“Sure you can.” Jon helped the boy stand. “Do you feel dizzy?”
But Enrique couldn’t reply. He turned white again and sagged in Jon’s arms, clearly unable to support his own weight.
Without further hesitation, Jon swept him into his arms and carried him outside, pausing to pull the door shut behind him. He settled Enrique in the back seat of the car, over the boy’s feeble protests. Finally he turned the car around and started toward the hospital.
ENRIQUE FELL ASLEEP again while they were driving home and hardly roused as Jon parked and lifted him from the car. Margaret was in the kitchen when he carried the boy into the house. She rushed across the room, wringing her hands in her apron.
“He’s one of the kids I go to school with,” Jon told her as he strode down the hallway toward a guest room, with his housekeeper close behind.
“What’s wrong with him? Shouldn’t he be in the hospital?” she asked.
“I took him to the emergency room. The doctor said he’s just worn-out, dehydrated and hungry. He needs a good rest and a lot of warm fluids.” Jon entered one of the rooms and placed Enrique on a quilted bedspread.
Margaret stood by the foot of the bed and looked down at the thin white face, the dark eyelashes and ragged hair. “Poor thing,” she whispered.
Jon unbuttoned the boy’s shirt. “I’ll undress him and wash him,” he said over his shoulder. “Margaret, could you please find me one of Steve’s shirts and a pair of shorts? And then maybe we’ll see if we can get him to eat something.”
“I have a big pot of soup on the stove. That’ll be perfect for him.” Margaret started briskly toward the hall. “Hello, dear,” she said, greeting Vanessa, who paused in the doorway and peered at her father.
Jon was removing Enrique’s shoes while the boy lay limp and unmoving.
“Who’s that, Daddy?” Vanessa asked.
“It’s a kid from one of my classes at the college.” Jon pulled off one of Enrique’s socks and dropped it on the floor, then tugged at the other one.
Vanessa edged closer to the bed, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “Why is he here?”
“Because he’s sick and he needs our help for a while.”
Vanessa looked shocked. “You mean he’s going to live here?”
“I don’t know.” Jon pulled off the other sock and unfastened the boy’s ragged belt. “He’s probably going to stay until he’s feeling a little stronger, at least. You should have seen where this poor kid was living, Van. You couldn’t even imagine a place like that.”
“But he’s…” She looked in alarm at the limp form on the bed. “He’s so dirty.”
Jon turned and stared at his daughter in disbelief. “For God’s sake, Van, look at him! Don’t you have any feelings at all?”
She met his gaze in silence, her pretty face flushed and rebellious. At last she turned abruptly and ran from the room before her father could say anything else.
THE NEXT DAY Camilla went down the hall at two o’clock to collect the twins for their regular appointment. She took them back to her office, listening with pleasure while they trotted along beside her and chattered about beetles.
“There’s more than a quarter of a million different species. They’re one of the oldest things in the whole world,” Amy said. “Did you know that, Camilla? Beetles were here before dinosaurs, even.”
“That’s because they’re such a good design.” Ari stopped at the water fountain and waited for Camilla to lift him so he could drink. “Like army tanks.”
“What’s so special about the design of beetles?” Camilla asked as she lowered him carefully to the floor again.
“They have wings and armor,” Ari said. “Nothing else does.”
“Army tanks don’t have wings,” Camilla said. “Maybe it would be a good idea if they did. What do you think?”
The twins looked startled, then interested. “Hey, we could design a tank with wings,” Ari told his sister. “Let’s do it on the computer at home and show it to Gordon tomorrow.”
“Can we work on your computer today, Camilla?” Amy asked.
“Not today, dear. We’re doing symbols again this afternoon.”
“Concrete or abstract?” Ari said.
He took a deep interest in all the tests that Camilla administered, and liked to know the proper names for them.
“Concrete. Words and pictures that have to be matched.”
Camilla unlocked her office door and watched while the twins settled themselves at the miniature table near the window, looking up at her in anticipation.
She sat in an armchair nearby and took out a set of big printed cards.
“Did Daddy have an English class this morning?” Amy asked.
“Not today. His class is tomorrow morning.”
“He stayed home to help Margaret look after Enrique,” Ari told his sister. “Remember?”
Camilla looked up, startled. “Enrique?”
“That’s a boy who goes to school with Daddy. He’s really nice.”
“I know. But I wasn’t aware…Is Enrique at your house?”
“Daddy brought him home.” Amy riffled through a pile of books on the table, looking happily at the pictures. “He was real sick at first. But Daddy thinks he’s better now because Margaret made bean soup and he ate almost all of it.”
“And some meat loaf,” Ari volunteered. “But not very much. Daddy says that Enrique’s too weak to eat meat loaf yet.”
“My goodness. I had no idea all this was happening.” Camilla gripped the pile of cards in her lap. “Is Enrique going to stay at your house?”
Ari shrugged. “I guess so. Daddy says Enrique doesn’t have a very nice place to live, and he needs somebody to look after him.”
“Your father seems to—” Camilla bit her lip abruptly.
She’d been on the verge of saying that their father seemed to make a habit of picking up strays, feeding and caring for them. But she stopped herself just in time.
“Look, Ari.” Amy held out one of the books. “It shows all different kinds of seeds. These are like little propellers.”
Ari climbed up, kneeling on the chair, and leaned across the table in excitement as he examined the picture book.
“We could use those wings for our tank. And then they’d fold inside the roof when it wasn’t flying.” He began to scrabble through the pencils and paper on the table.
“Not now,” Camilla told him gently. “Let’s do half an hour of cards first. Then you can work on your tank for half an hour, okay?”
“Okay,” the twins chorused obediently.
Camilla began to display the cards and mark the children’s response time as they named the objects and matched them to printed words.
After their session was completed and the twins were working contentedly at the table on their own project, Camilla settled behind her desk to transcribe the results of the test.
Their intelligence was phenomenal, and yet in so many ways these children were normal seven-year-olds. In fact, their emotional development and grasp of adult relationships and concepts was no different from any other child’s.
As her research progressed, Camilla was growing more convinced that their brilliance was related to something inside their brains, a rare ability to grasp and process symbols with lightning speed. The study excited her, and promised to become the most important piece of research she’d ever done.
But with increasing frequency, she found herself wanting to put all the cards and tests aside, gather the twins into her lap and cuddle them.
She smiled at their curly dark heads glinting in the sunlight as they worked close together at the little table.
Her phone rang and she picked it up, still watching the children. “Dr. Pritchard speaking.”
“Camilla? It’s Simon.”
“Hello, Simon,” she said, a little surprised that he was calling her at work. Simon Constable was the senior administrator at the youth hostel.
“I know you don’t
like to come down here on weeknights, but we’re really short-staffed. Could you possibly do the eight o’clock shift tonight?”
“All right. Eight o’clock, you said?”
“That’s right. I think you’ll probably only have to stay until midnight, unless there’s some kind of new crisis.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Thanks, Camilla. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
“Wait, Simon. Have you heard how Chase…”
But he was already gone. She hung up and turned to find both twins watching her with wide, thoughtful eyes.
“Do you have a date?” Amy asked.
Camilla hesitated. “Sort of.”
“Is it somebody you really like?”
“It’s not that kind of date, dear. More like a job I have to do.”
Ari selected a crayon. “Daddy had a date once,” he volunteered.
“Who with?” she asked.
“It was a lady who was visiting at another ranch. She had red hair.”
“Did you like her?” Camilla asked, feeling treacherous.
“She was awful,” Amy muttered. “She laughed at us.”
“She laughed at you? Why on earth would she do that?”
Ari’s round face turned pink with distress. “Vanessa made us sing a song for the lady, and she laughed. She said we sounded like chipmunks.”
“Well, that was silly of her,” Camilla said indignantly. “I’ll bet your song was really good.”
“Daddy didn’t like it when she laughed at us.” Amy brightened a little. “He never had any more dates with her.”
“I wish you’d have a date with Daddy,” Ari said. “Why don’t you, Camilla?”
Camilla was conscious of both children watching her intently. An uncomfortable flush warmed her cheeks, and she looked down at the record book on her desk. “Your father’s one of my students, Ari.”
“But does that mean you can’t ever go out on a date with him? Could he be your boyfriend if you wanted him to?”
“I don’t think so. Teachers shouldn’t really go out on dates with their students. Tell me, how’s that army tank of yours coming along?”
She got up and crossed the room to look at their drawing. Soon, to Camilla’s relief, the children were absorbed in showing her the intricacies of their new design, and there was no more dangerous talk about boyfriends and dates.
HOURS LATER Camilla settled behind the old desk at the hostel, took out her ever-present stack of papers and began marking. This was the essay from her senior English class, describing the most beautiful place they’d ever seen.
She worked carefully, making notes and comments, circling the errors. Her students had chosen to describe the usual places…cathedrals, waterfalls, mountain scenery.
Idly, she wondered what the response would be if she asked Ari and Amy to describe the most beautiful place they’d ever seen. There was absolutely no way to predict their answer, which was part of the fun of being with them.
She wound a strand of hair around her finger, thinking about Jon Campbell.
He, too, had a brilliantly original mind, something she was becoming increasingly conscious of as she marked his essays and graded his tests.
Was it feasible that a man like him would really have forgotten their encounter? He’d been so kind to Enrique and so sincere that she no longer thought him capable of outright deception, yet he showed no recollection of her.
Camilla couldn’t believe that she’d changed so much in twenty years. Inside she often felt like the same lost, terrified child she’d been when Jon Campbell first met her.
She was strongly tempted to rummage through the pile of essays and find the one he’d written. The man’s opinions and observations were becoming more fascinating all the time. But she forced herself to keep on marking, to wait until his essay appeared.
As she worked, she was interrupted regularly by street kids coming into the hostel and settling down for the night. About a dozen were in residence tonight, sleeping in the big adjoining room on old blankets and makeshift cots. They weren’t allowed to leave once they’d checked in, so after greeting Camilla they passed the evening playing cards and talking among themselves.
She got up every half hour and went to check on them, enduring their teasing sallies with calm good humor. The building was old and decrepit, but the tumbled blankets and noisy group of young people made it seem cozy, almost cheerful.
It was a bit like a slumber party, Camilla thought. Not that she’d ever been invited to slumber parties when she was a girl, but she’d often fantasized about them in those days, wondering how it would feel to spend the whole night with a laughing bunch of friends.
Still, there was a grim edge to this scene, too. She didn’t like to think where these kids would be tonight if the hostel weren’t in operation.
“Hey, Queen,” a voice said behind her. “How ya doin’?”
It was Marty, carrying Chase’s guitar and an old yellow pillowcase that bulged with clothes.
Camilla hugged the girl, delighted to see her. “I’ve been wondering about you,” she said.
Marty shifted on her feet, clearly touched by the embrace. “I thought maybe I’d crash here tonight if you’ve still got room. It’s scary over at that place when Chase isn’t there.”
“Of course I’ve got room. How is he, Marty?”
Camilla led the way into the office and gestured for the girl to sit opposite her. Marty put down the guitar and settled wearily on the chair, stashing her bundle of clothes out of sight behind her old running shoes.
“He’s getting better.” She glanced shyly at Camilla. “He’s going into drug rehab at the hospital. He’ll be there a few more weeks, I guess.”
Camilla smiled at the girl. “Really?”
“We talked for a long time after he woke up the other day. He’s ready to give it a try. That whole scene really scared him.” Marty lowered her head to look at the floor. “It scared both of us.”
“Sweetie, that’s such wonderful news!” Camilla got up and hugged Marty again. “I’ve been praying for this to happen.”
“Me, too. And he’s ready. I know Chase. He can do anything if he sets his mind to it.” Marty smiled shyly through her tangle of hair. “We’ve got all kinds of plans. I just got a job as dishwasher at a pizza restaurant over on Sixth Avenue. They said Chase can come and work there, too, as soon as he’s out of the hospital. We figure if we save everything we make and he’s not buying drugs anymore, we can maybe get a place of our own in a few months.”
“That’s great, Marty. Really wonderful. I’m so glad to hear it.”
Marty smiled again. “You know what I did yesterday, Queen? I opened a bank account and put in some of the money Chase made while he was playing. We were keeping it in a sock under the floorboards. Just imagine,” the girl said in wonder. “Me, with a bank account.”
On impulse Camilla reached for her handbag, took out a leather folder and wrote a check. “Add that to your bank account, honey.”
Marty took the check and looked at it. Her eyes widened.
“But this…it’s too much. You can’t give me all this.”
Camilla smiled. “Of course I can. I love to hear about a girl who’s trying to make her life better.”
“Queen, I…” Marty hesitated and glanced down at the check. “Camilla Pritchard,” she said awkwardly. “I’ve known you for years, but I never even heard your name before.”
“Well, now you know it. I teach English at the university.”
“Wow,” Marty said. “And you spend every weekend in a dump like this. Why?”
Because I’ve been there and I know what it’s like. Because somebody helped me once and turned my life around with kindness, and I’ve never forgotten it.
She longed to tell somebody the truth. But she simply couldn’t do it. Not even with Marty, who’d lived the same nightmare.
I can’t escape from my past, Camilla thought in despair. It’s going to ha
unt me forever because it’s too awful to talk about.
The girl was watching her in concern. Camilla gathered herself together and smiled. “I guess I’m just fond of kids,” she said. “Now, you’d better go and find a space for yourself before anybody else gets here.”
“Can I leave Chase’s guitar in here? I don’t want those guys to touch it.”
“Of course you can. Marty…”
“Yeah?”
“Do you know anything about Zeke and Speedball?” Camilla asked. “What are they doing these days?”
Marty grimaced in distaste. “Nothing good, that’s for sure. I heard Zeke was in detention for a while, used a knife to rob some little old lady’s grocery store. The guy’s a total jerk.”
“Do you see him around much?”
“Not anymore. But I heard Speedball’s been bragging that they’ve got a good deal going.”
Camilla’s heart sank. “What kind of deal?” she asked, though she was fairly sure what the answer would be.
“They’ve got some rich kid hanging out with them, a guy with a car and lots of money. I don’t know what they’re planning to do with him, but I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.”
Camilla looked down at the papers on her desk. “Thanks, Marty.”
I see nothing inherently wrong with criminal activities, Steven Campbell had written.
Camilla watched as Marty trudged out of the office, her torn soles flapping against the splintery planks. Still troubled, she went back to her work, riffling through the pile of essays to find Jon’s.
The most beautiful place I ever saw was a room in an old motel in Saskatchewan. The carpet was dirty brown, the furniture was faded orange plaid and the curtains had big blue flowers all over them. The toilet was cracked and the dresser was made of wood-grain plastic. The place reeked of cigarette smoke and had a colony of ants living under the heating unit.
But it was beautiful. I’ll never forget that room. What made it so beautiful was the girl who stayed there with me. Her name was Callie, and I’ve thought about her a thousand times in the years that have passed since then, even though I only saw her for a few days. Afterward I was…
Memories of You Page 9
