Chapter 27 #2
He leaned heavily on his cane. “I should probably tell him in person. I need to speak with him about another matter anyway, and I really hate giving information over the phone. There’s always a chance it will be misinterpreted.
I can make an appointment to see him—unless you’re going to be seeing him soon? ”
“He’ll probably stop by tonight or tomorrow, and if you’d like me to pass anything along, I’m happy to do it.”
“Yes, well, please tell him that I found some information on that fellow he asked me about. I think you know him—Cooper Ravenel.”
I took a moment to respond, surprised at the mention of Cooper’s name. “I’m sorry—what?”
He looked confused. “I, uh, thought you, uh—that there was…”
I felt a burning sensation in the pit of my stomach. “Did Beau ask you to check up on Cooper?”
Bernie’s neck reddened, and he looked so uncomfortable that, if I hadn’t been so angry at Beau, I might have felt sorry for the old man.
“Oh, dear,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said anything.
I was under the assumption that Beau was asking for you.
I shouldn’t have assumed, and now I’ve gotten you upset. I’m so sorry.”
Picking up on the agitation in my voice, Mardi had begun to pace around the bench.
Forcing a calm I was far from feeling, I said, “It’s not your fault, Bernie.
It’s Beau’s. And I’ll talk to him later, when I don’t feel like killing him with my bare hands.
For the time being, I’ll tell Beau about the wig if I see him first, but please don’t let him know that you told me about Cooper. I’ll need to deal with him myself.”
“That’s fair. And I really and truly am sorry.” He studied me without moving away.
I hated myself for asking, but the words were out of my mouth before I could call them back: “Is there something I should know?”
Bernie raised his bushy gray eyebrows. “Depends on how close your relationship is. If it’s as close as Beau thinks, then probably. Maybe you should just wait until you see Mr. Ravenel again and ask him yourself.”
“About what? You can’t just drop that on me and walk away.
Cooper and I have known each other for a long time and his sister is one of my best friends.
If there’s something I need to know, please tell me.
I can handle it.” I said that only because I assumed that if it was anything bad, Alston would have already told me.
Even though I’d just had a lesson on why people should never assume.
He glanced at Sarah and Mardi, who were hanging on every word.
“It’s all right,” I assured him. “Say what you need to, because my sister knows that if she repeats any of it to our parents, I will never allow her to visit Mardi and Jolene ever again.”
Bernie remained reluctant to speak, and he kept looking ahead on the path as if he wished he were already halfway down it.
With forced calm, I said, “I know you’re just the messenger, so I won’t hold it against you. So please tell me, and I promise I won’t tell Beau that you told me anything. I personally don’t want to speak with him ever again, so I doubt that will be a problem.”
He pressed his lips together and nodded.
“Well, then, I’ll just say it. Cooper Ravenel is engaged to be married to a woman who is currently in a coma and has been for a couple of years.
He was driving the car that led to the accident that caused her current condition.
He has power of attorney and will not allow her to be taken off life support, even though her doctors and the experts he’s called in have all confirmed that she is in a permanent vegetative state, with no hope of ever waking up.
He pays for her twenty-four-hour care in an upscale nursing home outside of Los Angeles and visits her once a month.
He’s been doing that for two years now.”
I heard wind rushing in my ears even though the leaves on the oak tree remained still.
My heart pounded heavily in my chest, my breath suspended as my world slowly dismantled itself around me.
I recalled how Cooper had avoided talking about the scar on his chin, recalled his shutting down whenever I joked about my driving.
I was heartbroken over Cooper’s pain. But I was equally angry about his silence.
“Nola? Are you all right?” Bernie asked. “I can ask Frank to drive you and Sarah back to your apartment.”
I gave a quick shake of my head. “No. I’m fine.” My voice even managed to sound normal. “Do you remember the woman’s name?”
He nodded. “Lilly Hoffman.”
“Lilly Hoffman,” I repeated, the name weighted and strange on my tongue.
Bernie turned his head at the sound of a car horn honking.
“Thank you,” I said. “For everything. Now go find Frank. I’ll be in touch if I find out anything about the wig. And you do the same.”
He gave me a thumbs-up and then continued down the path around the stone building.
Sarah sat down in his vacated spot next to me on the bench, neither of us speaking as we watched him disappear around the corner of the building.
“I told you she wasn’t dead,” Sarah said softly.
I looked at my sister, not needing to clarify who she meant. “But how did you see her if she isn’t dead?”
“Because she’s not alive, either. Maybe that’s why she’s angry. Maybe she’s ready to die and Cooper is keeping her here.”
The sky had already begun to darken, heralding an early sunset. It would be fully dark before we’d made our way across campus. “Let’s go,” I said.
She steadied the scooter while I placed my knee on the cushion, and then we headed down the path toward Percival Stern Hall, its midcentury windows and stark architecture appearing even more brutal to me than usual. I barely noticed the streetlight as we crossed Freret Street at the crosswalk.
“There’s one more thing you should probably know,” Sarah said, sounding out of breath as she jogged to keep up with me and my scooter. “But I don’t know if you can handle one more thing.”
I stopped to catch my own breath and faced her. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it? Because I can only take a one or a two right now.”
She thought for a moment. “It’s a one or two.”
I continued propelling the scooter as she jogged to catch up. “Then go ahead. I’m ready.”
“Have you ever met Uncle Bernie’s wife?”
I thought for a moment, trying to remember. “No. I don’t think I have. Although he talks about her a lot whenever we meet, so I feel as if I know her.”
Sarah’s eyes became serious. “That’s because she’s dead. I saw her last time I was here, too. In Jackson Square. She’s sad because he’s so lonely.”
In the grand scheme of things, this tragic revelation was a one or two on my scale of personal disasters.
But it was also the tipping point of my emotional state, which over the past several months had accumulated such baggage as my move to New Orleans, managing my addiction, buying my new house, starting a new job, getting into a car crash, and being swarmed by numerous spirit energies despite my reluctance to engage them.
The only thing I was sure of at that moment was that I wouldn’t cry.
I’d dealt with much worse events in my life and hadn’t shed a tear.
Tears were for those who had the time to wallow in their misery.
After each major disaster in my life I hadn’t had the luxury of falling apart.
I’d needed to remain standing just for my survival, and it would take a lot more than simultaneous betrayal by the two men in my life to make me break down.
But that didn’t mean I wasn’t stewing in anger and hurt.
Clenching my teeth together so hard that my jaw hurt, I kept my scooter moving forward, heedless of the stares of passersby and Sarah’s running footsteps and the jingling of Mardi’s tags behind me as my sister continued the apologetic litany that followed me all the way back to the apartment.