At the landing, Luke dropped to all fours and slid on his knees to him like a beggar on a cart. “Are you mad?”
“Nope.”
“Can I help?”
Cal seated the post tightly, pleased with the firm fit. “Hand me that wrench.”
“What’s a wrench?”
Cal glanced up. At Luke’s age he could have named every tool in the chest and used most of them with help. But then, Luke’s dad was not a cabinetmaker. “That metal one with the end like a claw.”
Luke picked it up, felt its weight, then handed it over. “How do you do it?”
“Come here.” He fit Luke between his knees and put the wrench into the boy’s hand. Then he covered it with his own and tightened the bolt.
Luke tipped his head up with a grin, tickling Cal’s neck with his too-long hair. Cal ruffled it and curled his arm around Luke’s chest. “Now we’ll check and tighten the balusters.”
They worked together until Laurie came out of the kitchen with Maddie curled around her neck, sleeping. She carried her up the stairs and disappeared into the second room. Soft mews and one short cry reached them as Laurie no doubt readied the child for bed. A few minutes later Laurie joined them on the stairs. She pressed her hands to her lower back, elbows jutting behind.
Before she could order Luke away, Cal said, “Why don’t you go have a soak? I’ll shoot Luke off to bed as soon as we’re done here.”
Laurie debated, seemingly unsure whether to capitulate or hold her ground. She must have judged their interaction worthwhile because she nodded. “Maybe I will.”
Cal refused to imagine her in the bathtub. Just friends. He and Luke started at the bottom and worked their way to the landing, then made the turn, checking and tightening the balusters to the top of the stairs. “I think we just about have it, buddy.”
Luke raised and dropped his shoulders with a sigh.
“You’ve been great. Thanks for the help.”
“Do I have to go to bed now?”
Cal took Luke’s hands in his and crouched eye level. “What does your mom want?”
He looked aside, shrugging again. “Are you leaving now?”
“Yeah.”
“You have to say good-bye.”
Cal straightened and held out his hand. “Bye, Luke.”
Luke shook his hand, then looked up with the most sorrowful eyes he’d shown yet. “We didn’t say bye to Daddy.”
Cal’s stomach clutched up. “Why not?”
“Mommy said we couldn’t wait.”
Cal gave a slow nod. “I’m sure she knew best.” But why not let a kid say good-bye to his dad? Even if there were hard feelings, as he guessed there must be for her to be living with no assistance or child support. He dropped one more time and gave Luke a hug. “Your mom’s doing her best for you.”
Luke hugged him tightly. “Will you come back tomorrow?”
“Not sure about tomorrow. But soon.” He released the boy. “Now show your mom how well you can get ready for bed.”
Luke’s obedience gave the truth to Laurie’s earlier claim. Cal could see his eagerness to please. He wasn’t sure what had set him off earlier, but they’d certainly made up. Not that it mattered. Nothing permanent could come of it. Friends. Well, okay. Luke could be his friend too. And Maddie for that matter.
Wasn’t Spanner friends with every kid in town? He just didn’t need the nose and wig this time. Cal gathered his tools and packed them up. Then he carried the tool chest down the stairs to the door. Glancing up once to where he hoped Laurie was getting some relief, he let himself out, then made for his jeep.
Laurie didn’t hear him leave, but when Luke tapped the bathroom door and called his good-night, she assumed Cal had gone. “Good night, honey.”
“I fixed the railing.” His mouth must be pressed right to the wood.
“Good job, Luke. Thank you.”
“Cal went home.”
“Okay.”
“He said bye.”
Laurie drew a long breath. That had become quite an issue for Luke. Could she have handled it differently? “That’s good, sweetie. Go to bed now.”
She laid her head back and slid lower into the claw-foot tub. She should have g iven Cal something, even just her attention. But Mother had drained her, dropping comments all day about their wretched situation. What was she supposed to do? Fresh guilt assailed her as she pictured Luke under Cal’s arm, his strong hand helping her son’s small one to do something Luke could be proud of.
Already Cal had put out more effort to connect, to teach Luke, than Brian ever had. She wasn’t sure what to think of that, and she was too dispirited to try. Avoiding Mother’s questions, barbs, and urgings to call Brian had been battle enough.
7
I WILL SHOW YOU FEAR
IN A HANDFUL OF DUST.
T. S. Eliot
LAURIE COULD HARDLY REMEMBER feeling so tired, as though every muscle was sapped. She had worked a double shift at Maple’s to cover for the second employee who quit during the three weeks of Laurie’s employ. She had picked the children up from her mother’s, taken them for fast food since they wouldn’t eat the meatloaf with red stuff on top that Mother had made. Now she hustled them up to bed with as little ceremony as possible.
When they were settled, she went downstairs to turn out lights, then planned to go to bed herself. She didn’t doubt her eyes would close the minute her head hit the pillow. Proverbial or not, she would prove the saying true. She locked the front door and pulled the living room drapes closed, then headed for the kitchen. She almost didn’t care to take her bedtime vitamins, but she couldn’t afford to get sick, and she was running herself ragged.
In the dim light of one hallway bulb, she went into the kitchen and headed for the counter where the vitamin bottles stood like bowling pins. She reached for the C first. There were enough germs circulating these days to warrant 1000 mg a day, 500 in the morning, and 500 at night. She took a glass from the cabinet and started toward the sink. Something crunched under her foot. Glass? She stopped, turned. A jagged hole in one lower windowpane swallowed the dim light from the hall. The door was closed and locked, but the window just above the knob gaped.
She swallowed her fear, eyeing the shards across the floor. How would the window break? Wind? A stone? A stick … wielded by someone? Who would break her window? And why? She had nothing worth stealing. The hair rose on the back of her neck. What if someone was in the house?
Her spine lurched. She lunged to the wall and flicked on the light, glancing all about her. A cold jolt of fear sliced up and down her back. The house was silent, but were they alone? What do I do? Go up to the children? Call 9-1-1? No. That was reactionary. It was probably nothing, an accident. She was overreacting.
Glass crunched under her feet as she crossed to the phone, dialing with trembling fingers. Not 9-1-1. Cal. She shouldn’t even call him, she should deal with this on her own. But she was tired and afraid. Through the earpiece, the phone rang twice, and she almost disconnected.
Then, “Cal’s Roto-Rooter. You fill, we drill. No job too rude, crude, or disgusting.”
“Cal …”
“Laurie?”
“Can you come over?” She couldn’t keep her voice steady.
“What’s the matter?” He was serious now, all joking gone from his voice.
She searched for an answer, but words choked in her throat and came out a soft sob.
“I’m on my way.” The line went dead.
She hung up. It was a mistake. She shouldn’t have called. She was overreacting. Of course the house was empty. It was some punk’s prank, some accident. A broken window for heaven’s sake. Even if someone had broken in, they’d obviously not found anything to take. She didn’t own a TV or electronics or any of the things thieves pawned.
She stood, fingers pressed to her cheeks, her thoughts locked and tangled. The clock ticked on the wall. She made herself walk into the hall toward the living room, so lightly furnished
she could tell at a glance it was empty. The house was not large, two narrow stories, no basement. Steeling herself, she opened the coat closet. No one, of course. But she did take Luke’s T-Ball bat from its place in the corner.
Armed, she went upstairs and checked the children’s rooms. Neither closet was closed, and both were empty enough to provide poor cover for a lurker. The children slept through her search, warm, soft, and peaceful. How sweet they were. So free from cares. They had no idea, really, how their lives were changed. Even though Luke showed sadness, they were used to Brian’s absence. It was nothing new.
They had stayed in L.A. while Brian was in Phoenix for the baseball seasons. He’d said he didn’t want distractions. It was no different when he gave it up to do public relations in his father’s corporation. Of course, that involved international travel, flights across borders that he made in his own Piper or his father’s Leer.
Laurie shook her head. She had been so naïve. She checked her own room, still tense, but not as knotted as before. Her bathroom, behind the shower curtain, breath tight. But there was nothing there either. She went back downstairs. She’d tell Cal to forget it. She’d clean it up and—
The knock jolted her. He must have raced over. Drawing a long breath, she opened the door.
Cal pushed inside. “What’s the matter? Where are the kids?” He was primed and loaded.
She squirmed. “They’re upstairs in bed. Cal, I …”
He scanned the room. There was no way he’d let it go now. With a sigh, she led him into the kitchen and saw him tense as he took in the broken window in the door. He skirted the shards on the floor and inspected the hole. “Were you burglarized?”
Laurie fought tears—what foolishness was that? “What’s there to steal?” She rubbed her face. “I came home and found it broken.”
Cal looked from the window to her. His gaze probed, wondering, wanting to know more than she could tell him. She pressed her back to the cupboard. Why had she called him? Reflex. Now she wished she hadn’t.
He took charge. “Don’t touch anything. I’ll call the police.”
“No.” She surprised herself, but a sudden thought had occurred. What if it was Brian? Had he followed her? Broken in and … what? “I’ve already checked the house. There’s no one here.”
He shot her a glance and reached for the phone. “He could have left prints.”
She caught his arm. “I said no.”
His eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Everything. If it was Brian—after what she’d done, of cour se he’d be ang r y, fur ious. She’d expected some reaction, expected it before this. She must have put him in a bad position. Maybe even dangerous. That was his own fault! But she couldn’t risk—
“Are you in trouble?”
“No. Cal, really … it’s an old house. Glass breaks. I called before I thought.” She twisted her hands. “Besides, if someone did break in, they know now I have nothing to steal.” She wished he would stop looking like that. How could she explain? How could she tell him what a failure she’d been, what a farce she’d been living? That it wasn’t over, that she had been oblivious, ignorant, irresponsible.
Though his gaze didn’t shift, he answered flatly, “I’ll sweep up. Can you find some cardboard to seal the window?”
She dumped a box that held the children’s shoes in the coat closet and brought it to him. He pulled it apart and taped it to the window frame. She was ashamed of the comfort she took watching him work. The way he moved, the way the muscles flexed in his shoulders … He handed back the tape. “Get someone out to replace that glass tomorrow.”
She nodded.
“So did you torque someone off? Serve Maple’s rotten fish or something?”
She smiled faintly.
“Seriously. Did you turn down a proposition?”
“Only yours.” She tried to speak lightly.
“That wasn’t a proposition.”
“What was it?”
“A kiss. Just a kiss.”
Laurie dropped her face into her hands. “I can’t think.” She didn’t want to. Why would Brian break her window? Was it Brian? And why was she protecting him? Or was it herself, her pride?
Cal took hold of her arms. “What do you want me to do?”
She shook her head, still covering her face. Hold me. Stay with me. Say the things you used to say that made everything all right. Take away the time and the hurt and the mistakes. She said nothing.
He rubbed his hands gently up her arms and across her shoulders, soothing the stress from her muscles. “I can stay here tonight.”
“No.”
“I mean sleep on the couch. It’s a sleeper, isn’t it?”
She stepped back. “It’s not necessary.” She wanted it too much.
He tugged on her hair. “Forget necessary.”
Her thumb tapped on her thigh. “Thanks for coming. I just needed a friend.” She was surprised it was true. As she walked him to the door, she realized she had never considered him a friend. From the start he had engendered emotions too potent to be friendship. Now she saw through his jesting to something solid in his core. She wished she’d seen it sooner.
Cal’s jeep fired grudgingly in the frigid air. He shouldn’t be leaving. He should have called the police and ignored Laurie’s protests. He had a bad feeling about this. Prank? Accident? Windows didn’t break themselves. If he didn’t have such bad history with Sergeant Danson, he’d go to the station now. He considered it, then shook his head. She’d asked him not to. And maybe she had her reasons.
But Laurie’s tension had been thick as butter. Yeah, it was possible some kook had his eye on her. But from her reaction, her evasion, he guessed she’d brought this trouble with her. He also guessed—and this part wasn’t hard—that the answers would not come easily.
Mildred was sharp, and she’d pegged something he missed. Laurie was afraid. Of what? Or who? Her ex? Maybe. It was the logical starting point. She’d been very hazy on the details of their split, reluctant to discuss him at all. She didn’t look battered, but what did he know?
He popped the jeep in gear and jerked forward. Easing up to the light before his turn out of town, he saw a dark Firebird kill its lights at the end of the block. He noticed because, other than his own car, it was about the only vehicle on the road. The light changed, and he cruised through the intersection and turned onto the two-lane highway that led out to the sticks and increased his speed.
Suddenly a car darted onto the highway from the old utility road, and Cal yanked the wheel to avoid it, veered, and spiraled off. His jeep banked off the side, then rammed into the far edge of the ditch with a shower of gravel and a sickening thud. His forehead smacked the frame, and lightning shot across his vision.
He blinked, stunned, as something ran into his eye, then turned to see a car tearing down the highway without lights. The Firebird? Jamming the jeep into reverse, he ground the tires until they bit and lurched the jeep back to the road.
His head swam, and when his vision cleared, there was no sign of the other vehicle. He swiped the blood from his eye with the back of his hand, and felt a sharp, slicing pain in his forehead. Dropping his head back against the headrest, he groaned.
Laurie tried to sleep, but it was like trying to breathe under water. Why hadn’t she called the police? What if it was Brian? His audacity appalled her. Were there no limits? She may have strayed far from Grams’ hopes for her, but she had not stooped to illegal, destructive— She heard a sound and froze.
A moment later the heat came on in the radiator. She released her breath. If Brian thought he was above the law, if he wanted to risk his own life, that was his business. She would neither participate, nor condone, nor look the other way. She had Luke and Maddie to consider. They might be irrelevant to Brian, but they were everything to her.
How could he even think … But she couldn’t begin to get inside Brian’s head. How did you understand someone who thought life was a
game? Who’d been handed everything, including the physique and charisma to mislead the most scrutinizing eye?
Oh, how she’d fallen for his deception. But no more. Maybe she shouldn’t have interfered, should simply have left. But there was the principle of it. She hadn’t gone to the police then, though she should have, but she’d been married to the man six years, long enough to know his threats were real. And how could she ever explain to Luke and Maddie?
No, she’d done what she had to do. If Brian was angry, let him see her face-to-face. She’d tell him again just exactly what she thought of a father who—
Maddie let out a high whine and started to cry. Instantly Laurie was out of bed and rushing to her side. “Don’t cry, honey. Mommy’s here. What’s the matter, baby?” She scooped her daughter up, covers and all, and dropped to a seat on the bed. “It’s okay, Maddie.” She looked frantically about the room for anything that might have startled the child. All was still.
Maddie opened dewy eyes. “A bad bird came in.” She wrapped her arms around Laurie’s neck. “It took Fluffy.”
Laurie spotted the dog in the rumpled covers. “No, look, Maddie. Here’s Fluffy, safe and sound.” She pressed the stuffed animal into Maddie’s arms. “It was only a dream.”
“I want to sleep with you.”
Laurie kissed Maddie’s head. “All right.” She carried her back to her own bed and climbed in with her. As Maddie nestled to her chest, Laurie found a drowsiness she hadn’t before. She fell asleep dreaming of birds crashing into the kitchen window. Maybe it wasn’t Brian at all.
Cal’s head throbbed like a hammered two-by-four when he awoke, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes. He touched the tender spot, new blood dampening the crust. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten home last night. Obviously he hadn’t gone farther than the bed. Annie whined, thumping her tail and licking his ear. As he rose, pain shot through his forehead and up the back of his neck. Annie cocked her head, watching.
Twilight Page 10
