“Never has the pirate blade faced me,” Gideon snarled.
There was a back and forth of movements – up on the table, walking across the sofa – with Fie, like a wild woman, screaming with birthing pains and occasionally stopping her wailing to release a series of controlled short breaths before she screamed again. Suddenly, Gideon thrust his arm toward Danger. Danger stumbled back, then he spun around backward, and with a furious wail, he swung his imaginary sword at the neck of Gideon Price. Velveteen gasped as Gideon stumbled backwards clutching his neck. Then, he fell over.
Gideon sat up and addressed the parents. “We haven’t figured out how to show my head rolling to the foot of Mungo, but we just now started practicing.”
“Mungoooo, oh, oh, oh, oooooooo!” Fie yelled in character.
Danger rushed to her side with one arm tucked behind his back. “No son of mine will be born to face the tyranny of dishonest men!” With that, he stuck his hand by Fie’s feet, where she proceeded to hand him a rolled up bath towel. “My son!” Danger shouted, holding the towel baby in the air.
“We haven’t figured out how to make the birthing scene look real either. I’ll ask Granny – she’ll have an idea,” Fie added.
The adults stood and applauded, except for Velveteen, who in her wildest dreams never imagined she’d find herself watching her son pretending to be beheaded and a seven-year-old giving birth to a wash towel on her living room floor.
Later that evening after the Blackwells had gone. Velveteen cleaned up the remains of her successful evening.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going into the city again?”
Velveteen turned to see Charlie staring at her blankly. “I didn’t figure you would need to know about such things –”
“Did you have enough money?”
“For what?”
“I don’t know, gas, and whatever you were doing.”
“Your tank was full. It’s not a big deal, Charlie.”
“I would have gone with you.”
“You say that, but you don’t want to go back.”
“We have everything we need right here.” His gaze was deep, and he wasn’t doing a very good job of covering up the underlying message of his statement.
That world, with its buildings, its sounds, its residents, was all a painful reminder of the months of silence and darkness after The Rooning, where everything he had predicted would happen happened. They’d lost everything. She had fought to hold herself together, afraid that Charlie was so vulnerable he would lose his will to live if he thought for one second she was going to leave him. She made sure to tell him where she was going, and how long she was going to be gone. And if she needed to cry she hid in the closet so he wouldn’t see her. Her husband had been sucked so deep in depression that when he came home and started selling off everything, she would have sold the shoes off her feet to make him happy.
“I had fun tonight.” She changed the subject.
“Are you happy?” He changed it back.
She pulled her hair away from her face and then let it fall down her back. It seemed as if they’d had this conversation before. “Yes. No. I don’t know. What was the question?” She laughed.
He wrapped his arm around her waist. “Do I make you happy?”
“Of course.”
“I would have gone with you.” He kissed her on the forehead. “You just had to ask.”
She just had to ask. But she wouldn’t. “Charlie, I…” She wanted to tell him, but not like this. Granny was right. He deserved to know the truth. But how would he take it? She had noticed glimpses of The Rooning’s darkness beginning to surface. But she could not keep this from him any longer. “Charlie, there is something I need to tell you…”
The gentle ping from Charlie’s phone interrupted her. Velveteen opened her mouth to speak.
“Ignore it.” Charlie leaned his forehead against hers. His hands shook behind her back. “What do you need to tell me?”
The phone pinged again.
“You should see what sold.” She pulled away from her husband.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her back. “What’s going on, Vee? Why are you going to the city?”
She kissed him. And then kissed him again. She would tell him, later. “It was no big deal. Go see what sold. I know it’s killing you, Charlie Price.”
“It can wait.” His voice was cold.
She should have told him about the second trip. She knew that now. “I had something to take care of.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I needed to go alone, that’s all.” It was the truth.
“Why?”
Tell him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. He wasn’t ready to hear what she had to say. Not now, maybe never. They had been through so much already. “Because… I didn’t want you to worry.” That was true.
“Worry? About money? Are you trying to find a job?”
“What? No.” She laughed. “Wait. Do you want me to find a job? Is that what you want? I will, I mean, I can.”
“No! Of course not. I know you can. But I never want you to feel like you have to work. I want to provide for you and Gideon. It’s not that I think you can’t take care of yourself – or all of us for that matter. You’re smart, talented, and everyone loves you! If you want to work, if that’s what you really want, I’m behind you all the way.”
She wasn’t fishing for compliments. They had been over this twice before – once shortly after they married and once after The Rooning. “Charlie, that’s not –”
The phone beeped twice. The buyer had left a message. Charlie shot a quick glance toward his phone sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter.
“Go on!”
Charlie looked into the eyes of his wife, searching her. He smiled. “Okay.”
Velveteen turned to face the pile of dishes in the sink. She needed to think, to figure out how to tell him the whole truth.
Suddenly, Charlie picked her up, startling her from the conversation playing over in her mind, and twirled her around underneath the glowing bumblebee. “I’m sorry I’ve been so on edge, but not anymore. We’re going to be okay. We sold the French horn!”
CHAPTER 19
Charlie carefully lined a cardboard box with packing foam and placed the French horn inside, a wave of relief washing over him. He had held onto the horn far longer than his nerves had anticipated, but he could relax for now. The sale of the instrument would catch them up financially, replenishing the funds he had spent on the scouting memorabilia and the violin, and providing an extra cushion for the coming weeks, if not months.
He was excited; Velveteen was distant. After he told her, he expected her to be as excited as he was, but she simply said, “That’s great, Charlie,” wiped her hands on a dishtowel, and went to bed. Did she know exactly how tight they had been? He could feel it without even checking their account – could she? Was that the real reason she had gone to the city – to find a job – or was it something else?
Financially, The Rooning had left them with less than they had when they were newlyweds living in a one-bedroom apartment, with barely enough to buy food and pay the utilities. But despite that, in the days following The Rooning, Charlie had felt a closeness with Velveteen more intense, more genuine, than anything they had experienced in their relationship – as though by taking away the wealth something new was revealed. Without him working late at the office, they had more time and talked every night after Gideon went off to sleep – most often he talked and she listened, occasionally interjecting a thought or word of encouragement. She made sure in his darkness he could still see the stars.
“Do you want to go look at the stars, Charlie?”
There were times when his shame got the better of him, and he was numb and cold toward her – he knew it was unfair. She didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t her fault. That night had been one of his selfish nights.
“We can’t see the stars, Vee. There’s too much light po
llution.”
Her smile faded, but she was determined. She took him by the hand and pulled him into the grand master bedroom. On each of the hand-cut crystals of the chandelier hanging over their four-poster bed, she had stuck a silver star. She lay down and instructed him to lie beside her.
“Let’s dream a new dream, Charlie. We did it once, we can do it again.”
In his hopelessness and distance, she had brought him back, reminded him what mattered. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had gone wrong. Their recent closeness now seemed overshadowed by her reticence. Her trips to the city bothered him, shadowing his dreams and preoccupying his thoughts. He wanted to celebrate with her, tell her the sale of the horn would cover their rent for the next two months as well as give them a little extra for Christmas if they chose to save it, but she seemed distant. Had he pushed her too far? Maybe she needed to see the stars.
Charlie withheld a few dollars from the sale. The market would be open in an hour, and he always got there right when, if not before, it opened. It would be a good distraction; after all, it was his sanctuary. He sometimes envisioned the day he would walk through the stone archway, see his rare Kipling sitting among a stack of old books, and buy it for next to nothing. But on that imaginary day, he might notice another book, more rare than the Kipling. It would be so valuable he would sell it for enough to cover their rent for a year. He’d go back to city triumphant and –
He flopped down on the sofa and smacked the large box with his hand. What would it take for him to go back? To show his face again? Would it ever be enough?
The phone rang. Velveteen answered in the kitchen. He leaned in to listen. “I’m sorry but I won’t be able to make it this week.” She whispered something he could not hear, then a laugh. “Yes, I’ll see you then.”
Velveteen stepped into the living room. Faint dark circles shadowed her eyes.
“Who was on the phone?” Silence. “Vee, who was on the phone?”
Her face flushed, she looked over his shoulder, as if not hearing him.
“Vee, is everything all right?”
“Yes.” Her smile was forced.
“There’s something you’re not telling me.” He was on his feet. “Please, tell me what’s going on. Whatever it is, we’ll work through it. It’s what we do.” The phone rang again. “Are you going to answer it?”
“I’m sure it’s Clover. We’re supposed to have tea. I need to get cleaned up. I’ll call her back.”
Another ring. Something was wrong, very wrong. Charlie didn’t know what it was, but Velveteen was not acting like herself. All she had to do was pick it up and say hello. Another ring.
“You should answer it.”
She reached down and lifted the phone to her ear. “Velveteen Price.” There was a pause, then a look of horror passed across Velveteen’s face. Her eyes filled with tears and her hands shook. “We’re on our way.”
“Where are we going?” Charlie asked.
“The hospital. It’s Gideon.”
Charlie bounced his knees, rubbed his sweating palms on his trousers, and stood up. He walked from one end of the room to the other and then sat back down, proceeding to continue with the bouncing. Velveteen’s eye make-up was smudged and her left hand continued to shake.
Danger, Fie, and Finella took turns pointing out the discrepancies in the reproduction Van Gogh that decorated the otherwise colorless waiting area. Tiny paths where tears had passed streaked Fie’s dusty cheeks. Stephen sat with his arm around his wife.
Charlie pulled Velveteen in closer, the awkwardness of the mystery phone call set aside. Their son was in surgery. For the first time since they had been in Coraloo, Charlie wished, if it made sense to wish for such things, that this had happened in the city. The doctor who moonlighted as a realtor was not his first pick, and if the surgery hadn’t needed to be done so quickly, he would have considered rushing Gideon to the city hospital.
Charlie kissed the top of his wife’s head – her hair smelled of strawberries. The last time they had been at the Coraloo County Hospital was because she had fainted at the sight of the wallpaper; Gideon had been okay then. Friendly as he seemed, Dr Eyeballs was not the welcome party they had anticipated on their first day in Coraloo. Charlie allowed his thoughts to wander to those early days, when Velveteen had given the tiny Toft cottage a complete overhaul – with what little they had set aside in their budget, the possessions remaining of their former life, and with the limited colors they were willing to mix at the local hardware store. Charlie laughed out loud and then covered his mouth.
“Do you remember the wallpaper?” he whispered in her ear.
At this, Velveteen let out a chuckle. “And the paint – Gideon called it ‘puke yellow’.”
Charlie laughed again, drawing the eye of others awaiting news of their loved ones. “It’s still puke yellow.”
“I kind of like it now.”
“You do?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Mr Price, Mrs Price.” Doctor Eyeballs appeared in front of the couple, his hands tucked in the pockets of his white lab coat, his eyeballs magnified through the thick glass of his spectacles. “He did great – you can go back and see him now.”
Charlie reached for Velveteen’s hand. Together they entered Gideon’s room. His face was bandaged and an I.V. with clear fluid ran into his arm. A slow beep resonated from the box beside the bed. The doctor had said the fracture to his face was not life threatening; however, because tissue surrounding the eye had become trapped, prompt surgical treatment was necessary to prevent long-term complications such as loss of vision or a permanent change in his appearance.
“It’s okay; you can talk to him,” the doctor encouraged.
“Gideon,” Velveteen said through blubbering sobs, “we’re right here. Mom and Dad are right here.”
“Hey sport.” Charlie’s voice was broken and forced. “They’re taking good care of you. Mom said your new Star Pirates came in. I had her put it in her purse. You’ll be reading it in no time.”
“Can I speak to you both?” Doctor Eyeballs motioned for the couple to join him away from Gideon. “We can’t be certain, but there did not appear to be any nerve damage. We will have a better idea in the morning when we remove the bandages.”
“Thank you, Doctor Eye… ur… Toft.” At this moment, Charlie saw beyond the magnified eyes and straight to the man who had cared for his son.
Stephen peeked his head in the door. “Would it be okay if the children came in for a minute? They want to make sure he’s still alive.”
“Of course,” Velveteen insisted. “They’re his friends.”
Charlie didn’t know who this woman was standing beside him. She liked the puke yellow and now she was willing the Blackwell children – whose antics could quite possibly have blinded their son – to enter the room.
“Is he breathing?” Finella waved her hand above Gideon’s face.
“Look at the wires! He’s like a cyborg!” Fie exclaimed.
Clover placed a correcting hand on the shoulder of each of her children. “Not too loud. He’s resting.”
“Aww,” Danger moaned. “Who’s gonna play the thief? Gideon was the best thief we’ve ever had. Way better than Fife!”
“Who cares?” Finella said excitedly. “He’s got to be the pirate king!”
Fie frowned. “But I’m the pirate king.”
“Not anymore! Gideon will have to wear a patch anyway. Only the pirate king wears a patch, so Gideon is the pirate king!”
Fie stomped her foot on the ground and crossed her arms. But the decision was made.
Clover looked down at her redheaded children. “I think it’s time for one of you to start talking. Who is going to explain to Mr and Mrs Price what happened at the market? We’re going to find out one way or another.” At once, all three heads went down, the children suddenly lost for words. “Danger?”
“Well, Mr Wilkinson was changing a lightbulb in the chandelier –” Da
nger started.
“We were supposed to be practicing our scene. Saturdays are the busiest. We had to get it right,” Fie said, as if everyone in the room should have known.
“Mr Wilkinson got the wrong kind of bulb. So there we were, with his really tall ladder –”
“And I said,” Fie interrupted, “I bet Mungo could swing from the chandelier.”
Velveteen gasped. “Gideon fell from the chandelier?”
“On no, Mrs Price. He didn’t make it that far,” Danger explained. “He got halfway up the ladder when we heard Mrs Wilkinson rolling her cart. That’s when it happened. I yelled up for Gideon to come back down. He couldn’t hear me very well, so he turned around. That’s when he slid. His face hit the floor so hard I heard it –”
“That’s enough, Danger.” Stephen placed his hand in front of Danger’s mouth.
Danger pulled away. “Mr and Mrs Price, it was my fault.”
Finella pushed him out of the way. “No it wasn’t. I was the one who dared him to do it.”
Fie pushed back at her sister. “I bet him a Mungo he wouldn’t do it. I’m the one to blame.”
Velveteen covered her tired eyes with her hand. “You bet a what?”
“Bet you a Mungo… It’s something the kids say, like a dare you can’t turn away from,” Stephen explained. “We said it when we were children too.”
A moan came from the direction of Gideon. Clover ushered Danger and the twins out of the room. A team of nurses stepped up to check Gideon’s fluid levels and blood pressure.
“Do you think he would have done it?” Velveteen took her son’s free hand in her own and kissed its palm.
Charlie chuckled. “Swung from the chandelier?” He shook his head. “Six months ago, I would have said, absolutely not. Now, who knows? Sounds like he was on his way up.”
“I can’t believe he actually thought he could swing on the chandelier. Charlie, he could have been –” her voice cracked.
“But he wasn’t. He’s here. We’re here – as a family. You look like you could use a break. Why don’t you grab a tea with Clover. I’ll stay.”
The Death of Mungo Blackwell Page 16
