Abbey Burning Love. Donan Ph.D. Berg
by Matthew’s Manufacturing.”
“That might not be helpful. A nice man, Mr. Gunderson has no strong Abbey connection. Gossip says he’s invested in the stalled housing project.”
“Didn’t realize. Maybe I should sneak questions to Alice.”
“Don’t ruin a friendship. Appointment represents the mayor adding a vote for campaign better housing pledge. If we’re to battle the rumored housing project after Dad refused their low-ball Abbey offer, you can un-dump Mark.”
Carol appeared calmer. But why shift into meddling with her love life? “What about Mark?” She coughed.
“Two things. He could be housing developer attorney. And, last week he spoke glowingly of you in Bull’s store. I see he’s had flowers delivered.”
Her sister’s mention of Mark sparked a dull headache. Melissa reached for the water glass, took a sip, and returned the iced water to the bed stand. “He and I don’t have a future.” No response from Carol. “Do you think any land developer would be behind or dropped hints to encourage The Abbey fire? Or ... or, that Mark’s entangled somehow?”
“Neither.” Carol tugged neckline upward. “Why? You think he’s out to get even in an underhanded way?”
“Maybe?” Carol’s piercing eyes fixated. “On second thought, no, he wouldn’t. He brought flowers.” Feeling uncomfortable, she folded the sheet end forward from under the chin. Left elbow bumped the pinned nurse call button. It banged the bedside, dangled loose, but the distress light didn’t activate.
“Did you tell him you’d see him again?” Melissa fixed a gaze on the door. “Now, did you?” Carol’s eyes continued a focus on Melissa while she clipped the call button to a pillowcase.
“Well, no. As I recall, the nurse sorta interrupted.” Melissa sighed. “It’s over between Mark and me. I haven’t led him on.”
“You need to be sure.” Carol gazed toward the room door and back. “I’m getting telephone calls where the caller hangs up as soon as I answer. All the caller ID says is wireless customer. Think my ex’s behind it. Can’t prove it.”
Melissa rubbed hands. The judge’s signature wet on Carol’s divorce papers from Stanley, a man Carol met in Chicago seven years ago while studying to be a beautician, a profession never practiced. “Mark’s displays of anger have been directed towards himself, not me or others. Wouldn’t judge him to be courageous or vindictive.”
“I’ll grant you that,” Carol said. “If anyone set The Abbey fire, they displayed supreme cowardice. Greed could’ve been a motive. And, Mark could earn a hefty fee for brokering an Abbey property sale.”
“That’s hard to imagine.” She coughed again and waved off a glass of water. Melissa heard the familiar lunch-cart wheel squeak. The jangle of metal trays and dishes ceased. A candy striper entered with a luncheon tray.
Carol pushed chair away from bed and stood, purse in hand. “Well, let’s plan a party to celebrate your release. Your coughs tell me we’re talked too long.” Melissa nodded. “Fluffy will be glad to see you. Never seen a Bichon walk aimlessly with head scraping the floor for extended time periods. Got a women’s fashion show lunch in a half hour.”
“I miss her, too. Thanks for the clothes.”
“Think about Mark. Bye.”
* * *
While toying with food, Melissa’s brain shifted into overdrive. If Carol met Rob, Melissa’s death or serious injury fears could be cast aside, however, she agreed with her sister he shouldn’t be counted within the circle of Abbey supporters. She shoved the half-eaten lunch tray to the bed’s edge for pick up.
Melissa reached for a restorative moisturizer initially created to heal parched, inflamed skin ravaged by cancer. Of its thirty plus ingredients, Melissa loved the lavender and licorice root. She applied it four times a day. After each facial cleansing, she followed doctor’s orders to play it safe and not apply makeup and held off on trying to obtain the Haberlea rhodopensis, a member of the African violet family, touted to accelerate cell turnover. Yet, she felt self-conscious when greeting well-wishers. Twice, yesterday and today, she’d been able to phone Father to tell him she loved him, however, she couldn’t really understand what he mumbled. She recognized the word Abbey.
The sharp voice from the hallway cautioning excited youngsters about running meant late afternoon visiting hours had started. She looked up when she heard knuckles rap wood.
“Bull, nice of you to visit.” He appeared to be an octopus with additional arms attached behind him. The identities became clearer as Bull shuffled forward to bedside. Steve and Rob waited barely inside the door.
“We were told to be quick,” Bull said, placing small box on nightstand.
Melissa gazed at Rob, his head bent forward shielding his bad eye. “You can all come in.” At a distance Rob looked great while she self-consciously counted three days since shampoo rinsed grit from blond strands. Reason slowed a kick-started heart. If he’d been at a table eleven rows from the stage near the kitchen service door, how’d he make it uninjured out of the ballroom? She delayed asking. Monday’s newspaper editorial urged better exit location as a survey of seat location and survival pointed out seventy per cent of those killed or seriously injured had been seated the greatest distance from the two flanking stage exits. She recalled the kitchen had an exit on the far side accessible only to those physically in the kitchen. Enough. Be thankful. Steve and Rob had taken one step forward. “Believe me guys, I’m not infectious.”
“We only wished to see how you were doing,” Steve said. “Lisa sends her best.” He edged three half steps toward Melissa. Rob stood motionless.
“Rob, Carol relayed your kind wishes for me and our father.” Melissa bit her tongue and didn’t mention The Abbey restoration. If a fight loomed with the zoning commission, she couldn’t win it from a hospital bed. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied without changing his position.
Melissa’s renewed scrutiny didn’t alter conclusion Rob exhibited no physical effects of having been inside The Abbey when the explosion occurred. If he left before the fire, that would explain why she hadn’t seen him from the stage. Every recent gala had ten or so ticket purchasers who arrived for a brief cameo appearance and then scrammed. Wasn’t uncommon and would explain napkin on chair. She berated herself for not being more aggressive. For example, she could’ve asked Sarah if she’d seen him park his car or walk to the entrance. Nevertheless, logic told her a “no” answer would be inconclusive for he could’ve walked from City Hall and entered through the chapel front doors. She sighed, not wanting to question Rob like he was an arson suspect with Bull and Steve present. Or, display romantic interest. While she still desired to learn who’d rescued her, the goal slid to number two.
“You guys stopping really appreciated. Perhaps you could do me a favor?”
“Sure,” Bull and Steve said in unison. Rob expressionless.
“I’ve been overwhelmed with plants and flowers.” She glanced at each, lingering the longest on Rob. “Would you each take two to the nurse’s station? Ask the supervisor for directions to deliver them to other fire patients who may be gladdened. Please leave me the card to remember to thank the giver. Start with this bouquet of daisies and carnations on my nightstand.”
“Saddle up nursery caravan.” Bull flashed huge grim. “We’ve job to do.”
She heard without acknowledging Rob’s good afternoon mumble before he trailed Bull with two plants in hand. The clock ticked toward supper as Melissa greeted three neighbor groups for short visits.
The last allowed visitor walked in stiffly. A teenage girl wearing a red bandana hugged a mother’s waist. Versed in the girl’s history of repeated hospitalization for tests and cancer treatment, Melissa recognized and deeply appreciated the girl’s extraordinary