A House Divided Read online

  A hand shot up, and Paul nodded in acknowledgment. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” a man with a walking cane asked.

  “I’ve already written to the chief of police about our availability to do that next spring,” Paul answered, “providing Dr. Simons plans go through on schedule, that is. I, for one, will be willing to head up the Watch efforts. I have a degree in journalism, and I’m more than willing to edit a newsletter for all who want to get involved. While all of us are working through our individual problems, of course, we’re more than willing to prove we can be good neighbors and find our way back into the community. Please give us that chance.”

  A murmur rippled through the audience. More applause followed and no one, not even Matilda Rivers, raised her voice in disagreement. Either the people here were managing to hold their doubts at bay, Rebecca decided, or they were slowly coming around to Mark’s way of thinking.

  Yet as she thought back to what had happened at the previous meeting, new doubts crept in. This is all going too smoothly. Real life just doesn’t work this way.

  Could the writer of the threatening note be here in their midst again today? Lurking somewhere nearby? And if the answer was yes, then why was he or she remaining so silent this time?

  Chapter Eleven

  “So what do you think about the meeting?” Missey asked Rebecca after they’d finished chatting with the patients and several of the neighbors. They were standing beneath the canopy that covered the refreshment table. Mottled sunshine from the overhead oak speckled the lawn.

  “I was impressed. I have to admit the patients’ talks really packed a wallop. I guess I’m beginning to realize that people are just people with the same basic human needs, no matter what.” Rebecca smiled to herself. The admission she’d just said aloud felt good.

  A gust of wind toppled a stack of paper cups, rolling them sideways across the table. White paper napkins lay strewn across the lawn, but Wendy, who’d volunteered to help with the cleanup, was dashing after them.

  “I was impressed too,” Missey said. “And when it comes to Mark, I think he has a gift.” She chuckled. “The gift of gab.”

  “That he does.” Rebecca chuckled also as she gazed over to where Mark stood talking with an older couple. Yes, his efforts today had indeed been productive. She hoped so, that is, for Mark’s sake. Still, try as she might, she couldn’t dismiss the memory of what had happened during the first meeting.

  Focusing back on Missey, Rebecca said, “Benny’s back in town. I spoke with him on the phone briefly before the meeting.”

  “Oh! Good news, I hope? He found another place for the filming?”

  “No, I’m afraid not.” The memory of Benny’s news washed over her again, dulling the warm feelings from the sunshine and pleasant conversation. “We’re going to get together tomorrow to talk more.”

  Missey, obviously distracted now, swatted at the mosquito that had landed on her arm. Apparently she wasn’t going to press Rebecca with more questions, and for that, Rebecca was grateful. During her association with Galaxy Productions, she’d developed enough business savvy to know not to speak too soon in public about matters that pertained to the company. Yes, sometimes discretion was the better part of valor.

  “Would you like me to take Wendy back home for an overnight?” Missey asked. “I can keep her for all day tomorrow, too.”

  “Thanks. I was just going to ask. That’ll be a big help.”

  “Well, believe me, it helps me out, too. Jodie adores being with Wendy, as you know. And now that the novelty of summer break has worn off, she’s getting so bored, I can barely find enough to keep her occupied.”

  Rebecca angled another look in Mark’s direction. Although he was still talking with a few of the folks who had gathered around him, he looked her way and flashed her a heart-stopping smile.

  She smiled back, struggling to still a fresh rush of awareness. Mark’s charisma was undeniable, and the more she tried to talk herself out of her feelings for him, the more powerless she was to squelch them. She longed to spend the rest of the day with him. The memory of his kisses still burned, causing a deep ache in her soul.

  “Did Wendy tell you about the youth group car wash?” Missey asked. “It’s going to be next Saturday in the parking lot at Safeway. Jodie wants Wendy to help out.”

  “Yes, that’s fine with me. Matter of fact, the car wash is all Wendy’s talked about the past few days.”

  “Jodie, too.” Missey chuckled. “If our daughters were old enough to be interested in boys, I might even start to get a bit suspicious about all this.”

  “Well, I agree. Eight does seem terribly young, but anymore these days, one never knows.” Rebecca brought a hand up to her mouth to suppress her own giggle. “Remember when we were just a couple years older and going to the middle school, and we both had a crush on the same boy? Let’s see, Cam Miller was his name, wasn’t it?”

  “Oh, please, don’t remind me.” Missey rolled her eyes. “Every time he called on the phone, we practically broke into a cat fight, trying to be the first to talk to him.”

  “And poor Mom and Dad. I think they were about ready to cut in on the line and tell him to quit phoning altogether.”

  They laughed again, then Missey helped Rebecca collect the remainder of the paper plates, cups, and napkins while Pastor Al collapsed the chairs and loaded them into the back of his pickup.

  After they’d finished cleaning up and Missey had taken Wendy upstairs to help her pack her overnight bag, Rebecca crossed the yard to where Mark still lingered. He was chatting with a young woman—one close to her own age, Rebecca guessed—with shoulder length auburn hair and a knockout figure. She was dressed in hip hugging black jeans and a white tank top.

  Judging from their body language, Mark seemed a bit on edge and the woman more than a bit defensive. Rebecca caught snatches of their conversation.

  “I shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place, Joan,” Mark was saying. “Bad call. We’ll talk about it later.”

  “Fine. But I just don’t get it.” The woman’s voice held a soft, southern twang, but the look on her face was sharp with annoyance. “Why can’t you understand?”

  Joan? Rebecca wondered. Had she ever heard Mark mention anyone by the name of Joan? And hadn’t the woman she’d heard Mark talking to in the backyard last night speak with a southern accent, too?

  Jealousy sparked inside of Rebecca, just a flicker at first, but she somehow managed to tamp it down. Get away from here, she told herself. Don’t allow yourself to eavesdrop one minute longer. She turned on her heel and strode up to the apartment, her thoughts racing. Why hadn’t Mark mentioned there was another woman in his life? And just who was this Joan, anyway?

  Be reasonable, that persistent little voice inside of her spoke again. Who are you to put such demands on Mark? His kisses might have been breathtaking, but in the long run, that doesn’t mean anything. No, it doesn’t amount to squat.

  * * *

  Rebecca’s misgivings faded when Mark asked her to go for a drive with him an hour later. With luck, that might give her a chance to ask about Joan, she decided. And maybe she wouldn’t have to ask. Maybe Mark would bring it up first—which would definitely be the coward’s way out for herself, she quickly reminded herself with a twinge of guilt.

  “I need to drop off some paperwork at the hospital, and then stop by my office to pick up the mail,” he explained. “Afterwards, let’s go somewhere and get a bite to eat. That’s the least I can do to thank you for all the help you’ve been.”

  A red flag went up in her mind. What? Was Mark’s only reason for inviting her to go with him because he felt he needed to say thanks? Was this just an afternoon born of obligation, nothing else? She squelched the thought.

  “I’d like that,” she said. In the dazzling sunlight, she caught sight of the flecks of gold in his eyes, the tantalizing sparkle that sent shivers down her spine. “Just give me a minute first while I change into something mo
re comfortable.” She gestured down at her blue floral sundress. “I’ll be ready to go in short order.”

  “Take your time. There’s no hurry.”

  Soon they were off, driving down the main street of town past the docks, boutiques, bayside cafes, and an occasional motel. Then they came to the open stretch of coastal highway that led to Northwestern Hospital in Coves Junction, about twenty miles away.

  To the west, gray-white sand, scattered with driftwood, met the white-capped shoreline. Puffy white clouds against cerulean blue painted an airy backdrop for the seagulls and crows that circled overhead. On the opposite side of the highway, Douglas fir and Sitka spruce stretched up from rocky outcroppings matted with Salal and Oregon grape.

  They shared snippets of small talk, discussing the weather, Pastor Al, and how much Wendy enjoyed playing with Bandit.

  “She still hasn’t stopped talking about how much fun she had last night,” Rebecca said. “Going to the beach was such a treat for her.”

  “That’s great to hear. And we’ll go back again, I promise.”

  Obviously Mark didn’t intend to talk about Joan without being prompted, so she had no choice but to ask. She inhaled deeply. “Mark?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Who was that woman with the auburn hair you were talking to?”

  “Today after the coffee hour?”

  “Yes.” She willed her voice to sound light. “The woman who seemed to want to monopolize your attention.”

  He let out a wry chuckle. “Oh, that was just Joan. She’s my receptionist at the office.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “We seem to have a difference of opinion about a few things, but I can assure you, there’s nothing to worry about on a personal level.”

  Somehow his words failed to soothe her disturbed thoughts. If there was really nothing to worry about, why then had the woman shown up at such a late hour last night? What had been so earth-shakingly important?

  They rode on in silence for a while longer. The tension hung between them.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” she said at last.

  He broke into a smile, and she felt herself relax. “Well, I’m not sure my thoughts are even worth a penny after a day like today. Seriously, though, I’m glad the meeting’s over. That’s two down now, and maybe no more to go. Hopefully it’ll all be downhill from this point on.”

  “I hope so, too, Mark. You’ve worked hard.”

  “Thanks. And yes, it will be great if all I have to do now is wait on the powers that be to give me the go-ahead. That and raise the rest of the necessary funds, of course.” He shrugged. “I guess I’ll soon find out.”

  She smiled again. “I was impressed with what the patients had to say. After hearing them, I feel so much better about the project and their living in the halfway house.”

  “I hope that the folks who showed up for the meeting feel that way too. It’s a big step to win their trust, not only for the patients’ sake, but for mine as well.”

  “So what about the people who hung around to talk? Could you get a sense what they were thinking?” She noticed a road sign up ahead. It read Day Use Park, 2 miles.

  “Yes, I did,” Mark replied. “Most of them were quite open. They had good things to say. Those who didn’t, I suppose, might have been the ones that rushed off afterwards.” He shrugged. “Who knows? As I said, it all boils down to trust.”

  “Yes, trust is everything.” She paused, swallowing hard. Just as I want to be able to trust you with my feelings, Mark. She longed to bare her soul to him, for she’d realized that little by little she was shedding her fear, her unfair perceptions of what it meant to be mentally ill. Indeed, perhaps she’d even come one step closer to accepting her late husband’s killer—not accepting what she’d done, necessarily, but accepting her in empathy as a fellow human being.

  Somehow, though, she couldn’t say it. It wasn’t that she feared Mark wouldn’t understand. He, of all people, would most likely be the first to. It was just . . . just, well, she wasn’t certain exactly what she was waiting for. Maybe the revelation she’d felt was simply too new yet. Or maybe she feared it was just a passing fancy, something that wouldn’t last.

  “Benny’s back in town,” she said. “I hate to say it, but he’s got bad news.”

  “Oh?” Mark glanced over at her.

  “Yes, Galaxy Productions has folded. They’ve just declared bankruptcy. Unfortunately, I don’t have any of the details yet. I should know more after I talk to him again tomorrow.”

  Concern sprang to his eyes. “I’m sorry, Rebecca. Is that going to affect you directly somehow?”

  “Only in that I won’t get paid now for helping find the place for the location shoot—or any future film shoots for that matter, of course. But now that I’m working at the Chamber, I’m sure Wendy and I’ll get by okay.” She hesitated. “I feel especially sorry for Benny, though. His work with the company is all he has.”

  “Too bad. What’s he going to do now?”

  “I’m not sure. I suggested that maybe he can get on somewhere else, but he insists he’s too old anymore for the motion picture industry.” She sighed. “As I said, I’ll be talking with him again tomorrow. There’s got to be something else out there for him.”

  “Any chance that Galaxy Productions will be acquired by another company?”

  “I don’t know. According to Benny, though, there doesn’t seem to be much hope.”

  Mark turned into a long driveway, through an open wrought-iron gate, and the hospital soon appeared. The semi-wooded, one-hundred-acre tract of land was hunkered above a rugged, rocky precipice and at first glance, the property seemed more a college campus or even a retreat center. Now the several old brick buildings, surrounded by sprawling lawns, loomed before them. The patches that lay in full sunlight had grown brown in the heat of the summer, while the greener portions beneath huge maples and fir were lush and park-like.

  Mark pulled into a parking spot and cut the engine. “This is the administration building,” he said, indicating a more contemporary building, a low slung structure made of gray concrete with ground-to-ceiling windows. “There’s a comfortable reception area right up front, and the coffee pot is always on, even on Saturdays. Want to wait inside?”

  “Thanks, but I’ll be fine right here.”

  “Okay.” He reached behind him for his brief case and said, “I’ll leave the AC running then.”

  “Thanks again.”

  He planted a quick kiss on her lips. “Hold down the fort. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

  Smiling, she watched him hurry up the short flight of steps that led to the entrance. His back was straight and strong, his gait purposeful, and as he climbed the stairs, he took two at a time. Soon he’d disappeared through the wide double doors.

  Rebecca laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. In spite of the cool air, she felt a little drowsy. It’d been an eventful day, filled with both uncertainty and satisfaction, and she’d arisen earlier than she needed to. Then, too, thinking about Benny and his startling news, she hadn’t slept more than a few hours throughout the night.

  She opened her eyes again. A gray digger squirrel scampered across the lawn, then shot up into the lower limbs of a maple, chattering. Rebecca smiled to herself, remembering how Bandit enjoyed chasing squirrels, although he certainly didn’t stand a prayer in hopes of catching any. Maybe if he were a cat, however . . . Her smile grew wider.

  A short distance away, two women were walking down the sidewalk, drawing closer. The first, a middle-aged woman, wore a much-too-large cotton dress with white anklet socks and worn sandals. Her hair was mousy, close-cropped, and stringy. A smartly dressed woman in a navy blue suit, carrying a clipboard, accompanied her. A patient, no doubt, with her caseworker?

  The first woman’s gait appeared more a shuffle, Rebecca decided as she continued to watch her. Hadn’t she once heard Mark refer to the “Thorazine shuffle,” the typical stride of patients who’d been medicated heavily on tr
anquilizers? At least the patients at the halfway house won’t have to be so . . . so . . . institutionalized, she thought. Yes, halfway houses, admittedly a growing trend, held a viable place in the world of progressive mental health care.

  Rebecca swept her gaze across the expansive lawns and the few randomly placed park benches. Then she looked again at the buildings where the patients were housed. Her eyes narrowed on the barred windows on the farthest building. A locked ward, no doubt.

  She suppressed a shudder.

  Unbidden, her thoughts slipped back in time. Her head throbbed as she stared at the front page of the Los Angeles Times. She focused on the photograph, a mug shot of August’s killer: her vacant eyes, the lines that creased her forehead like deep, mud-caked crevices in a dried-up stream. The woman’s mouth was tightly drawn and hair slicked back in a ponytail.

  Yes, the woman had claimed an insanity plea and she’d found favor with the courts of law. But why did her target have to be August? Why had she succeeded in following him after a rehearsal that frigid, moonless night in February, opening fire on him in the parking lot behind the studio?

  Insane or not, the woman’s senseless act was still unthinkable. Yes, crazy. That’s what it was. No, she was. As crazy and despicable as the people here behind the barred windows in the buildings that lay beyond.

  Don’t think about it! Don’t give into the memory, especially after all this time. Besides, what about the patients who attended this morning’s meeting? What happened to your new understanding for them, the compassion you’d experienced after you’d heard them speak, your willingness to put your fear and judgment aside? Will you toss it all away so readily, forsake it only after a few hours’ time?