Nathaniel (19 page)

“I don’t like that, Janet. Dogs belong outside. Particularly that dog.”

“Oh, Amos, it’s only for one night,” Janet replied. “Besides, the dog is crazy about Michael. He never leaves his side.”

“But we don’t know where it came from. For all we know, it could be sick.”

“Shadow?” Janet asked. “Amos, that’s one of the healthiest-looking dogs I’ve ever seen. But if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll tell Michael to make him sleep on the floor.”

“I’ll tell him myself,” Amos said. “As soon as he’s in bed, I’ll go up.”

“I’m
not
lying,” Michael protested. He was in bed, the covers drawn tightly up around his neck as if they could protect him from the anger he could see in his grandfather’s eyes.

Amos sat on the edge of the bed, and in the corner, his ears up and his eyes alert, Shadow crouched watchfully, his tail curled around his feet, its tip twitching dangerously.

“No one would try to run you down, and no one would try to kidnap you,” Amos said once more. “And you didn’t just fall off your bicycle, did you?” He spoke in a low voice, his eyes steady on the frightened boy in the bed. “Tell me the truth, Michael,” he went on. “Sooner or later, you’ll have to tell me the truth.”

“If you tell them the truth, you will die.”

Nathaniel’s words rang in his head, and Michael squirmed further into the bed. “But that
is
the truth,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Grandpa. Really, I wouldn’t.”

Amos’s hand came up, and Michael was certain his grandfather was about to strike him. But then, from the corner, came a low snarl. Startled, Amos glanced over at Shadow. The big dog was on his feet now. His ears no longer stood up, but were flat back against his head, and his whole body seemed to be a mass of tension. Only when Amos lowered his upraised hand did the dog begin to relax.

“I’m not lying,” Michael said once more.

But Amos seemed to have forgotten everything except the dog. “Where’d he come from?” he asked. From his tone Michael knew the old man wasn’t asking him a question, so he didn’t try to answer it. Then Amos’s eyes shifted back to Michael. “We’re going to have to get rid of him, you know. If his owner doesn’t turn up, we’re going to have to get rid of him.”

“Why?” Michael demanded. Suddenly, with Shadow threatened rather than himself, he sat up in the bed, the covers falling away from his chest. “Why can’t I keep him?”

“I don’t like dogs,” Amos told him.

“But he’s mine! He saved my life, and he’s mine!”

“No, he’s not. He’s a stray, and he doesn’t have a home. And tomorrow, if his owner doesn’t show up, I’m going to get rid of him.”

“No!” Michael’s head was suddenly pounding, and his eyes blazed with fury.

Amos’s voice dropped dangerously. “Don’t argue with me, boy. You know I won’t be argued with.”

Shadow, sensing the menace to his master in the old man’s voice, rose to his feet again, his fangs bared; his snarl barely audible.

For a moment there was dead silence and then, as the dog and the old man watched each other with wary eyes, the tension in the room was broken by a tapping at the door. A moment later Janet stepped inside. Shadow instantly dropped back to the floor, resting his muzzle on his forepaws.

“Is everything all right?” Janet asked.

Amos rose to his feet. “Everything’s fine. I was just saying goodnight.” He reached down and patted Michael’s shoulder. “See you in the morning. And remember what I said.” Then he was gone, and Michael and Janet were alone, except for Shadow, who rose and padded over to the bed. As Janet lowered herself to the spot that Amos had just vacated, the big dog rested his head in her lap, and his large eyes gazed up at her.

“He wants you to scratch his ears,” Michael said. Janet tentatively touched the animal’s ears, and his tail began wagging. Smiling, Janet scratched harder, and the big dog wriggled with pleasure. As her fingers continued to play over the dog’s fur, she turned her attention to Michael.

“Does it hurt?”

Michael shook his head. He looked uncertain for a moment, then once more shook his head. “Grandpa didn’t believe me.”

Janet frowned. “Didn’t believe you? What do you mean?”

“He didn’t believe someone almost ran over me. And he wants to kill Shadow.”

“Michael, what are you talking about?”

“He says we have to get rid of Shadow. We don’t, do we? I can keep him, can’t I?”

“But what if his owner shows up?”

“He won’t,” Michael said. “I think he’s a stray. Besides, he saved my life. I can keep him, can’t I? You won’t let Grandpa hurt him, will you?”

“Of course not,” Janet assured him. “And if no one shows up to claim him, you can keep him. You may not be able to keep him in the house until we move into our own place, but he won’t mind staying outside. Will you, Shadow?”

Shadow sat down and raised one paw, which he offered to Janet. Solemnly, the dog and the woman shook hands. “See?” Janet asked Michael. “We just made a deal. After tonight, Shadow will sleep outside ’til we get moved. Then all three of us will share the house. Now, what do you mean, Grandpa didn’t believe you? You mean he didn’t believe someone tried to run over you?”

Michael nodded.

“Well, maybe he’s right. In fact, he probably is. I’ll bet the car was going much slower than you thought, and when you fell off your bike, they just stopped to make sure you were all right.”

“But—”

Janet put a gentle finger to his lips. “Hush.” She tucked the covers snugly around him. “Now, why don’t you tell me all about the foaling. Was it interesting?”

A few moments later Michael was excitedly talking about the birth of the colt, describing in detail everything that had happened, everything that he and Eric had done.

“Well, it all sounds fascinating,” Janet said when he was done. She stood up, then tucked the covers around her son, and leaned down to kiss him goodnight. “Now you just think about all those things you learned tonight, and in a few minutes you’ll be sound asleep. By tomorrow morning, you’ll have forgotten all about your accident.” She started toward the door, but Michael’s voice stopped her.

“Mom?”

She turned back.

“Mom, Aunt Laura had her baby tonight, didn’t she?”

Janet frowned. “How did you know that?”

“I—I saw Dr. Potter go into Ryan’s house. And I saw Grandpa’s car there, too.” He fell silent for a moment, then his brow furrowed. “Mom, did something happen to the baby?”

Janet returned to the bed, and sat down again. “What makes you ask a question like that?”

“Did it?” Michael pressed.

For a moment Janet wondered how to explain to Michael what had happened, then decided to face the question head on. “It was born dead, honey,” she said quietly. “Those things happen sometimes. It’s called a miscarriage, and all kinds of things can cause it. For your Aunt Laura, it was probably a blessing in disguise.”

“Why?”

“Well, sometimes things go wrong with babies, and they just don’t develop right. That’s what happened to Aunt Laura’s baby. Her miscarriage was just nature’s way of correcting a mistake.” Suddenly she frowned. “How did you know Aunt Laura had her baby tonight?”

Michael hesitated only a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know. I guess Mrs. Simpson must have told me.”

“All right.” Once again Janet kissed her son goodnight. Then she went to the door of his room, turned to smile at him one last time, and switched off the light.

For a long time. Michael lay in the darkness, thinking.

Aunt Laura’s baby hadn’t been born dead.

He knew it hadn’t, because Nathaniel had told him so.…

“What am I supposed to say?” Michael asked anxiously as Janet pulled Amos Hall’s Olds into the Shieldses’ driveway.

“You probably won’t have to say anything at all,” Janet replied. “You can talk to Ryan while I talk to Aunt Laura. She’s in bed, and you won’t even have to go upstairs.”

Relieved, Michael got out of the car and started across the lawn, his mother behind him. Then, as they mounted the steps to the porch of the white clapboard house, the front door opened and Buck Shields appeared, weariness etching haggard lines around his eyes. He nodded a greeting to Michael, then turned to Janet.

“Thanks for coming,” he said. “She’s upstairs in our room, the first one on the left.”

Janet slipped her arms around her brother-in-law. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I wish I’d been here—”

“There was nothing you could have done.” There was a flat lifelessness in Buck’s voice that wrenched at Janet, and she had to turn her head away as her eyes flooded with tears. Brusquely, Buck extricated himself from her embrace. “Go on upstairs. She’s waiting for you. I’ve got to get down to the store.” An uncharacteristic grin played at the corners of his mouth. “My mother’s looking after it. She means well, but she never quite manages to make things add up. Can you stay with Laura ’til I get back?”

“Of course,” Janet assured him. “I can stay all day, if you need me.” Her eyes fell on Michael, who was fidgeting near the front door. “Where’s Ryan?”

“Out back, I think. Somewhere around, anyway.” He started down the steps, then turned back. “Janet. Laura’s—well, she’s taking this hard. Don’t upset her.” Then, before Janet could reply, he hurried down the steps and across the yard. A moment later, he was gone.

As Michael headed around to the backyard, Janet went directly upstairs. She found Laura propped up against some pillows, her pale face framed by her dark hair, her eyes closed.

“Laura?” Janet whispered. “Are you awake?”

Slowly Laura’s eyes came open, and she stared at Janet as if she didn’t recognize her. Then a soft smile came over her face. “Janet? Janet, is that really you?”

Janet moved across the room, pulling a small chair close to the bed. “Who were you expecting?”

Laura’s smile faded away. “Nobody, really,” she said. “I’ve just been lying here, trying to pretend nothing happened.” Her eyes met Janet’s. “Did you do that when Mark died? Try to pretend it hadn’t happened?”

Janet hesitated, then nodded. “It’s shock, I suppose. You can’t handle the pain, so you deny the injury. But all it does is postpone it.” She paused, then: “Do you want to talk about it?”

A sigh escaped Laura’s lips, and she turned her face away from Janet to stare at the wall. “I think they killed my baby, Janet,” she whispered as her resolve to believe what she’d been told slipped away. “They said it was born dead, but I think they killed it.”

Janet’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Then, a moment later, she felt Laura’s hand in her own.

“Why do they do that, Janet?” Laura continued. “Why do they kill my babies?”

The agony in Laura’s voice wrenched at Janet. “Laura. Oh, Laura, you mustn’t even think such a thing.”

Laura’s head turned once more, and Janet could see the tears that streaked her cheeks. “But it was all right, Janet. I
know
it was all right. They said it was born dead, but right up till the end, I could feel it moving.” Her voice began to rise, and her grip on Janet’s hand tightened. “I could feel it, Janet. If it had been dead, it wouldn’t have moved, would it? Would it?”

Janet wondered what to say, wondered if she ought to call Buck or Dr. Potter. “I—I don’t know,” she said at last. “But sometimes things happen, Laura. Sometimes things go wrong, and there’s nothing anybody can do.”

Seeming to calm slightly, Laura let her head fall once more onto the pillows, and now her eyes fixed on the ceiling. When she spoke again, her voice was dull. “They wouldn’t let me to go the hospital. They wouldn’t take me to the hospital, and they wouldn’t let mother come. I begged them, but they wouldn’t let her come.”

“She wouldn’t have been able to do anything,” Janet said, trying to soothe the distraught woman. “I know how horrible it must have been for you—”

Suddenly the fire came back into Laura’s eyes, and she sat straight up in the bed. “Do you?” she demanded, her voice once more rising toward hysteria. “How can you know? Have you ever lost a baby? Have you ever been through what I went through last night? Have you?”

And once again Janet’s childhood memory flashed through her mind. But it hadn’t been a baby she had lost. It had been her whole family, burning before her very eyes. But she couldn’t tell Laura about that, not now.

“N-no—” she stammered.

“Well, just wait, then. Just wait ’til your baby comes. They’ll do it to you, too, Janet. Just like they did it to mother when her last baby came. They didn’t let mother go to the hospital, either. And they won’t let you! When your time comes, you’ll be all alone, and they’ll do what they want, and you won’t be able to do anything about it. Then you’ll know how I feel!”

Exhausted, she fell back onto the pillows, and her breathing became a strangling sob. Janet, on her feet now, glanced frantically around the room, her eyes finally alighting on a small vial of pills on the dresser. She picked them up and read the label, but the complicated name of the drug meant nothing to her. She took them to the bed. “Laura? Laura, do you want one of these?”

For a long time Laura was silent, and Janet began to wonder if she’d fainted. Then, once more, her eyes opened, and she stared at the bottle. Finally she shook her head. “No.” She hesitated, then reached out to Janet. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said all those things. I must have sounded crazy. It was all just so terrible last night, Janet. It hurt so much, and I was so frightened and confused, and I knew they were killing the baby but I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t stop them, Janet.” Quietly, she began to cry. “I saw what happened,” she repeated brokenly. “I saw it.” Then her sobbing overcame her, and Janet took her in her arms, rocking her gently as if Laura herself were the baby she’d just lost.

Michael found Ryan behind the garage, desultorily stacking a pile of split logs. “Whatcha doing?”

Ryan glanced up, then stared openly at the scratches on Michael’s face. “What happened to you?”

“I—I fell off my bike. Whatcha doing with the wood?”

“What’s it look like? My dad says I have to get all this wood stacked by tonight. Wanta help?”

Michael shrugged, and picked up a piece of wood. Beneath it, something moved, and he immediately dropped the wood back on the pile. “Something’s under there.”