Diane Davidson - Sticks & Scones

“Not sure,” I murmured, then, in a louder voice, thanked her for the clothes and for bringing the boys. I turned my attention back to Arch. His static-filled brown hair, thick glasses, and pinched expression gave him the look of a young professor whose experiments had all failed. He waited until the others had hugged and spoken to me before giving me another hug.

“Mom.” He kept his voice low. “Did they try to shoot you, too?”

“No,” I said lightly, trying to be matter-of-fact. Arch still suffered from the occasional nightmare, and I needed to reassure him.

“I’m sorry I lost my cool this morning.”

“It’s okay.”

It was not a bad apology, as apologies went. Obviously, he was afraid to ask about Tom yet. I answered the rest of their questions by giving the barest details of what had happened. Tom was almost certainly coming back to the castle the next morning, I said. The Hydes would just have to understand. After all, where else could we go?

We took turns seeing Tom. With his slack, jaundiced face, IV streaming under the bandage on his arm, and his heavy snoring, he looked and sounded terrible. At eight forty-five the priest from St. Luke’s showed up. He saw Tom alone, and then the five of us prayed together briefly in the waiting room.

At nine-thirty, a yawning Marla announced that the boys should come back with her to the Brown Palace. Arch protested that he couldn’t, that all his bags, clothes, and “stuff” were at Hyde Castle, and by the time they drove to Aspen Meadow, picked up his paraphernalia, and schlepped back to Denver, it would be morning and he’d have to leave for school. Julian jumped in to say he had a sleeping bag in his Range Rover and could drive Arch back to the castle. And, he added, he could find the castle at night with no problem. He was willing to sleep on a couch or even on the floor of Arch’s room, if the Hydes would allow it. Then he could take Arch to and from school and help with the historical cooking. “I’ll stay for as long as you want,” he concluded in a tone that brooked no argument.

“Thanks for the offer,” I told him. “But it’s up to the Hydes.”

Marla left to call Eliot and Sukie about Julian’s request to be housed at the castle. When she returned, she said she’d talked to Eliot, who couldn’t have been nicer.

“‘Yes,’ he gushed,” Marla said, imitating Eliot’s sonorous voice, “‘bring the injured policeman, bring the college student, we’ll have a grand household here just as they did in medieval times.’ He was slightly freaked out that you’d found the body of Andy Balachek,” she added. “Apparently, Andy used to come to the castle quite a bit when he was little, because his father, Peter-the excavator, do you know him? - rebuilt the Hydes’ dam after Fox Creek flooded. Eliot didn’t know ‘poor little Andy’ might be involved in illegal activity. So he’s spooked.”

“Great,” I muttered.

“Oh-kay,” Marla went on, “Eliot also asked if you would be able to cater the labyrinth-donor lunch in three days, on Thursday. The police should be finished with the crime scene by then, he figures. Oh, and the St. Luke’s staff is going to call all the donors, to notify them of the change.” She raised her eyebrows at me. “Eliot was also worried that doing both the lunch and the fencing banquet on Friday might be too much for you.” She grinned mischievously. “I knew you didn’t have any catering events until Saturday night’s Valentine’s Day dance. So I told him Thursday would be fine. Hope that’s okay. I also offered Julian’s services both days. The king of the castle,” Marla said with a toss of her head, “was able to retire in peace.”

“Wearing his nightcap, no doubt.”

“Are you kidding? Wearing a crown.” She frowned. “So you’re all right with that catering schedule?”

“Absolutely, thanks. Tom needs to rest. Julian and I can do big-time cooking. It’ll be good for us.”

“Really,” added Julian.

“Come on, guys,” Arch pleaded wearily, “I’ve got a ton of English homework, and I’ve got to use the binoculars to see what phase Venus is in. The teachers don’t excuse missed assignments unless you yourself are in the hospital. Maybe not even then,” he added glumly. Poor Arch!

We made sketchy plans. Elk Park Prep had a late start the next day, so if the hospital released Tom early enough, we might return to the castle before Arch and Julian left for school. After Tom was settled in our castle suite, I’d finally go home for the disk that had my recipes and notes on historic English food, plus information on how castles were run, and background on labyrinths - all areas Eliot had asked me to research. I’d also find a photograph of the Jerk, I added silently, for the benefit of castle security. Then Julian and I would plunge into finishing the planning and doing the cooking for the luncheon and dinner. Before the three of them left, we gave each other one last reassuring hug.

When they’d gone, however, I felt a flood of loneliness, as if the events of the day were just now catching up with me. I changed into the gift-shop sweat suit. But dozing on the waiting-room couch did not seem to be in the cards. The bright overhead lights, intercom announcements, and shuffling and buzzing of folks in the hall, not to mention my own awareness of each upcoming ten-minute visit, all conspired against it. Chardé Lauderdale, I found out from a nurse who was an old friend, had indeed been in with baby Patty for a visit to the neurologist. To my relief, Chardé did not appear again.

Finally, near dawn, slumber overwhelmed me. Bad dreams brought visions of Andy’s body in the creek, the crack of a gunshot, Tom falling toward me, his arms outstretched. The expression on his face… I unintentionally shouted myself awake, only to look up into the eyes of Captain Lambert. He’d brought me a still-hot, four-shot latté, bless him, made just the way Tom had once told him I liked it. Chilled and stiff from my restless night, throat sore, eyes gummed from crying, I gratefully sipped the rich drink. The captain waved my thanks away and pointed to a brown paper bag.

“I brought a department sweat suit Tom’s size. And we had your van towed up to the castle. Workmen’s comp is paying for everything, including an ambulance to take Tom back to the castle with you, unless you want to go someplace else. We’ve had lots of offers from his friends. Tom has lots of friends,” he reminded me gently.

“Thanks, but all my cooking equipment is at the castle, and I’m doing two events for the Hydes this week. If Tom’s up to it, I’d love to get out of here ASAP.”

Lambert obligingly pulled strings. I received my instructions about caring for him once he was released. Tom was discharged ten minutes later. That’s the great thing about cops. Even doctors are afraid of them, almost as much as they are of lawyers.

An orderly piloted Tom to the discharge doors and then into the waiting ambulance. Captain Lambert strode along next to the wheelchair and told me Boyd and Armstrong would be up to the castle that afternoon to talk to me. Once Tom was strapped into the back of the ambulance and the wheelchair was folded and stored beside him, I climbed in. A moment later we were bumping out of the parking lot.

“I’m sorry to put you through this,” were Tom’s first words. Nonplussed, I blurted out my own apology. How wrong I’d been not to leave that area by the creek when he’d told me to. How I shouldn’t have run to welcome him.

He shook his head. “I should have waited till backup arrived.” His voice was hoarse, his breathing labored. “Then you never would have jumped out. No… blame.” When he stopped talking, I knew better than to reply. “Andy,” he added fiercely.