The Revelation of Joan

Chapter 12 Seek and ye shall find

This was growing old fast. Christian rituals were alien to me, and I hated having to don any dress, let alone the frilly types that bridesmaids had to wear. I had left a change of clothes in the Bride's Room, and when this was over I would be able to walk out in decent jeans.

What was worse, I had run out of acquaintances to talk to. Dad was with the priest and the Mother Superior -- talking shop, I presume. Luke was surrounded by guys impressed by his souped-up wheelchair. Mrs. Girardi was hovering over her son and daughter-in-law, and I couldn't see either Joan or my own Mom. I actually wished for Adam's presence, remembering the days when he and I were misfits together. But he had no relationship with the bride and was still in exile from the Girardis, for good reason.

Something flew through the air toward me, and I put up my arms to protect my face. I hung onto it, and when I realized what the object was, I muttered, "Oh, crap."

I had caught Lily's wedding bouquet.

A few minutes later, somebody screamed.

I recognized the voice immediately -- my mother's -- and ran toward the sound. So did most of the guests. After all, it was at the back of everybody's mind that this building had recently been a target for vandalism.

I found her at one of the side exits from the building. A flight of stairs went from this floor down to street level, and at the bottom of the steps, Joan was lying unconscious.

"What happened?" I asked my mother.

"I don't know -- she was helping me down the stairs -- then she fell down -- banged her head --"

"I'll call 911," said some quick-witted soul behind me.

Will Girardi pushed through the crowd and strode down the steps. He was accustomed to keeping his head in a crisis, even an injury to his daughter. Examining her closely, he said: "No broken neck, and not much blood. Some swelling of the head, might be a concussion."

"Shouldn't somebody call Kevin and Lily?" asked Luke's voice behind me.

"No," I heard Helen say firmly. "Let's not blight their first hours of wedded life, unless it becomes necessary. I'm sure Joan would understand."

I turned back to my mother, and this time caught the whiff of champagne on her breath.

"You've been drinking again!" I shouted angrily.

"I thought, in honor of the occasion --"

"So that's what happened! Joan sees you staggering, offers to help you down the steps, then you lost your balance and knocked her down." Everybody who wasn't immediately concerned with Joan was staring at me, but I was too angry to listen. "It isn't enough that you've blighted my life for years, now you've hurt my best friend, and all because you just can't resist one more drink! Mrs. Girardi's been a better mother to me than you've been for years!"

She ran crying into the church. Good riddance.

The ambulance arrived a few minutes later. The Girardi's agreed that Helen would ride in the vehicle with Joan, and that her husband would follow in his car with Luke.

"Let me go with you," I said. "She's my best friend."

They agreed, and I dashed back to the Bride's Room to change and pick up my cell phone, which might be handy.

I rode in the back seat with Luke, but he just sat with a stunned look, utterly uninterested in flirtation. I could understand that, and I just linked arms with him, to assure him that I was there.

At the hospital the news came back amazingly quick. No concussion, no brain damage, she had just been stunned by the knock on her head. She was already conscious and able to talk coherently, although she complained of "feeling gross". They would keep her overnight for observation.

I called my father on my cell phone to give them the good news. But he had shocking news of his own.

"Grace, your mother has disappeared. The last person to see her was the Mother Superior. She said Mrs. Polonsky was distraught, and said that 'Elizabeth had the right idea'. The phrase meant nothing to her, but--"

It did to us. Elizabeth Rove, who had committed suicide.

"We called the police, but they won't consider a person 'missing' after just a couple of hours. Could I speak to Mr. Girardi?"

I handed the phone to the father. "Yes, rabbi. Yes. Yes. I understand the danger. I'll pull strings and get some men in the field."

He switched off and started punching in new numbers, presumably to contact his police department. Meanwhile I grabbed Luke.

"Dude, you've got to help me find Mom! If she kills herself, like Mrs. Rove did, it'll be all my fault for yelling at her!"

"Dad'll have experienced policemen looking for her."

"Don't be logical at a time like this! I need to DO something."

"All right, I'll come with you."

Will Girardi seemed skeptical that I could do very much, but his wife could understand where I was coming from. At her urging he gave Luke the keys to the family car, and returned my cell.

It was only when we reached my car that I realized that I had no idea where to go first. "What do you suggest?"

"Adam's mother committed suicide by overdosing on drugs. Do you have a lot of drugs at home?"

"No."

"And a pharmacist isn't likely to sell them to a woman who seems to be beside herself. Forget that method. Dad says the most frequent location for suicides is the riverfront. People--"

Jump in the river and never climb out. "Don't finish that sentence. Just drive."

Luke nodded and drove. We were about halfway there when my cell phone rang. "Yes?"

"Grace?"

"Joan! It's such a relief to hear your voice -- except that we're in the middle of an emergency."

"I know, your Mom disappeared. Don't worry, she's at Eastside Cemetery."

"What?"

"God told me. Eastside Cemetery. Ulp, gotta hang up before somebody sees what I'm doing. Bye." CLICK

"What was that?" asked Luke.

"Joan. She says Mom is at Eastside Cemetery. 'God' told her."

Luke sighed. His next statement was probably one of the most difficult of his life. "I love Joan, but she's sort of crazy, plus she got a bad knock on the head today. Do you want to gamble your mother's life on the assumption that Joan is right about having a connection to God?"

I thought deeply on that. I used to have a me-against-the-world attitude, but for the past few weeks my resources had been dwindling and the world had clearly been willing. I had the sudden wish that Something out there was on my side -- and Joan was offering me that Something.

"Yes. The Cemetery."

Luke nodded and made a U-turn.

Eastside Cemetery had played an ominous role in our lives. Adam's mother was buried there; so was Judith. Even Rocky, a little boy for whom Joan had baby-sat, had his tomb here. I hoped that Joan had not simply let its associations overwhelm her.

Luke pulled in on one of the lanes usually used for funeral processions.

I automatically looked toward Mrs. Rove's tomb; my family had sometimes accompanied Adam in his visits to it -- so much had happened since then! And there I saw my mother, staring at the tombstone and probably wondering whether to follow her example.

"MOM!" I called out. "IT'S ME! I DIDN'T MEAN IT. JOAN'S ALL RIGHT! SHE EVEN SENT ME. PLEASE COME BACK!"

Behind me I heard Luke punch in a number on the cell phone, presumably to tell Mr. Girardi's searchers where we were. One way or another, my mother was now safe.