A Place Called Home

by Jo Goodman

  It wasn’t a bad idea, but Mitch also knew that Gina’s idea of driving aimlessly had a lot in common with house hunting and property searches. “That’s fine,” he said. “Lead on.”

  Over the next hour and a half they covered enough of three townships to get a flavor of the communities. Mitch concluded there wasn’t much in the way of pasture left in this corner of the county. Houses were sown here instead, rising out of furrows in the hillsides, or where woods were cleared to make the land barren and suitable for nothing but topiary inspired by Dr. Seuss. The sameness of the homes was depressing. There were no two alike and yet they were difficult to tell apart. Redbrick. Pink brick. Yellow brick. Two stories, five bedrooms, four baths. Windows the size of garage doors. White shutters. Black shutters. A deck a helicopter could land on. What grass was left on the quarter-acre lots after the driveway was poured was fenced in like a stockade. No one seemed to find any contradiction in cathedral-like windows that invited public viewing and privacy fences that fairly screamed no peeking. It seemed to Mitch that all the good stuff must be going on in the backyard.

  Gina loved all of it. She made Mitch take out her phone and make notes about locations and lot numbers. He did it because it helped him keep his mind off Thea and the kids. It was easier to take info on mortgage hell than it was to remember he had already passed up one chance at athletic sex with Gina—and that happened because he’d been thinking he should be at a cartoon movie for kids, about kids, with kids. He was a dicksmack.

  It was dark when Mitch tossed the phone down. “Let’s go get something to eat,” he said.

  Gina nodded and shot him an encouraging smile. “Quaker Steak still okay?”

  “I was thinking of somewhere with room service.”

  Thea unlocked the front door and pushed it open. The twins barreled inside. Emilie followed more sedately. “Shoes!” Thea called after them. She kicked her own off as soon as she stepped on the carpet. “Come on, guys. A little cooperation.” Emilie’s thick-soled shoes thumped to the floor then she went off to corral her brothers. Thea had to admit the twins had been very good at the movie and the restaurant, even subdued. They had come alive on the ride home, making up for every quiet moment that had come before. “Just add water,” she said under her breath. “Insta-boy.” She hung up her jacket and then put out an arm to take the children’s coats.

  “Anthea?”

  “Yes, Case?” She turned away from the closet and took the foot he held out and untied the laces.

  “You’re talking to yourself.”

  “Was I?” She dropped the sneaker on the carpet. Case braced himself against the wall and offered her a second go at the other foot. “I live alone. Who else am I going to talk to?”

  “Mom used to talk to herself and she didn’t live alone.”

  Grant stumbled in, pushed by his sister, and caught the gist of the conversation. He backed up to the wall like his twin. “She said we made her crazy.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Thea scoffed. She wrestled Case’s shoe off him and started on Grant’s. “Your dad made her crazy. The three of you were her absolute joy.” Impulsively she hugged Grant to her. He suffered it while his brother laughed. In the face of his stoicism, Thea found herself blinking back unexpected tears and unable to trust her voice. She knelt down quickly, bending her head to get Grant’s right shoe. The knot was tight and her blurred vision didn’t help. She felt a small hand come to rest lightly on the crown of her head. She wasn’t sure who it belonged to until she heard her name.

  “It’s all right, Anthea. We miss her, too.”

  “And our dad,” Grant added in a perfectly natural tone.

  For a moment Thea simply couldn’t breathe. She fought with the shoelace, making the knot tighter instead of unraveling it. “Damn,” she swore softly. “Damn. Damn. Damn.”

  “Aunt Thea,” Emilie said, “you’re swearing. You’ll have to put money in the jar.”

  “I’ll get it,” Grant offered. He wriggled free of Thea by somehow wiggling out of that knotted shoe and ran to the kitchen.

  Thea held up the sneaker and stared at it, realizing her vision had cleared. That fast a minor crisis had been averted; she had not wanted to cry in front of the kids and have them comfort her. “Hey, Houdini, how about the other one?”

  “Who is Dini?” Case asked. His hand had dropped from Thea’s hair to her shoulder.

  “Houdini,” she said. “Harry Houdini. He was a great magician and escape artist. He’d have himself handcuffed and tied up and then he’d escape out of tanks filled with water and chained boxes. Stuff like that.”

  “Like David Blaine,” Emilie said helpfully. “Remember, Case? We saw that video where he was buried in a box, like, for a week or something.”

  Case’s memory was jogged. His eyes grew round. “Yeah! That was cool.” Within the space of a heartbeat his expression changed and became contemplative. “Do you think Mom and Dad could do that? They saw the video.”

  Emilie’s response was scornful. “They’re dead, stupid.”

  A siren went off in Thea’s head. Red alert! Incoming! Phasers on stun! Emilie clamped a hand over her mouth, hiding half of her stricken face. Thea dropped the sneaker, holding out one hand to Emilie and blocking Case’s attempt to headbutt his sister. Emilie was just outside her reach, and she backed up rather than come closer as Thea held on to Case. Before Thea could move, Emilie spun around and was running full tilt toward some predetermined refuge. Grant came around the corner, jangling change in the cussing jar, and was almost upended by Emilie’s charge to the stairway.

  “What’s wrong with Em?” he asked. His eyes fell on Case squirming in Thea’s arms. “You guys wrestling?”

  “Not exactly,” Thea gritted as she restrained Case’s flailing arms. “Case, come on. You know Emily’s sorry. She ran away because she feels so bad.”

  “She called me stupid!” He twisted his head around and caught Thea on the chin. Had her jaw not already been clenched, it would have hurt more. “Ow!” Tears sprang to his eyes, more from frustration than pain. “I’m not stupid! I know they’re dead! Everybody knows that! But maybe they could get out of the boxes.”

  Thea held him close as his body went limp. A second later he was crying softly against her sweater. Over the top of his head she could see Grant was perilously close to tears himself, ready to dissolve because his brother was hurting. She motioned him to come closer and cuddled him when he dropped to the floor beside her. “They did get out,” she said quietly, rocking Case, sheltering Grant. “That’s what God promises. You learned that in Sunday school, didn’t you?”

  “B-but they’re n-not here now.”

  Thea took a steadying breath. “Not that you can see them, no. But when I look at you and your brother, I see so many things that remind me of your mom and daddy that it doesn’t seem they’re so very far away. I like to think they’re still watching you and that they always will be.”

  Case sniffed loudly. “Then they know Emilie called me stupid.”

  Thea realized she was a becoming a big fan of concrete thinking. The abstract, existential processes were years away and maybe she could leave it to Mitch to debate the finer philosophical points when Case reached that stage. “Yes, they know Emilie called you stupid. Does that make you feel better?” She wasn’t surprised when he nodded. “They’re not angry at her, though. They know she only said it because her heart is hurting, too.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Case remained where he was while Grant scooted away, leaving the cussing jar behind.

  “Where are you going, Grant?” asked Thea.

  “To get Em somethin’ for her heart.”

  Thea didn’t even try to stop him. She asked Case, “How much do I owe the jar?”

  “Uncle Mitch puts in a quarter every time he swears.”

  Glancing at the jar, which was only about about a fifth full, Thea thought he wasn’t doing too badly. She slipped her bag off her shoulder,
found her change purse and gave it to Case along with a tissue. “You put in what you think is fair. I’m going to check on Emilie.”

  Grant was standing outside his sister’s room holding a tin of plastic bandages decorated with superheroes. “Great idea,” she said. “I’ll take them in and tell her they’re from you. Go on downstairs. You and Case can set up the game I brought.”

  Grant didn’t require more prompting. He thrust the tin at Thea and started off. “She locked her door,” he called back.

  “I can handle it,” she assured him. “Go on.”

  Thea rapped lightly. “Em? It’s Thea. Can I come in?” Please, Emilie. I’d rather not use a bobby pin and I’ll be damned if I’m calling one number on Mitch’s list. With one ear, Thea listened for sounds that Emilie was going to cooperate, with the other she tried to hear what the boys were up to. The cussing jar was still jangling so they hadn’t moved on to the game yet. She rapped on the door again. “Please, Emilie.”

  The knob turned and the door opened a crack. Thea pushed it wide enough to put her head through. When she saw Emilie was already retreating toward the bed, she stepped inside.

  Emilie flopped on the bed on her stomach, face hidden in the crook of her arm. “Shut the door.”

  “I can’t,” Thea said. “At least not completely. I have to listen for the boys.” She carefully closed the door so that only a two-inch opening remained. “May I sit on your bed?”

  “I don’t care.”

  In the vernacular of an eleven-year-old, Thea remembered “I don’t care” was practically an engraved invitation. She walked around the canopy bed to where there was some space on the other side of the double mattress. Sitting down, she looked around the room. It was not so different from the room Emilie had when she was living with her parents. Thea realized Mitch must have brought a lot of the kids’ personal things, including furniture, to his house. She wondered if she would have thought of doing something like that. Thea’s fingertips smoothed the quilted coverlet. “You still like pink, I see.”

  Emilie didn’t turn her head. “It’s okay.”

  It was everywhere, is what it was. The canopy and spread, the pillow shams, the throw for the chair, the wastepaper basket—even the stapler on Emilie’s desk—were all pink. “It’s your signature color,” said Thea.

  Emilie’s head lifted fractionally but she still didn’t turn. This time, though, her words weren’t muffled by an arm over her mouth. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a little like a personal trademark. Something people will associate just with you. McDonald’s has the golden arches. Target is all about red. You’ve embraced a color. Which also happens to look great on you, by the way.” Thea paused. She reached tentatively for one of Emilie’s half-hidden hands. Lightly stroking the part that was visible, she said, “Maybe later, when the boys go to bed you’ll let me do your nails. I picked up a bottle of this pink polish that practically glows in the dark. It doesn’t work with my hair, but I bet it would be a good color for you.”

  Emilie shifted her body so she was lying on her side facing Thea. Her look was faintly accusing. “You’re bribing me.”

  Thea considered that. “Have I asked you do something in exchange?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Oh my, Em. You are wise to the ways of the world.” Thea’s hand touched Emilie’s hair, smoothing the heavy lock that came just under her chin. “I suppose it is a little bit like a bribe. Here’s another one.” She raised the tin of bandages. “Grant was bringing these up to you. I told him your heart was hurting. He thought one or all these would help.”

  When Emilie closed her eyes this time tears were squeezed out of the corners. She immediately buried her face again. “Boys are so stupid.”

  Thea’s voice was gentle. “Sometimes they are. Just like girls can be stupid. But I thought this was sweet. He’s only five, Emilie, but he knows he doesn’t want his sister hurting.” She rubbed Emilie’s back. “You and I know it doesn’t change anything, but Grant’s offer is genuine. Won’t you take one?” Thea opened the tin and began looking through it. “Here’s Wonder Woman. Do you want that one?”

  Emilie shrugged.

  “You know who she is, don’t you?” There was a small negative shake this time. Thea’s response was something between a choked laugh and a sigh as she realized the truth. “These are Mitch’s.” At Emilie’s nod, Thea simply shook her head. “Boys are stupid.”

  Giggling, Emilie turned on her back, her smile a trifle watery. She took the bandage that Thea was dangling over her head and peeled back the paper.

  Thea reached for the pink tissue box on Emilie’s nightstand. “You’re going to wear it?”

  “Right here.” She pointed to her forearm which was covered by the long sleeve of her pink tee. “Isn’t that right? Don’t some people wear their heart on their sleeve?”

  Thea used the first tissue out of the box for her own damp eyes.

  “What time is it?” Case asked for the third time in three minutes.

  “Nine-seventeen,” said Emilie. She picked up a card, read it, and moved one of her men into the red safety zone. “Your turn, Grant.”

  Grant didn’t pick up a card. Instead he looked at Thea across the table. “Why isn’t Uncle Mitch here?”

  “I suppose because he’s with Ms. Sommers,” Thea said. She’d already made the error several times of calling Gina by her first name. The kids had been quick to correct her. “They’re on a date. You know what that is, don’t you?”

  “Sure,” Case said. He put the back of his hand to his mouth and began kissing it in earnest.

  Thea laughed. “All right. That’s enough. So you know something about it, big shot. Grant, take your turn. Emilie, did your uncle Mitch tell us what time he was coming back?”

  Emilie shook her head. She helped Grant move his token since it was closer to her side of the board. “I think it’s going to be late.”

  That was Thea’s take on it, too. Mitch had told her the kids’ bedtimes for a reason, that reason being that he expected to return sometime after they were asleep. Grant and Case, contrary to his prediction that they would drop like stones, were battling hard to stay awake. Thea wasn’t fooling herself that it was because they were enjoying her company or the game. They were worried about Mitch, wondering where he was and if he was all right. Emilie, too, was becoming a little agitated, glancing frequently toward the door, shifting in her chair, suddenly alert when a car drove up the street. The car accident that had killed Gabe and Kathy had happened in the evening. Thea had no doubt they were thinking about that now, whether they said it or not. She certainly was.

  “Maybe we should just put the game away for now,” Thea suggested. This was met with a chorus of no’s and against her better judgment, she relented. Therefore, she had no one but herself to blame when the game deteriorated into a fractious, no-win, name-calling match in which every token and most of the cards ended up on the floor.

  Thea stared at the mess, then at the children. They were all subdued now that there was nothing left to shove and throw. “Well,” she said finally, “I don’t even know what to think about that. What happens now?” There were some accusing glances exchanged but they remained silent. “Then I suppose I’ll have to come up with something on my own. Do you want me to do that?”

  “We should go to bed,” Emilie said quickly.

  “Oh, yes,” Thea said. “Definitely. Before or after you and your brothers pick up everything?” There were some mixed opinions voiced so Thea announced they would have to do it after the pickup. “I’ll help, but I won’t do it all.”

  It took the chain gang five long minutes to collect everything and put it back in the box. When they dawdled, she stopped helping. Thea pointed to the stairs, and they shuffled off while she folded the game board and placed it inside the box. “I’ll be up in a minute,” she called after them. “I have to make a phone call.” She saw them all stop in their tracks. “What is it?” she asked.

 
; Emilie was the trio’s spokesperson. “Are you calling Uncle Mitch?”

  “No. Do you want me to?” Judging by their expressions, the twins were in favor of it, while Emilie was firmly against it. The problem for Case and Grant was that they had already abdicated their right to have an opinion as far as their older sister was concerned. She hustled them out of sight. Thea wouldn’t have been surprised if she bound and gagged them when they got to their room.

  The phone call to Joel was brief. He was mildly irritated that she hadn’t called earlier in the evening and had expected her to be on her way home by now. Thea assured him that she wasn’t spending the night and would be leaving as soon as Mitch arrived. She turned down an invitation for Sunday brunch, saying she simply wanted to spend the day in her bathrobe with the crossword puzzle and green tea. As gently as she was able, she rebuffed his hints that he wanted to come out to her house. He did not take it well, and their good-bye was awkward and strained as a result.

  Thea turned off her phone and put it back in her purse, vaguely unsettled by the tone of the call. Had Joel always been possessive? she wondered. Was that even what it was? She’d never noticed before, but then she had never had anything that diverted her attention from him. Nothing except work, she amended, and Joel certainly understood about work.

  All was quiet when Thea reached the upstairs hallway. She shook off the residual discomfort from her conversation with Joel and checked on the children. The boys weren’t in their room so she went to Emilie’s. She found them huddled under the covers with their sister, engaged in some kind of foot wrestling contest that made the pink quilts bounce and jerk like the alien in John Hurt’s chest. Thea made a face at the unpleasant image she’d created. “You’re all going to sleep in here?”

  “Can we?” Grant asked. “Emilie doesn’t want—”

  “It’s not me,” Emilie said. “Case is a ba—”