Finding laura, p.18
Finding Laura, page 18
Robert considered his mother’s wisdom and consoled himself. He made peace with the fact that he and Miranda may not be able to conceive. Perhaps it would be for the best.
Now all he had to do was convince his wife.
Chapter 28
Gerald Knox checked his wristwatch for the third time as he sipped his bourbon, waiting for Justin. Tonight the small library was in use, so Gerald waited down the hallway in the Roosevelt Room. The walls, adorned with the identical cherry-wood panels of the library, did not evoke the same ambience without the shelves of books. Hunting trophies of deer, moose, and elk heads graced the walls as a tribute to President Roosevelt’s love of big game hunting. However, since no exotic animals lurked in the fields of Richmond, nor in the entire United States, The Club was forced to substitute trophies with representations of common herd denizens. Gerald despised the décor and regretted missing the vote to construct such a monstrosity.
Just as he looked away from the daunting moose staring at him, Gerald spied Justin in the hall.
“In here tonight.”
Justin slowed his pace and ducked into the room. “Here? Your favorite room, Gerald?”
Gerald frowned. “Library’s taken, much to my displeasure. Tell me, Justin, Did you vote for the dead-animal display?”
Justin poured a drink from the crystal decanter. He swirled the golden-brown liquid in his glass before taking a sip. “Actually, I voted twice. I forged your signature on a ballot. I knew you would be pleased.”
Gerald rolled his eyes. “Let’s cut to the chase. I despise this appalling atmosphere to discuss any topic. What world topic would you like to debate? The Russians and their threats?”
“Well, I asked you to meet me here to tell me about your cabin weekend. Did Miranda act out? Seem to recall anything? Anything at all?”
Gerald set down his glass. “Act out? Hmmm … You mean by constant complaining? Yes, then I’ll admit she did.” He flinched. “It was a horrible two days.”
Justin nodded. “Did she say anything about her last visit there?”
“No. Only her usual complaints. Bad weather. Mosquitos. Boredom.”
“Interesting.” Justin tapped his finger against his chin. “Nothing out of the ordinary?”
“Only one thing. She called out in her sleep. I checked on her. Seemed to have a bad dream. That’s about it.”
“Did she say what the nightmare was about? Any details?”
“No. I didn’t ask, either.”
“You know, in my experience, her subconscious may have recognized something during the day and tried to communicate its meaning to her while she slept.” Dr. Ames cocked his head. “So she said nothing about her nightmare? Not even the next day?”
“No.”
Dr. Ames reflected for a moment. “Doesn’t mean we can relax about the situation, though. Just because she didn’t say anything doesn’t mean she didn’t recall something.”
Gerald shrugged. “When is her next appointment?”
“Next week. We agreed to skip two sessions.”
Gerald turned in his chair to evade the moose’s stare and swallowed another quaff of bourbon. “Do you think she has any inkling? With her moodiness, her behavior is so unpredictable these days. I don’t trust her.”
“We can’t trust her.”
Gerald set down his glass and pointed at Justin. “Then you had better come up with something quick. Something to convince that lame-brain husband of hers to lock her up. They’re making plans to see that fertility doctor again. Once he gets his nose sniffing around, we’re doomed.”
“Don’t worry,” Justin grinned. “Miranda just needs another dose of my therapy.”
Robert sipped the last of his breakfast coffee. “Miranda, please be ready at twelve-thirty. I’ll be returning home to drive you to your appointment with Dr. Ames.”
Miranda poked her eggs with her fork.
“Miranda?”
“Yes, Robert. I’ll spend the morning filling out the health papers for the medical doctor. At least I’ll look forward to that appointment.”
Robert leaned to kiss her forehead. “Thanks, dear.”
Sally noted that Robert scrambled out the door an hour later than he usually left for work. She kept her notions to herself as she offered Miranda a refill of coffee. “More coffee, Miss Miranda?”
“Yes, please. Could you carry it into the den? I’ll complete this paperwork at Robert’s desk. There’s mountains of it to go through with this new doctor.”
“Prayin’ this doctor helps you with God’s will, Miss Miranda.”
“Thank you, Sally. All your prayers are welcomed. Lord knows, I’m going to need them all.”
Sally set down the cup and returned to the kitchen.
Miranda stared at the sheets of paper spread out on the desk. The preliminary information was easy to answer as she quickly jotted her name, address, and telephone number. She sailed through the next paragraph consisting of basic health questions pertaining to her height, weight, and age.
She flipped the page and the next question startled her: HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU BEEN PREGNANT? Dr. Swanson had never inquired about past pregnancies. There was Laura and … After a moment of deliberation, Miranda circled Once.
The remaining inquires centered on known hereditary factors and family health histories. The last section was an essay request: HAVING A CHILD MEANS _____. Miranda answered with one word: Happiness.
After she assembled the pages in order and returned them to the white envelope, she climbed the stairs to dress for her appointment with Dr. Ames. Opening her closet, she chose to wear a dark tailored suit with matching skirt. She secured her long wavy hair into a tight bun and concealed it under her hat. White leather pumps and her handbag completed her ensemble, and she walked outdoors to wait for Robert.
“You look so pretty, today,” Robert said as he opened the Pontiac door.
“As good as Jackie?”
Robert winced.
“So that’s a no?”
“Honey, you look better than Jackie. I’m glad you’re in a cheerful mood.”
Miranda adjusted her hat and secured a pin. “Don’t count on it lasting with the toad for company. I brought along the questionnaire. Can we swing by and deliver it?”
“Miranda, our appointment’s Friday. Certainly you can wait.”
“I can wait two days for Thomas, yes.”
Robert parked his customary distance from Dr. Ames office.
“Such a beautiful sunny day. It’s a shame wasting it sitting in his stinky office.”
“It’s a half hour, Miranda. I’m sure you can endure it.”
As they entered, Dr. Ames was at the counter chatting with his receptionist. He turned to face the Meltons. “Good afternoon, Robert. Miranda, won’t you please follow me?”
Robert nudged his wife and then sat amidst the tattered magazines. He choose the Time magazine since he had only read it four times.
Miranda immediately removed a cigarette from her case and lit it as she settled into a chair in Dr. Ames’s office.
“Nice sunny day, Miranda. Tell me, did you enjoy the weekend with your father? You look a tad refreshed.”
Miranda examined her perfect manicure after she lit a Commander and avoided eye contact with Dr. Ames. “Since you mentioned the weather, it was dreadful. All that rain made his cabin stink like the dreaded mildew that sickens me each time I’m in this office.”
While silently approving the shade of red lacquer, she dropped her left hand in her lap and puffed her cigarette.
“You detect a scent of mold here? In my office?”
“I always have.” Miranda scoffed. “It’s disgusting to tell you the truth.”
Dr. Ames pointed to the window. “But, Miranda. The office window is open. Can’t you feel the breeze?”
Miranda exhaled blue-gray smoke. “I feel the breeze.”
“For you to detect a mildew odor, there must be a source of dampness or rot. Tell me, what’s the source?”
Miranda tightened her lips around her cigarette and inhaled deeply. Smoke spiraled from her mouth as she fired her words at the doctor. “You. That’s what you smell like.” She hesitated before adding, “You didn’t know?”
“So, with the rain, it’s understandable that a seldom-used cabin would contain that scent, but my office?” He shook his head. “No.”
Miranda crushed her cigarette into the clean ashtray. The force of her tamping the butt jarred the glass tray. Her grasp prevented it from crashing to the floor. She leaned back into her chair and crossed her arms. “How long have you known my father, Dr. Ames?”
Dr. Ames usual poker face faded. “He says he knows me?”
Miranda uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “That’s not what I said. I asked how long you’ve known him.”
Dr. Ames fingered his tie. “Why … I … I don’t know him, I know of him, as everyone in Virginia knows who our senators are. Why do you ask? Are you confused?”
Miranda’s pursed lips spread into a grin. “Not at all. I’m only confused about Olivia Duncan. You know her, right?”
Dr. Ames withdrew his handkerchief and wiped perspiration beads from his forehead and the back of his neck. He loosened his tie. “Miranda, have you been taking your medication? You seem disoriented today. Perhaps I should hypnotize you with our remaining time, and that will help you put everything in perspective.”
Miranda gathered her purse resting on the empty side chair. “I think our time’s already up, Doctor. I only agreed to meet you today to let you know …”
“To let me know … what?”
Miranda stood. Her height towered over the doctor in an unfamiliar intimidating stance. She flipped over his hourglass and set it in front of him. “To let you know I’m on to you.” She tilted her head. “Good day.”
Dr. Ames sat in silence. The grin Miranda Melton had flashed before leaving his office frightened him. He had dealt with his share of psychotic patients, including those with dangerous criminal pathologies, but he had never experienced the vulnerability that her bitter glare had drilled into him.
He had warned Gerald against taking her to the cabin. With Gerald’s perceptions not as shrewd as his own, Justin was convinced Gerald had missed viable clues in his daughter’s behavior. The rain. The rain combined with the sealed cabin had produced a musty odor, which Miranda associated with Justin and his office. Had she been able to visualize him at the cabin? Somehow she had inferred a relationship between Gerald and himself. Had she fabricated a relationship between the pair based on the senator sanctioning her therapy? Gerald would have never confided in his daughter of the pair’s long-standing friendship. And Olivia Duncan? How had Miranda uncovered her name?
Justin Ames did not know the source of his patient’s revelations, but he quickly devised a plan. An unannounced early retirement began when he dialed his travel agent and spent the remainder of the day packing.
Miranda glowed. She had finally asserted herself in Dr. Ames’s office and much to her surprise, pushed him to defend himself. She had hurled the accusations she had intended, but she was not entirely satisfied with the results. After all, the doctor had not confirmed any of her allegations, but his expression corroborated her belief he was hiding something.
Now alone with Robert in the car, she repeated her earlier request. “Honey, please stop by Dr. Swanson’s office. I just want to drop off my papers to him. Maybe he can get started quicker if he has all that he needs.”
“Since you have them with you, okay. But just to drop them off. I must return to work. And it’s Dr. Mitchell now. Swanson retired.”
Robert drove south for ten blocks and parked.
Miranda wasted no time thrusting the envelope into Robert’s hand.
He parked the car and turned to her. “I’ll be right back.”
Robert entered the office and greeted Bonnie. “My wife’s eager for our Friday appointment. I’m just dropping off the paperwork.”
Dr. Mitchell caught a glimpse of Robert standing at the counter. “Mr. Melton, may I have a word with you?”
“Well, sure. A quick one. My wife’s waiting in the car, I have to get back to work. I’m just dropping off her questionnaire.”
Dr. Mitchell accepted the white envelope. “Do you have time to stop in tomorrow? Say about three? I want to speak to you.”
“But we’ll be here on Friday.”
“I’m requesting to speak to you. Alone.”
Robert glanced at his wristwatch. “Yes, all right. I have to run now.” Without waiting for Dr. Mitchell to respond, Robert exited and dashed to the Pontiac.
“All set?” Miranda asked.
“I guess so. We’ll know more on Friday.”
Miranda slid closer to Robert. “I can’t wait.”
Robert returned to McKinney’s to find John behind his desk discussing financing options to a young couple with three bored children threatening to dismantle his office.
A boy approximately seven years old flipped the wall calendar pages in manic motions until he managed to loosen it from the nail, and it sailed to the floor. The two younger children played hide-and-seek under the couple’s chairs.
“Robert, do me a favor. How about treating these wonderful kids to ice cream? A truck swings by every day. It’s due in about five minutes.”
Robert grinned through tight lips. “Sure, boss.”
Robert led the children outdoors. He reached into his pocket and withdrew three dimes. “Get what you want but stay out of the traffic. I hear the music now. Wait for him to stop.”
Ice cream. Laura loved vanilla with sprinkles.
Robert smiled at the memory. Just as quickly, his thoughts returned to Dr. Mitchell’s urgency to see him alone a day before his regularly scheduled appointment with Miranda.
Why alone? Had Dr. Mitchell uncovered the details of Laura’s death? Robert had answered his questions surrounding Laura’s death, except he had not elaborated on the quit breathing part. If Dr. Mitchell had doubts about Miranda’s mental state, he could refuse to treat them. Miranda would be devastated. Robert doubted she would ever recover from that blow.
“I’m requesting to speak to you. Alone.”
Robert reached into his pocket for the second time. He ignored the coins and retrieved his roll of antacids. Just as he chewed the second one, the children returned from the ice cream truck.
“I think your parents are finished. Let’s go find out.”
The two boys sprinted ahead.
The little girl, mindful of the double scoop of vanilla ice cream teetering in her cone, approached Robert and took his hand. “I like the sprinkles.”
Robert exhaled. “So do I.”
Thursday morning sped by as Robert hustled car sales. He had sold two Fords and one Chevrolet, which earned his keep as far as John was concerned. Robert chided himself. If only he had been this successful at the ad agency, he would have been promoted to senior executive instead of employee of the month on a lot with two employees.
Satisfied by Robert’s three morning sales, John agreed to allow him to leave early for his three o’clock appointment.
Anxiety, not a persuasive tongue, had been the reason for Robert’s success. Determined to keep his mind off his meeting with Dr. Mitchell, Robert rambled about options and features to fazed customers who appreciated his attention to details.
As three o’clock approached, Robert drove to the building he knew so well. He had always hated meetings with people in authority who hid their agendas. The principal, his coach, his father … none of those meetings had ever ended on a good note.
Bonnie greeted him.
“Hi. I’m Robert Melton. I have an appointment at three.”
“Yes. I know who you are.”
“Of course. Of course you do.” Robert stammered. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name.”
“Bonnie. Just have a seat. Dr. Mitchell will be with you in a minute.”
“Nice to meet you, Bonnie. I mean we met before, but … Well, I’ll just sit over there.”
Robert sat on the edge of the chair, his knees bouncing. He unbuttoned his suit and loosened his tie. He fidgeted until he caught Bonnie staring at him. Embarrassed, he sat upright and planted his feet firmly on the floor.
Robert raised his cuff and glance at his watch. The ten minutes he had been waiting seemed like an hour. Just as he wondered why doctors were always running late, Dr. Mitchell appeared in the waiting room.
“Robert,” Dr. Mitchell said. “Come this way to my office. Glad you could make it.”
After Robert sat, Dr. Mitchell offered him a cigarette, which he declined.
“You don’t smoke?”
“A little. Not really. My wife does.”
“I enjoy it. No harm in it really. Richmond’s built on tobacco leaves, my father used to say.”
Robert toyed with his tie. If the doctor meant to ease Robert’s anxiety by chatting with small talk, it was not working. Robert’s nervousness increased when Dr. Mitchell opened a folder and studied it.
Dr. Mitchell addressed Robert with an intentional gaze. “I’ve finally gathered the missing pages from your file. I see you provided Dr. Swanson with your child’s birth records to document your success.”
“Well, of course. Why wouldn’t we? It was the happiest day of our lives.”
Dr. Mitchell rested his cigarette in the ashtray and bit the inside of his cheek. “I’ve discovered a migrating factor that Dr. Swanson either overlooked or decided not to share with you. With him getting on in age, it’s hard to say.”
“You found what?”
Dr. Mitchell crossed his arms and leaned back into his leather chair. “I’m going to explain about blood types, Mr. Melton. You’re aware that a child’s blood type is determined by his parents, correct?”
Robert nodded.
“Both you and your wife have type O blood. Laura, the child, has type A.”
Robert interrupted. “I don’t see what that has to do with us conceiving another child.”
Dr. Mitchell picked up his cigarette and inhaled three short puffs. He blew forceful smoke from both nostrils before he spoke. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but, to be blunt, Laura was not your child.”
