"Just get out."
"Hey, steady, Holly. There's no call to be so unfriendly."
"Do you want me to call Doug and have him throw you out?"
"Doug?Doug?I hope you're not serious."
Holly walked around the bed and threw open the door. Ned said,"Pfff,"and slowly shook his head, as if he couldn't believe that she really wanted him to go. "You know what Doug told me about you? Doug said that you were a real fun girl."
"I'll tell you how fun I am. I'm fun enough to call the police and make a complaint of attempted rape."
"Well, excuse me. Somebody with a disability like yours, I thought they would have jumped at the chance to have a good time with a good-looking guy."
"I'm deaf, Ned. I'm not a leper. Now go."
"Okeydokey. Your loss. But don't you try making any trouble."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that Doug and Katie both saw how much you'd taken a shine to me today, and if I was to tell them that you'd come on to me "
He climbed out of bed and came right up to her. He was reeking of sweat and alcohol, as if he had been drinking and masturbating to work himself up to invading her bedroom, and his penis was slowly sinking. He looked her in the eyes and said, "If I was to say thatyoucame intomyroom, just begging for it, and I'd behaved like a gentleman and sent you away and that you were just trying to be vengeful well, Doug and Katie and me, we've all known each other a very long time. We're likefamily. Who do you think they'd believe?"
He stood only inches away from her, swaying. "Am I speakings-l-o-wenough for you? You dou-n-d-e-rs-t-a-n-dme, don't you?"
"Get out," she repeated.
"Okay have it your way. But I'll tell you this: I never realized that being deaf lowered your sex drive. You learn something every day."
He lurched out of the room and she turned away so that she wouldn't have to look at his backside. She closed the door behind him and locked it. Her heart was thumping against her ribs as though somebody were knocking a tennis ball against a wall. She sat down on the foot of the bed, her hands clasped tightly together. She felt like crying but she was braver than that, and in any case she couldn't find any tears.
Holly Tells a Lie
"Sorry that your daughter's sick," said Ned, smiling, one hand raised to shield his eyes from the morning sunshine. "Hope she gets better real quick."
Holly stood by while Doug lifted her weekend case into the back of the Voyager. Katie came up and gave her a hug and a kiss and said, "Give Daisy our love, won't you? I'm sure she's going to be okay." Holly climbed into the front passenger seat and Doug shut the door.
They drove back toward the main highway with the sunshine flickering between the trees like a zoetrope. After a while Doug said, "Everything'sokay,isn't it? I mean, between you and us."
"Sure, everything's fine. I'm worried about Daisy, that's all."
"Well, of course you are. What happened to you when you were young-I guess it tends to make you doubly anxious anytime Daisy runs a fever."
They reached Interstate 84 and headed back toward Portland. "I'm sorry I spoiled your weekend," said Holly.
"Hey, don't even think about it. I'll be back at the lake by twelve. Plenty of time to get some fishing in.
He offered her some gum, but she shook her head. He folded a stick into his mouth and said, "Ned's a great guy, isn't he?"
Holly told a lie.
A Weekend Alone
She spent the rest of the weekend alone, reading, watching television, varnishing her nails, eating pasta from the restaurant downstairs.
Now and then she went to the window and looked down into the street below. Once or twice she thought she could see a black, shadowy figure underneath the awning of the map and antique print shop on the opposite corner, but she was never sure if it was a figure or just a shadow. Sometimes it looked tall and jagged. At other times it flapped, like a dark overcoat blowing in the wind.
On Sunday afternoon she came across a quotation in the arts section ofThe Oregonian,a poem by P. J. Quint. It read, "Inside my cupboard I heard people talk, and laugh / Were they discussing me? I could not clearly hear / And so I stood, as minutes of my life went by / Listening in indecision, and in fear."For some reason she found this poem deeply disturbing and didn't want to go into the kitchen after that, or open a cupboard door.
That evening she went to bed early and treated herself to fresh pearl-colored nail polish, a bright green Lancôme face mask, and a bikini-line depilatory cream that smelled like burning carpet. After she had showered, she went to her bedroom window and looked out over the street. The lights of the city glittered in the evening wind. She saw three men arguing on the corner. One of them kept going away and coming back again, jabbing his finger in anger. She saw a woman hurrying along the sidewalk. The woman kept turning to look behind her as if she were being pursued. Her shadow looked like the shadow of a giant bird's wing.
The Doctor Is In
Holly had just taken a mouthful of sprinkled doughnut when Emma signaled to her from the switchboard. She went out into the reception area, sucking her fingers.
"Dr. Ferdinand, from East Portland Memorial," said Emma.
"Oh, great. You've told him that I can't speak to him in person?"
Emma nodded and said, "She's right here, Dr. Ferdinand. Yes, she says good morning to you, too, and thank you for calling back."
Holly said, "Ask him about Casper Beale."
"Oh, yes," said Emma. "Ms. Summers is interested in a patient of yours, Casper Beale?"
There was a pause, and then Emma turned back to Holly. "He doesn't have any patients of that name."
"A boy. An eleven-year-old boy, with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma."
"No, sorry."
"Is he sure about that? His parents are separated, so maybe he's registered under another name."
"He doesn't haveanyeleven-year-old boys with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. Nor eleven-year-old girls, either."
"But tell him I've met Casper Beale myself. He lives with his mother on Southeast Boise. They had an appeal for him in the media. His neighbors raised money last fall to send him to Disneyland."
"No. Sorry. Positively not."
When Emma had hung up, Holly stood beside her for two or three minutes, thinking. If Casper Beale wasn't a patient of Dr. Ferdinand's, then whose patient was he?
"Emma if I make you a list of hospitals with pediatric cancer units, would you call them for me and ask if they have Casper Beale on their lists?"
"Sure thing. What happens if they don't?"
"I don't know. I don't even want to think about it."
Suspicion
It was foggy when she arrived at the Heilshorn house early that afternoon. It was that dead-cold Portland fog that turns the city's eastern suburbs into a silent community of ghost houses, with ghostly cars rolling along the streets and ghostly children playing on the sidewalks.
The garage door was open so that she could see a Dodge station wagon parked inside, and there was a black late-model Lincoln Town Car parked in the driveway behind it.