The Other Child

by Joanne Fluke

  Karen smiled. She felt better now. While she tried not to make much of it, the hornets had upset her dreadfully. She had thought of them as a bad omen, a warning of worse things to come. Now she could laugh at her foolishness. Perhaps her condition was to blame for these morbid thoughts. Or, more likely, Janet Wilson’s harebrained story about this house being haunted. Whatever the cause, she wouldn’t mention any of it to Mike. He scoffed at any hint of the supernatural. He’d laugh his head off if she told him Janet’s haunted-house story. Karen usually agreed with him, but it was strange that the hornets had only stung the Cold Spring children and not Leslie, who was standing in the middle of them.

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” He caught her by surprise and Karen whirled around, a guilty expression on her face.

  Mike grinned and flipped the dust cover back over the antique trunk she’d been about to open. “You promised there’d be no work on the house today; it’s a birthday, and we’re supposed to be having a party.”

  For a moment Karen was irritated. She wasn’t working. She had just been amusing herself while he was busy with the telescope.

  “Right.” She nodded, putting on a smile. “Let’s get Leslie and have a piece of the birthday cake. It melted a little, but I stuck it in the freezer.”

  “Sounds good to me. Then we can watch Leslie open her presents. I’ll wait until she goes to bed before I finish up in the darkroom.”

  Karen’s mouth tightened as she went down the stairs. Mike didn’t want her to work today, but he’d be stuck in the darkroom for hours again tonight. He really wasn’t being fair. Her decorating was just as important as his photography, but she wouldn’t get upset about it now. It was an old argument and it shouldn’t spoil Leslie’s big day. She had to lighten up and make the rest of the day a success for Leslie.

  “Mike?” She turned at the bottom of the stairs and looked back. Mike was looking down at her questioningly.

  “You want pickles on your ice cream, too?”

  SIX

  Karen sighed as she approached the green two-story house. She didn’t want to be here, but Mike had insisted. Marilyn Comstock had invited her for coffee to meet some of the “girls,” and Karen just knew she wouldn’t enjoy herself. They probably wanted to talk about Leslie’s party the previous weekend and rehash the hornet incident.

  She straightened her shoulders and gave a final pat to her hair. She wore it loose, tied back with a beige ribbon that matched her two-piece suit. She’d added a touch of lipstick and faint eye shadow for the occasion. She was a bit nervous as she crossed the open porch and rang the doorbell.

  “How’s Leslie?” Marilyn asked, just as soon as the introductions were made. “That was a real shame about her birthday party!”

  “Leslie’s fine.” Karen sat down in a rose-colored chair and crossed her legs properly at the ankles. “I hope Taffy’s recovered from her stings.”

  “Her arm’s still swollen, but it’s healing.” Marilyn passed the plate of cookies. “Taffy says Leslie was right in the middle of those awful hornets. Was she stung badly?”

  “Well . . . no.” Karen drew a deep breath. “Actually, Leslie wasn’t stung at all. We think the hornets only attacked the children who were running. Leslie stood still and they left her alone.”

  “How odd!” Janet Wilson raised her eyebrows. “My Gary had stings all over him. That means all the children were stung, except Leslie.”

  “It is odd, but odd things always happen at the Appleton Mansion.” Sylvia Ness laughed dryly. “I’ve heard enough stories about that house to write a book!”

  Janet cleared her throat. “Let’s not get started on that old haunted-house business. I must have heard it all a hundred times. I’d much rather talk about the church bazaar. Has Reverend Mason set a date yet?”

  Karen balanced the glass snack tray on her lap and tried to look interested as the women discussed the bazaar. Just sitting in Marilyn’s living room gave her a headache. The room was done in lime green and pink, and Karen had a hard time keeping a pleasant smile on her face as she gazed around her. She didn’t mean to be snobbish or cruel, but the house really was decorated badly.

  “You’re going to bring knitted slippers again this year, aren’t you, Roberta?”

  Karen tuned into the conversation again and shifted her attention to Roberta Allen. She was an overweight brunette, hair done in a fifties upsweep, so heavily sprayed that it resembled a plastic sculpture.

  “I made some darling pot holders from an article in House and Home magazine,” Sylvia Ness volunteered. “You know those little loops you can buy at Woolworth’s? I made one in every color, so they’re bound to sell.”

  Alice Marshal sighed and smiled hesitantly at Karen. “I just don’t know what to bring,” she confessed. “I’ve started four or five projects, but I don’t seem to have the time to finish anything.”

  She was older than the other women, and her voice was timid. Alice looked harried and disorganized. Wisps of gray hair escaped from the bun on top of her head and she wore no makeup. She reminded Karen of a small gray dove, quick mannered and easily startled. Karen tried hard to imagine them becoming good friends, but it didn’t seem likely.

  “We haven’t seen you in church, Karen,” Marilyn commented. “Are you and your husband Protestant?”

  Karen swallowed hard. “Actually, Mike and I aren’t big on organized religion. And we haven’t had a chance to bring Leslie regularly to any particular church.” Karen knew she was hedging. Religion just wasn’t an important part in either Mike’s or her life.

  The women exchanged glances. “We’d love to have you visit our church,” Alice said. “Reverend Mason’s very progressive and Leslie would love our Sunday school.”

  “I’ll tell Mike.” But she thought, Wait until Mike hears about this!

  “My, that’s a pretty outfit.” Roberta Allen stared at Karen’s raw-silk suit. She took a bite of a cookie and smiled weakly. “You’re so lucky you’re thin. I could never wear anything that formfitting.”

  “She won’t be thin for too much longer,” Janet observed, laughing gaily. “Karen’s pregnant, didn’t you know? She’s expecting in December. You don’t think there’ll be a problem with Leslie, do you, Karen? I mean, with the new baby, and you just married to Mike?”

  “Oh! No . . . I . . . I don’t think so.” Karen was furious. Her fingers tightened around her coffee cup. She regretted having slipped up that first day in the grocery store, but she didn’t see why everyone in town had to know Mike wasn’t Leslie’s father. And to hint at “problems” with her Leslie, as if their own children were so well adjusted.

  “Remember Mavis Barber?” Roberta chewed and swallowed quickly. “She had the same situation, except she was widowed, not divorced. She married Paul and got p.g. right away. There was all sorts of trouble with the new baby and her other kids. One of them tried to push over the baby’s crib. I remember that plain as day.”

  “Well, I’m sure we won’t have that problem.” Karen was shocked, but she tried to smile. “Leslie’s very excited about the new baby.”

  There was a long silence as the women shifted uncomfortably on Marilyn’s slipcovered chairs.

  Marilyn started the conversation again. “You’re not going back to work once the baby’s born, are you, Karen?”

  “Well . . . Mike doesn’t approve of working mothers,” Karen hedged.

  “Neither do I!” Janet agreed vehemently. “I didn’t go back to the store until Gary was in school. I believe a woman’s place is with her child.”

  “You worked when Leslie was small, though, didn’t you, Karen?” Marilyn waited for Karen’s nod. “Do you think it had an effect on Leslie?”

  “It might have.” Karen tried to be fair as she answered. “I had a very good babysitter, though, and I spent every evening and weekend with Leslie.”

  “It still makes a difference,” Sylvia contended. “You can always tell the child of a working mother. They’re moody and they keep to themsel
ves a lot. I never wanted to work when Mary Ellen was small and I wouldn’t work now. Careers are for single women. You shouldn’t have children if you aren’t responsible.”

  Karen sighed as the other women entered the discussion. She’d have to be careful not to alienate these women completely. Their attitudes could make Leslie’s adjustment even harder.

  “Are there any dance teachers in town?” Karen asked politely when there was a break in the conversation. “Leslie had two years of ballet in the Cities and I’d like to find another teacher for her here.”

  “Ballet?” Sylvia laughed. “A ballet teacher wouldn’t do much business here. Why, naturally, the boys think ballet’s sissy, and our girls are more interested in practical things. I’d get Leslie involved in 4-H, if I were you. Now, that’s a worthwhile organization. It teaches skills you can use all your life and prepares the girls to be good wives and mothers.”

  “You’ll never guess what I heard in the store this morning.” Janet leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Peggy Miller is leaving Bill. She caught him out at the Dew Drop Inn with Jessie Blair. And they weren’t just dancing, either!”

  “I knew that one wouldn’t last.” Marilyn shook her head. “Once a girl-chaser, always a girl-chaser, I say.”

  “I’m glad I never had a problem like that.” Roberta plucked another cookie off the plate and popped it into her mouth. “Delbert has his faults, but he’s never cheated on me.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do if Harry ran around.” Janet sighed and tightened her lips. “I wouldn’t divorce him . . . that’s for sure! I think divorce is wrong!”

  She looked at Karen and had the grace to blush. “At least it’s wrong ninety-nine percent of the time,” she amended.

  Karen gave her a bewildered look for a moment and then she remembered. She had told Janet that she had been married before. If these women were so shocked at divorce, it was a good thing they didn’t know the true circumstances of Leslie’s birth. Karen could imagine what they’d say if they knew she had been an unmarried mother.

  “Did you hear about the Pfeffers?” Marilyn stepped in to cover the awkward moment. She looked smug as the other women leaned forward eagerly.

  “I heard this from Donna Weisner. She just started work in the insurance-claims department at the hospital. Donna told me she came across a claim for George Pfeffer. He had a vasectomy last April. And just yesterday Sharon told me she could hardly wait to have another baby. Doesn’t that beat all? George must have had it done without telling her!”

  “If Sharon turns up pregnant, we’ll know something’s rotten in Denmark.” Janet giggled.

  “George is Catholic.” Alice sounded shocked. “I wonder if he confessed to Father Miller? They can’t use any birth control, you know. It’s a mortal sin.”

  “Well . . . if you ask me, birth control is the same as abortion!” Roberta sniffed. “There were times when I wished I didn’t have five, but the Good Lord saw fit.”

  Karen took a gulp of her coffee and coughed. She just couldn’t believe the conversation going on around her. These women were so narrow-minded, so provincial—it was almost a crime. They preached morality and God’s will, but they weren’t exactly practicing brotherly love or Christian forgiveness, either. In fact, it appeared to Karen that engaging in vicious gossip was the most popular pastime among her neighbors in Cold Spring.

  She looked up to find all eyes on her as she set down her cup. Karen drew a deep breath and plunged in.

  “Actually, I think birth control is an individual decision. And abortion is, too. Surely you have to consider the circumstances.”

  Karen knew she had said too much as the women fell silent. Marilyn frowned and cleared her throat.

  “You have a point, of course.” Marilyn didn’t sound convinced. “But circumstances change and the easiest way out isn’t necessarily the right way.” There was another long silence as the women avoided Karen’s eyes.

  “Well . . . I must be getting on home now.” Karen set her snack tray down on the plastic Parsons table and stood up. “Thank you so much for inviting me. I’ll return the hospitality just as soon as we get the house organized.”

  The good-byes were friendly and polite, but Karen noticed that none of the other women made a move to leave. She was sure they couldn’t wait to begin to talk about her the moment she was gone.

  What a relief it was to be outside. Karen took a deep breath of the warm summer air and sighed deeply. If the children were anything like their mothers, no wonder Leslie had failed to make friends in Cold Spring.

  SEVEN

  Two weeks had passed since Leslie’s ill-fated birthday party and the July day dawned muggy and sweltering. It was too hot to do anything, Karen decided, as she stirred two teaspoons of sugar into Mike’s freshly ground coffee and placed the cup on a tray with a plate of Fig Newtons. She hadn’t found time to bake and today wasn’t a good day to light the oven. At least Mike had an air conditioner for the darkroom. Without it the third floor would be stifling.

  Karen picked up the tray and started up the stairs, groaning a bit. She was so clumsy lately. In the past week her weight had skyrocketed and her ankles were swollen. Her energy had all but disappeared. She didn’t remember this kind of thing happening when she was pregnant with Leslie, but she was born before the really hot weather set in. Rob Comstock claimed they’d have a lot more heat before the summer was over. It was only mid-July and he’d predicted August would be a killer.

  Karen hesitated at the darkroom door, wondering if she should disturb Mike. He’d worked most of the night, checking for light leaks. She knew he was frustrated, but perhaps a little coffee and something to eat would help. She knocked softly, holding the tray in one hand.

  “Yes! Come in if you have to.” Mike’s voice came through the door, impatient and tired.

  “I brought you a little snack.” Karen breathed in deeply and smiled. Perhaps they could have their coffee together up here. It was deliciously cool with the air conditioner on high. “Did you find the light leak yet, honey?”

  Mike’s face was a study in irritation. “No. I haven’t found the damn leak. Now I have to reprint every one of these and hope it doesn’t happen again.”

  He forced a smile for her benefit, but she could tell he felt more like scowling. “Thanks for the tray, but I can’t take a break now if I want to get done on time. Why don’t you just leave it on the table?”

  Karen set the tray down and backed out, leaving him to his work. He’d probably forget all about the coffee until it was stone cold. At least she’d made the effort. He was working much too hard lately, but Karen had wisely kept her silence. In a sense his problems with the darkroom were her fault. She and Leslie had talked him into buying this house, and building the darkroom had taken longer than he’d expected. Now he was behind schedule and the pressure was on.

  She stopped at the hall window and looked out at the lawn. Leslie was sitting under a tree, paging through a book. It made Karen’s heart ache to see her daughter alone in their huge yard. She should be out playing with friends or swimming in the river. She understood Leslie’s problem, but that didn’t solve it. The Cold Spring children weren’t very friendly and they had different interests, but Leslie wasn’t even trying. Perhaps she’d send Leslie to the store when the list was finished. She might meet some of the other children on the way and invite them home to play. It wasn’t good for her to be so isolated.

  Karen was sitting at the kitchen table working on the shopping list when Leslie came racing in. “Can I go up to the tower room for a minute, Mom?” she asked. “I want to check something out.”

  “Just a minute, kitten.” Karen wrote BROWN RICE on the growing list. “Then I want you to go to the store for me.”

  “Okay, Mom.” Leslie’s voice trailed off as she ran for the stairs. She had a new idea for a picture. She’d focus the telescope on the river and do a series of the kids playing in the water. The telescope was wonderful. She could take pictu
res without even leaving her favorite room.

  Leslie bounded up the stairs, then stopped at the third-floor landing and frowned. She’d forgotten which setting to use on her camera. She’d better check with Mike so she wouldn’t make a mistake.

  Mike was in the darkroom, his head bent over the enlarger, when Leslie knocked on the door. “Just a sec!” he hollered out, hurrying his print a little. It came up as he’d expected it would, and he swore impatiently.

  “Okay—come in! What is this, Grand Central Station?”

  Leslie pushed open the door cautiously. Now she wished she hadn’t bothered Mike. She could have looked up the setting in one of her photography books.

  “I’m sorry, Mike,” Leslie said contritely. “I just wanted to take a picture of the river through the telescope and I forgot exactly how to do it.”

  “Can’t you see I’m busy now?” Mike ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. He looked a mess, shirt rumpled and eyes red. “We went over this the other day. I told you to use F eight at a thousandth of a second. You focus the telescope, set the camera on infinity, and clamp it on. That’s simple enough, isn’t it?”

  He noticed her silence, and his voice changed. “Hey . . . it’s all right, honey.” He was ashamed of himself when he saw her lower lip tremble. “I’m just aggravated, that’s all. Nothing’s going right in here today. I guess it’s time to knock off and get some sleep.”

  Leslie relaxed a bit at Mike’s apology. She walked over to look at the prints in the wash and nodded. She could see that Mike had a problem.