“He did not eat a single one today.”
“No,” Freddy said. “He just ate ten boxes of Pepto Bismal today. The boy will poop black for the next week.”
“Huh?”
Freddy waved his hand. “It’s time.”
“I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be.” Freddy walked to the door. “They invited you.”
“They did.”
Outside Freddy opened the car door for her, waited for Grace to slide in and handed her the cobbler. “You are interesting.”
“I am.”
“They love you for your son.”
“They do?”
“Absolutely, why else would they invite you unless …” Freddy closed the door and walked over to his side. He started the car.
“Unless?” Grace asked.
“Unless they hate you and want to scare you away. Which is a possibility.”
“What should I do?”
“Recognize the signs. You know them. Not like people haven’t hated you before. You’ve read your reviews. If it looks that way, claim headache and leave.”
“Will you help?”
“Don’t I always.” Freddy drove.
“So it’s like a job interview.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t really have experience with those either.”
“You’ll be fine.” Freddy tapped her on the knee; they pulled onto Polly and Clyde’s street. “It’s basic dinner. Laid back. Every day. Fish, Mac and cheese. Casual.”
“What if I embarrass myself?”
“Not like you haven’t been doing it since we got here.”
“True,” Grace said.
“And the bright side. You won’t be doing it in front of Bobby.” They pulled in front of the house.
“True. They said nothing about him being here.” Grace took a deep breath of courage, opened her car door and walked to the front door of the Dawson home with Freddy.
Freddy rang the bell.
A few seconds later, the door opened.
“Bobby?” Grace asked. “What are you doing here?”
“My parents live here. Glad you guys could make it.” He held on to the door frame, blocking the door, appearing almost nervous.
Freddy asked. “Aren’t you gonna invite us in?”
Bobby nodded. “Yes, but I have to ask. Are you ready for this?”
Grace looked at Freddy and they both looked back at Bobby.
“Ready?” Grace asked. “For dinner?”
At that instant, a loud, shrill young voice screamed out “Grandma help! Pap is torturing me!”
Bobby winced. “No, that.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Like the flip of a light switch, only with noise, the Dawson house drew excessively quiet the second Freddy and Grace stepped through the back door into the kitchen.
It was a large home. Not wealthy large, but big, two and a half stories. Freddy withheld commenting that the house looked like the Amityville Horror house on the outside with the same half circle shaped attic windows.
He couldn’t decipher if it really did or if it was just his imagination.
Inwardly he admitted to himself that the screaming child didn’t help, but then, they walked in and they didn’t hear a peep.
He exhaled in relief and inhaled the comfort of the home. It wasn’t fancy, it was lived in.
A warm aroma filled the kitchen and Polly was ecstatic when she saw the peach cobbler. Ecstatic and impressed that Freddy made it.
Bobby excused himself and went into the living room, leaving Freddy and Grace alone with Polly.
“Do you need any help?” Grace asked.
“No,” Polly replied, “I’m good.”
Freddy commented. “I think it is so commendable that you worked all day and came home to not only slave over a hit stove, but host a dinner party.”
Polly chuckled. “I didn’t exactly slave. It’s Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.”
Freddy crinkled his nose. “I love it.”
“I never had it,” Grace commented.
Polly snapped a view to her. “You’ve never had Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. Do you mean you only had the store brand kind?”
Grace shook her head. “No, I never had it ever. I can’t wait.”
Freddy said, “She’s not lying, she’s lived a very sheltered life. And you inviting us over is one way to bring her from her shell.”
“Actually, I have an ulterior motive,” Polly said.
Grace and Freddy immediately looked at each other.
Polly continued. “You went out with my son. It was his first date in months. Months. You seem like a nice person,” Polly said. “My son, if he had a third date, it was pretty much close to the end.”
Freddy gave a curious look. “He seems divine.”
“He has his moments,” Polly said. “But it isn’t him. It’s … it’s the kids.”
Grace’s mouth twitched in a smile. “What’s wrong with the kids?”
“I’ll let you figure that one out,” Polly said. “On your own. So, I figured, let’s cut to the chase early with you. Let’s not waste any time. Your time or my son’s time. Meet the kids and you either stay or bolt out the door.”
Freddy chuckled. “Maybe they just like to scare women off because they want their mom and dad to get back together.”
Polly shook her head. “Nope, his ex wife’s been gone two years. Called twice. The girls don’t even talk about her.”
“Why did she leave?” Freddy asked. “The kids?”
“No, she never saw anything wrong with them,” Polly said. “She just up and left. Probably sold her soul to the devil or something.” She shrugged. “But in any event. Just … be prepared.”
The truth about ‘the kids’ had yet to be explained. But they were children. Although Grace looked frightened, Freddy was not. He was confident. He would draw upon his own experience with watching Mr. Rogers and he would face the challenge.
+++
Clyde sat in his chair. An old recliner that faced the television. But he didn’t watch the television. He watched Bobby instruct his three young daughters.
The girls sat on the couch, left to right, youngest to oldest.
All three of them were clean and dressed neatly.
All three had different color hair.
The youngest was a blonde and her hair was barely growing, just long enough to be pulled into a ribbon. The middle child had red hair; she pulled that into pigtails. The oldest daughter was dressed the best. A short—and as people referred to her out of politeness—husky girl with a full round face. Her hair was brown and shoulder length, held back at the ears by a barrette. She wore a Sunday dress, pink and bright with ankle socks that donned, tiny, petite pink ribbons and black buckle shoes, which she kept clicking together like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz.
Bobby extended his hand down to the shoes. “Stop. Just … all of you please.” He put his hands together in a prayer fashion. “Please, please, be on your best behavior.”
The oldest child smiled. “Father, when are we not?”
Clyde snorted a laugh.
She continued, “Father, we love you. You’re special.”
Bobby winced. “Ok. Stop. Just be nice. Ok. Thanks.” He turned and went into the kitchen. “Hey, Grace, Freddy, can you two come here?”
Clyde snorted a chuckle again.
Grace was a bit timid, staying close to Bobby.
But not Freddy. He gasped in joy when she saw the girls, clapping his hands together once. “Oh, they are beautiful girls, Bobby.”
“Thanks,” Bobby said. “That’s the least of my worries.”
“And dressed so pretty,” Freddy commented.
Bobby twitched his head to Clyde. “He dressed them.”
“Wonderful choice,” Freddy told Clyde.
Clyde commented. “Yeah, I kind of viewed this as a funeral. So I figured they had to be dressed.”
Before Freddy could enquire what Clyde meant, Bobby inte
rjected.
“So there is no preconceived notion,” Bobby said. “I’m gonna call them for the first introduction, Daughters one, two and three. Daughter one is eight, daughter two is five, and daughter three is … almost three. Girls, these are my friends, Freddy and Grace”
Freddy smiled and walked to the oldest daughter. “You are delightful. Freddy. How do you do?”
She stood, curtsied, and shook his hand. “How do you do?” She smiled and sat back on the couch.
Freddy chuckled. “Sweet.”
Grace watched Bobby’s reaction, he winced.
Freddy extended his hand to daughter two. “Sweetheart.”
“Hello.” She shook his hand.
With a crinkled, amused face, he glanced over his shoulder to Bobby and mouthed the word, ‘adorable’, and then Freddy faced the youngest. “Hello, sweetheart, I’m Freddy. Aren’t you just the tiniest, cutest thing?” He crouched down and reached out his hand. The second he did, the child growled deeply, barked once and snapped her jaws at him.
Freddy was quick. He not only retracted is hand before the loss of a limb, he jumped back a foot, tensed his body, lifted his arms, and his facial expression instantly froze and stayed in an open mouthed, horrified look.
“You OK?” Bobby asked.
Eyes wide, Freddy looked at Bobby. “That one needs a little work.”
Clyde, from his chair, just snickered and shook his head.
+++
If the round kitchen table was a clock, Clyde sat at noon, and clockwise, it ran Freddy, Bobby, Grace, the oldest girl, middle girl, Polly, with the youngest in a high chair between her and Clyde.
From youngest to oldest, Bobby told the names. “Regan, Damian and Rhoda.”
Freddy blinked. “Regan, Damian and Rhoda, you say?”
Bobby nodded.
“Exorcists, Omen, and The Bad Seed?” Freddy asked.
Bobby nodded with a wink. “Got it.”
“Lovely,” Freddy smiled. “Were you horror movie fans?”
“Their mom was,” Bobby replied.
“And may I enquire where you were when she named them?” Freddy asked.
“Overseas.”
Freddy nodded.
Polly explained. “It was the oddest thing. Timing I suppose, Bobby wasn’t home for a single birth. He tried the last time. Thought he had it timed perfect, took leave before Regan was even due. Wouldn’t you know it, she was premature.”
“Well,” Freddy sighed out. “Things weren’t meant to be.”
Regan Barked.
Clyde handed her a piece of fish, the child hungrily snatched it up with her teeth.
Freddy fluttered his eye lids. “Please, do not think I am questioning parenting, the child seems very well behaved, I’m just curious as to what the pediatrician says about her.”
Regan barked.
Polly replied, “Impressive behavior. Said she’ll out grow it.”
“Do you have a dog?” Freddy asked.
Polly shook her head.
“Have you determined what type of dog she is?” Freddy asked. “Surely, that may help in training.”
Clyde replied. “St. Bernard.”
Freddy caulked back. “A … Saint Bernard? Really? For her size.”
Clyde nodded. “That’s the best I can figure. Very territorial about her family. Once she knows you, she loves you.”
Regan leaned into her grandfather and licked his cheek.
“See what I mean?” Clyde smiled. “And she started doing this right after she watched Cujo.”
Freddy held up a finger. “She was watching Cujo at three?”
Polly shook her head. “Eighteen months. Who’d of thought?” She shrugged. “We thought she was sleeping. Next thing, she’s barking.”
“So it’s impressive behavior based on Cujo?” Freddy questioned. “Interesting.”
“Oh!” Damian raised her hand. “Pap! I saw something interesting.”
“What’s that?” Clyde asked.
“A one legged squirrel.” Damian smiled and nodded. “Hopping along.”
“Holy hell. One leg?” Clyde asked. “Born with one leg or did was it lose its leg?”
“Oh, it lost its leg.” Damian said. “It was bleeding, all kinds of stringy stuff hung from its hip.”
Freddy gasped. “How traumatic for you. Were you scared, little girl?”
Damian shook her head. “Not me. For that squirrel. I felt bad.”
“I bet,” Freddy said compassionately.
“Yep.” Damian nodded. “So I took my slingshot Pap made me. Revved on back.” She mimed holding a slingshot, and closed one eye. “Got my sights on that rascal, and fired off one pellet. Took him out. Ended his suffering.” She reached for her milk and took a drink.
“Are you sure you’re only five. You seem much more mature.” Freddy asked.
“I’m five and a half.”
“Makes sense.” Freddy hurried and turned his attention to his food.
Clyde asked. “How far away were you?”
“Porch to the tree.”
Nodding with a closed mouth impressed look, Clyde reached over and tapped her hand. “Great shot.” He snapped his finger. “Remind me to pick you up some industrial fly strips. We just got them in the store.”
“Thanks, Pap.” Damian smiled.
Curious, Freddy asked, “Does she have flies in her room?”
“When she puts them there,” Clyde replied. “Never saw a kid have so much fun with a fly strip.”
Polly interjected. “That’s because she likes to watch the flies suffer on there. All stuck, wiggling to get free. She even puts them on there to watch.”
Clyde shrugged. “They’re fly strips. Who cares if she puts them on there or they fly on there. She’s making good use.”
“As long as she doesn’t put them on the baby again,” Polly aid pointing her fork at Regan. “No taping your sister with them this time.”
“I promise grandma,” Damian raised her hand. “I just didn’t know they’d leave a mark.”
“Ok.” Polly returned to eating.
Bobby fidgeted in his seat, possibly, he was inwardly uncomfortable. He leaned to Grace and whispered. “You’re being quiet. You OK?”
Grace nodded. “Yep. Just watching.”
Bobby looked. Grace had her eyes on Rhoda.
Rhoda squeezed ketchup on her macaroni and cheese. “Doesn’t this look like blood?” she asked. “Now watch.” She grabbed her fork and mixed it together. “Now it looks like vomit.”
Grace motioned her chin upward, asking, “Is that any good like that?”
Rhoda pushed her plate to Grace. “It’s the way I eat it. Dare to try?”
Grace lifted a spoon, placed it into the orange creation, and took some. There wasn’t much hesitation, and Grace ate it.
“Well?”
Grace’s eyes widened. “Oh my God. That is so good like that.”
“Really? You aren’t lying?” Rhoda asked.
“Why would I lie?” Grace asked.
“To get on my good side.”
“That would be a Freddy move. Not me.”
Rhoda smiled and handed her the ketchup bottle. Grace doused her own macaroni and cheese. She wasn’t very crazy about that Kraft macaroni and Cheese, but the ketchup made all the difference in the world. Happily Grace could eat it and not fear insulting Polly by not.
+++
Freddy peered through the windshield as he started the car and looked at the Dawson home.
Lightening flashed.
He swore he saw a pair of glowing red eyes in the attic window. Would make perfect sense. That was Rhoda’s room.
He shuddered a chill and put the car in reverse. “Delightful evening, wouldn’t you say?”
Grace nodded with a ‘a-hmm.’
“Kind of odd, twisted family, with a hint of vanilla flavor.”
Grace smiled peacefully.
“The children aren’t disrespectful at all. Just … just strang
e.” Freddy pulled from the house and began the drive home. “All and all, I thought the evening went well. You?”
Grace nodded.
“Princess, what is it?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re not saying anything. Feel bad?”
“No. Just absorbing.”
“I got it!” Freddy gasped. “I know what you’re doing.”
“What?”
“You do this every time you prepare for a role. You learn it. You absorb everything as to get into character.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.” Grace paused. “Exactly.”
“Then what?”
“I’m learning them first. I don’t know. My father dated a lot after my mom died. You have to understand, they were married thirty-some years. Married when they were eighteen. They waited twenty before they had a kid. Both were rich and famous. She died when I was about Rhoda’s age, maybe a bit older. So my dad was still young when she died. I hated when he dated women. They always tried to win me over. Tried to be nice to me when I knew it was a fake. Like tonight with the macaroni and ketchup thing. I was being genuine. But I knew and understood where she as coming from when she asked if I was lying. I could see one of my dad’s girlfriends doing that. I hated that phony shit. And the phony shit comes from not knowing the kid. So I’m absorbing.”
Freddy whistled. “Well, you have to absorb a lot. They are …. They aren’t the Olsen twins. Or would that be triplets?”
“They aren’t. A lot of it’s an act. Ok, maybe not Damian. You can’t act hitting a one legged squirrel from fifteen feet away with a sling shot. It’s not an act.”
“It’s a talent,” Freddy said.
Just as Grace exhaled and they pulled up to the trailer, she leaned closer to the window. “Is that Marybeth on our porch?”
“The poor dear is all wet. Wait a second.” Freddy put the car in park. “She’s supposed to be on a date.”
Both of them got out of the car and walked to the small stoop porch.
“Marybeth?” Freddy asked. “What’s wrong?”
Her hair was wet, flat and hanging in her face. Her make up smeared. “Freddy … I … don’t think my date is coming. And I don’t know what to do. I feel so bad.”
“What time was he supposed to get there? Maybe he’s just late?” Freddy asked.
Charmed Life Page 13
