Chapter Three 5 страница

“There are no buts! ” My grandmother snatches the dirty plates from the table, whirls, and crashes them down into the sink. A chunk of ceramic bounces up and hits the window. “It’s too late and it will be too late forever. I’m not going to stand by and watch this happen again because you’re too stupid to put an end to it! ”

I stop breathing.

Incredibly, my mother holds her ground. “Oh, like you ended it when you caught Daddy cheating on you with Mrs. Burt? Funny, I don’t seem to remember you guys getting a divorce. ”

My grandmother goes ashen.

“What, you thought it was a secret? ” My mother laughs again, uglier this time. “Sorry, Mom, nothing in this neighborhood was a secret. Every kid on the block knew what was going on, me included. Hell, I knew before you did. ”

My grandmother falls back a step, staring at my mother as if she’s never seen her before. Seconds pass and when she finally speaks, her words start out shaky but quickly gain strength. “You need to leave now or I’ll call the police and have you arrested. We’ll see how quickly Charles pawns his late father’s jewelry to pay your bail. Or maybe he won’t. Maybe it’d be more convenient to have you out of the way so he can—”

“Stop it! ” I shout, caught up in a full-body tremble.

Both women turn in surprise, like they’ve forgotten I’m even here. My presence abruptly ends the battle.

My mother gives my grandmother one last foul look and heads for the foyer. “Supper at six, Meredith, ” she tosses back and slams the front door.

The washer buzzes in the background, signaling the end of a load. Robotlike, my grandmother turns and walks out of the kitchen to the laundry room. The dryer starts. The clasps on my overalls clank and clatter, rude in the throbbing silence.

I sit frozen, staring down at the last bite of sandwich. My face feels huge, and a dark weight crushes the center of my brain. My own grandfather…and my grandmother had stayed with him. I can hardly stand being in my own family anymore.

Leah Louisa returns, stiff as a sentry, and gazes at the broken dishes as if she can’t quite make sense of them. “It wasn’t the same thing at all, ” she says. “Hazel Burt had the morals of an alley cat, and don’t think her poor husband didn’t know it. Your grandfather was just one of the many fools who fell into her net. ” She clears her throat and tries again. “Things were different back then. Respectable people didn’t air their dirty laundry for the world to see like they do now. Things like that were swept under the rug and the less said, the better. I did what I thought best, given the circumstances. If it happened again today…” She shakes her head, lips tight. “I can’t prevent your mother from throwing her life away, but I’ll be damned if I’ll just sit back and let her throw yours away, too. ”

The declaration is powerful and on some level welcome, but it comes too late. I’d always thought of Leah Louisa as the strong one, the one who spoke her mind and stood up for what was right, the one who never settled or sold out. I’d run to her believing that if she said this mess was over then it would be over, but now I can’t unknow what I know and my faith in her is weakened. “How are you going to stop him? ”

She summons a grim smile. “You’ll move in here with me. He wouldn’t dare try anything while you’re under my roof. ” She strides across the room, authority in motion, and snatches up a pad and pen. “We have a lot to accomplish and it must be done correctly. ” She paces, stops, and jots something on the page. “Darn it. Norman always leaves early on Saturday for the lake. I’ll have to see him on Monday. ”

“Who’s Norman? ” I ask because it seems to matter.

“The family court judge, ” she says absently, scribbling. “I have to call my attorney, my secretary…. Oh, I have a meeting I can’t postpone on Monday. ” She frowns and taps the pen on the paper. “Well, we’ll just have to schedule around it. ”

She makes it sound so simple, so matter-of-fact, like with her taking charge my survival is assured. I can’t let myself believe it, and yet there’s no stopping me from craving more, from wanting to offer her all my dragons. “My father won’t let me go. ”

She snorts and peers at me over the top of her glasses. “Your father will have no choice. By the time we’re done with him, he’ll be lucky if he ends up with an occasional supervised visit, and if I thought I could block those, too, rest assured I would. ”

I try to hold back, but her words are more potent than vitamins and I sit, blood thrumming, knowing it can’t be this easy, and yet…“Which room do I get? ”

“The blue or the rose, your choice, ” she says, writing again. “The mattress in the blue room is new, but the view from the rose room is better. ”

“What about my stuff? My clothes and all, I mean? ”

She glances up with a quick frown, like I tripped her in the middle of a full-out stride. “We’ll get to that at some point. I don’t want you going near that complex by yourself. Now, I need to make some important calls, so why don’t you go up and choose a room? ”

“Okay. ” I push back my chair and stand, awkward, wanting to let her know that I’m trying to believe, but all that comes out is, “Which one would you take? ”

“The one with the new mattress, ” she says, picking up the phone. “A good sleep makes all things possible. ” She studies my face and she sees something, maybe everything I can’t say, because she replaces the receiver, crosses the room, and folds me into a fierce hug. “I’m so sorry, ” she whispers. “I should have forced the issue and done something sooner. ”

Two people, four arms. Strong numbers. “What could you have done, Gran? Kidnap me? I mean, up until yesterday everything was fine. If he hadn’t gotten out early, none of this would be happening. ”

“Well, now it is, so let’s get busy and solve this problem once and for all. ” She releases me with a brisk smile and goes back to the phone.

I gather her bathrobe around me and trot upstairs. The bedrooms are beautiful, guest rooms out of a magazine, with polished wood floors and thick throw rugs, matching sheets and comforters, and tons of fringed pillows. The walls have framed old-fashioned paintings on them, one with rich, blue hydrangea bushes and one with lush pink roses. The women in both pictures are wearing long, flowing dresses and have kittens romping at their feet.

I perch on the bed in the blue room, careful not to crease the comforter, and then do the same in the rose room. My cigarettes and knife thud against my thigh as I cross and re-cross the hall. I can’t tell the difference in mattresses. The door locks are the same, pressin buttons and flimsy like home. The rose room looks out over Gran’s flower garden, the blue room over the quiet street, but neither has a tree branch or a drainpipe near enough to use if I ever need an escape route.

“Meredith? ” Gran’s voice echoes up the stairs.

I trot out to the landing. “What? ”

“I’ve spoken with my assistant and he’s going to meet me down at my office to work on our strategy and set things up for Monday. We’re going to try and reach my attorney, too, so I may be gone for a couple of hours. ” Pause. “Do you want to come with me or will you be all right here alone? ”

I feel my cigarettes nudging my leg. “No, you go ahead. I’ll be okay. ”

“Are you sure? ” she asks.

“Just lock the door and I’ll be fine, ” I call back.

“All right, then, I’m on my way. ” Keys jingle. “I left the direct phone line to my office on the pad by the phone. The TV remote is on the coffee table in the den. I’m taking my laptop with me, but you’re free to read any of the books or use the other computer if you’d like. When I get back, we’ll order Chinese for supper. How would that be? ”

“Fine, ” I say and wave as she bustles out the door. I listen for the lock’s click, then zoom down the steps and double-check it. I remember the back door and race through the kitchen, narrowly missing a stray shard of ceramic plate on the floor, and check that door, too. It’s locked and so is the sliding glass. I dart from room to room, checking all the windows, hunkering down to stay below the sills until the last moment so if my father is out there watching the house, he won’t be able to follow my progress.

I scurry back up the stairs to the blue bathroom, turn on the fan, and shut the door. Crack the tiny window and light a cigarette. Perch on the cold, hard edge of the tub and use the toilet as an ashtray. It’s not the most satisfying way to smoke, nothing at all like hanging out at Andy’s….

Andy.

He’s leaving for Iowa tomorrow and I never kissed him good-bye. Never even said good-bye, just ran out of there like some kind of paranoid lunatic. He doesn’t even know I’m safe at Leah Louisa’s. No one does.

I should call and tell him, but I can’t leave the room with my cigarette. I wish I still had a cellphone, but my mother took it back after my friend Azzah and her family moved to Miami and I’d racked up a six-hundred-dollar bill calling her.

Funny, how bad I’d missed her until Andy moved in and then it was like I’d almost forgotten she’d existed. She forgot me, too, I guess, as she never returned my last call.

I take one last drag, drop the cigarette in the toilet, and flush. Tighten the sash on Gran’s robe, crack the door, and slither out, closing it behind me so the smell won’t taint the rest of the house. I hate the thought, but I have a feeling my smoking days are numbered. I hurry down to the kitchen and lift the receiver, punch out half of Andy’s number, and then stop.

I don’t want to say good-bye to Andy over the phone. I need to see him, and I need him to see me. I need to be fixed solid in his arms and his mind, not as the one who’d led the nightmare straight to his door this morning, and then freaked and bolted, but as me, Meredith, something good enough to sustain him to Iowa and back. Leaving him with that last awful memory, saying “See ya” over the phone, or sneaking him a covert wave as Leah Louisa and I move my stuff out of my condo isn’t going to do it.

I can lose a lot, but I can’t lose Andy.

I replace the receiver and scribble my grandmother a note saying I’ll be back. I have no key so chances are she’s going to come home and find me sitting on her doorstep waiting for her anyway, but still.

My overalls and tank top are almost dry. I change, transferring my stuff from pocket to pocket. I hang my grandmother’s bathrobe on a hook and, tucking my hair back behind my ears, slip out through the mudroom door and into the sunlight.

Chapter Thirteen

I take the direct route back and within fifteen minutes am turning off Main Street into the complex. My overalls are wrinkled but dry from the hot, whooshing breeze stirred by passing motorists.

“FFWHEEEEEEEEEEEEPPP! ”

I wince, pause, and track the shrill whistle.

Nigel Balthazar is on his front stoop. “Finally. Come here. ” His face is florid and the pits of his shirt are dark with sweat. “Christ, don’t make me yell. It’ll kill me. ”

I hesitate, then pad up his front walk. I can spare a couple of minutes. “What? ”

Gilly appears in the smeary living room window and barks to join us.

“Have a seat, ” he says, waving me toward one of the two rusty, nylon-strapped lawn chairs squatting in the sun. “I want to show you something. ”

“You must be kidding, ” I say, eyeing the spiderweb shrouds draping the chair legs and the bug corpses dangling from the arms, wafting and bumping lazily in the breeze like macabre wind chimes. “What did you do, steal these out of Stephen King’s cellar? ”

“They’re the best I could do on short notice, ” he says crankily, maneuvering his bulk in front of a chair. He grips the plastic armrests and gingerly lowers himself until the chair stops screeching in protest. His butt scrapes the ground and I have no idea how he will ever get up. “Are you gonna plant it or what? ”

I sigh and settle into my hellish throne. Light a cigarette and lay the pack on the rickety table next to a mummified daddy longlegs. My throat is parched and the cigarette makes me cough. “Water? ” I look around for a hose.

He frowns at my staccato hack. “You should have said something before I wedged my ass into this torture device. Go into the fridge and grab a couple of Snapples. And you might as well bring Gilly out, too. Her leash is by the door. ”

“You sure? ” I rasp, because I’ve never been in his condo before.

“Of course I’m sure, ” he says, deliberately misunderstanding my question. “I just dropped it there ten minutes ago. I may be a relic, but I’m not senile yet, kid. ”

“A matter of opinion, ” I say, earning a dark look.

Gilly prances as I make my way through the shabby living room to the kitchen. The place smells of coffee, cigarettes, and dog. Framed police commendations are mounted on the wall around an autographed black-and-white glossy of some leather-

faced cowboy actor. It’s really old, so it might be John Wayne. Or maybe Clint Eastwood.

Fuzzy white hairballs stir and drift along the hardwood floor as I pass through the doorway separating the living room from the kitchen. There are twelve more pictures hanging here, all scrawled with signatures, all black and white.

“Nigel Balthazar, autograph hound, ” I murmur, grinning. “Who would’ve thunk it? ” I open the fridge and choose a Snapple grape and a raspberry iced tea. Bump the fridge closed, find Gilly’s leash, and lead her back outside.

“Nothing like taking your time, ” Nigel says. “What were you doing in there, sightseeing? ”

“I was star struck, ” I retort, holding out both Snapples. He picks the raspberry iced tea. Good. I want the grape.

He slams the bottle’s bottom against of the heel of his hand, breaking the internal suction, then twists off the cap with a muted pop. Taps it against the cardboard box settled on his lap. “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other night, how your father’s already started harassing you and all. ”

I open my mouth to say, Well, guess what? I don’t have to worry about that anymore, but something in his face stops me and sends my stomach into a familiar, downward spiral. “And? ” I retrieve my cigarette and open my drink.

“And I don’t like it. ”

“Join the club. ” A yellow jacket circles my Snapple and I blow smoke rings at it until it flies off in disgust. I may die of cancer, but I haven’t been stung in years.

“I’ll do better than that, ” he says and sets the box on my lap. “Open it, but be careful. I had to call in a lot of favors to get my hands on this stuff. ”

I put my bottle on the table and wipe my damp hands on my overalls. I sit up straighter and carefully open the box flaps. Look at the contents, then at Nigel. “A teddy bear and a smoke alarm? I don’t get it. ”

“Look closer, ” he says.

The bear is brown, fuzzy, and has glassy black eyes. The cheap, white plastic smoke alarm is the same kind that hangs on my kitchen ceiling. “So? ”

“So, ” Nigel says, “haven’t you ever heard of a nanny cam? ”

“Yeah, ” I say and then my eyes widen. “Are these…? ”

“Yup, ” he says, knuckle rapping a cigarette from his pack and wedging it into the corner of his mouth. He lights it and exhales. “We’re gonna do us a little covert surveillance, kid. Start building you a case so when the sh—er, crap hits the fan…. ”

I want to say, Sorry, but that’s not my problem anymore because you see, I’m going to live at Leah Louisa’s now, but the words won’t come. I run a finger over the teddy’s rounded stomach. “So you think something bad is gonna happen. ”

“Don’t you? ”

I shrug and keep my gaze on the bear.

“I know it sucks, but the problem is that we can’t do anything until he does something. No kid in town, including you, is gonna be safe until he’s back behind bars where he belongs. ” Nigel shakes his head. “He’s not one of those guys who wants to change. I wish he was. He’s gonna start again, Meredith. It’s not if, it’s who and when and how many. ”

“I know, ” I whisper because he’s right, it’s true, it’s everywhere in the heavy, choking air over this complex, but I still don’t want to be hung back on the meat hook and sent to the chopping block.

In a better world, I think I would have chosen the rose room.

He drags on the cigarette until the end glows and blows out a thick stream of smoke. “His being alone with you and all? We could probably grab him for a parole violation, but even if he’s sent back for it, he’s just gonna get out again. We’re nickel-and-diming our way through it, you see? But this way…” He pokes the bear. “Juries love video proof. Bingo-bango, conviction. Makes their job easy. ”

Conviction. The second sweetest word in the world. I look at the teddy and the smoke alarm, my two new best friends. “What should I do with them? ”

“Put ’em wherever it’s most dangerous. Each one has a pocket-size remote that’ll turn on the camera up to a hundred feet away. ” He shows me how to work the remotes. “Run them every time you two are in the same room. We’ll nail him yet. Think you can do it? ”

“Yeah. ” Despair cracks my voice. “I just don’t want to do anything wrong. ”

His wrinkles deepen and for a second I get the crazy idea that he’s near tears.

“You’re fifteen years old, kid, ” he says gruffly. “He’s the adult. It’s all on him. ” Clears his throat. “Did I tell you he and I had a little chat this morning? ”

“No, ” I say, closing the box. Four flaps, all interlocking. I move slowly because I’m back on familiar ground and there’s no hurry now. “How did that happen? ”

He leans back in his chair. “I was sitting here reading the paper when I notice some mope jogging around the complex. And there’s something about the way he’s moving that makes me wonder what he’s doing. ”

“He was looking for me. We had a situation and I christened that knife you gave me. No, I didn’t stab him, ” I add at his interested look. “I cut through my window screen and took off. Why, what happened? ”

“Well, something about him doesn’t look right so I figure it’s time to do a little investigating, and just my luck, Gilly decides she wants to go for a walk. ”

“How convenient, ” I say dryly.

“Wasn’t it? ” His eyes gleam. “So we head down the sidewalk and this guy’s jogging past Andy’s building, then back to your building, then to the one across from you, and around and around he goes. ”

“Did you know who he was by then? ” I’m fairly sure of the answer.

His mouth thins. “Yeah, I recognized that pointy head right off. Do you know what he had on? His old Estertown Middle School tank. Guy’s got nerve. ”

“You’re telling me. ” My father used to wear that shirt teaching gym class. The only other thing he could wear out in public that would increase the attendance of his lynch mob would be his Boys’ League Coach T-shirt, and the way things are going I fully expect to see him wearing it tomorrow.

“So anyhow, I’m just standing there watching him, and he spots me and starts jogging toward me. ” His mouth slides into a faint grin. “We’re oh, maybe fifteen yards apart, and he yells, ‘Hey buddy, have you seen my daughter? ’ and just like that, ” he snaps his fingers, “he recognizes me. Slams on the brakes so hard he leaves a skid mark. Took off a good chunk of knee, too. ”

“He fell down? ” I can’t keep the delight from my voice.

“Made your day, did I? ” Nigel says, amused. “So I say, ‘How you doing, Chuckie? Been a while, huh? ’ and my tone is nothing but pleasant—”

“He hates that name! ”

“You don’t say, ” Nigel says and grins. “He gets all defensive and starts in with that ‘I haven’t done nothing wrong and you cops have no right to stalk me, ’ sh—er, crap. I wait till he’s done ranting and say, ‘Been down to register as a chicken hawk yet, Chuck? ’ Because of course I know that he hasn’t. And while he’s turning green, I follow up with, ‘So Meredith’s missing? How’d that happen? ’ I’m asking because now I’m thinking maybe you two got into it and he’s putting on a big show for the neighbors like he don’t know you’re dead and laying in the Dumpster. ” He crushes the smoldering butt under his heel. “Sorry to say it, but it happens. ”

My smile dies. “Yeah, I know. ” My father can be charming, funny, a caring, good-natured guy always ready to help, a friend to the friendless and a sympathetic ear to kids in need. It’s the perfect public persona, and the shock waves after his arrest, the neighbors’ absolute denial and disbelief, were a real testament to his acting skills.

Gilly flops over in front of us, panting.

I swirl my Snapple. “So what’d he say when you asked about me? ”

“Oh, he got up on his high horse and said, ‘I don’t have to talk to you! You poisoned my daughter against me, ’ and I said, ‘Didn’t have to, Chuck. You did that yourself when you…’ ” He stops, looking embarrassed.

“Never mind, I get the idea, ” I say, studying my stubby fingernails.

He shifts and the chair moans in protest. “Well, make a long story short, he takes off for your place and I’m just about to call in the boys on the force to do a Dumpster check, when I see you coming out of Andy’s and heading for the road. ”

“I didn’t see you, ” I say.

“I know. I couldn’t yell without drawing your father’s attention so I just let you go. ” Nigel leans over, exhaling a grunt, and pets Gilly, sprawled at his feet. “Now I’m thinking maybe I was wrong. Maybe it’d be good for your old man to know you got friends around looking out for you. ”

That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. “So that’s why we’re sitting out here advertising our unholy union. ”

“Yup. ” He sits up red-faced. “Think of it as a show of strength. ”

I fumble for his hand and press it to my cheek.

Nigel clears his throat. “I say something right for a change? ”

I nod and release him. “Don’t lose any sleep over it, though. ” I drain the now-warm grape drink, tuck the box under my arm, and rise. “Andy and his mom leave for Iowa tomorrow. ”

Nigel grips the chair arms, rocking and making the joints scream until he gains enough momentum to lurch to his feet. The chair is crooked and sagging, pitiful in its death throes. “You don’t want him to go. ”

I shrug. “Maybe I’m just jealous that he can. ” I look away, blinking hard, because I could have run. I still can as long as I never look back, never think about my father prowling the complex for other innocent little kids who don’t know who he is or what he’s going to do to them. I could run back to Leah Louisa’s, but I realize now that even if I do there will have to be better locks on the doors, blinds on the windows, and a fence around the yard because I will never be free as long as he’s out there, watching and waiting for me.

“Hey kid, listen. You think Andy’s running is really gonna solve anything? ”

“He thinks it will, ” I mutter and meet Nigel’s steady gaze. “Do you? ”

“It doesn’t matter what I think, ” he says finally. “Andy’s demons chase him just as hard as yours chase you. The only difference is that instead of running, you met yours head-on and that’s pretty damn gutsy, considering. ” He hesitates as if struggling with something and sighs. “That accident where he broke his back? Well, according to the doc, Andy wasn’t supposed to be crippled, he was supposed to be able to get up and walk again, but he never did. ”

I stare at him, knowing I should be more surprised, but instead a dull, steady ache begins at my temples. “Does Andy know? That he should be able to walk, I mean? ”

“Yeah, he knows, but you see, it don’t matter, ” Nigel says, toying with his lighter and gazing absently at my father’s building. “He’s as paralyzed now as he was the minute it happened. ” He shrugs. “You do what you have to do to survive, I guess. You know that better than anybody and what I think of it doesn’t amount to a hill of beans. ”

It does to me, but I don’t say so, as the effort is suddenly too much. I shift the box under my arm. “I should get going. ”

He shoves his hands deep into his pockets. “Look, your parents went out right before you showed up. You might want to get those cameras installed while they’re gone. Practice a little. ” He hands me a battered business card from when he was on the force. “My home and cellphone numbers are there, but if something happens and you can’t get me, buzz 911 and get a cop out here ASAP. ”

“I hope I don’t have to. ” My stomach is jittering again. “But thanks anyway. ”

“Don’t mention it, ” he says. I look both ways, then step down onto the hot macadam and plod across the road.

Chapter Fourteen

T he closer I get to home, the harder it is to keep moving forward. I think of Nigel reaching out and Leah Louisa closing ranks, of Andy, whose paralysis runs way deeper than the physical, and of his mother, who craves revenge but is waiting for God to sponsor it.

I think of my father and sunny summer afternoons at the park, of playing catch with a battered old baseball we’d found and later dissected together, taking turns ripping out the stitches holding the worn cowhide closed, unraveling the prickly wool and flattened twine beneath until the hard, dark core was finally revealed. I’d gazed at the unremarkable sphere, hugely disillusioned, and said, “That’s it? That’s all it is? ”

“Well, yeah, ” my father says, looking amused. “What were you expecting? ”

“Something better, ” I say, and throw it away…

Tires crunch and a car passes.

My head jerks up and my eyes refocus, almost as if I’ve been asleep. Frantic, I survey the complex, but nothing else stirs. Oh my God, what am I doing? Forget the heat and the weight of the box. I need to get moving.

My mother’s car is gone so I bullet in the front door and lock it behind me. Pause, listen to the silence, gauge its weight, sniff the air, and decide I’m alone.

I take the box into my bedroom. Set the teddy on the corner shelf next to my stereo, propped up so the doorway and bed are in full view of the camera. Remove the remotes. Press the bear’s control. Green light on. Shut it off again.

My heart flutters. Halfway there.

I put the smoke alarm remote in my left pocket and the bear’s in my right. Take the alarm cam into the kitchen. Peek out the window into the court. Still deserted.

I can hear myself breathing.

Drag a stool over to beneath the smoke alarm on the ceiling. Lock my fingers around the plastic sides and pull, but it won’t come down. Brush my hair from my eyes. My hand comes away wet. How can I be sweating with the air so cold? “Come on. ” I pry off the cover and spot the screws holding the back plate to the ceiling. Oh God, do we even have a screwdriver?

A car door slams outside. I scramble off the stool and peek through the blinds. It’s only the Calvinettis across the court. I rip through the junk drawer for the screwdriver.

I’m shaking so bad I almost fall off the stool.

I take a deep breath and count off in fours. Four plus four is eight. Four plus eight is twelve. Four plus twelve is sixteen. And so on.

My tremors fade. I replace the old alarm with the cam. “I’m building a case, ” I say, and the four words become mantra.

It steadies me now but it won’t forever. I’ve done my homework, read books, websites, and message boards, lurked on lists, and even questioned a social worker too exhausted to guard her words, and I know how bad the odds are for girls like me.

We wait to be rescued, but for whatever reason, no one comes. We figure that if no one protects us then we must not be worth protecting so we become prey and are easily picked off. Our wounded, kicked-puppy gazes attract sly predators and we sell ourselves for clearance sale prices, mistaking screwing for caring.

We binge, purge, sleep around. We drink too much and get too high, anything to blot out the past. We accept and endure beatings and humiliations because our fathers, our uncles, and our mothers’ twisted boyfriends said they loved us, too, right before they broke our bones and tore our tissue, right before they made us receive them.