I picked him up and he readily snuggled against my chest. “You’re getting so tall, buddy. Look at those long legs.”
“I’m big now,” he whispered.
“Yes, you are.”
“Opa?” He raised his big brown eyes to mine.
“Yes, buddy?”
“Can we play Christmas after supper?”
I smiled. Lately, it was his favorite game. “Sure. Just you and me?”
His eyes lit up. “Yes,” he squeaked.
I knew he’d endured more than enough sharing over the past few days. He’d begun to show signs of jealousy and his temper flared when the twins insisted on my attention.
“Okay, we’re on. Right after supper.” I set him down on the floor.
His face shone, eyes sparkling with anticipation. He scampered off to tell his mother, who descended with a little girl under each arm.
I slipped into the kitchen as the crew congregated in the great room. “Oscar, Millie. How are you?”
Oscar leaned over to embrace me and Millie pulled me down for a kiss on the cheek.
I returned the favor and held her hand. “I’m so glad you made it up the hill. How were the roads?”
Oscar blew back a long silky lock of white hair. His ice blue eyes twinkled. “You know we’d brave blinding snowstorms to enjoy the LeGarde family fare. But today it wasn’t too bad. They were a little slick, but the plow and sander had come through a few minutes before we left.”
Millie slipped out of her blue wool coat with Oscar’s help. She smiled up at him when he tucked her gloves into her pockets. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“My pleasure, Lady.”
I wheeled Millie into the great room while Oscar hung up the coats. She put her hand on mine to stop me. A question glimmered in her hazel eyes. “Gus?”
“Yes?”
“Is Joe going to be all right?”
“Eventually,” I said. “But he’s got a long way to go.”
She glanced into the great room where he sat alone, running his hands through his hair and studying his notes. Oscar rejoined us and took control of the wheelchair. His old Leica SLR camera swung from his neck.
“That was some awful coincidence, though, wasn’t it?” Millie said, her eyes searching mine.
Oscar nodded, apparently knowing exactly what she meant. “It was, indeed.”
I drew closer to Millie, speaking softly. “You mean the body in the pond?”
“Yes.” Her eyes widened. “That must have been so frightening. For both of you.”
I rubbed the stubble on my chin. “It was horrible. And so bizarre. If I’d been watching the road more closely, if that herd of deer hadn’t come out precisely when they did… ”
“You’d never have found Lisa May Albertson,” Oscar said. “At least her family has peace of mind now. They know what happened to her.”
“I guess so. You’re right. I just wish Joe hadn’t seen her. It was too freakish.”
The Stones murmured empathy, then headed into the great room, immediately accosted by my grandchildren.
Chapter 37
Everyone gathered around the table except Shelby. I poured water into the adults’ glasses, moving quickly around the table like the best waiter at a white tablecloth restaurant.
“Where’s Shelby?” I asked Camille, leaning over to fill her water glass.
She motioned upstairs and shrugged her shoulders. “Studying. Or on the phone. One or the other.”
“Or both,” Maddy chuckled.
“I’ll get her.” I took two stairs at a time and rounded the hall corner toward her bedroom. “Shelby?” I’d already called up to her twice, but she hadn’t answered. I heard her talking in low tones, and wondered if Rolf was on the other end of the line.
The gazebo scene from “The Sound of Music” flashed across my brain. That character was a real loser. I hoped the current-day Rolf had more moral fortitude than his Nazi namesake.
I stopped just outside her door and listened. I knew it was wrong, but my protective fatherly instincts took hold.
“I know,” she whispered. “I want to see you, too.”
Silence.
“Okay. Maybe after school on Wednesday?”
I relaxed. At least she’d be on the school grounds. Unless he has a car, my paranoid brain shouted.
I walked into the room and motioned for her to hang up. “Shelby. Dinner’s ready.”
“Okay.” Her face contorted and she hurriedly hung up. “Geez. A girl can’t get any privacy around here.” She followed me downstairs.
She’d be grumpy at dinner, once again. As much as we’d tried to instill the social graces in her, she’d complain about everything and leave before we finished. I was sure of it.
“Dad?” she called to me. I stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned to her as she bolted down two at a time.
“Mmm?”
“I might be late Wednesday. I might miss dinner.”
“What for?” I asked.
“Um…I’m in a study group. We have that big math test coming up next week. You know. I stink at math.”
I sized her up, wondering if Rolf was in said study group. “Well, okay. But don’t leave the school grounds. Are you holding the study group there?”
“Probably. We might walk down to the bagel shop. Sometimes we meet there.”
Her eyes avoided mine.
“Do you walk down to the bagel shop?”
She hesitated. “Sure, Dad.”
“You know the rules, right? No driving in cars unless we’ve met the driver, approve of them, and know exactly where you’re going. Right?”
She avoided my eyes. “Sure, Dad. I know.”
She brushed past me and trotted over to the laden buffet where she grabbed a plate and carefully picked out small portions of everything.
I followed her and sighed. My daughter had lied to me. Suddenly, I wasn’t hungry any more.
Chapter 38
Johnny placed a foot on the bedrail. He hauled himself up onto the bed, then flopped onto the comforter and crawled toward the pillows. His hair was still damp from the bath and smelled of lavender baby shampoo. Batman flew across his pajama tops. His little feet were bare.
The oversized backpack he’d thrown onto the bed a moment earlier bulged with toys. He eagerly unzipped it and looked at me for permission to dump it.
“Go for it,” I smiled.
He eagerly tilted the bag on end. The toys tumbled out like honeybees rushing from a hive.
“Where’s the box?” Johnny asked.
I produced a small, empty cardboard box from the nightstand.
“Right here.”
The sounds of the twins playing in their room echoed against the walls. Johnny looked anxiously toward the hallway, afraid to lose this precious time with me. I jumped up and trotted to the door, closing it gently.
He smiled with relief. “Okay, Opa. It’s Christmas. Can I go first?”
Warmth flowed through me. I looked at his angelic features, soft honey-brown hair, and big brown eyes. I melted right into them. “Sure you can, buddy. Now lie down. It’s Christmas Eve.”
He slipped under the comforter, snuggled against the pillows, and closed his eyes. I rubbed his back and whispered, “It’s Christmas Eve, Johnny. You have to go to sleep so Santa will come.”
He nodded, eyes still shut tight. I picked out a green tractor, twin plastic giraffes, a lime green crocodile, and a stuffed Siamese kitten. Laying them in the box, I closed the cover and then knocked my knuckles along the top as if clattering reindeer feet had landed on the roof. “I hear the sleigh. Santa’s landed on the roof.” I tapped my fingers to mimic footsteps. “Santa’s walking to the chimney. Whoosh! He’s down.” My fingers danced along the box. “He’s walking toward the Christmas tree. Look! He has a box in his hands. It’s for Johnny.”
My grandson’s lips twitched in a smile, but he kept his eyes closed.
“He’s walking back to the chimney. Whoosh. He’
s up on the roof again.”
Tap, tap. Clatter, clatter.
“The sleigh just took off. I see it in the sky.”
I waited a few minutes in silence. Johnny twitched with anticipation.
“Johnny. It’s Christmas morning.” I gently shook his shoulders.
He pretended to wake slowly, then sat bolt upright and stared at the box. “For me?” he squealed.
“It is, little buddy. Just for you.”
He grabbed it and tore open the flaps as eagerly as he did on every Christmas morning. He oohed and ahhed over the contents. “Just what I always wanted,” he crooned, admiring the green tractor as if it were The Hope Diamond.
“You must’ve been a really good boy this year,” I said.
He nodded. “Yeah. I was very good.”
With abrupt finality, the scene was over. He was back to business.
“Your turn, Opa. Go to sleep, it’s Christmas Eve. You’re Billy and I’m the daddy.”
We played the game two dozen times, until even Johnny tired of it. The twins screeched from their bedroom. From the sound of it, Freddie wasn’t having much luck getting them to sleep.
Mrs. Pierce, having just returned from her sister’s home in Syracuse, sang at the top of her lungs from the kitchen. I wondered what job she’d found to do down there and laughed, because Freddie and Adam had already cleaned the kitchen.
“How about we put this stuff away and get ready for bed, hey sport?”
He shook his head, denying the sleep lurking in his eyes. “I’m not tired yet, Opa.” He yawned.
“Really?” I laughed, smoothing his hair.
“Well, then, let’s play one more time. We can clean up the toys, then read some books. How’s that sound?”
He grinned and rubbed his eyes. “Sounds good. Now you’re Billy.”
I lay against my pillows and pretended to be a child, visions playing at the edges of my brain. Reindeer. Ribbons. Binoculars. Cigarette stubs. A demonic face leered at me and snatched my daughter with ugly claws. I jumped in my sleep, riddled with fear for Shelby.
Johnny shook me and whispered in my ear. “Billy. Wake up. It’s Christmas!” He pronounced the “l’s” in Billy like “w’s.”
I’d dropped off to sleep in the few minutes it took to prepare the stage for my “awakening.” Shaking myself, I played my role. “Wow! For me?”
And so it went. We finished the game, gathered and zipped up all the toys, tossed them in the large plastic tub I kept in my room for just that purpose, and prepared for bed.
Chapter 39
Monday dawned crisp and cold. The sun sparkled on delicate frost designs on my office windows at the university. Karen, a woman from the office pool, pecked away at Maddy’s computer. Reminiscent of a field mouse, she stopped typing, rubbed her thin hands together, and blew on them to warm them. She smiled uncertainly at me and looked back at the keyboard.
She wasn’t efficient, nor witty, nor personable.
She wasn’t Maddy.
I missed my matchmaking, ebullient, irritating mother-in-law/secretary. I was just about to call her to ask about Joe, when the phone rang.
Karen answered the call. She murmured into the receiver, paused, and then covered it with her hand. When she scowled, her flat bangs rippled like origami.
“It’s the high school. The superintendent wants to speak to you.”
I nodded thanks to her and grabbed the phone. “Lou? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Shelby,” he growled. “I can’t get hold of Camille. She’s at Rochester Memorial with one of her students.”
My heart leapt into my throat. “What happened?”
His voice lowered to a murmur. “She’s been hanging around with that exchange student, Rolf. We caught them under the stairwell this morning.”
I blanched. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah. But we need to talk.”
“Okay. I’ll be there in five minutes.”
Karen looked at me with vapid curiosity. “Problems?
“Yes. Cancel my classes, will you? I might not be back.”
“Okay, Professor,” she answered in her monotone drone. Her half-moon eyes followed me while I grabbed my parka, briefcase and keys. No sense of empathy, no words of encouragement.
I hurried outside and drove to the school. Lou’s office was down the main hall and to the right. We’d shared some interesting conversations in that room not long ago. He’d confessed that his father, Dieter Grossenmeyer, had been a Nazi war criminal. Lou had tried to atone for his vicious paternal heritage his entire life since his family fled East Germany and changed their names. He’d thrown himself into philanthropic works for years to compensate for the diabolical works of his father.
I strode through the hallway. My heart pounded and I imagined the worst. The Rolf character from the Sound of Music lay atop my beautiful daughter, his filthy Nazi face contorted in spastic joy.
Shuddering, I forced the thought away and pushed into the office area.
Lou’s secretary, a willowy redhead, peeked at me over her monitor. She motioned toward Lou’s office, toying nervously with her dangly earrings.
“Go right in, Professor LeGarde.”
Shelby sat on one chair, her face buried in her hands. Rolf slumped beside her. Lou Marshall beckoned.
“Come in, Gus. Take a seat.”
I sat close to Shelby and leaned toward her. “Are you okay, baby?”
She looked up at me and mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”
I turned to Lou. “What happened?”
He cleared his throat. “Gus, this is Rolf Wiederbach. He’s going back to Germany, ‘cause he broke the law on school grounds, no less. He and Shelby were caught with marijuana this morning under the stairwell behind the gym. They both skipped second period.”
Shock washed over me. I stared at Shelby.
Tears filled her eyes. “I didn’t smoke it, honest.”
I believed her, for some reason, but was furious she’d skip class to hang out with someone who was smoking pot. The anger built, but I tried to control it.
“It’s true,” Lou said. “Shelby didn’t actually smoke the stuff. We have a camera there. After the attempted rape last year, we put them in everywhere.”
Shelby looked up in surprise, as did Rolf.
Lou continued. “But, being in the presence of such an act condones it. Plain and simple. So, Shelby, you’re suspended for five days. We don’t negotiate. You’ll have to try to keep up with homework. Your teachers will give you your assignments.”
A look of surprise flitted through her eyes. They welled with tears again. “What about the algebra test Thursday? It counts for half my grade.”
Lou shifted his bulk in his chair and harrumphed. “If you fail a class because of this, you’ll have to make it up in summer school. We provide no slack in these matters. Zero tolerance. That’s the policy.”
She broke into fresh weeping. I wanted to comfort her and throttle her at the same time.
I stopped, remembering back to my own teenage days. I’d done some pretty stupid stunts in my day. “Come on, Shelby. Let’s get your stuff and get out of here. We’ll talk to your mom about it tonight, and decide on your punishment later.”
Lou nodded with approval.
Shelby clutched Rolf’s hand and looked earnestly into his eyes. “Email me?”
I pulled her hand away. “I don’t think so.”
Her eyes flared. “Dad!” She jumped up and snatched her backpack from the floor. The repentant teen vanished, to be replaced by the surly monster. “You can’t stop me,” she screeched. She bolted into the hallway, slamming the door behind her.
I cast a steely glance at Rolf. “No contact. Do you understand?” I gave him my sternest look, spitting the words at him.
He shrank against the chair and nodded. “Ja. Okay.”
Lou gave me a sympathetic glance. “Thanks, Gus.”
“Right,” I said. “We’ll be in touch.” I spun around a
nd chased Shelby down the hall. Disappointment mingled with anger, and doubt played around the edges of my brain.
Where did we go wrong?
Chapter 40
“What?” Camille glared at her daughter across the kitchen table. “What were you thinking, Shelby?”
Shelby shrank into herself and played with her fingernails.
Behind her, a pot roast simmered in the stockpot. Unpeeled potatoes and carrots lay neatly on the chopping board. Mrs. Pierce had herded the children upstairs to give us time to talk to Shelby before Freddie and Siegfried arrived home from the clinic. Sounds of babies running came from the ceiling overhead. I picked up the peeler and began to skin the carrots.
“Well?” Camille hissed. “What happened?”
Silence.
“Are you in there, Shelby?” My wife blew a stream of air straight up. A dark lock of hair fluttered on her forehead.
Shelby glowered at her. “I’ll never hear from Rolf again, thanks to Dad.” She spat the last word in my direction.
How did she know I’d forbidden Rolf to contact her? Then it clicked. He must have told someone else in the school and they relayed the message.
Camille exploded again. “Shelby, we just discussed the dangers of marijuana last week. How could you even consider being with Rolf when he smoked? During school? I still can’t believe it.” Camille’s voice cracked and she dropped her face into her hands.
Her reaction worried me. It was over the top, her voice a bit too shrill.
I rose, stood behind her chair, and kneaded her shoulders. “Shelby knows it was wrong.” I turned to the girl. “Don’t you, honey?”
She glared at me. Suddenly, our teen demon evaporated and tears began to flow from her eyes. She sobbed into her hands and her body convulsed. “I know it’s wrong, but I love him.”
I stopped and stared. “You love him? Didn’t you just meet him a few weeks ago?”
She wailed, “You’ll never understand. You’re a terrible father.”
She’d struck low this time. I reeled under the blow.
Under the Ice Page 12
