Part 23 (1/2)
”Which probably didn't please Carson.”
Zach grinned. ”Yeah, he was about as pleased as a bole weevil with a crop duster overhead.”
”Carson seems to have done a good job running the farm.”
”I think he has. The place means everything to him. In a way I think he's glad the old man is out of the picture.”
Elizabeth said nothing to that. Since Fletcher Harcourt's accident, Carson had become the power behind Harcourt Farms. Running the multimillion dollar farming operation gave him a position of prestige and influence most men would envy, though Zach didn't seem to want any part of the business.
”Are you ready?” he asked.
”Let me get my purse.” She grabbed her straw bag off the coffee table, and they headed out the door. Zach was driving his Cherokee today, she saw, and Elizabeth tossed him a smile.
”I guess you aren't trying to impress me anymore.”
Zach gave her a wicked grin. ”I was hoping you were already duly impressed.”
Thinking of his skillful lovemaking, Elizabeth laughed. ”I suppose I am.”
She waited while Zach opened the door then slid onto the brown leather seat. They rode in silence out to Willow Glen, and she could tell that Zach was getting more and more nervous.
”You don't have to go in,” he said. ”You can wait out in the lobby, if you want. I never know what to expect when I see him. Sometimes he seems almost normal, other times he can hardly speak. There are times he gets mad and throws things. Sometimes he'll remember the past and think it's the present. You just never know.”
”You said the doctors believe there's something pressing on parts of his brain.”
He nodded. ”When he fell down the stairs, small bits of bone chipped off the inside of his skull. If there was a way to remove them, his speech would improve, his motor skills as well, and more of his memory would probably return. He could live a fairly normal life.”
Zach didn't say more, just wheeled into the parking lot and turned off the engine. Once they were inside the building, he led her down the hall toward his father's room. ”Like I said, you don't have to go in.”
”I was out here teaching once a week up for a couple of months. It gave me a fairly good idea what goes on in a place like this.”
They kept on walking, stopping just outside Fletcher Harcourt's room. One of the staff doctors pa.s.sed along the corridor about the same time.
”h.e.l.lo, Zach.”
”Hi, Dr. Kenner. How's he doing?”
”You're here at a very good time. He's having one of his more lucid periods.”
”Great.” He turned to Elizabeth. ”I'll let him know I'm here and that I've brought a friend.”
She nodded.
”By the way,” the doctor said, ”Dr. Marvin wants to talk to you. He's planning to call your office on Monday morning.”
”Dr. Marvin's the neurologist who's been handling Dad's case,” he told Elizabeth, then returned his attention to Kenner. ”Do you know why he's calling?”
”I'm not sure. Something about some new, experimental surgery. He was pretty excited about it. That's all I know.”
”Thanks, Doc.” Kenner waved and continued down the corridor.
”I wonder what's up,” Zach said.
”Maybe they've found a way to help your dad.”
”I don't want to get my hopes up, but, man, that would sure be terrific.”
Zach stepped quietly into the room, said something to his father, then motioned for her to join him.
”Dad, this is a friend of mine, Elizabeth Conners.”
Fletcher Harcourt nodded. ”Pleased.”
”h.e.l.lo, Mr. Harcourt.” She smiled, and he managed a partial smile in return. Even sitting in a wheelchair, he was an impressive man, tall, heavy through the chest and shoulders, with iron-gray hair and the same gold-flecked brown eyes as Zach. The lines of his face were strong, weathered by years of outdoor work, but the four years since his accident had taken their toll.
The muscles in his throat had begun to sag, as well as the skin along his jaw. And yet she could see that he had been handsome. At sixty-seven he was still an attractive man.
”Liz came to talk to you about the farm,” Zach said gently. ”She's interested in the history of the place. She thought you might be able to help.”
He stirred in the wheelchair, seemed to sit up a little straighter. Though his speech was slow and a little bit slurred, his mind seemed to clear as they began to discuss the farm, Zach easing his father into memories of the past.
”Do you remember the old house, Dad? The overseers' cottage you tore down so you could build a new one in its place?”
”I tore it down?” He slowly shook his head. ”I never tore any of the workers' houses down.”
Zach flicked a glance her way. ”I guess you were just thinking about it. Place must have been there since you were a kid.”
”You're talking about the old gray, wooden house the one my dad built. Been there as long as I can recall.”
”That's the one. Do you remember any of the families who lived in the house? Way back, I mean.”
Amazingly, Fletcher Harcourt launched into a lengthy discussion of one family after another, most of them non-Hispanic back in the early days of the farm, which might be important, Elizabeth thought, since the vision of the child Maria believed she had seen had blond hair and blue eyes.
Talking slowly, the old man continued his discussion of the past. Back forty or fifty years ago, men worked for the same employer for long periods of time so there were fewer names than she would have thought.
Using the small notepad she carried in her purse, Elizabeth wrote down each of the names he mentioned, then asked a little about each family. He had been too young in the forties to remember anything useful, but as they moved through the fifties and sixties, a few more memories surfaced.
”Let me see there was a man Martinez Hector Martinez that was his name. Had a wife. I think her name was Consuela. Had to fire him. Got real belligerent toward the end. Wife was pregnant. Hated to do it.”
Elizabeth's ears perked up. ”His wife was pregnant?”
He nodded. ”Moved to Fresno last I heard.”
She flicked a glance at Zach, who was thinking the same thing she was. No one but Maria had been troubled by the ghostat least that anyone knew of. If the Martinezes were still in Fresno, maybe they could find them. Maybe Consuela had also seen the ghost. Maybe there was some connection to the fact that the women were pregnant.
”Do you remember, Mr. Harcourt, if any of the other women who lived in the house were going to have a baby?”
Fletcher's heavy gray eyebrows drew together. ”Long time back. Can't recall. Seems like Espinoza's wife. Think she lost it though.”