Other Echoes
Page 13
Instead of a normal doorknocker, Mr. Kerrigan’s guest house had a solid brass turtle hung up by its tail. This was typical of the Kapono’s house. Nothing was permitted to be average. There always had to be something cute or quirky or boutique-ish about the decor.
Charlotte put her hand around the turtle’s shell, knocked twice and waited.
A few residual drops of morning rain fell from the eaves of the small adjacent house and went splat against the patio.
Next to the Kapono’s main house, this building looked like a garden shed by comparison, but it was still twice the size of Charlotte’s mother’s apartment in Philly. She tried peeking through the windows, but straightened when she heard footsteps at the other end of the door. It opened wide.
In the direct morning sunlight, Charlotte almost didn’t recognize Mr. Kerrigan from her encounter with him the other day. He was such a forgettable man, one who could easily disappear in a crowd. If he were a doorknocker, he would not be a brass turtle. He’d be the standard model you bought at the hardware store for half-off. His dark hair was mussed and he had apparently not shaved yet this morning. The flannel drawstring pants and t-shirt he wore made him seem much younger than he probably was. But he had a nice face, and an approachable countenance.
“Oh,” he said. She could tell his eyes had settled on the bruise along her cheekbone. “Hello there.”
“I’m Charlotte Banks.” She nodded towards the Kapono’s house. “Sheena’s niece.”
“Of course.” He stepped aside to let her through the front door.
All the furniture in the main room had been pushed to the side. The curtains were drawn back, and several large windows were flooding the sparsely decorated room with morning light. In the center of it all was an easel on a paint-smudged tarp. The canvas was blank.
“Uh,” Charlotte began stupidly. She was searching her mind for a delicate transition into: Sorry I crashed your car.
His gaze dropped to her left arm, which was in the blue hospital-issue sling. Mr. Kerrigan extended a hand to touch her elbow lightly. “This looks painful.”
“Not really,” she said and tugged at the strap. That was a lie. It hurt like holy hell. The throb along her collarbone had kept her from sleeping last night. Or maybe all the other concerns on her mind had given her insomnia. “I guess you know about the accident?”
“I hear my car didn’t fare so well. Is that what you’re here about?”
She started to apologize, but he silenced her with a wave of his hand. “Please don’t worry, Charlotte. It was a terrible car. And I mean that honestly. It didn’t start half the time. The ceiling foam kept falling into people’s eyes. The radio got stuck on some godforsaken country music channel …” He chuckled at the memory of it. “I’m just glad you weren’t too badly hurt. I don’t suppose the airbags inflated by any chance?”
Charlotte shook her head.
“See?” That’s exactly the thing I’m talking about,” he said, smiling. “What a piece of junk!”
“I promised my uncle I’d help pay for another car. Emi’s already taking the money out of her savings,” Charlotte said hurriedly. She was grateful to be almost finished with this awkward conversation.
Mr. Kerrigan shook his head. “Oh no. No, no. I won’t allow you to worry about that. I was planning to replace that old car soon anyway.”
“But the insurance…”
He silenced her with a smile. “If you’re feeling guilty, I recommend you stop,” he said. “Guilt is nothing but wasted energy. You should be spending all that energy on the stuff that really matters.”
“Like what?” she asked.
He frowned and perched on the armrest of a couch that had been shoved against the wall. She noticed that his eyes were a very dark green and sort of sad. “Well, you know… Your schoolwork. Your friends.”
“Oh, those things,” Charlotte said dully.
“What? You don’t like friends and school?”
“I don’t know.” She watched him watching her. She wondered if he was painting her in his mind, analyzing the color and texture of her flesh, her mouth, her eyes. No one had ever looked at her this way before – like he was genuinely trying to understand her, rather than judge her.
She fiddled with the strap on her arm sling and said, “All I know is that my aunt and uncle are pretty pissed at me right now. It’ll be worse if I’m not punished. They’ll think I’m trying to get away with it.”
“You think your aunt and uncle want to punish you?”
“Well, I made a pretty big mistake.”
He rubbed a hand along his unshaven jaw as if he were considering her answer. “From what I understand you weren’t driving under the influence, you were well within the speed limit, and you had a valid driver’s license. Is that right?”
Charlotte looked at him with unwilling acknowledgment in her eyes.
“Hmm.” He kept on rubbing his chin. “You don’t happen to know why the car before you stopped so suddenly?”
“The driver was braking for a mongoose.”
He leaned forward. “I’m sorry – I don’t think I caught that. Did you say ‘mongoose’?” He made a paw-like gesture with his hands. “As in the rodent?”
She could tell he was trying to make her feel better, but it made the guiltiness worse. He didn’t know her. He didn’t know how she always made mistakes, without even trying.
Charlotte spoke flatly. “It doesn’t matter, Mr. Kerrigan. I took your car without asking. It was the wrong thing to do.”
She turned and made for the exit. Mr. Kerrigan opened the door for her and she walked past the pool to the Kapono’s back entrance.
“Don’t punish yourself, Charlotte,” Mr. Kapono called after her. The words sent a shiver down her back for some reason.
It was like he knew more than just what had happened last night. Like he knew her secret.
Was it possible? Could he see right to the fiery wick of her problem? Did he recognize the torment in her eyes, dark and abiding, as she saw it in his?