and Tom Simc.o.x and Micah Walker got out, running up the driveway to where Boone stood. He ignored them, watching helplessly as the EMTs aided Lucy into the ambulance.

Crockett came to his side, grasping his arm. "Can you stay?" he asked the newcomers. "We need to go to the hospital with Gert and Lucy, plus idiot-man here needs to be checked out, too."

Micah waved them away. "We'll call Eli. He'll meet you there."

Boone got into the back seat of Gert's car. Eli? Why would they call Eli?

But then he knew, and the knowing increased the horror he felt. Eli was Aunt Gert's minister. He would need to be there if she was dying.

Chapter Seventeen.

Twilight Valley, the community hospital, was small. In serious emergency cases, patients were stabilized and transported to Lawrenceburg or Cincinnati-there were no specialists on staff at the Valley.

Gertrude Taylor didn't give a good d.a.m.n. She wasn't wearing one of those gowns that gaped open all the way up the back, she wasn't going to be quiet and by G.o.d she wasn't going anywhere. Except home, that was, thank you very much.

Lucy, her ankle wrapped in a bandage and throbbing nicely, felt relief flowing through her in spite of the pain. Anyone able to complain as much and as loudly as her business partner surely couldn't be too sick.

"It's bronchitis, is all," Gert wheezed. And coughed. Her face, already an unbecoming shade of pale, grew even more ashen.

"What were you doing in the den, Aunt Gert?" Kelly asked. She stood beside her aunt, rubbing a trembling hand up and down her arm. Up and down. "We all went to bed at the same time, but then, I couldn't find you. Thank G.o.d Lucy did, but what were you doing there?"

Maria Simc.o.x picked up Gert's other hand. "You going to tell your family or am I going to accidentally let it slip in front of them here and have you go to all the trouble of suing me for not respecting patient confidentiality?" She laid the thin hand on the coverlet. "You can, you know. Kelly's my lawyer and she's real good so I'm pretty much fearless."

"I'll tell them when I want them to know." Gert glared at the circle of faces.

"That should be any minute now, right, Aunt Gert?" Boone asked easily, standing at the foot of the bed with Crockett.

They were shoulder-to-shoulder, both still filthy and wet, their arms crossed over their chests. Lucy wasn't sure she would have argued with either of them. "All right, all right." Gert's glare was gone, replaced by a sulky expression. "I love you children."