by Luanne Rice
Tess had gone to pieces. She had Amy now, and that money from the fishermen’s fund, but she felt so alone. She had never had a good job, she had never felt like enough. There she was with a bubbly little girl, and Tess hadn’t even had the energy to read to her.
Tess had made many mistakes, but she considered that one of her worst: not reading to Amy when she was little. Tess had loved books herself. She had hung around the library when she was young, signing books out as fast as Mrs. Robbins could give them to her. But once Russ died, the world just turned gray. Real life and lives on the page: Tess hadn’t cared about any of them.
That’s why she had been so happy when Amy had started hanging around with the Robbinses. Mrs. Robbins was such a no-nonsense lady, so upright and concerned about the well-being of young people, Tess had just known she would help Amy. And everyone in town knew Dianne, how she had stuck it out with her deformed baby even after her handsome husband had just sailed away. How could Tess object to Amy spending time with such fine people?
Did it make sense, then, that Tess had seethed with jealousy? That every time she’d heard the words “I’m going to Julia’s” or, worse, “I’m going to Dianne’s,” her stomach had clenched right into a knot? Buddy had been here then, and he had fed those bad feelings, telling her that Amy was starting to prefer strangers to her own home, that pretty soon Amy wouldn’t want to be there at all.
Not that Tess could blame her. She sighed, staring at Amy’s story on the table. The lower left corner had a little peanut butter on it. The grease was spreading through the paper, turning it clear. Tess wiped it off. She gazed at the title: “Sand Castles.” Jealousy was a terrible thing. She wished she hadn’t said the things she had. She was glad, sort of, that Amy was going to have the opportunity to see The Nutcracker. But why did Amy have to give the mother in the story blond hair?
Amy glanced at the house. If she saw Dianne or Lucinda in the window, she’d go over to say hi. She wanted to see Julia, especially after finding the sand castle gone. In fact, she wished they’d look out. She dragged her feet, taking her time.
But it was getting late. She had to get home, make sure her mother was okay. Checking the dinghy one last time to make sure she’d pulled it high enough on the bank of the marsh, and giving Dianne and Lucinda another chance to see her, she walked through the yard.
Orion ran in wild circles. Amy wanted to bring him home, but she knew the best place for him was there, with Stella. Stella had gotten him out from under the bed. After his life in the cage, only Dianne’s little stone-wall cat had been able to tempt him back to life. Orion barked, following her straight out to the road.
“See you, Orion,” Amy said, kneeling down to let him nuzzle her face.
Orion licked her ears and eyes. She felt him washing away the tears she had cried on the beach, on the spot where Julia’s sand castle had stood. As the dog licked her, Amy felt better. Kisses always did that for her: people’s or dogs’. Amy would go home, apologize to her mother, see about getting the peanut butter off her story.
Orion whimpered.
Amy opened her eyes. The puppy was lying on the road, trying to flatten himself into the pavement. He peed: Amy saw the stream trickle from his tail into the gutter. Orion looked terrified, as Amy hadn’t seen him look for months. And then she saw the car.
She hadn’t noticed it at first. Amy had been so preoccupied with wishing Dianne would see her walking through the yard and invite her in that she had not seen the car. It was parked in the turnaround, its rust-brown color blending with the rushes.
“Hello, Amy,” Buddy said, talking through the open window.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Amy said.
“I’m not?” Buddy asked.
“No,” Amy said.
Orion cried. He just lay on the ground shivering. Go, Amy wanted to tell him. Run like Lassie and bring help! But he was much too frozen. Amy would have to run herself. She’d scream first. Opening her mouth, she didn’t even get a sound out.
Buddy opened his car door, took three long strides across the dead end, and slapped Amy across the face. She was so shocked, she touched her cheek instead of hitting back. By then Buddy had Orion by the back of the neck and Amy by the waist, and he threw them into the backseat of his car and slammed the door shut behind them.
“Let me out,” Amy screamed.
“Shut up,” Buddy said, getting in front.
“You’ll be arrested,” she said. “You’ll go to jail!”
Orion had curled himself up like a snail, cowering on the floor behind Buddy. Amy tried to open the back doors, but the door handles, locks, and window cranks had been taken out. She was trapped!
“Thanksgiving’s coming,” Buddy said, lighting a cigarette.
Orion looked up at Amy with huge eyes. He reminded her of Julia, of how she could look when she had something she needed to say but couldn’t find the words. For Orion’s sake, Amy had to make this come out right.
“Please, Buddy,” Amy said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Let us out of the car.”
“Two days is all,” Buddy said. “Two days to Thanksgiving, and poor Buddy has no place to go. No turkey dinner’s waiting for me.”
“I’m sorry,” Amy said.
Buddy was taking his time. With Amy and Orion trapped in back, he didn’t seem to be in a hurry about kidnapping them. He smoked for a minute, and then he picked his teeth with a matchstick. If Amy weren’t so scared, she’d have remembered to be repulsed. Buddy fiddled with the radio, finding the right station.
“Let us out,” Amy said quietly. “I swear, I’ll ask Mom if you can come to our house. We’ll have pilgrim candles and everything. Pumpkin pie, that’s the kind you like, right?” she asked, trying to remember from the previous year. She had the feeling that if only she could forgive him, like Lucinda always said, if she could just be kind enough to realize that he felt awful about this, that no one, not even Buddy, could want to be alone on Thanksgiving, then Buddy would feel her goodness and let them go.
“Pumpkin pie?” he asked, his eyes glowing like black coals.
“Yes,” she said, her voice trembling. “With whipped cream.”
“Try mince pie, you little bitch. It’s mince pie I like. Three fucking years under the same roof, and you don’t even remember.” He gunned the engine, still parked in the dead end.
Now Amy felt the panic shivering down her spine. The hair on her arms stood up. She could see Dianne’s house, her studio. If only they would come outside! Just look out the window! Just then Buddy swore. A car was coming down the street. Amy craned her neck. It was Dr. McIntosh!
Amy started screaming, banging on the windows. Her fists were hard as rocks. If only she could shatter the glass! Orion tried to make himself smaller. Buddy slunk down in his seat. Amy saw Dr. McIntosh drive right by, staring full-force at Dianne’s house. He was on his way to see her, and he didn’t even notice the brown car parked half in the rushes.
“Dr. McIntosh!” Amy screamed. “Help us! Oh, help—”
“He can’t hear you,” Buddy said, shifting into gear. He laughed.
“Please,” Amy said, starting to sob. Buddy was pulling away slowly. Amy’s palms were flat against the back window. She had gotten sand under her fingernails from digging on the beach. Orion whimpered. Amy stared up Dianne’s driveway: at her house, at the studio.
There, sitting in the window where she always tracked the stars in the sky, was Stella. The little cat saw Buddy’s car drive away, watched her friend, the dog Orion, be spirited off, witnessed the whole thing with the helpless despair that only creatures who know love can feel.
Alan had been in such a hurry to see Dianne, he’d run out without his jacket, leaving it at the office. It didn’t matter. He rushed from the car to the house. Taking the stairs two at a time, he found Dianne in her bedroom, packing boxes. Crouched by an open drawer, she didn’t hear him at first.
“Dianne,” he said.
“Oh, you surp
rised me,” she said.
He stared at her. Her hair was messy, tied back with a scarf. She had her work clothes on, old sneakers on her feet. Julia lay on a blanket on the floor, keeping her company.
Alan knelt beside her. His heart was beating fast, as it had been since an hour earlier when he’d left the hospital. Past Thanksgiving weeks he had worked every possible minute. The holiday had meant nothing to him. He had worked normal hours, taking other doctors’ on-call schedules. But this year was different. It was only Tuesday, and already he was leaving the office early.
“Don’t misunderstand,” she said, her skin glowing as she took his hand. “But what are you doing here? I didn’t expect you until later tonight.”
“I’m taking the rest of the day off,” he said.
“You are?”
He nodded. “And I’m getting out early tomorrow. And the next day is Thanksgiving. I’ll be around as much as possible until you and Amy go to New York.”
Dianne glanced at Julia. When she looked back at Alan, her eyes looked worried, and she was frowning slightly.
“Is it Julia?” she asked. “Did you get some test results—”
He shook his head quickly, enveloping her in his arms. “No,” he said. “I just wanted to be with you. What are you doing?”
“Packing our things, mine and Julia’s,” Dianne said, holding out the summer shirt she held in her hands. “Getting ready to move to our house. Why?”
Alan let her go slightly. He thought about their last long talk. They had discussed Thanksgiving. She had told him about her mother’s words, about how they had to be grateful every day, to give thanks for every minute they had together.
“Then I’ll help you,” he said.
“You closed the office?” she asked, smiling. She held his hand.
“We’d scheduled an early day anyway,” he said. “Usually I take extra on-call duties at the hospital around Thanksgiving, but this year I’m asking Joe Bernstein to take mine. I want us to move in as soon as you get back from New York,” he said, his heart pounding as he pulled her close again. “Julia and I will get the place together and wait for you to come back.”
“That’s what I had hoped,” Dianne said, kissing him. “That’s why I wanted to get started packing as soon as possible.”
“We can start taking boxes over right away,” he said.
“I have about six stacked downstairs,” she said.
“We’re on the same wavelength,” he said, holding her tight.
Amy tried to formulate a plan. Buddy was a maniac, and Amy had a good mind. He was like some mad, evil villain, and Amy had might and good on her side. All Amy’s reading, all her hanging around with the Robbinses, had shown her that goodness triumphed over wickedness every day of the week.
“Been watching your house,” Buddy was saying, cruising along. They were taking back roads through the Lovecraft Nature Sanctuary. Nothing but marshland to the right, pine forests to the left.
Orion whimpered. Amy tickled him between the ears. She had to stay calm. She had to maintain alertness. If they passed another car, she’d wave her arms. If only someone would pull up behind them. She could look out the back window, make desperate faces to alert the driver to her plight.
“Watching your house, day and night,” Buddy said. “Your mother don’t look too good.”
“She’s fine,” Amy said.
“She looks haggard,” Buddy said. “That means like a hag.”
Orion peed again. Amy could smell the ammonia. Afraid that Buddy would smell it, she pulled off her shoes and then her socks. They were thick Ragg socks, purchased when they made the pit stop at L.L. Bean, and she used them to sop up the puppy’s urine.
“Parked outside my own house,” Buddy said. “Real nice. But there ain’t much action there, her sleeping her life away and all. So I’d drive by other places, see how my enemies are doin’. The good doc, for example.”
Dr. McIntosh …at the thought of him, Amy’s eyes filled with tears. He had been right there; he could have seen her, if only he had looked, if only Amy had been able to attract his attention.
“Dr. Saint,” Buddy said. “Or is it Saint Doctor? Whichever. He’s a fucking loser. Him and his girlfriend, your foster mother.”
“Dianne,” Amy whispered.
“That is one sick kid,” Buddy said. “Got a good look at her at the grocery the other day. Damn near made me gag the way she smelled. Pretty face though. Worthless arms and so-called legs. All chewed up and spit out. Hey, if arms and legs don’t work, are they called something else?”
“Shut up,” Amy said. She couldn’t bear to hear Buddy say things about Julia. He had no right to put his evil mouth on her, saying wicked things about her friend. Orion nuzzled Amy’s bare ankles. His nose was cold, and every panicked breath sent chills up Amy’s leg.
“What’d you say to me?” Buddy asked, glaring at Amy in the rearview mirror.
Amy tried to breathe. She had to keep herself calm. This was key. Buddy was the maniac here. Amy had to placate him.
“I’m sorry, Buddy,” she said as meekly as she could.
“Thought I heard you say shut up,” he said.
She shook her head. The road wound deeper into the sanctuary. Her heart was racing. She tasted something weird, as if her body were even more scared than her mind, as if it were producing some strange chemical of fear. Buddy had cut the door handles out. What did that mean? Amy felt down the crack of her seat, hoping to find a lead pipe. She could cosh him from behind, then she and Orion could climb out the front door and escape.
No lead pipe. She glanced down at the floor. It was covered with empty beer cans and food wrappers. From the looks of things, Buddy liked McDonald’s and Dunkin’ Donuts. The floor was a junk-food paradise, but Orion was too petrified to explore.
The road had been winding through the woods, and the darker it got, the more afraid Amy became. Hemlocks and white pines grew thick. Flashes of sky were thin and gray. Buddy turned up the music. It sounded like nothing but bass and drums. To Amy it sounded like blood. The fear-taste grew stronger. She began to whimper like Orion.
Suddenly the road burst out of the forest. They were in the light! There were rock outcroppings on the left, rising to the Hawthorne Hills. On the right was the sea. They had rounded the headland beyond the marsh, and here there was nothing but open water. Staring out, Amy saw waves breaking on rocks: the Landsdowne Shoal.
It was so bright. Hope began to return. Coming into the light was good. If Buddy had been planning something bad, he would have done it in the woods, where no one could see. Where it would take a long time for people to find them.
Here it was still deserted, still the nature sanctuary. No houses around, too cold for people to be hiking. But out at sea there were ships. Amy saw two lobster boats circling their buoys, pulling their pots not far from shore. She waved at them, hoping they would see. Buddy seemed not to notice. He was humming along with the music.
And then he stopped the car.
Amy looked around. The road was wide open. A short distance ahead was a bridge. She didn’t think she had ever seen it before. Her mother had never been one for nature rides, and on their excursions last summer, Dianne had never driven this way. Buddy got out of the car. He had something in his hand, but Amy was too excited to see what it was: He was letting them out!
“Oh,” she said, scrambling past him when he opened the door. Orion was right behind her.
“What do you say?” he asked.
“Thank you, Buddy,” she said.
She was trembling, but stretching her legs felt good. The wind blew fresh and clean across the wide open road. It would be a long walk home, she and Orion would be tired and cold, but she didn’t care. Whatever little lesson Buddy had wanted to teach her, she’d pretend to go along with it.
“Hey, you’re welcome,” he said.
They were just standing there, facing each other. He had a chipped front tooth and a lightning-bolt tattoo on his
neck that she hadn’t noticed before.
“We’ll walk home,” Amy said, trying to smile.
“You will,” he said.
That’s when Amy realized that Orion hadn’t gotten out of the car. He was frozen in terror, trying to burrow underneath the empty food boxes. Amy’s stomach lurched. She knew she had to act fast. Orion was as helpless as Julia. If Julia were trapped in Buddy’s car, Amy would be just as afraid. Buddy could drive away with him, and Amy would never see him again.
“Here, Orion,” she whispered, patting the side of her leg. Her mouth was almost too dry to speak. “Here, boy.”
“What’d you call him?” Buddy asked, transferring whatever he had been holding to his other hand.
Amy stared, unable to reply.
“Because I thought I heard you call him something stupid,” Buddy said. “His name is Slash.”
Amy still stared.
“Slash and I have some unfinished business,” Buddy said, shaking out the burlap sack he had been holding. It snapped like a whip, and the dog whimpered.
“Buddy, no,” Amy cried, screaming as she realized what he was going to do. She tried pulling his arm, using every bit of her might.
Buddy brushed her aside like dandelion fluff and yanked the dog out of the car. He stuffed Orion in the sack as if he were dirty shirts. The dog had grown since summer; he was sleek and graceful, his dark coat glossy from all the love and good food Dianne fed him, from his days of romping in the sun.
Amy grabbed Buddy’s arm, tugging as hard as she could. Orion was in the sack, and the sack was twisted shut in Buddy’s hand. Buddy’s cowboy boots with their metal studs clicked loudly against the pavement, click-click-click, as he strode rapidly toward the bridge.
Amy was sobbing now, begging. “Don’t do it, Buddy,” she cried. “Take me. Do something to me. He’s just an innocent dog—”
“Shut”-click-click-click-“up.”
“Buddy, no,” Amy said, holding on to Buddy’s shirt. She knew about horrible things men did to young girls. She had asked Marla Arden about some of them back when Marla interviewed Amy to find out what Buddy had done. Amy knew about bad touching and bad talking, and she knew about rape, and that was what she had been expecting when they had driven through the darkest part of the forest. Weeping now because she had been fearing it so much, that terror had been the awful unfamiliar taste in her mouth.
