A Place Called Home (13 page)

Grant didn’t require more prompting. He thrust the tin at Thea and started off. “She locked her door,” he called back.

“I can handle it,” she assured him. “Go on.”

Thea rapped lightly. “Em? It’s Thea. Can I come in?”
Please, Emilie. I’d rather not use a bobby pin and I’ll be damned if I’m calling one number on Mitch’s list.
With one ear, Thea listened for sounds that Emilie was going to cooperate, with the other she tried to hear what the boys were up to. The cussing jar was still jangling so they hadn’t moved on to the game yet. She rapped on the door again. “Please, Emilie.”

The knob turned and the door opened a crack. Thea pushed it wide enough to put her head through. When she saw Emilie was already retreating toward the bed, she stepped inside.

Emilie flopped on the bed on her stomach, face hidden in the crook of her arm. “Shut the door.”

“I can’t,” Thea said. “At least not completely. I have to listen for the boys.” She carefully closed the door so that only a two-inch opening remained. “May I sit on your bed?”

“I don’t care.”

In the vernacular of an eleven-year-old, Thea remembered “I don’t care” was practically an engraved invitation. She walked around the canopy bed to where there was some space on the other side of the double mattress. Sitting down, she looked around the room. It was not so different from the room Emilie had when she was living with her parents. Thea realized Mitch must have brought a lot of the kids’ personal things, including furniture, to his house. She wondered if she would have thought of doing something like that. Thea’s fingertips smoothed the quilted coverlet. “You still like pink, I see.”

Emilie didn’t turn her head. “It’s okay.”

It was everywhere, is what it was. The canopy and spread, the pillow shams, the throw for the chair, the wastepaper basket—even the stapler on Emilie’s desk—were all pink. “It’s your signature color,” said Thea.

Emilie’s head lifted fractionally but she still didn’t turn. This time, though, her words weren’t muffled by an arm over her mouth. “What’s that?”

“It’s a little like a personal trademark. Something people will associate just with you. McDonald’s has the golden arches. Target is all about red. You’ve embraced a color. Which also happens to look great on you, by the way.” Thea paused. She reached tentatively for one of Emilie’s half-hidden hands. Lightly stroking the part that was visible, she said, “Maybe later, when the boys go to bed you’ll let me do your nails. I picked up a bottle of this pink polish that practically glows in the dark. It doesn’t work with my hair, but I bet it would be a good color for you.”

Emilie shifted her body so she was lying on her side facing Thea. Her look was faintly accusing. “You’re bribing me.”

Thea considered that. “Have I asked you do something in exchange?”

“Not yet.”

“Oh my, Em. You are wise to the ways of the world.” Thea’s hand touched Emilie’s hair, smoothing the heavy lock that came just under her chin. “I suppose it is a little bit like a bribe. Here’s another one.” She raised the tin of bandages. “Grant was bringing these up to you. I told him your heart was hurting. He thought one or all these would help.”

When Emilie closed her eyes this time tears were squeezed out of the corners. She immediately buried her face again. “Boys are so stupid.”

Thea’s voice was gentle. “Sometimes they are. Just like girls can be stupid. But I thought this was sweet. He’s only five, Emilie, but he knows he doesn’t want his sister hurting.” She rubbed Emilie’s back. “You and I know it doesn’t change anything, but Grant’s offer is genuine. Won’t you take one?” Thea opened the tin and began looking through it. “Here’s Wonder Woman. Do you want that one?”

Emilie shrugged.

“You know who she is, don’t you?” There was a small negative shake this time. Thea’s response was something between a choked laugh and a sigh as she realized the truth. “These are Mitch’s.” At Emilie’s nod, Thea simply shook her head. “Boys
are
stupid.”

Giggling, Emilie turned on her back, her smile a trifle watery. She took the bandage that Thea was dangling over her head and peeled back the paper.

Thea reached for the pink tissue box on Emilie’s nightstand. “You’re going to wear it?”

“Right here.” She pointed to her forearm which was covered by the long sleeve of her pink tee. “Isn’t that right? Don’t some people wear their heart on their sleeve?”

Thea used the first tissue out of the box for her own damp eyes.

“What time is it?” Case asked for the third time in three minutes.

“Nine-seventeen,” said Emilie. She picked up a card, read it, and moved one of her men into the red safety zone. “Your turn, Grant.”

Grant didn’t pick up a card. Instead he looked at Thea across the table. “Why isn’t Uncle Mitch here?”

“I suppose because he’s with Ms. Sommers,” Thea said. She’d already made the error several times of calling Gina by her first name. The kids had been quick to correct her. “They’re on a date. You know what that is, don’t you?”

“Sure,” Case said. He put the back of his hand to his mouth and began kissing it in earnest.

Thea laughed. “All right. That’s enough. So you know something about it, big shot. Grant, take your turn. Emilie, did your uncle Mitch tell us what time he was coming back?”

Emilie shook her head. She helped Grant move his token since it was closer to her side of the board. “I think it’s going to be late.”

That was Thea’s take on it, too. Mitch had told her the kids’ bedtimes for a reason, that reason being that he expected to return sometime after they were asleep. Grant and Case, contrary to his prediction that they would drop like stones, were battling hard to stay awake. Thea wasn’t fooling herself that it was because they were enjoying her company or the game. They were worried about Mitch, wondering where he was and if he was all right. Emilie, too, was becoming a little agitated, glancing frequently toward the door, shifting in her chair, suddenly alert when a car drove up the street. The car accident that had killed Gabe and Kathy had happened in the evening. Thea had no doubt they were thinking about that now, whether they said it or not. She certainly was.

“Maybe we should just put the game away for now,” Thea suggested. This was met with a chorus of no’s and against her better judgment, she relented. Therefore, she had no one but herself to blame when the game deteriorated into a fractious, no-win, name-calling match in which every token and most of the cards ended up on the floor.

Thea stared at the mess, then at the children. They were all subdued now that there was nothing left to shove and throw. “Well,” she said finally, “I don’t even know what to think about that. What happens now?” There were some accusing glances exchanged but they remained silent. “Then I suppose I’ll have to come up with something on my own. Do you want me to do that?”

“We should go to bed,” Emilie said quickly.

“Oh, yes,” Thea said. “Definitely. Before or after you and your brothers pick up everything?” There were some mixed opinions voiced so Thea announced they would have to do it after the pickup. “I’ll help, but I won’t do it all.”

It took the chain gang five long minutes to collect everything and put it back in the box. When they dawdled, she stopped helping. Thea pointed to the stairs, and they shuffled off while she folded the game board and placed it inside the box. “I’ll be up in a minute,” she called after them. “I have to make a phone call.” She saw them all stop in their tracks. “What is it?” she asked.

Emilie was the trio’s spokesperson. “Are you calling Uncle Mitch?”

“No. Do you want me to?” Judging by their expressions, the twins were in favor of it, while Emilie was firmly against it. The problem for Case and Grant was that they had already abdicated their right to have an opinion as far as their older sister was concerned. She hustled them out of sight. Thea wouldn’t have been surprised if she bound and gagged them when they got to their room.

The phone call to Joel was brief. He was mildly irritated that she hadn’t called earlier in the evening and had expected her to be on her way home by now. Thea assured him that she wasn’t spending the night and would be leaving as soon as Mitch arrived. She turned down an invitation for Sunday brunch, saying she simply wanted to spend the day in her bathrobe with the crossword puzzle and green tea. As gently as she was able, she rebuffed his hints that he wanted to come out to her house. He did not take it well, and their good-bye was awkward and strained as a result.

Thea turned off her phone and put it back in her purse, vaguely unsettled by the tone of the call. Had Joel always been possessive? she wondered. Was that even what it was? She’d never noticed before, but then she had never had anything that diverted her attention from him. Nothing except work, she amended, and Joel certainly understood about work.

All was quiet when Thea reached the upstairs hallway. She shook off the residual discomfort from her conversation with Joel and checked on the children. The boys weren’t in their room so she went to Emilie’s. She found them huddled under the covers with their sister, engaged in some kind of foot wrestling contest that made the pink quilts bounce and jerk like the alien in John Hurt’s chest. Thea made a face at the unpleasant image she’d created. “You’re all going to sleep in here?”

“Can we?” Grant asked. “Emilie doesn’t want—”

“It’s not me,” Emilie said. “Case is a ba—”

“Am not,” Case interrupted. “Grant’s the ba—”

The timing of the phone call was impeccable. Thea looked around Emilie’s room for an extension.

“I’m not allowed to have a phone yet,” she told Thea, pointing down the hall. “There’s one in Uncle Mitch’s room.”

Thea found the master bedroom at the end of the hall. She flipped the light switch, saw the phone on the nightstand, and picked it up on the same ring that the answering machine kicked in. “Just a moment. I’m here. I can’t—”

“It’s Joel, Thea. Listen, I don’t like the way we left—” He broke off when he heard a click on the line. “What was that?”

Thea sat on the edge of Mitch’s unmade bed. She was unexpectedly brought up short by fragrance of him that lingered on the sheets. “The answering machine stopped recording. What is it, Joel?” Her voice was shorter than she meant it to be and she knew he couldn’t have missed it. Thea felt her stomach churn. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to get the kids to bed. Can I call you back?” Out of the corner of her eye she saw something move in the hallway. Training her gaze on the door, it was only another moment before she caught sight of three heads bobbing around the doorjamb. She could not find it in herself to be annoyed with them. No doubt they were hoping it was Mitch on the line, and damn him, she thought, for
not
being the one she was talking to.

Waving the kids in, she spoke softly into the receiver. “It’s all right. They’re here now.”

“Mitch and his fiancée?”

“No, the children.” She covered the bottom of the phone with her hand. “It’s my friend Joel,” she told them. “Not your uncle.” Their disappointment was tangible. Case was already climbing up beside her and he stopped, half on and off the bed. She grabbed him by the seat of his NASCAR pajamas and pulled. “Come on. All of you. It’s okay. We’ll have a slumber party here.” Thea bounced, almost losing her grip on the phone as Grant and Emilie threw themselves onto the king-sized mattress. She reached behind her and gave somebody’s bottom an affectionate whack. “I’m back, Joel. What do you need?”

“You.” Greeted by her silence, he added, “It’s not an unreasonable request.”

Thea realized she had set him up for that response. “You have me.”

“You know damn well what I mean. I haven’t had you since you’ve been back. And I didn’t have you for a month before that. Don’t pretend that I’m only talking about sex, because you know I’m not. I was prepared for you to be away, but now that you’re back, you’re still away. I don’t like it.”

“I’m sorry you don’t like it.”
Was he pouting? He was sixty-one years old. Wasn’t there some cut-off for pouting?
Thea stood and walked to the light switch. The children had more or less nestled into one big mound at the center of Mitch’s bed. She indicated she was going to turn off the light and they nodded that they were ready. “But I’m fairly certain this isn’t a good time to talk about it. I don’t think I should tie up Mitch’s phone. He might be trying to get through. What made you call this number anyway? I have my phone with me.”

“You turned it off. You’re the only person I know who turns it
off.
”

“It’s a coping strategy that was suggested to me. Reduce stress. Anyway, the battery’s low.” It sounded lame to her own ears. There was a long pause at the other end of the line and Thea could hear the faint chords of a piano concerto playing in the background. Joel was listening to Chopin. Thea returned to the bed and sat down. She drew her feet up beside her and pulled one free corner of the comforter over the lower part of her legs. “It’s nice,” she said softly. “What you’re listening to.”

“Chopin.”

“Mmm.
Polonaise.
I recognized it. Do you have a fire?”

“A small one now. I’m letting it burn down.”

“Did you warm a brandy?”

“I’m holding it.”

She sighed. “It sounds lovely.”

Another pause, then, “I miss you, Thea.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, Joel. We’ll make plans.” Her eyes slid to the engagement ring on her left hand. She wiggled her fingers. There was just enough light from the hallway to make the diamond clearly visible. It was a beautiful stone in an elegant, sophisticated Tiffany setting, but not something she would have chosen if Joel had allowed her to be part of the purchase. She felt churlish having these thoughts. It had been important to him to surprise her, and she wanted to appreciate his effort even though surprises unsettled her. They’d flown to New York in his Cessna, Joel at the controls. After landing: dinner at Craft in the Flatiron District, a play, and a proposal at breakfast in their room at the Waldorf. He had thought this surprise would be different, and Thea didn’t have it in her to tell him he had been wrong. She’d gone on emotional autopilot the moment he told her he had something special planned. “I promise we’ll get together early in the week.”