Meeting Cecilia
Miz Cecilia Hardin rocks! I say she's the one to watch for a surprise twist. There's lots she doesn't let show.--Maer
Sunday, 07 Aug 2011
Adams County General Hospital
Natchez MS
0600hrs, local time
Dawn was fast approaching, the sky already brightening in the east when Irina pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine. She'd left the hospital at three to grab a nap and a shower at the B&B but resolutely returned to stand watch on Caroline. Irina had lost count of the times she'd done the same for a fellow officer gravely injured in the line of duty. Everyone in the precinct pulled together. They traded shifts, stood guard, and spelled the family members to allow them to eat and sleep. They kept watch and waited until the patient recovered. Irina had already established a rapport with the nurses, had gotten their names and their shifts. Beside her in the front seat was a box of coffee from the local Starbucks and two dozen low-fat blueberry muffins. It should be more than enough to gain her entrance outside visiting hours. If it wasn't ...
After all, you aren't family, DiSanti. Just a friend.
If it wasn't, she'd deliver up the caffeine and the baked goods anyway. If cops regularly went without sufficient food and sleep pursuing their job, hospital staff got by on even less, and the offering would be welcome. She hauled out of the car and walked straight over to ICU, nodding at the people she'd come to know.
"Hi, Janine," she said softly to the head nurse at the desk. When Janine looked up from the paperwork, Irina held up the coffee and the muffins. "I brought breakfast."
The hunt for cups was short but the appreciation was long. Irina refused all offers of repayment and stepped back until the flurry around the coffee and the muffins subsided. When she and Janine were alone again, she asked, "Anyone with her right now?"
"Miz Hardin's in there right now," Janine replied quietly. "Miss Mary Alice went down to the cafeteria to see if she could find some tea." There was a hesitation. "I'm sure you're welcome to go on in, though." She wasn't, but perhaps Miz Hardin could use the company.
The heart machine was beeping a steady rhythm, and they'd taken her off the ventilator at least. Its whooshing was absent from the sounds of the room. The lights were dimmed within, too. Even were the lights more harsh, the elderly woman would probably look amazing, though. The face that turned toward Irina as she entered was rounded, softened with a bit of extra weight, and her skin was very smooth. Considering that this woman was Caroline's grandmother and a quick mental calculation would have to put her in her mid-seventies, she gave every evidence of the same kind of genteel grace that Caroline tended to exude. She sat in the chair next to the bed with one hand tucked into Caroline's while the other had a crucifix twined through it. She'd been working her way through the prayer beads when the door opened. Offering a gentle smile, she gestured for Irina to enter. "Good morning, my dear," she said. "Is there somethin' you needed?"
"Good morning, Miz Hardin," Irina said, her manner instantly subdued, voice hushed as if in church. Hospitals did that to people. She drew closer and took in the woman's fatigue, the wilt in her clothing. Even so, the Hardin matriarch was every inch a calm and collected woman. "Can I get you anything, Ma'am? Coffee? There's fresh just outside."
"Thank you, dear," Cecilia Hardin said. "My daughter went down to see if she could find me a cup of tea." The drawl of the South was deep though delicate in her words. As if perhaps the heavy stereotypical one had perhaps been bred out of her speech as too low-brow. "Are you a friend of Caroline's, then?" she queried quietly. "So many of her friends have been slippin' in and out at odd hours, I'm afraid I can't keep them all straight." She tilted her head. "But I'm reasonably certain we've not met yet. I'm Cecilia Hardin." She didn't offer her hand, tied up as both were.
"I'm sorry. I've forgotten my manners. I'm Irina DiSanti, Ma'am." Irina drew the other chair in the room beside Miz Hardin and touched her arm briefly, the way one would offer another comfort. "Caroline is indeed a friend of mine and I regret I wasn't able to do more to fight off that dog when he bit her."
That was the story and she was sticking to it, no matter what her conscience had to say about it. Seeing the rosary brought back her Catholic school years with a heavy rush and Irina stifled the urge to cross herself. Instead she straightened in her chair and tucked her feet together under it.
"Prayer helps," Irina added. Dear God, please let it help. She's too damned pale. Caroline slept on, pallid and insubstantial, oblivious to the noise from the machines. "It's been years since I've done this on behalf of a sick friend," she continued, fibbing only a little. "But I think I still know the prayers. If it wouldn't offend, I'd like to offer mine."
Cecilia Hardin missed little, her eyes sharp on the movements of the younger woman. "You are, of course, most welcome," she agreed graciously. "I have only the last three to work through." And thus she went back to her prayers, aloud this time to allow for Irina to pray along. She said them at a speed that indicated intense familiarity but didn't in any way indicate obligation. She was working her way through to rosary devout in her belief that it would help. Her granddaughter's sleep continued uninterrupted and it was only when she finished the last of the rosary prayers that Cecilia set the beads in her lap. When they became visible, they became fully visible -- and it became clear that the reverence wasn't merely for the spiritual value but also for the material value of the string of beads. The 10-bead sets were pure deep green jade while the single beads were pearls. Very very old pearls by the luster they evidenced.
Caroline's grandmother turned to Irina then, and she said, "So Irina DiSanti. Tell me how you met my granddaughter," she invited.
Irina recited the closing Hail Mary and Saint Michael’s prayer resonated for her in a way she hoped it never would for Cecilia:
Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in the day of battle. Be our safeguard against the wickedness and the snares of the devil. May God rebuke him we humbly pray and do thou O Prince of the Heavenly Host, by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl throughout the world seeking the ruin of souls.
She opened her eyes on the final “Amen” and saw Cecilia watching her shrewdly. Irina didn't shrink from the woman's scrutiny but let her look her fill and when Cecilia inquired Irina answered without hesitation.
"I met her in June. I'd come down for a job interview and had spent the day exploring. She kindly welcomed me to Natchez and offered me some good advice on living here. We shared about ten minutes of conversation and iced tea on the porch of the Cabbage Rose and then we went on our way. When I was offered the job, I decided I liked it here on the strength of her testimony. She and I met again and have been friends ever since. It's hard to believe it's only been a month. I feel as if I've known her for much longer." Irina bit her lip and looked again at Caroline. "God willing, she'll be with us even longer still.” She turned back to Cecilia and told her the unvarnished truth. “I don't have many friends here, Miz Hardin, and I've said goodbye to far too many back home. I don't want to say goodbye to her, too."
The elderly woman seemed to consider Irina's response for a time and nodded slightly. "It's my understandin' that you did everything humanly possible to help save her. Although young Mason seems... less than thrilled with any of you just now, I figure he's feelin' a mite helpless, and when men feel helpless they have a tendency to roar and pace about like an angry lion with a thorn in its paw." She offered Irina a small smile. "Personally I think it's about time Caroline got her head out of her behind, but that's just my opinion." She reached out and patted Irina's arm. "Don't fret, sugar. Caroline'll be right as rain in a few days. The good Lord's not ready to deal with the likes of her at the pearly gates as yet."
"Yes, Ma'am." Irina breathed a laugh, despite, and glanced down at her lap again. What was it about Cecilia Hardin that made her so formidable? Hell, I haven't been this intimidated since ... Sister Regis in seventh grade English. They have a lot in common. It was an unexpected bit of whimsy and it warmed her smile when she looked up again. "I doubt Saint Peter is, either. Pardon me for saying, Miz Hardin, but Caroline has always struck me as a serenely competent woman. Your comment about her head doesn't seem like the Caroline I know but then again, I've only known her for a short time." If I can get her talking about Caroline, maybe I won't bolt out of here. Jesus, but she and Sister Regis would have made quite the pair.
Cecelia chuckled. "Oh she's competent. Not sure the girl's ever met a task she hasn't conquered if she felt like it. But she had an opportunity once to have a life full of love, laughter, and fun -- her mama would have pitched a blue hissy at first, of course, but I have always thought that young McAllistar boy was good for Caroline. Kept her from turnin' out like her little cadre of debs with the sprayed hair and all." She shrugged. "Mary Alice tells me they're gettin' married." Cecilia's tone was fond. "I think they'll do quite nicely together, now that Caroline's all done with the noble sacrifice part of her agenda."
She glanced at Irina and gave a dignified snort. "Some days, I swear I think she thought she was livin' in one of her books." Cecilia glanced toward the door, a wicked twinkle in her gaze. "She thinks I'm too old to enjoy her novels -- it amuses me to let her keep her illusions about old folks. We were all young once, sugar."
The mental image of someone as dignified as Miz Cecilia Hardin reading the smutty sections of a bodice ripper--or for that matter Sister Regis, bless her soul--was too much for Irina's reserve and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. When she got a grip, she sighed and said, "Yes, Ma'am. And if we're lucky, we'll live to be old enough to appreciate it. Do you have a favorite? Novel that she's written, I mean. Sorry. I'm usually not this inept at conversation. Hospitals just turn me a thousand flavors of suck."
Tilting her head at the cop, Cecilia just laughed outright at the shock on Irina's face. "You'd think y'all are the first ones to discover sex, I swear. Where do y'all think you came from? Your brain doesn't change that much as you age, sugar -- all those dirty thoughts and all those naughty words and all those wishes and dreams? They stay," she said gently. "You just learn that some of them will be just that -- dreams and wishes and dirty little thoughts. With the occasional 'shit!' thrown in for good measure." she nodded sagely, sharing the secret of the ages with Irina with that twinkle in her face. "I think her most recent one is my favorite, though. She called it Chance. The main character was named after her grandfather, and I think he'd have been flattered."
Cecilia paused, thinking back through the decades. "Chance Hardin was one of the first Navy frogmen. What they call SEALs now," she confided. "I don't know if Caroline even knows that, honestly. He's been gone a lot of years." There was sadness when she spoke of her husband, but pride and affection as well. "I think the main character was very well fleshed out and that my Chance would have been proud for that one to share his name." Her smile was nostalgic, though her topic of conversation remained in the present time. "Caroline's book follows the main character on quite the rollicking adventure, rescuing an AP Wire reporter who was grabbed in the middle of Afghanistan. They have a torrid night on the way out, which was a little fast and wild for my taste at first, but he turned out to be quite the stand-up man. Couldn't forget her. And then she came to him later for help with a story. It's a military thriller and a romance all in one. I loved it."
"That sounds like a good one," Irina said meaning it. "I have trouble sleeping nights and I tend to go through books fairly quickly as a result. I'm always looking for something new to read. As for Caroline's grandfather, he sounds like someone I would have liked to have met."
Cecilia's smile remained sweet, and she simply nodded at Irina's comment. "He was a good man," was all she added. Her gaze went back to her granddaughter. For all her assurance to Irina that it wasn't Caroline's time, the old woman was concerned. Her hands worried at her beads once more and her lips held a faint frown. "When she first went deaf she was devastated," she confided quietly. "She cut everyone out of her life... even family. She would write and call me and Mary Alice, but... she tried real hard to cut all ties so no one would know what happened to her. When she finally said she was comin' home again, I thought all my prayers were answered." She bit her lip. "She's my only granddaughter. Mary Alice's sister only had two boys. There are so many things I want to tell her. God sometimes has a cruel sense of humor."
"He does," Irina agreed. She bit her lip and taking a chance, she shared her thoughts on it. "It's easy to get complacent when you think you have everything set up the way you like it, when you've got everything all figured out. And then He hits you when you least expect it and you're forced to reassess. Try to figure out where you went wrong. But that's intellect talking and talk comes pretty cheap. When you get right down to it, when you're staring at what you've got left, you can call it quits or you can believe He hasn't given you anything you can't handle and you carry on. That's faith and you sometimes have to fight for it. Caroline doesn't strike me as a quitter. Neither do you. When she wakes up, tell her what you've always meant to say. Maybe it's God's way of getting you two together so you could tell her and she could listen."
Of course, the irony of telling a deaf woman what one wanted her to hear wasn't lost on Irina and she hoped it wouldn't seem cruel to the woman sitting beside her. Irina hadn't known what to expect when she first walked in but she found liked Cecilia Hardin. She had spirit and she had class and Irina sensed a lively and observant mind behind her Grand Dame bearing. Had they met under different circumstances, Irina knew her impression of the woman would have remained the same and that she would still rather be Cecilia's friend than her enemy.
The older woman's smile was amused on Irina. "You're goin' to be good for our Caroline as well, aren't you, Irina?" It wasn't really a question. It was more a warning, a statement of how things would be or she'd know why before the day was out. Cecilia's sweet-faced demeanor and calm had fooled a great many people into thinking she was nothing more than someone's grandmother. But she hadn't handled the Hardin's money singlehandedly for nearly half a century without a great deal of savvy behind that matronly facade. "It would be wise of you to make certain that you and the McAllistar boy come to terms," she added mildly. "Caroline thinks highly of his opinion."
The door opened and Mary Alice Thibideaux walked into the hospital room carrying a cup of tea. "I've got your tea, mama," she said, her eyes—so like Caroline's—took in the two women in the chairs thoughtfully. "Morning, Ms. DiSanti." She'd at least met the ex-cop, though only in passing.
"Yes, ma'am," Irina said, recognizing the warning. The whisper of command, she thought. This woman would have made an excellent military general or a police captain. Then again, it wouldn't surprise me if she's got one of each on speed dial. Aloud, she continued, "Though Mr. McAllistar might not believe me when I say it, I think highly of him and his opinion as well. Caroline's a lucky woman." She was prevented from saying more by Mary Alice's arrival, and Irina immediately stood and offered her chair. "Good morning, Mrs. Thibideaux. Would you care to sit down?"
Cecilia's smile lingered about her lips as her eyes turned toward the door. "Thank you, Mary Alice," she replied easily, taking the cup with both hands. She remained settled in her seat, her eyes turning back to her granddaughter while the other two spoke.
"Thank you, no," responded Mary Alice. She stood behind her mother, worried eyes on her daughter in the bed. "I didn't have a chance to thank you for saving Caroline's life, Ms. DiSanti. We owe you a great deal," she murmured. "If you ever need anything at all, you feel free to call on us at any time." Her eyes came back to Irina, a shimmer of tears held at bay by sheer will sheening her eyes. "There are no words for how grateful I am to you."
Knowledge of the truth weighed heavily on Irina's conscience and Mary Alice's gratitude excoriated rather than exonerated her. The sting of tears surprised her and she blinked them back.
Suck it up, DiSanti, or you'll queer it. Lie, and make it convincing.
It was the inevitable urge to explain what happened, to embroider on the story, and she'd nailed any number of suspects during interrogations with it. Irina shook her head, offered a wan smile, and told the truth. "Thank you, ma'am. You're very kind. If it wouldn't be presumptuous of me to ask, may I take turns sitting with Caroline while she's here? That way she won't be alone when she wakes up and it would allow you and Miz Hardin to eat and sleep." When, not if. Accentuate the positive.
Cecilia's smile lingered faintly and she took the tea from her daughter with an easy, "Thank you, Mary Alice." The serene expression belied the fact that the older woman seemed to not miss a trick. Something in the way she watched Irina perhaps gave away the fact that she saw the uncomfortable reaction, cataloged it, and filed it away for later perusal. She took the cup in both hands and sipped from it.
Mary Alice nodded immediately to Irina's request. "Of course you may," she agreed. "I've already made certain you're on the visitor's list whenever you'd like to come in." She paused. "Although to be fair, you might have to shove Mason out the door should he be the one sitting in here when you arrive. I don't believe he's left the hospital since you brought her in." She sighed heavily and shoved a hand through her hair, glancing at her unconscious child. There was a hint of pain in her gaze, the fear of losing her daughter, and some small amount of exasperation. "I'm thinkin', mama, that we might need to get that wedding planned out right quickly if his snarlin' and pacin' is any indication," she commented ruefully. "Seems like he's decided that he's about done had it with puttin' up with her hard-to-get act."
Cecilia merely quirked an amused smile, her eyes twinkling in spite of the weariness etched in her features.
God, yes, Irina thought. Sooner would be better than later. If only so that she can present a unified front against the sharks circling her. Irina wasn’t blind to the fact that Caroline would be valuable leverage against the Beauchamps Sisters and that Mason was leverage against Caroline. The Sisters might have won their play for the title of Prince, but things were by no means settled. It might take a few days or weeks or months, but inevitably alliances would shift again and parties with vested interests from outside Natchez might come looking to test the new Prince’s authority. Irina had seen it happen time and again in turf wars as a cop and for all that vampires weren’t human, they shared some traits in common with their prey. In that case, leaving either Caroline or Mason full-on mortal was tantamount to signing their death warrant.
As a cop, Irina took pains to protect herself and her teammates whenever possible. That habit hadn’t changed with her profession or venue: if turning was necessary to protect Caroline, then Irina was for it. That didn’t mean she didn’t have reservations about it but she would support Caroline’s decision to do it. She wasn’t sure where she stood with Mason but she didn’t wish him ill and would have his back for Caroline’s sake. You didn’t do Caroline any favors by playing rough with Mason earlier. But still, he’s ex-military and has seen combat. He’ll understand war. No, the real trick is keeping Mary Alice and Grandmama out of it.
It occurred to her that this might be the last visit Caroline would have with the two most important women in her life when she was still reasonably unchanged enough to pass as human. Best she left them to it. Irina gave Caroline’s blanketed ankle a soft pat and pulled one of her calling cards from her jacket. She penned her full name, cell phone number and sincere wishes for a speedy recovery on the back of the card before presenting it to Miz Hardin. As the woman in the room of the highest social ranking, Irina judged it would best go to her. “Miz Hardin, you and Mrs. Thibideaux have been very kind and I won’t soon forget it. Please let me know if there is anything you need. You can reach me at this number, 24/7. Call me and I’ll come.”
Cecilia set her tea down on the bed's tray table and reached out to take the card. Her free hand held Irina's and she looked up at the woman for a long moment. Whatever she saw there must have been good enough because she patted Irina's hand gently. "We will not forget what you've already done, child. I shall look forward to seeing you again when Caroline is feeling better." It was tantamount to a royal summons, and Cecilia released the investigator just as gently as she'd seized her. She returned to her vigil over the bed, and Mary Alice walked Irina to the door. There was a faintly puzzled expression to her features, her glance at her mother held a furrowed brow. The undercurrents were unfamiliar to her and she looked back at Irina as they reached the door. "Do call anytime, Ms. DiSanti." She smiled. "I'll be sure to send word when she wakes."
Irina wasn’t expecting the hand clasp but years of practice kept her surprise from her face. The older woman’s skin was soft and smooth but Irina could detect the steel that underlay everything about Cecilia Hardin. It was echoed in her eyes as she gazed long at Irina. It was a soul-searching look. Irina met it squarely and her experience as a cop stood her in good stead. When the woman released her, Irina gave her a respectful smile and a nod. “It would be an honor, Ma’am, to visit at your convenience. Thank you.”
Irina didn’t linger but took the hint and let Mary Alice walk her to the door. She could see Caroline’s mother was nonplussed at the unspoken conversation in the room and if she had been asked to describe it, Irina doubted she could. It was something more instinctive than intellectual and it would take her some time to nail it down. For the moment, Irina put as much reassurance and gratitude in her reply as she could. “Thank you, I’d like that. Please let me know if there is anything you need.”
With another smile and nod, Irina left. She didn’t stop until she was back in her car. Irina wilted over the steering wheel then and closed her eyes. I’m tired, God. So very very tired. Caroline would live. That much Irina managed to glimpse of her friend’s chart when she patted her ankle and for now, it was enough. Irina turned over the engine and drove her car to the Franklin Agency. It was the weekend and she would have the place to herself. She wanted the solitude to write her reports and think; and if she took a nap on the couch, no would notice or care.
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