Jack asked, “Is this where Aunt Julia is?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Ojacor answered.
“Is she dead? Like Mom?”
“No, she’s just hurt,” Ron said, ignoring the tight feeling in his chest.
They reached the elevator and waited for the doors to open. Jack looked thoughtfully at Mrs. Ojacor for a moment.
“Our Mom died, you know,” he offered.
“I know,” Mrs. Ojacor replied soothingly.
The elevator door slid open and she ushered them inside, pushing the button for the third floor.
Jack stood next to Mrs. Ojacor, his face pinched, as though he was thinking something through. It was the first time that Ron had ever heard Jack talk about their parents’ death to someone outside of the family. Even inside of the family, he never verbalized it beyond asking where Mom and Dad were, and then bursting out into tears. He hadn’t done that in quite some time. Ron wondered why he was talking about it now; it had to be because of Aunt Julia’s injury.
Jack looked up at Mrs. Ojacor.
“My Dad died, too,” he said quietly. “Aunt Julia said that they went to Heaven, but I don’t know for sure, because I haven’t seen it. Where is Heaven?”
“It’s where God is,” she said, her tone solemn.
“Aunt Julia said that God is taking care of Mom and Dad until we can see them again.”
“She’s right, you know. He’s taking very good care of them.”
“That’s good,” Jack said. “They were very nice. They didn’t want to die, you know. But they had to because God missed them and wanted them with Him. I think He wanted Mom to make Him chicken fingers.”
Mrs. Ojacor smiled. “Did she make good chicken fingers?”
“Yes. She put lots of sauce on them. Dad liked them best. Granddad says that Dad is playing golf with St. Peter now. So I guess they are both happy, except that they miss us a lot.”
“You must miss them a lot.”
He nodded. “When the lightning scared me, Mom hugged me. Now, Ron does that.”
Ron took Jack’s hand, pulling him close. He saw that Dana’s eyes were shiny, like she was about to start crying.
“When we see your aunt, we have to be very careful,” Mrs. Ojacor said. “Her head is still hurt and she needs peace and quiet.”
They were at the door. It was open, but a curtain was drawn, dividing the room in two. Mrs. Ojacor knocked gently on the door jam.
Ron didn’t want to enter the room. He didn’t want to see Aunt Julia looking like Great Aunt Alice. She wasn’t supposed to be ill or wounded – she was supposed to be healthy and well. He didn’t want to see the tubes, the bruises, the withered expression, and tired eyes. He wanted Aunt Julia out of the hospital and back home, sanding the walls with him and laughing at the jokes that they made.
If Aunt Julia doesn’t recover, we’ll be split up. How am I supposed to be the man of the house then?
He flushed with anger and helplessness, thinking about the intruder breaking into their home. The emotions roiling inside him were powerful, but this was no time to be angry. The kids needed him to be strong, now that Aunt Julia was wounded.
As she called out for them to come in, Julia’s voice sounded stronger than he expected, but perhaps the excitement of seeing them had given her a temporary lift.
The hospital room was small. Equipment and furniture lined the narrow quarters. Yet when Mrs. Ojacor pulled back the curtain that divided the room, sunlight flooded the tiny area and made it feel welcoming.
At the sound of Julia’s greeting, Jack wrenched his hand from Ron’s and wriggled past the others.
“Aunt Julia! You aren’t dead!”
“Careful, Jack,” Mrs. Ojacor said, but her warnings went unheeded. The two little girls broke ranks to run around the bed as Dana burst into tears.
“Aunt Julia,” was all she could manage.
Julia looked bright and alert, with her hair neatly combed and her face clean and smiling. She was sitting on top of the bedding, dressed in a hospital gown. She was attached to monitors, and there was a bandage wrapped around her head, and dark circles shone under her eyes. But she was laughing and hugging the kids, trying to thank Mrs. Ojacor.
“It’s all right,” she murmured to Dana as she hugged her. Jack climbed into the bed and snuggled up against her. “It’s all right, guys, I’m fine. How are you all doing?”
“Okay.” Dana’s voice sounded hoarse. “We thought that he killed you.”
Julia sighed heavily. “I thought so, too. It was stupid for me to go into the house like that, but thank God we’re all safe. I’m so glad to see you. You must have been so scared when Mrs. Jurta started shooting.”
Dana nodded.
Amelia shrugged. “I wasn’t, really. My dad takes me to the shooting gallery sometimes, so I’m used to guns.” Then her cocky façade crumbled and she wrapped her arms around Julia’s neck. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Julia stroked her head, then reached to trace Dana’s face with her hand. That started another flood of tears that Mrs. Ojacor stepped in to tend to.
Ron felt separate from the scene. He was in too much trouble to be any help. He was, after all, a felon - or so Mac had told him last night when they were questioned by the police.
Julia noticed him hovering near the foot of the bed and gave him a welcoming smile. Ron smiled back, but stayed where he was. She had to be upset with him for his stunts at the Lang house, and there would be a long lecture in his future. He decided to stay back – the little kids needed time, he decided.
“Ron.”
Julia gently slid Jack off to the side, then Dana, and gestured for him to come closer. As he did, he saw that her smile was pained but genuine.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He nodded silently.
Suddenly, she pulled him into her arms and held him.
“Oh, Ron,” she sighed into his hair, “I almost lost you.” Her grip tightened.
Ron felt like he was melting on the inside. Aunt Julia knew what had happened earlier, she knew about the house… But she was still glad to see him. Something inside threatened to give way, but he held it in tightly as he returned her hug.
He was loved.
For a few seconds, he felt almost whole.
42
Julia was released that afternoon. The doctors said she was fine, but might have headaches and dizziness for the next couple of days. They gave her a cane, some prescriptions, and cautioned her to rest.
Julia was feeling well enough to joke, “Maybe next year.”
Mrs. Ojacor offered to have them all stay at her house for a few more days, but to Ron’s relief, Julia refused. She wanted to go see the house, she said, and she simply couldn’t intrude on the Ojacors’ hospitality any longer. Amelia called Robert and let him know that Julia wouldn’t need a ride, and then they all squeezed into Mr. Ojacor’s extended cab pickup.
“I am very lucky to have this truck,” Mrs. Ojacor commented. “Joseph never lets me borrow it, but today I told him it was an emergency - anyway, he was at work and couldn’t really stop me.”
Now that Julia was back, the whole atmosphere had changed. The kids were able to appreciate Mrs. Ojacor’s good humor, and the funny way she liked to tell her stories about Africa and coming to America for the first time. She kept them entertained the whole way from Concord back to her house in Franklin, and they never thought to put on the radio or listen to their iPods.
When they got to Mrs. Ojacor’s house, she insisted that they come in and have afternoon tea.
“It is too early for supper and too late for lunch,” she pointed out. “And I think you would like to have something a little better in your stomach besides hospital food before you go and face that place again.”
“That would be very nice of you,” Julia sa
id. She was tiring out, so it probably was a good idea. She rested in the living room with Jack curled up on her lap while Dana helped Mrs. Ojacor in the kitchen, and Ron and Amelia packed up their things from the guest room and living room.
Over lunch, Ron asked if he could go inside the house first, but Julia shook her head.
“I want us all to go together,” she explained as they sat around Caroline’s table enjoying tea and sandwiches. “I think we need to face what happened as a family unit.”
“It’s amazing to me that you want to go back at all,” Caroline volunteered.
“I’m just so mad that someone broke in and tried to ruin our hard work. It’s my house, and no one has a right to just walk in and frighten us.”
“Well, good for you, girl,” Caroline said.
Despite her bold stance, Julia didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get home. After they’d eaten, Caroline invited her to see the workshop where she made homemade cards and did a little pottery.
They sent the kids outside to play, but Ron didn’t enjoy himself at all. He sat on the back porch steps, watching the others and wishing he could go home and check around for intruders. Robert had told him that the police would patrol the area more often and that he would keep a personal eye on the place, but this was Ron’s responsibility, not his.
Dana came running up to him. “Come on and play tag with us, Ron,” she begged.
“Can’t.”
“Why not? You’re not doing anything.”
“I’m thinking. Did Mrs. Jurta find a home for Horatio?”
She sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know. I think so.”
“Bummer.”
“You know, if Horatio was with us, he would have warned us. He would have bitten that burglar and held on to him until the police came.”
“Maybe,” Ron muttered.
“Do you think Aunt Julia will ever let us get a dog?”
“Maybe if we could convince her that a dog would be a good guard for the house. But we can’t ask her about it just yet. She’s still got a headache.”
“And you’re still in trouble,” she said pointedly. “Was it cool in the haunted house?”
“No,” he said shortly. “And there weren’t any ghosts.”
“Was there…”
“I can’t say, because of the police,” he announced. “Go play with Amelia.”
Looking hurt, she trudged off. Ron felt guilty, but was glad that she was gone and not asking him questions.
Long after Ron was ready to go, Julia called them in to leave. They took their bags and thanked Caroline, who insisted that she not only drive them back over, but walk them through the house before she left.
“The last time I let you go by yourself, it was a disaster,” she said. “We won’t make that mistake again.”
Julia didn’t protest. Ron thought that she was glad for the company, but he resented the idea that they couldn’t handle an empty house on their own. Today wasn’t like the other night. Today, he was there with them.
He knew he had acted foolishly with Dylan. He deserved punishment; yet wondering if he’d be trusted again shook him right down to his toes.
At the house, Ron was about to tell Julia that he was going in when they were interrupted by barking.
“Horatio!” Dana cried.
The puppy, who seemed bigger since they’d last seen him, raced across the lawn. The girl opened her arms to receive him, and he nearly knocked her down in his excitement. His whole body trembled as he barked and wagged his tail and licked Dana’s face. Then he bounded toward Julia and licked her hand, jumped up to Ron, ran around Amelia three times, and then leaped back on Dana.
“Oh, Horatio, I’ve missed you!” she squealed, and Horatio barked his reply. She giggled and wrapped her arms around him.
“Tigger!” Amelia shouted, delighted. Tigger was crossing the street, straining at the leash that Mrs. Jurta held as Amelia ran to him. The small dog covered Amelia’s face with kisses, seeming as happy as Horatio.
Mrs. Jurta surrendered the leash to Amelia and turned to Julia.
“How are you feeling today?” she asked.
Julia smiled, nodded, then winced, and touched her head. “Better,” she said. “Thank you. But aren’t you supposed to be on your way to Florida?”
Mrs. Jurta shook her head and lifted her hands in disbelief at what she was saying. “Stupid burglar,” she said. “He almost kills you, and then - because I do the right thing and try to shoot him - I’m probably going to be sued because I accidentally hit a neighbor’s car instead. Nice, huh?”
“Oh, no!”
Mrs. Ojacor interrupted: “My dear, are you being charged?”
“I could be,” Mrs. Jurta said. “I’ve called the lawyers and everything, but since I had a pistol permit and because the man was actually trying to rob a house and attacked you, Julia, the lawyers say that the cops probably won’t push it.”
“Well, that’s good,” Julia said.
“Except that I can’t leave town until they say so,” Mrs. Jurta continued. “I tried to explain to them that I had a mortally ill dog, but our beloved police chief wouldn’t budge on the matter. He says I can’t leave the state.”
As the women chattered, Ron saw an opportunity. The three kids were playing with the dogs, so no one noticed him when he slipped past the van in the driveway to put his key in the side door.
He would get through the house, survey the damage, and make sure everything was safe before Aunt Julia noticed he was gone. He’d even put the water on for coffee, that way he’d be brave, responsible, and considerate, all in one swoop. Maybe, he thought, it would make amends.
But the door was already unlocked. He froze, unsure what to do.
Then the handle moved.
Ron jumped back, fists up, and tripped over some of Jack’s outdoor toys. He sprawled onto his back, scraping his elbow against the old pavement. But that wasn’t the worst of it.
The figure in the doorway who was offering him a hand was Officer Wilde.
“Are you all right, Ron?” Robert said, pulling him into a sitting position.
Ron was too embarrassed and confused to answer.
“Oh goodness, are you all right, Ron?” Julia rushed over, her movements unsteady.
“I startled him,” Robert said apologetically.
“You weren’t trying to go in by yourself, were you?” asked Mrs. Ojacor.
“He was just trying to help,” Julia said. “Honey, how’s your head?”
They were clustering around him like a bunch of concerned hens. In a matter of seconds, Ron had gone from reliable, a pillar of strength, to a clumsy victim of poor judgment.
Waves of frustration washed over him, and it was only with huge effort that he was able to keep himself under control.
Julia saw the struggle and thought he was in physical pain. With a wave of her hand, she indicated that the others, except Robert, should give him some space.
Ron might have held it together had Julia not looked up at Robert.
“You were inside?” she asked.
Robert nodded sheepishly. “Amelia said that you were coming back tonight, so I wanted to look things over before you arrived. Hope it doesn’t bother you.”
He looked anxious, but Julia’s expression turned soft. “Oh,” she said. “That’s really nice of you.”
They gazed at each other while Ron shifted uncomfortably.
“Almost like having a man around the house, isn’t it?” Mrs. Jurta suggested.
If she had slapped him across the face, Ron would not have felt more stung. He turned to glare at Mrs. Jurta, but she wasn’t paying attention.
Almost like having a man around the house?
Bitterness rose up inside him, and suddenly, he had to get out of there. He rolled over and up onto his feet.<
br />
I’ve got to get out.
Julia pulled herself out of her reverie enough to say, “Ron? Honey, where are you going?”
He began to run. His head throbbed, his ankle hurt, but he didn’t pay any attention. The pity in his aunt’s voice made him want to get as far away from the house and those people as fast as he could. He heard Amelia shout, “Wait!” but he ignored her, too.
Almost like having a man around the house…
He ran on and on, the phrase chased itself around in his head, like a manic dog after its own tail.
How dare he go into my house? How dare he take my place?
He was halfway down the street, nearing the old Lang place. When he reached the stop sign at the end of the road, he stopped for a moment to wipe his eyes.
You’re the man of the house now, Ron.
I tried, Dad. They won’t let me.
He was having difficulty breathing. The pounding in his chest and ears made it difficult to hear. He bent over and took a few deep, steadying breaths, but it didn’t help. He was shaking all over and it was growing worse by the second. He wasn’t far enough away from the house; they could still see him from there, and he didn’t want them to see him that way.
Almost like having a man around the house…
Ron ran into the street.
A horn blared, and he saw the truck. It was too close to stop and too big to turn.
A car was approaching from the other direction. If Ron moved back, the car would hit him.
He couldn’t move. His mind suddenly cleared of all thoughts but one:
I’ll see Mom and Dad.
Something smashed into him, knocking the breath from his chest and throwing him through the air to the pavement.
The ground met him with a bone-shaking impact. The truck horn sounded a long blast as it passed him and the car’s tires squealed.
Something was on top of him, pinning him to the ground. Ron realized he hadn’t been hit by an automobile at all. A person had hit him. Someone had saved him. He wasn’t going to die, not today.
Summer Shadows Page 34
