CABERNET ZIN (Cabernet Zin Wine Country) (28 page)

Grace sat on the couch, using her lap to protect the couch from the ketchup, “I like this cartoon.”

Noah laughed at the whimsical robot, sitting in the big stuffed chair. He poured Lydia’s pop for himself.

Grace looked at Noah, “Did Mom get ice cream?”

“Nope.” Noah took the last bite of his sandwich.

“I want ice cream.”

“There isn’t any. How about we play outside?”

“Let’s go!”

“You need to put regular clothes on. The other kids will laugh if wear your sleeper.”

“Fine.” Grace went to her bedroom and slid on a pair of green sweatpants and a purple T-shirt over a burgundy sweatshirt. Noah put his boots on over his bare feet, a hat on his head, and zipped up his coat.

“Those are my mittens,” said Grace.

“But I don’t see any for me.”

“Take Mom’s, she’s not here.”

“They’re too big.”

“Better to smack you with.” Grace giggled.

“That’s not the way the story goes.”

“But it’s funny, right?” Grace closed the door behind them as they went out.

“Oh, we need the scooters in the garage. Press the button.”

Grace tried opening the door. “It’s locked!”

“You locked the door?”

“It was an accident!” Her eyes darted from side to side, “What are we going to do?”

Noah said, “We’ll have to wait for Mom.”

“That will be boring. All the toys are in the house and the garage.”

Noah pointed at the end of the driveway, “We can go for a walk.”

“We can’t go passed the corners.”

Noah said, “I bet by the time we get back, she’ll be here.” They walked down to one corner and then the second and returned home. It seemed late. “I’m getting hungry.”

Grace said, “I’m cold too.”

“Let’s sit on the porch and wait.” Noah sat in the big wicker love seat and Grace sat tight against him sucking her thumb.

“Don’t do that.”

“But I want to.” She plugged her thumb back in.

“I’m really cold.”

Grace popped her thumb out, “I have to potty soon.”

-:-:-:-O-:-:-:-

“Hi there, children.”

“Hi, Mrs. Flint,” both Noah and Grace said together.

Mrs. Flint came up the porch steps, slow with her slightly arthritic limp, “I’m not sure about that mail carrier. She gave me your letters again.” Noah watched her wispy gray hair move at the edge of her hat in the cold breeze, “How have you been? Any candy left from Halloween?”

“Noah ate all my candy,” Grace put her thumb back in her mouth.

“Did not.”

Mrs. Flint smiled, “My boys used to do that too. But they are all moved away and have their own families.” She looked in the window and pressed the buzzer, “What are you doing sitting on the porch? It’s cold out here.”

“Mom –” Grace stopped when Noah elbowed her.

Mrs. Flint looked in the window. “What’s your mother doing? Can't she hear the door bell? Is your door bell broken?”

“No, it works.” Noah stared across the yard toward the end of the empty driveway.

She pressed the buzzer again, holding her breath and listening as best she could. It sounded like the buzzer wailed somewhere inside the house. “I can hear that,” Mrs. Flint nodded, “Yes. Maybe I should sit next to you and wait for her to come out.”

Grace said, “She’s in her car.”

Mrs. Flint looked around the edge of the porch and saw the empty driveway, “In the garage?”

“No. She drove down the street.”

Noah hit Grace.

“Hey now,” Mrs. Flint put her hand between the children. “What time did she leave?”

Noah shrugged, “This morning about seven or eight.”

Mrs. Flint’s head spun around, “Lordy! You haven’t been out here the whole time?” She stood, stamping her feet as if she readied for a march.

“No. Grace locked the door when we came out to play after lunch.”

“All the doors are locked?”

“Yes.”

Mrs. Flint tried the front door then hobbled to the back door. Satisfied she confirmed the doors remained locked, their mother did not come out of the house, nor did she return in the car, Mrs. Flint went back on the porch. She took a deep breath and looked at the gray sky for inspiration. When her eyes came down to them she said, “Do you two like hot chocolate and marshmallows? I have some in the cupboard for when my grandkids visit.” Both children nodded in excitement. “Then come with old Mrs. Flint. There’s even a warm stove to sit beside.” She took a pen from her pocket, wrote a note on the back of one of the pieces of mail, and wedged it behind the storm door. “Now your mother will know where you are. Why she got the two of you and not your father … I’ll never understand,” she shook her head and walked home with the two children skipping behind her.

“That’s right. Who do I talk with about kids getting abandoned in this November weather?” Mrs. Flint watched the children scooping hot chocolate and marshmallows out of their mugs and dancing to some tune only they heard. “Yes. Umhm. The kids are safe right now. I’m their neighbor and I left a note. No, I don’t have their mother’s phone number. I just want you to make a record of the incident. That’s right. Like I said. The kids are here having hot chocolate and sitting next to the stove to warm up. I’ll probably put some cartoons on for them if I can find the station. I can never remember the numbers. There are two hundred stations on that television. Ok. You have it noted in some sort of file? … The computer? That’s better. Ok. Thank you.”

She sighed. She did not want to make that call but these are two very good kids and their father was such a nice man. Had helped her with a few things she could not do any more, like getting the soggy old mattress out of the basement, and changing her flat tire two years ago. She looked out her lace curtained window at the children’s house.

Dusk approached fast. She watched the digital temperature marker slip down with appalling speed. The sharpness of the morning spun into a frigid evening. The plastic she covered her windows heaved in and out with crinkled breaths from the cold wind twisting down the street. She saw a flurry of fast moving ice. “Maybe snow by morning, what do you children think?”

Grace banged her spoon on her mug, “We can make a snowman!”

Mrs. Flint nodded and turned back to watching the other house, “You two almost made a couple of snow people, that’s for sure.”

She saw the bright red lights of Lydia’s car spin from the street into their driveway. “Children, get your coats and stuff and I’ll take you back.”

She saw Lydia’s car lurch to a stop and Lydia race to the back door. She fumbled with her keys then disappeared inside. The children almost finished zipping their coats. Lydia burst through the front door, the envelope Mrs. Flint wedged there flipped to the cement. Lydia yelled for the children around the front yard and then ran toward the back yard.

Mrs. Flint held her scarf tight against the wind, “It’s cold out children so we’ll be quick. You stay with me when we cross the street.” She had the children in their driveway by the time Lydia came back around the house. Only a scarf wrapped Lydia over her sweatshirt and tights. She grabbed Grace by the arm, “What did you two do?” She reached and clutched at Noah’s sleeve, shaking him closer to her, growling low, “You two get inside.”

Mrs. Flint said, “They are great kids. They are too young to be left on their own. You should have someone with them. ”

A rattling pickup rumbled down the street.

“They will be fine.”

“It’s really cold today and they locked themselves out.” Mrs. Flint looked at the road to see if it was clear to cross, “If you get in a pinch, let me know. I can’t watch them all the time but I certainly don’t want them wandering the street.” She stepped across the road.

Lydia pushed the children inside, “Look at this mess you two made in the house. I want you cleaning it up.”

Grace said, “We had hot chocolate!”

“I’ll bet you did. Now start cleaning.” Lydia flopped on the couch and turned the television on.

-:-:-:-O-:-:-:-

“Claire. Come here.”

Claire came from the kitchen to her father sitting in his chair. Tyler sprawled on the couch with a can of beer perched on his large stomach and held lightly with his fingers. A football game played but the station spent more airtime on the announcers arguing trivial points than actually focusing on the game plays. “Dad?”

He leaned forward in his chair, looking at is arm bound in a cast that he did not remember getting. “Are you still seeing that man?”

“Yes. His name is Zack,” she saw his words came from the lucid part of his mind. He was last coherent more than a week ago. The skips between and the length of awareness more fleeting now and more painful for her.

“How serious? Are you likely to marry this guy?”

“– I, I don’t know Dad. I like him and I’ll see where this goes,” her mind flashed to Zack touching her, how her body craved his fingertips along her skin.

“If he asked you to marry him tonight, what would you say?”

“– I, I don’t know Dad. I haven’t decided.”

“I can’t have you just marry him.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have to get a prenuptial created and have him sign it.”

“Why? What do I have that is of any value?”

Tyler said, “You. You have you. You are valuable.”

Their father said, “Tyler, stay out of this.” He rolled his shoulder and hefted the cumbersome cast.

Tyler nodded and slipped his eyes back to the television game.

“What do you want me to put in it?”

Her father said, “I want you to protect your financial future. You don’t know much about this person. He’s married and chasing after you. It’s a big risk. I want you to promise me you will protect yourself.”

“I have nothing to protect. A worn-out car and a savings account that is hard to keep clear of the bank fees.”

“You’re getting started. More will come. I know you.”

Claire said, “You know a prenuptial agreement really kicks romance in the teeth.”

Her father growled, “Waging war with lawyers is not very romantic either if something goes wrong. And they are really expensive – and they never offer services with double-coupon days.”

“Nothing will go wrong. I’m not doing that. I love him –” Claire paused. She had said the words to her sister and thought she understood them then. Spending more time with Zack since had enriched that feeling, deepened her need for him. Everything in that complex emotional pit called
Love
had pulled her deeper. She loved Zack.

“You love him?” He pounded his chair with his good fist while his arm bound in the cast bounced against the other side.

“Dad, you should be happy for me. Not … this!” Her hands waved and she felt tears burning at the corners of her eyes, building up to a torrent that would flood her sight to blurry oblivion. “I have to go.” She snatched her keys and wallet off the counter and left.

Her father yelled, “If you can’t stay away from him, you need to protect yourself …”

Claire drove to the worn parking lot surrounding the nearby mall. She parked away from other vehicles, and cried.

-:-:-:-O-:-:-:-

“Mr. Steel?”

“Yes.”

“This is Child Protective Services. We are informing you of a notice we received from your neighbor about your children. We know there were court orders related to your recent divorce. Are you in Detroit? Can you come in the office to review it?”

“I’ll be over in half an hour.”

“We’re here until four o’clock.”

Zack stood up from the chair that was covered in splotchy aged coffee stains, the chair’s wooden arms sanded smooth through the finish into the bare wood below by years of worried parents. Zack squeezed his jacket in one hand, “Thanks for your help.”

“Sure Mr. Steel. I hope it works out for the kids.”

Zack walked out of that worn and sad office. Tired manila folders bulged with sheets of equally yellowed papers that teetered atop every desk. Putty tinged monitors glowed with green text pushed to the terminals by thick cables connected to an ancient mainframe computer housed elsewhere in the building. He walked out of the building. Zack slipped his jacket over his shoulders going across the lot to his car. He drove toward his friend’s house and pulled out his phone to dial. “Lydia, let me talk with Noah … What happened Noah? How did you end up at the neighbor’s house?”

“Well,” Noah’s words spilled out of him in a torrent, “Mom left and Grace locked the door – but it was an accident! Then Mrs. Flint dropped off our mail and had us over for hot chocolate –”

Lydia took the phone back, “Noah has been telling big stories.”

“I have a document of what happened, called in by a neighbor who saw what happened, and it looks like Noah’s story is correct. I’m glad Mrs. Flint stopped over with the mail and could help watch the children.”