The Guest List (8 page)

Abby nodded, then closed her eyes and concentrated on catching her breath.

Connor returned momentarily. “I would have called you if you didn’t call me, you know.” He took her arm and guided her through the snow to the sidewalk.

“No, I didn’t know.” As soon as she glanced up, she felt her feet begin to slide. “Help!” she cried.

Connor caught her and steadied her. “Just in case you’ve got any ideas, I’m not kissing you again tonight,” he said firmly.

She felt her face flame. Surely he didn’t think she’d purposely lost her footing to trick him into kissing her again. He did. She could tell by the way he was smirking at her. “Okay,” she said, remembering what Bunny had said about being careful not to come off like she was easy.

“Okay?” he asked, sounding hurt.

“Un-huh, okay,” she repeated, waving a hand. “Thanks for walking me back.”

“Yeah, sure. No problem. I’ll just wait here till you get inside.” She took a step forward, then glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Go on now,” he urged, “before I change my mind.”

“Connor?”

“Yeah?”

She turned around. “Close your eyes.”

The moment he closed them, Abby leaned closer and kissed him. “That’s so you don’t forget me,” she said, pulling away and holding him at arm’s length.

“Jesus, Abby,” Connor said, then turned and staggered down the walkway.

Minutes later, Abby was sitting on the second-floor landing, still wearing her coat and hat, when Bunny bounded up the steps. “Whoa. What have we here?”

“What we have here, Bunny Webster, is a young woman who has just been kissed and who is in love. My toenails caught on fire, I grew hair in my ears, and my eyeballs stood at attention. What do you think of that?”

“Wow!”

“He said he’s going to call me at home. Do you think he will, Bunny?”

“If he said he will, then he will. One kiss, and you’re in love?”

“Uh-huh. What about you and Kyle?”

“He’s a great kisser, but I’m not in love. The word
sex
hasn’t come up yet. How about you?”

“No. Connor wouldn’t even kiss me a second time. So, I kissed him,” she said with a giggle. “I’m pretty sure I left him wanting more. Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to go?”

Bunny laughed as she helped Abby to her feet. “Shift into neutral, girl. It’s too early in the game to fall in love. Let’s see if we can’t tempt Steve Logan to part with a few of his beers. I saw him sneaking some in earlier today. Who’s hall monitor this week?”

“Steve is.” Abby laughed. “Let’s go.”

Bunny Webster sat down in the hospital waiting area with Carol Mitchell and shuffled the medical research papers Abby’s uncle had given her. “From what it says here,” she said, looking down at the most recent article, “I have to wonder if Abby has made the right decision. This whole thing is pretty scary if you ask me.
Nevus Flammeus
or as Abby calls it, portwine stains, are small marks,” she said, reading from the article.
“Abby’s covers the whole side of her face. Surely, they aren’t going to laser the whole thing today, are they?”

Carol Mitchell puffed furiously on a cigarette she neither wanted nor needed. It was something to do with her hands. “They’re going to do as much of it as they can, which is just another way of saying as much as Abby can take. It’s going to be very painful. They’ll be burning her face. God, I want to cry. I feel so bad for that girl. Donovan, Mr. Mitchell, is up on all of this. He wouldn’t … he wouldn’t let Abby do this unless he thought it was the best thing for her. He loves her, as I do, just as though she were our daughter. The doctor doing the surgery is the best of the best in his field,” Carol said as she sat down on the bench with a thump. She lit a new cigarette from the stub of the old one and continued to puff.

“How bad will the scarring be if it doesn’t work?” Bunny asked in a tremulous voice.

Carol shrugged. “Young children react better and have a lower percentage of scarring. Most port-wine stains are not as large or deep as Abby’s. Donovan was against doing anything when she was little. Everything was still so experimental, and he didn’t want Abby treated like a guinea pig. One of the doctors in there is simply an observer. He’s going to be writing some kind of paper on Abby. It’s all for the advancement of medical science, so Abby okayed it. From what I read, there are a lot of different kinds of lasers, but Abby’s doctor thinks the argon laser is the best.”

Bunny consulted her papers again. “It says here that in 1980, these two doctors reported on a decade of work using that particular laser on three hundred twenty patients. Fifty percent were good, twelve percent were poor, and seven percent had scarring.”

“I read that, too,” Carol said. “The follow-up period is only four months, but I don’t think that’s long enough. I tried to explain to Abby and Donovan that more data is needed. They didn’t listen. Abby just wants to be normal, and Donovan wants
whatever Abby wants. I … I went to the library and did some research on my own. I found a test group that was followed for a year after the treatment. Mild to moderate scarring occurred. Depending on the density of the stain it was still visible plus the scarring. Knowing that, would you opt for this, Bunny?”

Bunny squirmed in her seat. “I don’t know. None of us has walked in Abby’s shoes. I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for her. She really doesn’t talk about it.”

“She never complains but I know when she was younger, she used to cry herself to sleep after I tucked her in.” Carol sighed deeply. “I guess I’m just a worrywart. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for that girl. Nothing.”

“Is Mr. Mitchell going to stay with Abby through the procedure?”

“No. He just wants to make sure everything is okay, that Abby is wearing the protective goggles.” Carol put out her cigarette. “This can’t be much of a holiday for you, Bunny. Since there’s nothing either of us can do, why don’t we talk about something else? Tell me about college life, and if it isn’t a secret, who is Connor Bradford? He called after Donovan left with Abby for the hospital.”

“He’s a friend of Abby’s. A real nice guy. He … he doesn’t care about the mark. Once he caught Abby trying to turn away because she was embarrassed over something and it got darker. He made her turn around and gave her a little pep talk. She was okay with it after that. You and Mr. Mitchell would like him a lot.”

Carol resented Bunny’s assumption, but she kept a conversational tone. “Abby likes him, too, I take it?”

“A lot,” Bunny said with emphasis.

Carol’s eyes darkened. “What’s his major?”

“Journalism, just like Abby. After he graduates, he wants to go to work for one of the big newspapers in New York City.”

“New York City! Good grief. I don’t know why anyone would want to live and work in New York City.”

“Just in case you’re worried, let me assure you, he’s not a jock in any sense of the word. He’s a real regular kind of guy.”

“Worried?” Carol looked up in surprise. She didn’t think it showed. “I’m not worried,” she lied. “I just like to keep abreast of things, especially things that concern Abby.” She jammed her half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray.

Feeling a little uncomfortable talking about Abby and her love life, Bunny changed the subject. “I just love your Christmas tree, Mrs. Mitchell.”

“Around here, we always make a big deal out of Christmas. It was so much fun when Abby was little. Donovan used to make Santa tracks from the fireplace to the tree by pouring salt around his shoes. We told Abby it was snow. Then the year came when she asked why the snow didn’t melt. Bobby stopped believing in Santa several years back. He’s growing up, too. He’s been making presents like crazy all week. He’s kind of like Donovan and waits till the last minute. Did Abby say anything to you about what she might want for Christmas?”

“Not a word, but knowing her, if all you gave her was a card, she’d be happy. She isn’t a material person as I’m sure you know.”

“She never was. Now, her sister—Unbelievably so. And as for Bobby—He always liked the box better than the gift. The bigger the box, the better he liked it. We bought him a tenspeed bike. Donovan put it together last night. If I tell you what we got Abby, will you keep it a secret?”

“Absolutely,” Bunny said solemnly.

“A car. Well, it isn’t a car, it’s a four-by-four. One of those all-terrain vehicles. Donovan had such a good time picking it out. He’s even hired someone to drive it to Wisconsin so it will be there when Abby gets back.”

“Oh, she’s going to love it. It’s such a pain hitching rides.”

“I know. I’m not so old that I’ve forgotten. Oh, here comes Donovan.”

Donovan looked hopeful as he walked toward them. “Let’s get ourselves a soft drink and go outside, ladies. It’s stifling in here, and there’s nothing we can do.” He checked his watch. “We’re looking at three hours for the procedure and another hour until Abby is ready to leave. We could go into town and have lunch. What do you think?”

Carol looked at Bunny and Bunny looked at Donovan. “Whatever you two want to do is okay with me. You could drop me off at the house, and I can stay with Bobby.”

“Bobby doesn’t get out of school until three, and then he’s going home with a friend who is having a sleepover. This has all been planned for months. Yes, Donovan, lunch in town will do nicely. Abby was okay?”

“Abby’s fine. Perhaps fine isn’t exactly the right word. Jittery.”

“Is she scared, Donovan?”

“I don’t think so. If she asked once, she asked ten times how long before she healed. She didn’t like the doctor’s answer of ‘depends on the individual.’ She’s in a hell of a hurry to get back to school, that’s for sure. You’d think there was some guy waiting for her.”

Carol reached into her purse for her cigarettes. “There is, Donovan. He called this morning after you left.”

“You mean Abby has a boyfriend? I’ll be damned! That’s great. We need to check him out, Carol.”

“Mr. Mitchell,” Bunny said, “Connor Bradford is sterling. They don’t come any better than him. He likes Abby and isn’t put off by her birthmark. He’s a dedicated student and takes life seriously. He’s the kind of guy you and Mrs. Mitchell would pick for Abby.”

Carol bristled. There it was again—the assumption.

“Okay,” Donovan said, “we’ll go with your testimonial. Abby with a boyfriend. Are we happy with this, Carol?”

Carol proffered a big smile. “Of course we’re happy. Why wouldn’t we be?” Before he could answer, she said, “How about picking me up in front? I want to use the pay phone and check my messages at home.”

“Okay, meet you at the car. Come on, Bunny. All this worry is giving me a huge appetite.”

As soon as Donovan and Bunny were out of sight, Carol let out a long sigh. She’d known the day would come when Abby would get herself a boyfriend. She’d known it and dreaded it because of the changes that would inevitably follow.

All these years, Abby had come to her with her problems, and she had solved them, or at least made them better. In the beginning, the biggest problem had been Mallory. How many times, Carol wondered, had she punished Mallory on Abby’s behalf? Then there were the problems Abby encountered at school. Name-calling. Finger-pointing. Abby was never included in the children’s games or activities. There had been only so much Carol could do, but she’d done everything within her power to make it easier on Abby. Because she loved her— loved her as she would have loved her own child if she’d had one.

Now Abby would start turning to her boyfriend for help in solving the small problems and to be comforted. Eventually, if things got serious, she would turn to him for everything, leaving Carol out altogether, making her no longer needed.

There was no doubt about it, her days of having Abby all to herself were numbered unless … the procedure made things even worse … and … the boyfriend couldn’t take it and … She squeezed her eyes shut, not even wanting to think such a thing. She
wanted
the procedure to turn out well. She wanted Abby to look like the beautiful person she was inside. She wanted all that for her and more. Much more.

Her stomach clenched tight as she dialed the code to her home phone. She listened, making mental notes until she heard the last message. “Hi, Carol, this is Mallory. I’ll be in town
over Christmas. I was wondering if I might invite myself for Christmas dinner. I promise to arrive late and leave early. I have presents for all of you. If you think a visit will make you uncomfortable and you’d rather I didn’t come, I’ll understand. You can leave a message for me at the school at any time. Happy holidays.”

“Happy holidays, my ass!” she shouted into the receiver. “I’ll leave you a message all right. I’ll leave you one you won’t forget!” She slammed the phone back into its cradle. “I will not allow you to spoil our Christmas, not this year. Not ever,” she muttered, then turned around.

The startled look on the face of the woman across from her reminded Carol where she was. With a calm she didn’t feel, she smiled at the woman and walked away.

Bunny looked up from the magazine she’d been thumbing through when she heard Donovan’s voice. She jumped up and ran to the trio walking down the hallway toward her. She flinched as a lump formed in her throat at the sight of Abby’s face. “Oh, Abby, are you okay?” Abby looked at her through pain-filled eyes but didn’t speak.

“She’s in a lot of pain, right now, Bunny,” Donovan explained. “She’ll feel better when we get her home.”

Fifteen minutes later, Donovan pushed the automatic door opener and pulled into the garage.

Bunny popped out of the backseat before Carol or Donovan could get their seat belts undone and opened the right-front passenger door for Abby. “Give me your hand and I’ll help you out,” she said, ducking down and reaching in toward Abby. She couldn’t even imagine the kind of pain Abby must be suffering. Her face looked like raw meat.

“Relax, Bunny. I’m okay,” Abby said between her teeth,
her lips barely moving. “I’m just a little shaky right now.” She held out her shaking hand to Bunny.

In spite of Abby’s brave words, Bunny knew her friend was anything but okay, but there was nothing anybody could do now except wait it out and hope for the best. Putting an arm around Abby’s waist, they walked through the garage to the kitchen door, her grip on Abby’s shaking body firm and tight.

Donovan bolted around to the front of the car and held Carol back until the girls were out of earshot. “It doesn’t look good, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Carol said, glaring at him angrily.

Donovan hated it when Carol’s anger erupted. “This is one time I wish you disagreed with me,” he mumbled.

“Me too,” she said. She turned to follow Abby and Bunny into the house, shaking Donovan’s hand off her arm.

More often than not, Carol was an open book where her thoughts and feelings were concerned. Right then, she was madder than hell. Mad at him for encouraging Abby to go ahead with the procedure. But there were the other times—the times when she was a closed book, never giving him a hint of what she was thinking or feeling. Those were the times that made him think he didn’t know her quite as well as he thought he did. Thankfully, those times were few and far between.

He turned his thoughts to Abby. Was she angry at him, too? He’d read her all the case studies, told her what the doctors had said, given her a list of pros and cons. He’d convinced her that this was her only chance to get what she wanted— normalcy—just as he’d convinced …

Just as I convinced John that leaving Harriet was the best thing for all concerned.
“Jesus Christ!” he said aloud as he raised his chin and tilted his head backward. He felt as if a bolt of lightning had ricocheted down his spine.

Inside, in the kitchen, Carol assumed control of her domain. “Bunny, why don’t you fix all of us some of that herbal tea. I’ll settle Abby in, then we’ll have tea upstairs in her room.”

Bunny recognized the hint. Or was it an order? She wasn’t sure, so she reached for an exquisite teapot. Moments later, Donovan came in from the garage. Bunny was about to ask him which flavor of tea he preferred but decided against it when she saw his bleak expression.

Fifteen minutes later she had everything together on a tray that matched the teapot. She balanced it perfectly as she headed for Abby’s bedroom. Her guts churned when she saw her friend propped up in a nest of pillows. Abby’s soft whimpers brought tears to her eyes. She set the tea tray down on the nightstand, spread a napkin on top of the covers. She handed Abby a flowered cup that matched the tray and the teapot.
It must be a set,
she thought inanely. “Drink this. It’s chamomile. My mother always used to fix it for us when we got wired up,” she said, trying to sound confident. She stared at Abby a moment longer, before she served Carol and Donovan.

Abby sipped the tea. A moment later she looked at Donovan, her eyes full of pain and tears. “I need a pain pill, Uncle Donovan.”

Donovan moved around to the side of the bed next to Abby. “I’m sorry, Princess. I can’t give you one. The doctor gave you a shot for pain before we left and told me not to give you anything else for a couple of hours. Drink a little more tea. It’ll help you to relax.”

The tears spilled over. She howled in pain as her salty tears rolled down her burned face. “My face is on fire. Can’t we put some ice on it?”

Donovan shook his head regretfully. “The doctor gave me explicit instructions, and ice isn’t an option. The pain shot should be starting to take effect. Trust me.”

Abby had always trusted Donovan, but this time he was as helpless as she. She gave in to the pain and moaned. “God, it hurts so bad. I didn’t know it was going to be like this. I didn’t know. You have to do something. Aspirin, something,
anything
,” she pleaded.

Donovan sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for Abby’s hand. “Shh, it’s going to be okay.” He took the cup and saucer from her hands and gave them to Bunny. “Close your eyes, honey. Try to sleep.”

Abby squeezed Donovan’s hand. “Sleep? It hurts too bad to sleep. It hurts all the way inside my head. They didn’t say this would happen,” she said sharply. “I don’t ever want to do this again. I don’t care if I’m ugly or not. I don’t care. Do you hear me, Uncle Donovan, I
don’t care.
”

“Hush. You aren’t ugly. You’re the prettiest girl in the world. Isn’t she, Carol?”

Carol stood behind Donovan, clutching his shoulders. “You’re beautiful, Abby, inside and out,” she said.

“No!” Abby said. “Mallory was right. I’m ugly.”

“Mallory!” Carol spit contemptuously. “She’s a hateful, spiteful—”

Donovan put his index finger to his lips. “Shh. She’s asleep, Carol,” he said wearily. “I could kill that goddamn doctor!” he said between his teeth. “He said it would sting. He didn’t say she was going to be in this kind of pain. I feel like going over to the hospital and putting my fist into his face.”

“I told you it would be like this. But no, you wouldn’t listen.” Carol’s angry retort hardened her features. “Look at her, Donovan. Look at her face. It’s
burned raw.
I never should have allowed her to do this. There was nothing wrong with her using that professional makeup. She was so skilled at putting it on that you could hardly even see—”

“She wanted to look normal, Carol,” Donovan argued. “And I wanted whatever she wanted.”

Carol wrung her hands in agitation. “This is your fault, Donovan. Your fault! You shouldn’t have encouraged her.” She started for the hall, her anger building. It wasn’t her intention to tell Donovan about Mallory’s message, but she was so angry with him that she needed to strike out. “Guess who called today?” she blurted. “Mallory! She wants to come for Christmas
mas dinner, and she has presents for everyone.” She waited for her husband’s reaction, but there wasn’t one. “I’m going to call her and tell her to stay away.”

“Whatever you think is best, Carol, is okay with me,” Donovan said, reaching down and brushing Abby’s damp hair away from her forehead. His insides roiled at the red, raw stain on her face. He turned to leave the room and spotted Bunny. He’d all but forgotten she was there.

“I’ll stay here and sit with Abby if you don’t mind,” Bunny said.

“No, not at all. With luck she’ll sleep for hours and wake up feeling better. We’ll be in the den,” Donovan said, motioning Carol to go ahead of him.

The moment the door closed, Abby opened one eye. “Are they gone?”

Bunny gasped. “You faker. Even I thought you were asleep. God, Abby, I wish there was something I could do.”

“I feel a little better than I did a few minutes ago. I think the shot is starting to take the edge off the pain. I guess you’re thinking what they’re thinking, which is that I shouldn’t have done it. Right now, I wish I hadn’t done it either. How bad is it?”

Bunny grappled for her words. “It looks”—she shook her head—“incredibly painful.”

“That’s not what I asked you. Get me a mirror.”

“Why don’t you wait until tomorrow, when some of the redness and the swelling go down? Right now it probably looks much worse than it is.”

“I want to see it now, Bunny,” Abby said firmly. “Get me the mirror. Please.”

Bunny retrieved the mirror from the dresser top and reluctantly handed it over. Abby’s expression was one of total horror.

“My God! It looks like raw meat! Oh, Bunny, I had no idea. What if it stays like this?” Abby burst into tears.

Bunny reached for a tissue. “Listen to me, Abby. Don’t cry.
Please don’t cry. Tears are salty, and your face is raw. Do you hear me? Don’t cry.”

“I’m not going back to school. I’m never going out in public again as long as I live.”

“Oh, yes, you are going back to school even if I have to drag you by the hair. You will pick up your life and go on because that’s what you have to do to survive. You’re not a quitter, Abby Mitchell. You’ll pull up your socks and go on and that’s that,” Bunny said, brooking no argument. “As soon as you stop feeling sorry for yourself I’ll tell you who called this morning.”

Abby put down the mirror. “Who?”

“Are you going to go back to school willingly, or am I going to have to—”

“Willingly,” Abby said. “Come on, Bunny, was it Connor? Did he say he’d call back?”

“Carol talked to him, and, yes, he did say he would call back. Tonight. So you’d better get to sleep so you can dream about what you’re going to say to him.”

Abby handed the mirror to Bunny. “You know, before I left, I asked him how he’d feel if my face ended up worse, and he said he didn’t know. How’s that for honesty?”

“At least he told you the truth. That has to mean something. You’re the same person inside you always were. That hasn’t changed.”

“Don’t pep talk me anymore, Bunny. You know as well as I do that guys want girls who are pretty and popular. They don’t want scary-looking girls with—” She cut herself off, tears welling in her eyes. She’d had such high hopes that the procedure would at least lighten the stain.

Bunny sat down on the side of the bed, her expression solemn. “Connor Bradford isn’t the only guy in the world, Abby. My mother always said for every old shoe there’s an old sock. If you take out the word
old,
it makes sense. Don’t go getting desperate on me now. That just isn’t your style, Abby.”

Abby stared at the ceiling, ashamed of herself for being such a whiner. “Some vacation for you, huh?”

“Listen, except for worrying about you, the time I’ve spent here has been wonderful. It’s peaceful and quiet. My house is always jumping. Noise, kids, animals, everyone screaming and yelling to be heard over someone else screaming and yelling. The kitchen is never cleaned up, and you need to stand in line for the bathrooms. I’ve enjoyed myself. Now stop worrying about me and go to sleep.”

Dutifully, Abby closed her eyes, then opened them again. “I can’t. I’m not sleepy.”

Bunny groaned. “Then maybe I should leave the room. If either your aunt or uncle happens to peek in and see you talking to me, they’ll blame me for keeping you awake.”

“Believe me, they won’t be peeking in. They have to decide what to do about Mallory. And that could be a very
long
discussion.”

“What is it about that sister of yours? You’re never talked about her. How come? I thought we shared everything.”

“Trust me when I tell you that you don’t want to know about Mallory. It hurts to talk, Bunny, and I’m finally getting sleepy. Will you wake me if Connor calls again?”

“You bet. I’ll stay here until you fall asleep.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Bunny. You’re my best friend in the whole world.”

“Shh, we can talk later. Go to sleep now. I promise to wake you if Connor calls.”

“You’d better.”

Bunny sat in the daffodil yellow chair wondering why everyone hated Mallory. Of course, it was absolutely none of her business, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to know. Bobby probably knew. She could ask him. Then again, what kind of friend would she be if she pried?

“Connor Bradford,” she mumbled beneath her breath, “no
matter what the outcome of all this is, you’d better not dump Abby, because if you do, I’ll lay you out cold!”

“How dare she call and invite herself for Christmas? How dare she?” Carol raged as she paced the length of the booklined den. “What are we going to do? I need your help on this, Donovan.”

“I thought you’d already decided to call her.”

“I can’t call her. You know that.” Carol flopped down on the leather sofa next to him. “I
hate
her, Donovan. She tried to ruin our lives. I can never forgive her. Look at what just getting her message has done to me. Can you imagine what would happen if I tried to talk to her, the things I might say? There’s no sense stirring things up more than they are.”

“So I take that to mean you want me to call her, right?”

Carol seemed surprised at Donovan’s offer, as if she hadn’t even considered the idea. “Yes, I think that would be best. You call her and tell her we won’t be home because we’re going to the mountains over Christmas.”

“
Are
we going to the mountains over Christmas, Carol?”

“We could,” she said, shrugging. “Bobby would love it. I think Bunny and Abby would like it, too.”

“What if Mallory says she’ll come over before we leave? Then what should I say?”

“Improvise, Donovan,” she said, leaning toward him, her eyes hard as marbles. “Understand me on this. I
do not
want that girl in our house.” Carol reared back and took a breath. “She’s trouble. God only knows what she’ll do or say when she sees Abby’s face. We can’t risk it. Abby isn’t emotionally up to dealing with Mallory right now.” Again, she leaned toward him, exhaling with agitation. “You need to call her, make it clear to her that she isn’t welcome here. I don’t care how you do it, Donovan, just do it!” The instant Donovan opened his mouth to reply, Carol pounced on him again. “Don’t
even think about making any of your lame excuses for her. I won’t tolerate it.”

“All right. I’ll call her,” Donovan agreed. In fact, he was relieved to be the one to do it. Carol was right. There was no telling what
she
might say. “Do you want me to do it now or wait until tonight?”