by John Saul
Something had changed.
It wasn't just their clarity, which was surprising enough, given how much he'd been drinking last night. Still, if he'd really thrown up most of it, it might be possible that he'd slept it off.
It was as if he read her mind: "When you drink as much as I've been drinking, it takes a hell of a lot to bring on a hangover."
Janet made no reply, but still she gazed into his eyes. There was something familiar there, something dimly remembered.
And then she knew. It was as if she were looking into Ted's eyes when they'd first met, and she'd felt as if she could sink right into him through his eyes, or float in their blue clarity forever, needing nothing else but him, and his caress, and the look in his eyes when they beheld her.
"Come with me," he said now. Lifting Molly out of her arms and settling her gently back into the playpen, Ted took Janet's hand and led her out of the kitchen, through the entry hall and the living room, to the small room in which she'd found him last night.
The empty bottle still lay on the sofa, and the box of full ones still sat on the hearth, just as it had last night. As Ted lifted a bottle of vodka from the box, broke its seal, and opened it, Janet felt a cold emptiness in her stomach. Was he planning to prove that he'd changed by having a drink? But instead of raising the bottle to his lips, he held it over the sink in the wet bar that had been built next to the fireplace and tipped it up.
Its contents flowed down the drain.
He reached for another bottle, and drained it, too.
And then another, and another, until every bottle in the box was empty. "Have you ever known me to do that before?" he asked.
In her mind, all the assurances and all the promises he'd ever made echoed.
"I don't have to drink—I like to drink."
"Just because it's here doesn't mean I'll drink it."
"I won't touch a drop, but we have to have something to serve company, don't we?"
How many times had she heard it? How many variations had there been? And the couple of times she'd simply poured out his liquor herself, he'd only replaced it, usually within the hour. He'd even had a rationalization for that: "Even if I decide to have a drink—which I won't—wouldn't you rather I had it here?"
No! she had wanted to scream. I don't want you to drink at all!
But no matter what she'd said, it didn't do any good. There had never been a time—unless they ran completely out of money—when there wasn't any liquor in the house. Then she remembered the trailer behind the Toyota.
Again it was as if he'd read her mind. "And I didn't buy any more," he said. There was a flash of lightning, a crash of thunder shook the house, and the first drops of rain began to fall. "Oh, Jesus," Ted cried. "I've got to get all the stuff in the trailer into the carriage house before it gets ruined!" Dropping the last of the bottles into the sink, he raced through the house and out the back door. By the time Janet caught up with him, he was already digging deep into the trailer's depths. "There's some plastic drop cloths—" His hand closed on something and he pulled it out. "Here!" he cried. Ripping a plastic bag open, he pulled one of the polyethylene sheets out and began shaking it open. A minute later he and Janet had it stretched out over the trailer, protecting its contents from the storm. But already the wind was starting to pull at it; in a few minutes it would be gone. "Get in the car," Ted told her as the rain came down harder. "I'll open the carriage house doors, and you can pull it in."
"The garage isn't big enough," Janet protested.
"Back it in," Ted replied. "I'll guide you." The rain was pouring down in sheets now.
"But you'll get soaked—" Janet began, but Ted was already pulling the double doors of the carriage house open. She got into the Toyota, and a moment later Ted was calling out instructions to her.
Janet edged the trailer back, twisting the wheel first one way, then another, trying to maneuver the trailer through the doors into the shelter of the carriage house. Twice she had to pull all the way forward and start over again.
Meanwhile the rain came down harder, until she could hardly see Ted, even with the windshield wipers going full blast.
On the third try, she managed to ease the trailer—and the back half of the Toyota—into the carriage house, and cringed when she felt the right rear fender scrape against the doorframe. Getting out, she dashed into the shelter of the structure, where she found Ted adding another sheet of plastic to the trailer, and tying both sheets down with a length of clothesline. "I wondered why I bought this," he said as he secured the last corner. "Now I know." He looked up through the rafters at the badly leaking roof. "Maybe I ought to get up there and fix that right now."
"Are you crazy?" Janet demanded. "You'd slip off and break your neck!"
"But—"
"No 'buts,' " Janet said. "Let's get in the house before it gets any worse."
Together, they sprinted across the yard to the back door, ducking into the kitchen just as another bolt of lightning ripped at the clouds, followed by a crash of thunder that sent Molly into a fit of terrified screaming. This time it was Ted who plucked her out of the playpen.
"It's okay," he crooned. "Just a little thunder. Can't hurt Daddy's little sweetheart."
As she watched him soothe their youngest child, Janet tried to decide whether this was just another performance designed to keep her here.
But if this were an act, it would take a far better actor than Ted had ever been.
Soaking wet, he was gently soothing Molly's fears away, and when the little girl was finally quiet again, he actually smiled at Janet. "I think it went pretty well out there, all things considered," he said.
Janet looked straight at him. "You do know I hit the doorpost with the right rear fender, don't you?" she asked.
Ted shrugged. "With that car, who's going to notice? I'm amazed you were able to do it at all, the way that rain's coming down." After a moment's silence he said, "I know you have to go." His voice was very quiet. "I'll get the trailer unhitched." He hesitated again, and she could almost feel him searching for the right words. But it was as if he knew it was too late, that there weren't any right words anymore. Once again his eyes—as blue and clear and deep as on the day she'd met him—found hers. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'm sorry for all of it." He started toward the back door, and she knew—knew deep in her soul—that he was telling her the truth.
Something inside him had, indeed, finally changed.
"Ted?"
He paused, then turned to look at her.
"Maybe one more day," she heard herself say. "Maybe the kids and I can stay one more day, and see what happens."
CHAPTER 17
The jangling of the bell signaling the end of the school day startled Kim so badly she almost jumped out of the cramped school desk at which she'd been trying to unsnarl a seemingly unsolvable quadratic equation. With each period of the day, she'd felt more and more as if some terrible mistake had been made and she'd been put in the wrong classes. But all the rest of the kids were her age, and none of them appeared to be as unprepared as she felt. Was it possible that the public school she and Jared had gone to was as far behind the Catholic school as it seemed? But it must be, to judge from her classmates, at least as far as math, science, and French were concerned. The rest of it wasn't so bad—she'd always been good at history and English. But the hard classes—or those that had always been difficult for her—were nearly impossible. As she stuffed her books into her backpack and headed for her locker, she wondered if Jared felt as lost. If he did, they were both going to be in trouble. At least in school they'd always had different talents and were able to help each other out.
At her locker, halfway along the narrow main corridor on the second floor of the building, she worked the combination, and had a sinking sensation in her stomach when the handle refused to budge. It wasn't until the third try that she realized what was wrong—she was using the combination from the old school. As her fingers rotated the dial one more time, she
sensed someone standing behind her.
Someone who made her feel oddly nervous. She tried to concentrate on working the combination, but after the first number her mind went blank.
How many turns was it? Two? Three?
And what number was she supposed to stop at? Then it came to her: twenty-six!
Or was it eight?
No! Eight was the last number!
She started over again, but could sense that whoever was behind her had moved closer, and now the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up.
What did he want?
He was very close to her now. So close she could hear him breathing, almost feel his breath on the back of her neck.
He was going to touch her!
Her skin crawled. At any moment she would feel his fingers on her. Unable to stand it any longer, she whirled around to confront the person behind her. "What do you—" she began, and abruptly stopped. Jared! It was just Jared! "My God," she breathed, sagging against her locker. "You scared me! How come you didn't say anything?"
His eyes darted in one direction and then the other. Was he looking for someone? Kim scanned the corridor, seeing several faces she recognized, even some she could put names to. But who would Jared be worried about? "Who are you looking for?" she asked.
He frowned. "No one. But I think some of the nuns are looking for me," he said, his voice barely audible.
Kim stared at her brother. First he'd walked out without eating breakfast, not even waiting for her. Then she'd hardly seen him all day. She'd looked for him at lunchtime, but he hadn't been in the cafeteria, and so finally she sat with a girl named Sandy Engstrom and some of her friends. But she'd spent most of the hour keeping an eye out for Jared, and hadn't been able to concentrate on anything they were saying. "Why would they be looking for you?" she asked now. "Did you do something wrong?"
Jared shook his head. "They just don't like me."
Kim rolled her eyes impatiently. "What do you mean, they don't like you? They act like they don't like anyone."
Jared's expression hardened. "I'm telling you, they don't like me! All day, they've been watching me."
"Watching you?" Kim echoed. Why would the nuns be watching him? But then she thought she knew—he was feeling the same thing she was, that everything was going to be harder here. For some reason he was taking it personally. "It doesn't have anything to do with you," she protested. "It's just different here, that's all." She turned back to her locker, her fingers once again working at the combination, and finally the lock snapped open. "I've been feeling like some kind of retard all day, but it doesn't have anything to do with the sisters. It's just—"
But Jared wasn't listening to her anymore.
In fact, he wasn't even behind her. As she closed her locker, she saw him disappearing down the stairs at the end of the hall. She stared after him.
What was going on? Why was he acting so strange today?
But it wasn't just that he was acting strange. It was something else—something more.
It was the Twin Thing. She remembered noticing it this morning, when she felt the odd sensation of being alone, as if the mental connection she and Jared had always shared had suddenly been severed. At first she'd attributed it to Jared's moodiness, and was certain that by the time she got to school, their link would be mended. But it hadn't been, and all day she'd felt an unfamiliar loneliness, which she'd never experienced before.
Just now, when he was standing right behind her—less than a foot away—she'd had no idea it was him. That had never happened before. All her life, she'd always known when Jared was nearby, always known when he came into a room she was in. When they were really little, they'd even made a game of it, trying to fool each other, to sneak up on one another, each hoping to catch the other off guard. But neither of them had succeeded.
Until today.
And then she understood why Jared was feeling so strange. The same thing had happened to him! Of course! That had to be it. She hurried after her brother, threading her way through the crowd of students that milled in the hallway, then skipping down the stairs two at a time. Bursting out the front door, she looked around for Jared and spotted him half a block away, talking to Luke Roberts. She hurried toward them, calling out his name. But as she approached, both boys went silent, and when Jared looked at her, she had the impression that he wasn't glad to see her. His words confirmed it: "Can't you just leave me alone?"
Kim stopped short. "I—I just—" She floundered, unable to find the words she was looking for. Jared continued to stare at her, and now, in sunlight that seemed even brighter than normal in the wake of the storm that had passed through that morning, she saw that something in his eyes was different. Where before she'd always felt that she could see right into her brother through his eyes, now she sensed a curtain between them, as if there was something he didn't want her to know.
Something he was hiding from her.
Muffin! That must be it—he must have found out what happened to her cat, and didn't want to tell her. Which meant... Kim's heart sank when it occurred to her why Jared wouldn't tell her if he'd found her pet. "It's Muffin, isn't it?" she asked. Jared's face remained impassive. "You found her, didn't you?" She thought she saw something flicker in his eyes, but it was gone so fast she wasn't sure she'd seen it at all. And once again the Twin Thing was telling her nothing. But somehow, even though Jared had betrayed nothing, she was certain she was right.
Muffin wasn't coming home. She felt her eyes sting with tears, but managed to hold them back. "I—I just thought we could walk home together," she finally stammered, for the first time in her life feeling unwilling to share her emotions with her brother. Before he spoke, she knew what he was going to say, and this time it didn't have anything to do with the Twin Thing, or with Muffin. This time she could read it in the expression on his face.
"I'm gonna hang with Luke for a while," he told her. "You go ahead."
Suddenly all the uneasiness, all the worry Kim had been feeling, coalesced into something else.
Anger.
If that was the way he felt—if he just wanted to cut her off—fine!
Without another word, she turned and walked quickly away, her head high, her back straight, determined that Jared wouldn't see the tears that glistened in her eyes.
When his sister was gone, Jared turned back to Luke Roberts. "Well, what about it?" he asked. "If I show you where the cabin is, will you tell me who lives in it?"
Luke uneasily shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "How come you want to know?" he hedged. "When'd you see this place?"
Jared's voice hardened. "Someone killed my sister's cat," he told Luke. "He nailed its skin to the back wall of our carriage house." Luke's eyes narrowed. "My dog tracked him back to a cabin, but there were a couple of hounds guarding it."
"Maybe you oughta just forget about it," Luke suggested. "Can't your sister just get another cat?"
Jared's gaze fixed steadily on Luke. "You chicken?" he asked, his voice low, his eyes boring into Luke's. The other boy's jaw tightened and his right hand clenched into a fist. But Jared held his gaze steady on Luke, and finally the clenched fist relaxed.
"Okay," Luke said. "Let's go."
Kim was so totally preoccupied with the confrontation she'd just had with Jared that she barely noticed the pungent scent of smoke in the air. But when she turned the corner, she saw it—a great cloud of smoke was billowing up from—
The house!
Her heart pounding, she broke into a run, then slowed as she realized it wasn't the house that was on fire at all. There was a huge bonfire burning behind the house, a fire that was sending up clouds of steam and smoke so large they all but hid the building from her view. As she approached, her father came around the side of the house, into her line of sight. He was stripped to the waist, his skin glistening with sweat, as he pulled kudzu off the magnolia tree. As she came into the yard, he hurled a great armful of the tangled vines onto the fire. The flames leap
ed upon the leafy offering like a voracious beast, spitting new plumes of smoke and steam into the sky and filling the afternoon with hissing and crackling as it devoured the tangled green mass. Kim stopped and hung back, staying well away from the ravening flames. Even when the fire began to die back, she still watched the scene warily.
Was her father drunk? But he didn't look like he was, and when she scanned the area for the drink he invariably had with him whenever he was home, she saw no sign of anything—not even a beer. But the kudzu had all but vanished. The carriage house had been stripped of it, as had the house, and even the mounds of it that had overgrown the yard were all but gone. Where this morning the grounds had been an almost unbroken sea of the invading vine, now she could recognize the remnants of what had once been a lawn, along with the skeletons of shrubs that the kudzu had long since choked to death.
"It's not quite as bad as it looks," she heard her father say. Startled, Kim turned to find him standing only a few feet away from her. Instinctively, she drew back to distance herself from the alcoholic fumes he usually exhaled. "Take it easy, Princess," he said, smiling at her and using the pet name she hadn't heard for years. "Believe it or not, I'm not drunk."
His words startled Kim almost as much as the way he'd addressed her. She tried to remember the last time he'd even admitted to drinking too much, let alone being drunk, and the answer came to her almost as quickly as she asked the question.
Never.
In her entire memory, Kim could not recall her father doing anything but insist that he didn't have a drinking problem. "I didn't think you were," she blurted out so quickly he couldn't help but know it was exactly what she'd been thinking. She braced herself against the wave of fury she was certain was about to break over her. But to her amazement, her father kept smiling.
"Of course you were," he said. "Let's face it—it's been a few years since you've seen me when I wasn't drunk."
