That answer made even less sense.
Before I could ask another question, Arthur turned toward the kitchen.
“Have either of you eaten today?”
“We had toast,” Annie said.
I looked at her.
Half a piece of toast each did not seem worth mentioning, but Annie had always taken Grace literally when she told us never to exaggerate.
Arthur noticed my expression.
“Toast,” he repeated. “Anything else?”
“No, sir.”
He closed his eyes for a moment.
When he opened them, the sternness had returned, but it seemed aimed at himself rather than us.
“Sit down.”
“We should go home,” I said. “Grace doesn’t know where we are.”
“And someone is already on the way to see her.”
That frightened me more than it reassured me.
“Who?”
“Dr. Helen Mercer.”
“Is she a real doctor?”
Arthur actually looked offended.
“She ran the emergency department at St. Matthew’s for twelve years.”
Annie tugged my sleeve.
“That sounds real.”
Arthur almost smiled.
“She retired from hospital work last spring. These days she spends most of her time complaining that retirement is boring.”
He opened the refrigerator.
It was larger than the one in our whole kitchen.
I expected it to be full of expensive food, but most of the shelves were nearly empty. There were eggs, milk, cheese, apples, a covered bowl, and several containers marked with dates.
Arthur stared into it as though he had forgotten why he had opened it.
Finally, he said, “Mrs. Alvarez leaves soup on Thursdays.”
“It’s Tuesday,” I said.
“I’m aware of that.”
He checked a container.
“Fortunately, soup survives Tuesdays.”
He heated three bowls.
When he placed mine in front of me, I hesitated.
“We didn’t finish the garden.”
Arthur sat across from us.
“You found something I spent seventeen years believing was gone forever. I think we can call the account settled.”
“We didn’t find it for you,” I said. “It was just there.”
“Most important things are.”
I didn’t know what he meant by that either.
The soup smelled like chicken and herbs. Annie waited until Arthur picked up his spoon before touching hers.
That was something Grace had taught us.
Arthur noticed.
“Your sister taught you manners.”
“She teaches us everything,” Annie said.
A shadow passed over his face.
“Yes,” he murmured. “I suppose she would.”
There it was again.
Something in the way he spoke about Grace.
Not like a stranger.
I put down my spoon.
“How do you know her?”
Arthur looked at me.
For the first time since we entered the house, he seemed uncertain.
Then the telephone rang.
He answered immediately.
“Helen?”
His posture changed as he listened.
“What did you find?”
I stood.
Annie stood too.
Arthur held up one hand.
“No, they’re here with me.”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“Then bring her in.”
My stomach tightened.
“Bring her where?”
Arthur ignored me for a moment.
“Yes. I understand.”
He hung up.
“What happened?” I demanded.
“Your sister is dehydrated and has a fever.”
“Is she going to the hospital?”
“Dr. Mercer believes she should be examined properly. She’s arranging transportation.”
“We have to go.”
Arthur nodded.
“I’m taking you.”
Twenty minutes later, we were in the back seat of a black sedan that looked too polished for children with dirt on their shoes.
Arthur sat beside us instead of in front.
Nobody talked much.
When we reached St. Matthew’s Medical Center, Grace was already inside.
A nurse led Annie and me into a waiting room while Arthur spoke quietly with someone near the desk.
I hated waiting rooms.
They made every minute seem important.
Annie sat beside me, swinging her feet without touching the floor.
“Do you think Grace is mad?”
“At us?”
“For leaving.”
“She’ll be mad after she feels better.”
Annie considered this.
“That’s good.”
I understood what she meant.
If Grace had enough energy to be angry, then she was getting better.
Arthur returned holding two paper cups of water.
“Dr. Mercer says your sister has a respiratory infection and significant dehydration. They’re giving her fluids and medicine.”
“Is she going to be okay?”
“Yes.”
He answered quickly enough that I believed him.
My shoulders loosened for the first time all day.
“Can we see her?”
“Soon.”
