Twenty Minutes Late

by Caroline Crane

  Maddie gulped and did her best. “I just wondered what it’s like there socially. For, uh—my friend’s cousin.”

  “Deirdre,” said Cree. “My cousin Deirdre.” She was glad she remembered the name.

  And that reminded her. “Did we forget to introduce ourselves? I’m Iva Mellin.” That was Grandma’s name. “And this is, um—Marcia Stevens.”

  Maddie rose. “I’m so glad we met you. And thanks for the soda. I hope your sister gets over her shyness and makes a lot of friends. Does she live anywhere near you? Near the school?”

  “Not too far. Yes, I wish I could help her with that shyness.”

  “She must be very different from you. It’s interesting, both of you growing up in the same family.”

  She was dangerously close to saying too much. Cree gave her a poke, took their glasses to the kitchen, and hoped Maddie would follow. Over the room divider, she heard Velda say, “You never know. Everybody has their own set of experiences.”

  Maddie’s “Oh?” sounded much too eager. Cree tried to signal her.

  “What I mean is,” Velda continued, “something may have happened years ago. It’s hard to know for sure.”

  Maddie sat back down.

  Velda smiled. “You don’t really want to hear it.”

  Maddie made it all too clear that she did. Cree went back to them, hoping to neutralize things. “I’m always interested, especially with that course I’m taking. We do a lot on childhood experiences. They can shape a person’s whole life.”

  “I’m not sure it was a real experience,” Velda said. “Frankly, when she told me, I thought it must be a dream. She insisted it really happened.”

  “Even dreams,” said Cree, “often have a basis in reality.” She remembered Davy and that house coming toward him. What on earth could it mean?

  Velda said, “I never thought of it that way. It just seemed so bizarre. I couldn’t understand why a four-year-old would dream something like that.”

  Cree smiled what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

  Velda shut down. “I mustn’t betray her confidence, even though she was only four at the time. I know kids that age tend to be curious about certain things. This has been a lot of fun.”

  She gave Cree’s hand a squeeze. “I wish you all the best in your studies. And the very best for your poor cousin. I hope she’ll be happy in her new life here.”

  Maddie walked like a zombie. Cree had to guide her out to the car while Velda stood in the doorway to see them off.

  “Why did she have to stop?” Maddie said. “She could have told us.”

  Cree pushed her into the car. “Just drive. Don’t say or do anything that gives us away. Do you want to get Ben in worse trouble?”

  “We never did find out where Kelsey lives. I tried.”

  “We got plenty. More than we expected.”

  “Yes, but what exactly did we get? I need to find her.” Maddie reached Fremont and had to wait while another car passed.

  It drove cautiously, as if it didn’t expect her to wait. It was black, a two-door sedan with patches of gray on the door and the trunk.

  As Maddie moved forward, Cree asked, “Was there somebody else in that car?”

  “I think so. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “I wasn’t either, at first, but I know the car. And the person who was driving. First, he didn’t seem to know Olive, then he said he’s known her for years, and that’s her cousin’s car. Very interesting.”

  “By the way,” Maddie said, “you were amazing. Do you really have a cousin who’s autistic and lost her parents in a plane crash in the Sierra Nevada?”

  “None of the above.”

  “How did you come up with all that?”

  “It just popped into my head. Maybe it’s something I read, I don’t know.”

  “Anyhow, it worked. I wish she’d told us more about Kelsey’s dream. That sounds like something from an opera, Kelsey’s dream.”

  Cree didn’t know about opera but she did know Lina’s car. She wished she could have seen if it was Lina next to the driver.

  “I suppose you know,” she said as they started down the steep hill, “tomorrow’s a half day. Some sort of conference. I don’t know why they can’t have it on Friday and give us a longer weekend. What’s the point in half a Monday?”

  “So we can finish our Shakespeare papers,” Maddie said. “Did you do yours? I’ve been so busy I didn’t even start mine and I can’t do it tomorrow. My mom saw the schedule and she made a dentist appointment. Can you believe it? Without consulting me. He’s all the way in New York City. It’s my whole afternoon.”

  They were on the bridge when a car approached from the other side.

  “Oh, shoot,” Maddie said. “I’ll have to squeeze over. Usually people wait till the first car’s across.”

  She squeezed as best she could. Both cars took the squeeze very slowly.

  “Cree! It’s your friend!” Maddie waved.

  It was not her friend, it was Emerson Santiago. He waved to Maddie. Or maybe to both of them, and then they had to concentrate on passing each other.

  “What’s he doing with a baby seat?” Maddie said. “Don’t tell me he’s a teenage daddy.”

  “I didn’t think he owned a car. Was there a baby in it?”

  “Didn’t see one. I’m glad we did this today, but it’s only a start. It’s interesting that a person like Kelsey would have such an outgoing sister.”

  “As she said herself,” Cree reminded her, “people have different life experiences. And different personalities. I read somewhere there’s an actual gene for shyness.”

  “It really is an interesting field, isn’t it?”

  “I guess so.” But not so interesting as to distract her from Broadway.

  When they reached Cree’s house, she saw a small figure on the front steps. “She didn’t go off and leave him again!”

  “Is that the Hurlow kid?” Maddie got out of the car and Cree introduced them. Davy stared at Maddie with round, suspicious eyes.

  “Are you by yourself?” asked Cree.

  “Your grandma’s inside. I was waiting for you”

  “Did your mom send you over? Does she know you’re here?”

  He shrugged, not caring. Olive’s car was gone. She might have been out looking for Davy, although with a little effort she could have seen him on Cree’s front step.

  “Maddie, can you stay with him for a minute while I try to find out what’s going on?”

  If Olive was out, she’d have locked up. Or should have. The front door opened.

  Cree looked in the living room. The kitchen. “Olive? Are you here?” Not without her car, although it was an old one and could have been in the shop. Hadn’t she learned anything about leaving kids alone?

  What an odd family. Cree couldn’t get that man out of her mind, the one who was driving Lina’s car. She remembered seeing him before. Here, in this house. Not in person, but a photo. Without the beard. It was the beard that confused her.

  Next to the living room sofa was an end table with a drawer. She had been looking for Band-Aids one afternoon when Davy fell off the swing and bashed his knee. Not finding any in the logical places, she started looking everywhere else. That was how she came across the picture, in that drawer. She hadn’t given it a thought at the time.

  She shouted again for Olive, then locked the front door so she would hear if anyone came.

  She had first noticed the picture because it was on top of the drawer’s clutter. Now it wasn’t. She sifted through a pile of road maps, old postcards, instructions for the DVD player. In all the mess, there wasn’t any picture.

  Oh well, what did it matter? He was probably just another relative, on Lina’s side.

  When she went back home, Maddie and Davy were in the kitchen and Grandma was handing out cookies.

  “Olive’s not there,” Cree told them.

  “Took you long enough,” Grandma said. “Have a cookie.”

 
They were drinking pink lemonade that Grandma made from a powdered mix. She and Mom argued constantly about which was worse, natural sugar or artificial sweetener.

  “Davy,” said Cree. “Was your mommy home when you came over here?”

  He shook his head, his mouth full of Pecan Sandies.

  “Was there some sort of emergency? Did she get a phone call or something?” This was a replay of last Wednesday.

  “She said she had to go out.”

  Cree hoped it wasn’t bad news about Kip that Olive didn’t want Davy to know.

  “He said he was lonely,” Maddie told her. “So he came to see you.”

  “And I wasn’t here. Oh, Davy.”

  “Don’t you go beating up on yourself.” Grandma offered the cookie package. Cree took two and set her elbows on the table.

  “Davy. Is Lina married?”

  “Huh?”

  “Lina Lynch. Your mom’s cousin. Does she have a husband? Do you know where she lives?”

  He stared at the cookie in his hand. “Somewhere.”

  “Okay, let’s try this. One time at your house, I saw a picture. It was a man with a long face.” She demonstrated with her hands. And drew a blank, until she added, “Sometimes he wears a beard.” Her hands formed a goatee.

  Davy drew circles in the sweat on his glass. “Sometimes Uncle Jake has a beard.”

  “Your uncle?” She felt a flutter of excitement. “Is it a pointy beard, like this?” Again, she used her hands. “Light brown, like his hair?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where does Uncle Jake live?”

  “In a sort of house.”

  “A sort of house?”

  Grandma said, “Now who’s pushing the questions?”

  They weren’t leading questions. Cree said, “What do you mean, a sort of house?”

  “It’s long.” He spread his arms. “Can I have another cookie?”

  Chapter Twelve

  A late afternoon sun was breaking through the cloud cover as Maddie started home. Almost the whole day gone and what had she accomplished? Nothing, except to confirm that Kelsey was a nutcase and that didn’t need confirmation.

  She hadn’t found where Kelsey lived and she hadn’t started her Shakespeare paper. It was due on Tuesday.

  As she turned from Maple onto Grand Street, a reflection popped into her mirror. It was bright yellow with oversize tires. She would know that car anywhere.

  She also knew Evan. He would follow her home. There, he’d have a clear field. Her parents were invited to a wine and cheese party and Ben, of course, was deep in his computer. He wouldn’t notice even if she screamed and blew her horn.

  Evan drew close to her and stuck there. At best, he was trying to freak her out. At worst, he would ram her, maybe knock her into traffic or disable her car. After Grand Street, there was that narrow bridge with the lonely roads beyond it. He could do a lot of damage there.

  He was crazy enough for anything, even at the expense of his own car. It was a matter of control. He had to show his power over her. He could run her off the road, down that steep bank into the river. Going up the hill, she would be on the inside, but trust Evan to find a way.

  At the traffic light, he pulled close to her rear bumper. He couldn’t do much on Grand Street, there were too many witnesses.

  But soon she was out in the country. The steel towers of the bridge rose into view. Stupid, what was she thinking? Why hadn’t she turned off when she could?

  There was still a way. She turned without signaling.

  Evan had fast reflexes. He followed.

  She was in a new subdivision and didn’t know the roads. It could be a dead end.

  Far ahead, a green sign appeared. A cross street.

  He was so close, she could see his face in her mirror. “What is wrong with you?” she asked his reflection.

  A classic control freak. If he let her go, his balls would fall off. What made guys that way? Some would rather kill, even themselves, than lose control of “their” woman.

  Stupid Kelsey didn’t know what harassment was. She’d have been lucky to get a guy like Ben, always honest and sincere, always saying what he meant and thinking others should, too. In some ways, Ben was almost childlike in his innocence and naïveté. He would never dream of doing what Evan was doing but they accused him of it anyway. Stupid assholes. They didn’t need to think they could get away with it.

  All around her were new houses and freshly seeded lawns. She didn’t see any people except for a man with a deafening leaf blower. He couldn’t possibly hear her. Even if he did, it would be just like Lakeside. “Boys will be boys.” They seemed to think it was cute.

  Her engine made a pop. As if something came loose. Please, God, not here, not now. She would take the next right—

  Sheridan Court. In a court, she would be trapped.

  The car began to shake. Or she did. Her legs trembled so hard she was afraid of hitting the wrong pedal. If Evan meant to freak her out, he had succeeded.

  Last June she was thrilled by his attention. A big, blond football star, madly in love with her. It took two full months before she realized that obsession wasn’t love. It was all about ego—his—and it could be dangerous.

  In the distance a light glowed red.

  A traffic light. Cars. Civilization. She had driven around in circles and ahead of her was Grand Street.

  Evan’s one-track mind kept him following. He assumed she would now head for the bridge and home. Surprise, creep!

  The light changed to green just as she reached it. At the very last second, she put on her signal and turned away from the bridge.

  He recovered immediately. At first, the oncoming traffic cut him off but he quickly caught up with her.

  The next light was trickier. It called for a left turn through rush hour traffic. She had to wait and that gave her away even without the signal.

  At a gap in traffic, she whipped to the left. Evan missed the gap but took his chances. Tires screeched, horns blared. He would risk an accident just to get her. And because Evan led a charmed life, he came through it unscathed.

  What would he do when she left her car? Would he slash the tires? Pull out some vital wiring? He couldn’t do that without opening the hood and she had no intention of leaving her car unlocked.

  She reached the municipal complex and found a space in the second row. Evan drove straight to the door of the police station, blocking her way in. He kept his engine running.

  Her phone wouldn’t be much use. She needed a direct line to this station and didn’t know its number.

  She could blow her horn. That might bring someone out. She readied her hand but didn’t want to make a scene. Evan would be gone in a flash and then how would she explain herself?

  She got out of the car. Her heart thumped, not from fear but with anger. What right had anyone to bully another person this way? She took a deep breath and told herself Relax.

  Rhoda would say, “Your anger can only hurt you. It doesn’t hurt the other person.”

  What crap. People were always being killed or hurt because of someone else’s anger. As for Evan, his nastiness didn’t bother him a bit. He actually enjoyed it. She could only hope it would get him in the long run, and that he would end up in jail or dead. With that bracing thought, she walked over to his car.

  He waited, smiling. There was a time long ago when she liked his smile.

  “Evan Steffers.” She tried to keep her voice steady. “You are a creep and a freak.”

  He laughed. “I’m a creep? What about your brother?”

  Did the whole school know? They would pay for this.

  “Don’t even think of comparing yourself to my brother. He’s a good honest person and you are slime. He never tried to own anybody. No one but a wienie would do that, to boost his frail ego. My brother never hit a girl, not even me.”

  Not since they were little, anyway.

  “You,” she went on, “are a coward and a bully, and you know why? You
think it’s the way to get respect, but you’re wrong. Nobody respects a creep.”

  All she had to do was scream and the cops would come running. She hoped.

  What if they didn’t? Their door was out of her reach. Whichever way she tried to go around him, he would put his car in gear and hit her. He would quite happily kill her and then claim she had it coming.

  “You are pathetic. Kindly move your vehicle.” She knew he wouldn’t.

  “Ha ha,” he said.

  “Oh, that’s really grown up.” She raised her voice. “You can’t hang onto somebody against their will. You can’t make them love you by stalking and hitting them. Are you too stupid to figure that out?”

  He revved his engine, making it roar. She stepped back.

  “If you kill me—” She had to shout over the engine noise. Where were those cops? “Even if you kill yourself, which a lot of creeps like you do, nobody will feel sorry for you. Nobody will think you’re a tragic hero. You’re nothing but a wimpy little control freak and they’ll think good riddance.”

  He picked up something from the seat. It was a small plastic bottle, probably acid. He meant to throw it in her face.

  She moved aside to put his throw off balance. She would not run away.

  “Think, Evan.” She doubted that he was capable of it. “Think what they’ll say about you. ‘What a loser,’ they’ll say. ‘Couldn’t get himself another girl, he’s such a loser. Had to keep after the one that got away.’” By then her voice was so loud it embarrassed her.

  The station door opened. Two officers came out. One was the green-eyed cutie she had spoken with before.

  “You see?” She waved at Evan’s car. “This is the creep I told you about. He tried to follow me home so I came here instead.”

  “Where’s your car?” asked the cutie. She must have looked like the aggressor herself, standing at Evan’s window.

  She pointed out her Chevy in the parking lot. “I wanted to go in and talk to you but he blocked my way. He would have run me over.”

  Evan laughed. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you’re a psychopath.” To the officers, she said, “He’s been stalking me. He hit me, too,” and showed them the nearly invisible bruise. Cutie had seen it looking worse.