She felt him tense against her. No answer.
"Max, I think Aunt Leah has been visiting you. Am I right?"
"I didn't tell you. I didn't!"
"No, you didn't tell me anything. I guessed."
"She said it was a joke,” he sniffled, “but it isn't funny any more."
"I can see that. I don't think it's funny at all."
Leah, you snake! If you have been terrorizing my child, I'll ... What? What could she do? If Leah weren't already dead, she'd strangle her herself. Frightening babies. That was low!
Rain came then, slashing against the window and pounding on the roof. A crash of thunder and Max's body pressing even closer to hers, decided her. “Come on into my bedroom. We'll ride out the storm together."
Babe trailed them nervously as she carried Max awkwardly down the hall to her bedroom. A sturdy seven year old with gangly legs wasn't the easiest thing to manage on her hip, but as distraught as he was, she wasn't going to ask him to walk. Pulling a cuddly, cotton afghan from the back of the chair, she kicked back in the recliner by the bed and tucked them both in tight. Babe lay down squarely under her feet. He was shivering.
"Now, I want to know more about Aunt Leah."
When there was no response, she came at it from another angle. “Let me tell you about us when we were small."
Kate spoke softly into his ear, as if confiding something special. “She was so pretty. The prettiest little girl you ever saw. And, when we were growing up, she was always pulling silly stunts. She loved, more than anything, to startle people. To scare them. Well, primarily me, and if I didn't get frightened at one thing she'd dream up something else until I did. Now, today, when I'm all grown up, I can remember those times and laugh, because there wasn't any danger involved. Leah would never have really hurt me. And I also know,” God help me, please don't let me be telling a bald-faced lie, “that she would never, never hurt you. If she were here, she'd love you to pieces, Max. My guess is that she's somehow playing more silly jokes. But I can't help you until I know what's going on."
He hiccupped softly. “She comes in the night, sometimes, and tells me things."
"Tells you things? Like what?"
"Like she doesn't like you hiding the painting of you both in the closet. She wants it back on the wall."
"Is that all?"
"I'm not supposed to take all the pictures in the camera Lionel's dad gave me. She doesn't want them developed. She says you won't like it."
Kate frowned into the top of Max's head. “Why won't I like it?"
He shrugged. “I don't know."
"Is there more?"
"Well, she doesn't much like Cass."
Kate strove for an even tone. The problem was that once Leah had liked Cass too much. She said, “That's a lot of things she doesn't like."
"She likes me. And she likes you a lot. But she wants you to do something and you won't do it."
"Oh yeah? What does she want me to do?"
"I don't know. I can't get it."
"What does that mean?"
"I can't understand it."
"Does she talk to you, Max? Out loud?"
"I can't hear what she says, but in my head I know. It's weird."
Oh God, this was worse than she'd thought. “Is that scary for you?"
"N-no. Sometimes she's funny. Like your bra-thing in the coffee cup. We laughed ‘cause you couldn't make out how it got there. You looked funny. That was a joke. And the car horn. You and Cass were running around...” His voice trailed away.
"I didn't think it was terribly funny, but I can see that you might."
"But then she got mad about the painting in the closet. She thought you'd fix it and hang it up again and you didn't."
"I wish you'd have told me about this a long time ago, Max."
"She said...” He hesitated, then blurted, “I couldn't! She said it was a secret."
Kate swallowed what felt to be a stone in her throat. “Sometimes secrets aren't fun. They're a burden. I wish she hadn't said that."
Outside, the wind had picked up. Leaves and twigs were being flung at the window. Wind howled around the eaves and seemed, almost, to be trying to get in around the window. If Leah had anything to do with the weather, she was probably responsible for all the rain recently and the storm pounding now at the windows.
But what kind of phenomenon was going on, anyway? Talking to Max “in his head!” Kate had never heard of such a thing. Was she wrong, after all, and they were in danger in spite of her conviction that Leah wouldn't harm them? She needed to talk to someone. Was there some kind of organization that dealt with the supernatural? Some resource she could tap for information about paranormal activity?
There were, she knew, gauges that registered all sorts of things. Magnetic fields, temperature changes, electromagnetic pollution, disturbances of electric fields. There were people who specialized in all kinds of physical manifestations of the spirits.
Kate shuddered, hoping with all her heart she wasn't going to have to resort to something like that. Mediums. God forbid, seances! Ghost busters!
She buried her nose in Max's hair. He smelled of soap and talc and little boy, and was absolutely the dearest thing in all the world. She couldn't, she wouldn't, let anything happen to him. Exorcists? No, she didn't want to go that far. No mediums either. Surely, for the moment anyway, they were safe. That had to be enough for now.
Max yawned hugely and Kate settled him more firmly in her arm. “Go to sleep. I've got you. Nothing bad will happen. No more dreams."
Max's eyes drifted closed. “You won't leave me, will you? Put me back in my bed?"
"No, we'll sleep together in my bed, and when you wake up it will be morning."
He sighed deeply and was asleep in minutes.
Kate sat in the darkness wondering if she could ever find it in her heart to forgive Leah for frightening Max. Although to be fair, until tonight Max hadn't seem traumatized by Leah's appearances. Not the way Kate would have expected, anyway.
And the nightlight. Did Leah take it out of the socket and lay it on the floor? Or had Babe maybe knocked it out when he became so excited? But Babe had been on the other side of the room looking at something. Something that wasn't there. Wasn't visible, anyway. Was it remotely possible, like she was beginning to be convinced, that Leah was really and truly walking and talking on the earth? She'd never before believed in paranormal happenings. Things that couldn't be explained by the natural laws of the universe. But she hadn't imagined her bra in the coffee cup. Cass was here when, impossible or not, the car horn went blew. And, again, when the portrait crashed to the floor in what appeared to be protest of Cass kissing Kate. And now Max was involved. Her heart hardened.
"Talk to me, Leah. Not Max,” she said fiercely, but softly enough not to wake the sleeping boy. “If you have a problem, deal with me, not a child."
Silence.
"Are you there? If you can hear me, listen up, girl. Leave Max alone. Understand? Max is off limits. Tell me whatever is cranking around in your brain. What you want of me. Not Max!"
The silence was so profound and thick it might have been poured from a pitcher.
* * * *
Dawn, when it came, was hard to recognize. Rain was still pouring down in sheets, overflowing the eaves and making miniature lakes in the backyard. Kate couldn't even read the small print on the rain gauge from her window. It was pointless to squint at it anyway. Full was full. The entire world was wet and gray and dismal-looking.
And she felt as poor-spirited as the day looked. The worst was bound to happen on a morning like this. She half expected the front door bell to ring and Huey to be standing there smirking at her. If that happened, she would simply drop dead on the floor.
Wearily, she thought she simply couldn't cope with both Huey and Leah at the same time. True, after his cowardly little note Huey seemed to have gone back into the woodwork, but Kate knew better than think he'd give up this easily. He'd surface when least expected and where h
e calculated he could do the most damage. Being always subconsciously aware of where he might be and what he might be planning was wearying. He would turn up again. The question was when and where.
Max dawdled over his soft-boiled egg and toast soldiers. “They're gonna cancel the game this afternoon, aren't they?"
"I'm afraid the field will be too wet, Max, even if the rain stops right now."
Max's chin lowered to his chest and he frowned. “Dag-nab it, anyway."
Kate smothered a laugh. “Tell you what. You can help me spritz the orchids."
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Don't want to water flowers."
"Well, how about playing with your cars on the floor in my workroom while I paint?"
"No."
"Out on the porch?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"Nothing.” His lower lip came out in a pout that only Max could master.
"Well, suit yourself.” Kate picked up a basket of folded laundry. “I have to work."
She left him sitting, slumped, at the kitchen table. He'd follow pretty quickly, she thought. Max wouldn't sit idle for long. At the top of the stairs, she hitched the basket onto one hip, made a quick detour into Max's room and pocketed the camera on top of his dresser. No way was she going to let that camera sit there any longer if something was on it that Leah didn't want her to see. She'd take it by the one-hour photo shop later and have the film developed.
At the same time, she really ought to do something about the portrait. Dad's old friend, Snooky Gebhart, was a retired cabinetmaker and did minor repair work in a shop in his garage. She'd call and see if she could drop it off there.
But before that, she had work to do. Her silk frame and paint awaited.
However, before she could even lay out her brushes, the phone rang. Her heart skipped a beat. Another anonymous call? No. Please no.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?” It was Bree. No one could be as upbeat and breezy as Gabrielle about a miserably dreary morning.
Kate groaned. “Have you looked outside?"
"It's gorgeous."
"My silks prefer natural sunlight."
"Oh, but, smell the freshness of a rain-washed world!"
"I'd rather smell brewing coffee. Are you coming over?"
"Nope. Just alerting everyone that the gathering tonight is out at Luke's farm. He just finished remodeling the rec room. Put in a pool table and everything. With the weather as unpredictable as it has been, it seems like a good time to christen the renovation. Bring munchies."
"Sounds great. I'll call Ruby June and see if Max can spend the night."
"Any more weird goings-on at your house? Ghosties and goblins and the like wandering around clanging on dishpans and dragging chains?"
"That isn't even funny, Bree. The answer is yes, but there's nothing I can prove. We're in a holding pattern."
"You know my door is always open. Come if you want. I'd volunteer to come there and keep you company, but to tell you the truth I'm petrified."
"That makes two of us. So what else is new?"
After a small hesitation, Bree said, “There's a new guy in town. Manager of Bytes and Bits, the computer store. He's coming tonight."
"Well, that is news. Are you going to Shurl's this afternoon? Splurge on the works? Nails and everything?"
"No, but I'm making my shrimp and cream cheese spread for crackers. Can't pass up any possibilities. He might be a shrimp man."
"All you have to do is walk around with that long, straight hair falling halfway down your back and his knees will turn to water."
"That's what I like about you, Kate. Your imagination. Talk to you later."
Before Kate could punch in the numbers for Ruby June, however, the phone rang again. As she answered Max appeared at the door, looking mutinous. He leaned against the frame wearing a massive scowl.
"Where's my box of crayons?"
"In the red drawer in your room, where they always are. Did you put your dishes in the sink? Hello?"
"Ah, the lady keeps office hours. How are you, love?"
Max slouched out the door and down the hall out of her sight. “Joe?” Joe Kinicki, her fabric man in New York. “I'm fine. About to float downstream with all the rain, but so far Max and I are both fine."
Kate liked Joe. He was a likable guy. And he threw a lot of business her way. However, it was important that he be reminded, frequently, that he had a wife and that she had a son and was not as free as the air to wheel or fly around the country on any whim he might have. Joe seemed to think she ought to be able to drop what she was doing and meet him in Aspen or the Islands or Cancun on twenty-four hours’ notice. He didn't discourage easily.
"What can I do for you?” she asked, smiling into the phone. “Was the wall hanging satisfactory? Did the client like it?"
"The client is ecstatic! My compliments. You wove your usual magic with the brushes. Those orchids looked real enough to set on a table and display."
Kate closed her eyes with relief. She'd been pleased with the job, but never relaxed until she knew how the client felt.
"In fact, the client wants another just like it to give as a gift. This is a rush job. You'd have to put it in front of everything else. Like now. Tomorrow. Well, actually, next week. Can you handle that?"
"Next week? But Joe, it will take a couple of days to even get the fabric."
"Not a problem."
Kate could almost see him focusing on the specifics. Nothing was too big a problem for Joe when he was on a roll.
"I'm flying in tonight and can hand deliver the fabric. Got a meeting in St. Louis in the morning. Can you meet me tonight in Springfield?” He named a well-known restaurant and a time.
"Well, sure. I guess.” She glanced at the length of silk ready to be stretched on the frame. This would eventually be an evening scarf, but it wasn't due for another month. There was time to squeeze in another job, if she worked a few long hours.
"Good. I'll see you then, pretty lady. Bring your appetite—the steaks are supposed to be great. Oh, what will you be wearing? So I'll know you."
As often as they'd spoken on the phone, they'd never met. She had no idea what he looked like, and he obviously didn't know her.
"M-m-m, black slacks and a persimmon blouse. Fitted black jacket, no lapels, with a single gold button at the waist. And you?"
"Don't know. I'll find you. Ciao.” And he was gone.
Kate sat for a moment staring at the phone. She wouldn't be seeing Bree tonight, after all. She'd be driving to Springfield to meet Joe Kinicki. And that was okay, except that it meant she wouldn't be seeing Cass either.
* * * *
Shortly after lunch the rain stopped. A weak and watery sun struggled out in a bleached sky, but didn't last long. In the false twilight of late afternoon, she rummaged in the closet under the stairs for the painting of herself and Leah, silently cursing the fact that there was no light inside the closet. She'd drop it at Snooky's shop and have it taken care of, and off her mind. And Leah's apparently. If only she could find the portrait.
She straightened with her hands on her hips and, perplexed, looked at the hanging ends of coats and dangling scarves, and the collection of boots on the floor. Where was the damaged picture frame and painting? Again she plunged into the closet, searching more by feel than by sight for the framed painting. Nothing standing against the walls. No picture frame anywhere.
Kate stood upright and frowned. She'd put it there the day after it had fallen off the wall. She remembered distinctly holding the coats aside so that it would stand, leaning against the far wall. But it was gone. Could she have moved it?
"Mom?” Max slid down the banister and landed with a clatter at the bottom. “Mom!” He was laughing. “I just thought of this. What does an elf do when he goes potty?"
"Hmmm?” Kate's attention was still on what was missing in the closet.
"Mo-o-m! Listen. I made a joke. What does an elf do when he goes potty?” Max's eyes
snapped like firecrackers.
Kate made an effort to focus on Max. “I don't know. What does an elf do when he ... Max,” she finished warningly. “Be careful."
He laughed out loud. “He does a wee pee!” And he doubled over giggling. “Do you get it? He does..."
"I get it.” Kate had to laugh, too. “But you can't tell it in mixed company."
Max raised his eyebrows in question and she explained, “Not in front of girls."
"Okay. But it's funny, isn't it? Can I tell Cass?"
"It's a winner. And yes, I think you could tell Cass. It's a guy thing."
Kate put a batch of bread in the bread maker, ran the vacuum on the screened porch and fertilized the orchids. The phone rang twice during that time, but there was only silence on the other end. No one there.
By the time Kate was ready to leave the house with Max and Babe, the western sky was dark again with sodden, moisture-filled clouds trailing long skirts of rain. Gathering her purse and Max's gear for an evening with The Junes, she hesitated and then turned to look again for the portrait. Its absence wasn't something she could put in the back of her head and forget.
She knew she'd leaned against the wall of the closet in plain view. Determined to rummage through the boots and folding chairs one more time, she flung open the closet door, and she saw it. There was Leah, her eyes almost laughing, looking back at her from the painting in the very spot where it should have been all along.
Kate's eyes narrowed as she scanned the small space. Everything else was the same. Neatly hung winter coats, boots in careful rows beneath them, hats and scarves on the shelf above. Where had the portrait come from? She would swear that it hadn't been there earlier. And as big as it was, there was no chance she could have overlooked it.
A chill rippled up her back. Was it more of Leah's tricks or was she, Kate, maybe so tired of the whole thing she unconsciously blocked out the sight when she was looking for the painting?
She shook her head. Another inexplicable happening to add to the lengthening list. It was getting old, this feeling of inadequacy, of constantly being off balance, no knowing what to expect next. Damn! She would not, would not, let this get to her. Resolutely, Kate bagged the portrait and went to the garage to place it in the back of the van, where Max and Babe waited. She had time to stop at the framing shop.
Dancing Ladies Page 20
