Cockatiels at Seven (3 page)

“If the boa’s still here when Michael gets home, you could always move him to one of your bathtubs,” Blake said, over his shoulder. He was striding off, already focused on his next project.

“I hope you weren’t planning to bring a bunch of snakes over here,” I told Dad. “Because Karen was going to leave Timmy here with me for a little while, and I don’t think she’d feel all that comfortable if the place is going to be swarming with snakes.”

Of course, while I wasn’t fond of snakes, I would feel more philosophical about their presence if they made Karen change her mind about entrusting little Timmy to my care.

“Oh, no,” he said. “No other snakes; and we’ll only have this one here for a few hours. And don’t you worry,” he added, turning to Karen. “I’ll make sure Dr. Blake doesn’t bring over any dangerous animals.”

“Or birds or reptiles?” I asked.

“No dangerous creatures at all,” Dad said. “Timmy, would you like to meet the llamas?”

He held out his hand. After inspecting him for a few moments, Timmy decided that Dad was okay. He threw his green blanket over his shoulder like a serape and toddled off, with one hand in Dad’s and the other clutching the stuffed animal. Which I’d decided was probably a cat.

“He’ll be fine with Dad for a few minutes,” I said. “Now what is going on with—”

“That’s great!” Karen exclaimed. She turned and began walking briskly—almost running—toward the front of the house. I jogged along, trying to keep up. “As soon as I get back, I’ll tell you all about what I’ve been doing for—my goodness, it must be a year or two since we’ve really had a chance to talk!”

She reached the opening in the hedge and stopped for a moment, looking slightly nervous. Then she stuck her head out and gazed in both directions before venturing out from behind the hedge. Her reluctance to leave the shelter of the shrubbery let me catch up with her.

“Look, is there anything particular I should know? About taking care of Timmy, or—”

“Of course,” she said, digging into her suitcase-sized purse and pulling out a thick wad of paper. “I almost forgot to give you this. It’s got everything you should need—meals, nap schedules, his pediatrician’s name and number—just in case of emergencies.”

I took the papers and blinked with surprise. Timmy came with a fatter instruction manual than most appliances. And did she keep this care and feeding guide around all the time in case of emergencies? It wasn’t the sort of thing you dashed off in five minutes. If she
had done it especially for me, then dropping by without notice to entrust me with Timmy wasn’t exactly a sudden, last minute decision.

“I left everything you should need in your front hall,” she said. “And you can call if you have any questions. My cell number’s there. Oh, Meg, you can’t imagine how grateful I am!”

She gave me a quick hug, climbed into a battered sedan so old it probably qualified as a classic car, and drove off at least ten miles per hour above the speed limit.

“Now that was odd,” I said, to no one in particular. “What was she so worried about?”

I scanned the landscape. Since we lived fifteen miles outside the tiny college town of Caerphilly, Virginia, there weren’t generally a lot of pedestrians on hand to observe our guests’ comings and goings. Nor did our road see a lot of cars. We were sandwiched in between Seth Early’s sheep farm, across the road from our house, and the farm Mother and Dad had recently bought, which surrounded us on the other three sides. If you kept driving beyond our house, you’d pass three or four other farms, a small ramshackle motel that had been converted into furnished apartments, and a largely empty offsite storage establishment before the road dead-ended a few miles away at Caerphilly Creek. Not exactly a landscape that made most people nervous.

I was turning to go back to the house—or more likely, back to the pasture, to make sure Timmy was enjoying playtime with the llamas—when my cell phone rang. It was Michael.

“I’m sure you will be shocked to know that this year’s incoming freshmen have no memory of a life without cell phones and personal computers.”

“And they have no idea that Paul McCartney was in a band before Wings,” I said.

“You’re behind the times. These days they have no idea McCartney was ever in a band at all.” He was trying to sound cheerful, but his voice had that slightly frayed quality it usually had when he’d been spending too much time in small rooms with his fellow faculty members.

“Take heart,” I said. “Won’t being tenured give you the freedom to play hooky from a lot of these summer indoctrination sessions next year?”

“But that’s next year. And it’s assuming I get tenure—”

“Which you said was looking good.”

“But it won’t happen till spring. It doesn’t help much when you’re immersed in the minutiae of academia. But speaking of immersing, I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to relaxing in the hot tub this evening.”

Dad had said the boa constrictor would only be there for a few hours. What were the odds she’d still be there when Michael got home? Should I mention the possibility?

And for that matter, would Timmy still be around? What exactly did Karen mean by “just a little while?”

“Meg? Is something wrong?”

“No,” I said. “Remember how disappointed you were that all my nieces and nephews were visiting their Australian grandparents this summer? How you said summer
wasn’t really summer without having some kids around to help you enjoy it?”

“Meg! Are you trying to break the news that you’re—”

“No,” I said. “But knowing how you feel about kids, I thought you’d be pleased that at the moment we have a loaner child. A two-year-old, or thereabouts. He might still be around by the time you get home.”

“That’s great!” he said. “Wait till you see how much fun the farm is for a toddler!”

“If Timmy’s still around, you probably won’t have much time to loll in the hot tub this evening,” I went on. “So I suppose it’s okay that Dad and Dr. Blake are storing a boa constrictor in it at the moment.”

As I’d expected, there was a brief pause before Michael answered.

“Obviously you’re having a much more interesting day than I am,” he said. “With all that going on, dare I hope that you might arrange to have some kind of emergency this afternoon? Something that would urgently require my presence?”

“I could plan on it if you like.”

“Two o’clock would be ideal. That’s when they start our diversity training session.”

“I’ll see if I can work up a good case of ophidiphobia by two,” I said. “That’s—”

“Fear of snakes, I know,” Michael said. “Later, then. Love you.”

I was a little distracted as I hung up. I had spotted someone lurking in the bushes at the edge of Seth Early’s sheep pasture—not in itself alarming, since Mr. Early often lurked there himself. I wasn’t quite sure if
he was lying in wait to capture the thieves he believed were just waiting for the opportunity to steal his sheep, or to catch a glimpse of my cousin, Rose Noire, with whom he was smitten. I paused a moment to wave when he popped over the hedge again, and then spotted an unfamiliar figure running away.

Definitely not Seth Early, who was tall and lanky and almost always encased in denim. This lurker was short and stocky and wore a dark blue or navy track suit with a white stripe down the pants seam. Not the best choice for doing surveillance, since the white gleam of the stripe let me track his progress as he scuttled along behind the hedge and then disappeared over a small hill.

How odd. I opened my cell phone up again and called Mr. Early. Who was his usual taciturn self.

“Yeah,” he said, by way of a greeting.

“Hi, this is Meg Langslow,” I said. “I just wanted you to know that some guy was lurking in your pasture. He seemed more interested in watching our house than your sheep, and he ran away when he realized I’d spotted him, but I thought you’d like to know.”

“Thanks,” Mr. Early said, with a hint of genuine warmth in his tone. “I’ll check the perimeter. Let me know if you spot him again.”

“Roger,” I said. “And let us know if you learn anything.”

“Right.”

I felt a little guilty—I didn’t really think the intruder had designs on the Early sheep. But it never hurt to be careful, and Mr. Early seemed to enjoy checking the perimeter. His bark was worse than his bite, especially
since Chief Burke had forbidden him to carry around his shotgun, so he wasn’t any danger to innocent pass-ersby. And odds were the man I’d seen was innocent—a shy birdwatcher, or a motorist whose bladder couldn’t last till the next service station.

But just in case he was watching our house . . . what if it was Jasper, or someone he had hired to do surveillance on Karen? Karen really hadn’t told me much about her marital status. Was she divorced, or merely separated, and was there some kind of child custody battle? I knew from talking to my cousin Horace, who worked for the sheriff‘s office in my hometown, how nasty custody battles could get.

I pulled out Timmy’s instruction manual and dialed Karen’s cell phone number.

No answer. I left a message. No answer on her home phone, so I left another message there.

Odd. If I’d just entrusted my toddler to a friend I hadn’t seen for a couple of years—a friend who had little experience taking care of small children—I’d have the cell phone not only on but actually in my hand, so I could answer before the end of the first ring. Or was that just me? Me worrying not only about taking care of Timmy, but also about the whole angst-ridden subject of Michael and I starting our own family. Not something most people begin worrying about within a few months of getting married, when they’re still getting used to wedded life, but since Michael and I were both well along in our thirties, we knew we didn’t have unlimited time to dawdle. But were we really ready? Specifically, was I really ready?

Not something I had time to think of right now. I
shoved the cell phone back into my pocket and set out for the llama pasture, making plans as I went.

According to Timmy’s instruction manual, he was supposed to have lunch at eleven. No chance of getting back to work in my forge for the time being, but I might get a few other things done if I could enlist Dad and Dr. Blake to give Timmy some zoology lessons until lunch. After lunch he was supposed to nap for a couple of hours, and surely Karen would be back by the time he woke up.

“Auntie Meg! Look at meeeee!”

I smiled and waved to indicate that yes, I was looking, then glanced at my watch. Past two. Six hours and still counting. Timmy raced off to do another lap around the yard, the bunch of balloons trailing behind him. He wasn’t anywhere near the pool. The Emerald Tree Boa was still in the hot tub. All the Band-Aids I’d put on Timmy’s boo-boos, real or imaginary, were still in place, though the oldest ones were getting pretty filthy. Timmy had stopped asking every five minutes when Mommy was coming back, though that didn’t mean he wasn’t still wondering. I had Kiki, the stuffed cat, at my side, so the next time Timmy realized he wasn’t holding his beloved feline, I could probably pop her into his hands before he got too worked up. Kiki was also wearing Band-Aids on two of her paws, though to me her boo-boos looked more like dirt and stains than injuries. How would Timmy react if I suggested putting Kiki through the washer? Probably not something I wanted to find out.

I glanced down at the stack of childcare manuals my cousin, Rose Noire, had dropped off after lunch as
her contribution to Timmy’s welfare. Perhaps after Karen had taken Timmy back I’d actually have time to read one.

But Michael would be home any time now. I leaned back in the lawn chair and reached for my cell phone.

“Isn’t he cute?”

Even though I’d been expecting him, I started at Michael’s voice. He planted a kiss on the top of my head and slumped into the adjacent lawn chair.

“Thank God you’re home,” I said.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, looking startled.

“Not at the moment,” I said. “It’s been at least an hour since we had to haul any more dangerous objects into the barn.”

“Dangerous objects?”

“Anything Timmy could hurt himself with, or anything we care about enough that we’d want to hurt him if he broke it. The barn is pretty full of dangerous objects. We may have to expand to one of the sheds.”

“You sound a little frazzled,” he said. “Have you been taking care of Timmy all by yourself?”

“No, Dad and Rob have been helping. But he wore them out. They both went off to rest while I was trying to get him to nap, and never came back. And everyone else is avoiding us, because they’re afraid if they come near me, I’ll make them haul more stuff into the barn. Or change a diaper.”

“He’s still in diapers? Isn’t he a little old for that?”

“How should I know?” I said. “I’m not exactly sure when kids usually get toilet trained, and even if I was, I don’t actually know how old Timmy is. I’m guessing two, two-and-a-half. Could be older if he’s short for his age.”

“Why don’t you ask his mother—Kate, is it?”

“Karen. Walker—you know, my friend who works in the college financial administration office? I’d love to. She’s not answering her phone. Hasn’t been answering it all day. That’s the real problem.”

“When’s she due back?”

“That’s why I’ve been calling. She said ‘just for a little while.’ It’s been over six hours. That’s almost a whole working day. Under the circumstances, do you think six hours qualifies as ‘just for a little while?’”

Michael made a sympathetic noise. At least I think it was a sympathetic noise. Maybe it was a whimper of dismay at learning that the woman he hoped to make the mother of his children wasn’t quite the natural at child care as he would have liked.

“And you should see the mountain of stuff she left with him,” I went on. “A dozen changes of clothes. A carton of over 100 diapers. Two sets of pajamas. A folding crib. A car seat. A whole bag full of books. What if ‘just for a little while’ means just for a year or two while she runs off to Bali to find herself like Rose Noire did a couple of years ago?”

“Don’t worry,” Michael said. “I’m sure ‘just for a little while’ doesn’t really mean overnight—she probably just brought the pajamas in case whatever she’s doing took a little longer than planned. The way you bring an umbrella even if there’s only a slight chance of rain. Just what is she doing, by the way?”