The Gardens of Digby Green: Open
“Roseland Community Hospital, how may I direct your call?”
“My name is Ray Wilkinson. Has my wife Rose been admitted?”
“Let me check…”
Ray heard the clicking of a keyboard. Then the desk clerk’s voice came through“No one named Rose Wilkinson has been admitted today.”
Ray forced his reply through a constricted throat. “Thank you for looking.”
The desk clerk hung up, and Ray stared at the brick-patterned vinyl flooring. Three places his Rose wasn’t. Calls to the other clinics weren’t logical, because neither of them was near Rosalie’s house, but he phoned anyway. No success.
He grabbed his car keys and bolted from the kitchen, out into the garage. The automatic door crawled up its tracks. Ray had his Buick in reverse and down the driveway before the timed light went out. He poked the remote control and accelerated out of the neighborhood, toward his wife’s flower shop.
Ray entered the narrow front lot, and parallel parked across the spaces at the front door. The shop lights shone through the plate glass window as he rounded his car to grasp the door handle.
Open. She always locked up.
He stepped in, and heard only the humming coolers. Her stock appeared undisturbed.He ducked around the free-standing rack of optional cards and gift cards. No one was behind it.
The cash register till was open, and empty. In the work room, several corsages lay boxed on one table. Beyond that, her office light was also on, and its door stood ajar. Ray stepped through, while an inner chill sank into his bones.
Rose’s desk was strewn with invoices, past copies of the advertising circular that featured her business, and assorted other notes. Behind Ray, the door creaked. He pivoted, saw no one, and returned to the office doorway. He looked to his left. The rear delivery door was also open.
The Gardens of Digby Green is a short story in multiple parts which will post on Fridays until the story is complete.
Next week, part ten, On the Premises.
Ruth DeMaat
Heidi Kortman
Krystine Kercher
Heidi Kortman