Little Sister (14 page)

ALMOST AS SOON AS CINDY DROPPED HER,
and the boxes, off in her driveway, Beth found herself chewing over everything she had heard. Try as she might to get back to the job at hand, she kept picturing Andrew and hearing his lies. First there had been the lie about not knowing Francie and then the lie about being a sophomore in school, and who knew how many more? The idea of the two of them being off together somewhere, reveling in the fact that they had fooled her made her feel like smashing something. There seemed to be little else that she could do about it. Then an idea occurred to her. She threw the last of her father’s clothes into a box on the bed, went out through the kitchen, grabbed a coat, and got into the car.

The snow was falling heavily, and the roads were slippery. Beth drove carefully up to the service station and stopped her car in front of the open garage doors, beside the tow truck. They’ll probably be busy with that today, she thought, although looking inside, she could see Noah, leaning against an oil drum and plunking away. / wonder if he sleeps with that thing, Beth thought.

Pulling up her coat collar, she got out of the car and hurried inside the garage. Noah looked up and gave her a wan smile.

“Need gas?” he said.

Beth shook her head. There was something at once dense and innocent about the boy. She almost hated to pick on him like this. It shouldn’t be difficult to get some information out of him. She smiled a thin, insincere smile. “You’re a friend of Andrew’s, right?” she asked.

“Yeah,” said Noah. “We’re buddies.”

The way he said it made Beth feel a pang of sympathy for him. She doubted that Noah had many friends. “Then I guess you know he’s seeing my sister.”

Noah screwed his mouth up slightly and lowered his eyes, clearly worried about ratting on his friend.

“This is not a trick question, Noah. I’ve heard all about it.”

Noah shrugged. “So?”

“So my sister did not go to school today, and Andrew is not at work, and I want to know where they’ve gone off to.”

“You seem kind of mad,” Noah said, squinting at her.

“I’m not mad. I’m just curious.”

“Well, ask her when she comes back.”

“I want to talk to her now.”

Noah shrugged and strummed a G chord on his guitar. “I don’t know where they are.”

“Well, how about this. Where does Andrew live? Maybe they’re at his house.”

Noah made a face. “I don’t think so. His mother is real strict.”

“I’ll just drive by and see.”

Noah’s mouth had a stubborn set to it.

“Do you have a phone book here?” Beth asked evenly. “I’ll look it up.”

“Ah, he lives over on Berwyn Road, down the end. It’s an old green-colored house. Do you know where Berwyn Road is?” he asked, clearly hoping that she did not.

“It’s near the bus stop by the reservoir, isn’t it?” said Beth, gesturing vaguely behind her.

Noah nodded. A woman wearing a Loden coat drove up in a noisy car and came into the garage. “Do you have mufflers?” she asked meekly.

Noah signaled her to drive the car on in, and she went out and got back in the driver’s seat.

“Well, thanks,” said Beth.

“Andrew’s a great guy, you know. I don’t see what’s wrong with being friends.”

“I’m sure you’re a very good friend to him,” said Beth, and she walked back to her father’s car. She left Noah to the problems of the lady’s muffler and turned in the direction of the reservoir. I’ll just check out his house, she thought. At least I’ll feel I’ve done something. If they’re not there, I’ll just have to wait until Francie gets home, and we can have it out then. I can’t be chasing all over creation looking for them. They could be anywhere.

Berwyn Road was several miles from the garage, and Beth thought about how far Andrew had to walk every day to get to work. Maybe his boss let him use the 7-Eleven car when he pleased. Still, she wondered why a young man of his age didn’t have his own car. On her way to Andrew’s house she passed some run-down farms and an abandoned ski slope, which boasted a rope tow and had done a pretty good business when Beth was a girl. It looked as if the slope had not been used in some years. Just past the bus stop on the main route to Harrison, Beth turned down Berwyn Road and drove slowly along. There was a trailer home on the corner lot and then a farmhouse across from an empty field. At the end of the street was an old house surrounded by a few scraggly bare trees.

There was no name out front, but Beth recognized the green from Noah’s description and pulled slowly into the rutted driveway. The house looked deserted, but as she climbed up to the porch she thought she could see a light on in the back of the house.

She rapped twice on the front door, then stamped the snow off her boots and brushed it off her shoulders. She shivered as she waited, looking out over the unkempt yard. She knocked again and tried to peer into the house through the curtained side windows next to the door, but the house seemed quiet. / guess they’re not here, she thought, and was surprised to feel a kind of relief. At least that meant that they were not holed up in his bedroom. She sighed, realizing all at once how uneasy she had been about that idea. She had turned to go when suddenly the front door opened about six inches and a woman appeared, dimly, from the darkness behind the door. “What do you want?”

Beth jumped, for she had not expected anyone to answer. “Excuse me,” she said, spreading her hand over her thudding chest. “My name is Beth Pearson. I was looking for—uh—is Andrew here?”

“No,” said the woman behind the door in a faintly patronizing tone. “Andrew is at work.”

“Are you Andrew’s mother?” Beth asked.

“Yes, I am,” she said suspiciously.

Beth chewed her lip for a second. Then she said, “Could I talk to you for a minute?”

The woman appeared to be put out by the request and began to make excuses. “Well, I just got home from work, and I’m still in uniform. The weather, you know, was bad, and so the doctor insisted that I go home early. Cancellations, you know. And I haven’t even had a chance to change.”

“That’s not necessary,” said Beth. “This wall only take a minute.”

“Well, just a minute,” said Leonora Vincent, and shut the door.

Beth frowned and then shook her head. She’s probably running around picking up newspapers and straightening cushions, thought Beth, stamping her feet on the porch to keep warm. Her jeans weren’t much protection from the cold.

The door opened again, wider this time, and Beth started to walk in, but to her surprise Leonora motioned her back as she stepped out onto the porch and shut the door behind her. She was wearing a nurse’s white pants outfit and white shoes, and she had pulled on a heavy nubby sweater.

Leonora noted the surprise on Beth’s face and waved vaguely behind her. “You don’t mind,” she said. “It’s germs. You can’t be too careful about germs in the house.”

Beth tried not to take offense, wondering if this odd behavior had anything to do with the woman’s nursing. Perhaps there was someone ill in the house. She pondered it for only a second, for she could see the tight, impatient expression around Leonora’s mouth.

“I’m sorry to bother you Mrs.—uh—Vincent,” Beth said, and waited for the automatic suggestion that Beth use her first name. The suggestion was not forthcoming.

“I just found out today that your son has been seeing my little sister. You see, I don’t live around here. I just came up here for my father’s funeral. Well, anyway, I heard from Francie’s teacher at school that Andrew and my sister have been hanging around together, and I’m afraid I don’t really approve of it.”

Beth half expected the woman to tell her to mind her own business, and she half felt that she deserved it, but when she looked at Leonora Vincent’s face, she saw something else entirely. The woman had turned a deathly shade of white, and her eyes had a fierce expression which reminded Beth, inexplicably, of Andrew. Leonora’s lips barely moved when she spoke.

“What are you talking about? I know nothing about this. Who is this girl?”

Beth suddenly felt her own irritation dwarfed by the woman’s obvious rage. She decided to soft-pedal it a bit. “Well, I don’t know how much they have been seeing of each other. It’s just that Francie is only fourteen, and your son is quite a bit older. I’m sure he’s a very nice young man, but—”

Leonora did not appear to hear what Beth was saying. She raised her eyebrows high above her oddly shaped eyes and stared out into the distance. “So,” she said, “hes and deceit. Vile, filthy behavior with a young girl.”

Beth could see that Andrew would be facing some tough accusations when he got home. She suddenly felt slightly guilty. She wanted to make sure that she had not implied more wrongdoing than she knew to be true.

“I’m not saying that they are doing anything improper, you understand. It’s just the age difference.”

“I have always said that the apple never falls far.” Leonora went on. “Not far at all. I have done my best, Mrs. Pearson, to try to turn that tide. But there is only so much a mother can do. Even when she is trying—night and day, day and night. Despite the training and the punishments, the weakness is there. It’s in the blood.”

Beth began to feel distinctly uncomfortable. “I think it would be best not to overreact to this.”

“Did you know that Andrew’s father was just like that? Oh, yes, when Andrew was only a small boy, his father was running around with a young tramp. Just like your sister. He left us. Oh, it was a scandal. I’m surprised you don’t know.”

Beth felt that she was finding out more than she wanted to know about the Vincent family tree. Leonora Vincent’s crooked eyes were trained on Beth now, and Beth could sense that she was gearing up for a diatribe against both her errant husband and her son. She seemed oblivious of the cold. Beth decided to cut it short.

“Well,” she said, “I intend to speak to Francie about this and suggest that she find more friends her own age. All I wanted was to see if you might do the same with Andrew.”

Leonora’s train of thought had clearly been interrupted by Beth’s remark, but she made an effort to focus on what Beth was saying. “I will speak to Andrew,” she said.

Beth thanked her and went back down the porch steps toward her car. She grimaced at the thought of the tongue-lashing Andrew was in for. Overkill perhaps. But that should put an end to it anyway, she thought. She could feel Leonora’s eyes still upon her as she got back in the car.

The trick, Beth told the mirror, as she penciled carefully around her eyes, is to be calm and reasonable about it. She’ll probably get all upset and weepy and protest that it’s true love. You’ve got to meet her head-on with cool logic. Beth sucked in her cheeks and applied some blusher to them, thinking about what Cindy had said, how her father had been so furious about the relationship. She could well imagine the kind of scene he had made, banging his fist down as he hollered. She remembered his anger very well. She had always been intimidated by those thundering rages. But clearly that tactic had not deterred Francie from meeting Andrew. Or perhaps it had, briefly, but now that her father was gone, Francie obviously thought the way was clear. Beth pursed her lips and applied a copper-colored lipstick. Well, it was time to get that straightened out.

She stood back from the mirror and examined her made-up face. For some reason she had felt the need to wear her makeup for this discussion. She hadn’t worn it since the funeral. But it made her face look sharper, more definite. She held her head up and looked sideways into the glass. You just explain to her that this is not going to fly. And that’s it.

The sound of a door slamming downstairs startled her, and then she glanced at her watch. Just about the time she’d be getting home from school. Taking a deep breath, Beth went downstairs and into the kitchen. Francie was sitting at the kitchen table, holding an apple. She was in her stocking feet but was still wearing her parka. Her glasses were fogged from the heat of the house.

“Still snowing?” Beth asked.

“It’s letting up.”

“That’s good.”

Francie took a bite of the apple and chewed without enthusiasm.

“How was school?” Beth asked.

“Fine.”

“Oh,” said Beth, turning her back to the girl to pour a glass of water from the faucet. “How would you know?”

Francie lowered the apple to the tabletop and looked up at Beth without speaking.

Beth turned around and smiled brightly at her. “I happen to know that you weren’t in school today, that you were off somewhere with your friend Andrew.”

Francie grunted and got up from the table. Dropping her parka on the chair, she headed for the living room.

“Hey, hold it,” said Beth. “Get back here.”

“Okay,” said Francie. “So I cut school.”

“Cutting school is not the issue. Everybody cuts school now and then. That doesn’t bother me.”

“I don’t care what bothers you.”

“It’s Andrew that’s the problem here, Francie.”

“What about Andrew?” Francie put her hand on her hip and leaned against a chair.

“Francie, look, I know all about him. I know he’s much too old for you. That he’s got a pretty bad reputation—”

“I’ll tell you something,” said Francie. “I couldn’t care less what you heard. Or what you think.”

Beth pressed her lips together and then spoke as calmly as she could. “You have no business with a boy that age.”

“You don’t tell me what to do. Period.” Francie turned and started to walk out again.

Beth bolted from the sink and grabbed Francie by the arm. The girl gave her hand a withering look, and Beth released her and pointed a finger at her.

“Now you listen to me,” said Beth. “You do not have license to do whatever you please. That means you do not skip school and go running around with some guy who should have friends his own age instead of putting the make on little girls.”

“Go back where you came from, will you?” said Francie, curling her lip at her sister. “Butt out of my life.”

“Francie, this is not a suggestion I’m making. I’m telling you that this is the way it’s going to be. I’m your legal guardian, and I’m telling you that you aren’t going to see that boy anymore.”