Red Rain: A Novel (31 page)

“Interesting makes me tired.” She kicked off her shoes.

He brushed his lips against her cheek. She could smell the wine on his breath. “At least I got you away from that laptop for a few hours.”

She made an ugly face. Then she pulled a bottle of Poland Spring water from the fridge and took a long drink.

Mark decided to change the subject. He didn’t want to bring up the twins again. He’d been thinking about them all night. He knew he had to handle the problem on his own. It was so impossible to talk to her about them.

I’m still feeling the wine. Maybe I should wait till morning.

“Huntley had some good jokes.” He started to unbutton his Hawaiian shirt. “The
Wall Street
guys always hear the best jokes. I always wonder where they come from.”

“Where jokes come from?”

He nodded. “Yeah. They don’t just spring up from nowhere.”

“Boring,” she murmured. She capped the water bottle and set it down on the counter.

He put on a fake pout. “Boring? You think I’m boring?”

“You’re not boring, sweetheart. Jokes are boring. I mean, all you can do is laugh at them. That’s not interesting.” She pulled off her silver bracelet and shook her hand as if it had been too tight. “What I can’t understand is why Nestor keeps all that African art in a summerhouse. I mean, really.”

“I don’t think that’s strange, Lea. He just likes to have it around him. If you were into collecting African art, you’d want to be able to see it. Besides, he said his apartment in the city is filled up. He doesn’t have any room left.”

“But he’s taking a hell of a risk, Mark. Anyone could break into his house when he’s away in the city. It’s all glass. And some of that art is valuable. The death masks—”

“Those are so interesting. Scary, really. The white carved ones. I wouldn’t want them on the wall staring at me all day.”

“They’re not carved, actually. They’re molded. Molded on the dead person’s face after he dies.”

“Oh, I forgot.” Mark took the water bottle and twirled it between his hands. “You’re the expert on death rituals now.”

She slapped his wrist gently. “Don’t make fun of me, sweetheart. You know, some tribes believed you could communicate with the dead person through the mask. The dead spirit was on the other side, but the mask was on
this
side, so you could talk through it. Sometimes, the mask was to protect the dead person from evil spirits. You know, disguise him so the evil spirits wouldn’t recognize him. It’s kind of how Halloween masks started.”

“Lea, why are you doing all this research into death rituals? Tell me.”

“It’s what I’m interested in now. Can’t you accept that?”

He rubbed his hand over his face. “Know any good jokes?” He dodged away so she couldn’t slap him.

Lea yawned again and stretched her arms at her sides. “It’s late. We should get to bed. I have a lot of writing to do tomorrow. I—”

Elena entered, carrying a balled-up bedsheet and pillow. Ruth-Ann
followed, arms loaded down with jeans and tops and other clothes.

Lea blinked as if she was seeing a mirage. The girls didn’t offer a greeting. They moved past Lea and Mark on their way to the kitchen door.

“Where are you going?” Lea finally managed to say.

“Out back,” Elena replied without turning around.

“Why?”

“Don’t you say hello? Are we invisible or something?” Mark said.

“Hello,” Elena offered. She shifted the bedclothes in her arms.

“Come back,” Lea said. She shut her eyes. “Explain this to me.” She opened them and squinted at her daughter. “You’re taking all that stuff out back because—?”

“Moving in with our brothers.”

“No, you’re not,” Mark said sharply. “You’re definitely not.”

“Both of you?” Lea squinted at them, confused.

“Are you crazy?” Mark’s voice slid up a few octaves. Then he saw the blue arrows. “Huh? Oh my God! No! You too? I don’t believe it. What is this about?”

Elena moved a hand up to the arrow on her cheek. “It’s just a symbol. You know,
Dad
.”
Dad
said as a word of disgust.

Mark shook his head. “No. I don’t know.” Through gritted teeth. “Tell me. Why did you let them put those arrows on your faces?”

Lea took another long drink from the water bottle.

“We want to move
up,
” Ruth-Ann said. She tucked her chin over the ball of clothing she carried. “That’s all. No big deal.”

“No big deal?” Mark cried. “It
is
a big deal. Believe me. It’s a big deal.” He shook his finger at Elena. “You will
not
be moving back there with the boys. You will be staying in your room. Of all the stupid, crazy ideas. I thought you were the sensible one.”

“I
am
!” Elena insisted with all the nastiness she could get into her voice.

“No arguing. No more talk. Take that stuff back upstairs to your room.”

“Let’s pretend this never happened,” Lea said quietly.

Those words seemed to send a shock wave through the air. The girls froze, wide-eyed. Mark felt it, too.

Pretend it never happened?

But what was actually happening?

Don’t we have to hear an explanation? We can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.

“Come back here. I mean it!” Mark cried.

But the girls were out the door. Mark could hear loud music and laughter from the guesthouse. The door slammed behind them, the window glass rattling.

The sound made Lea gasp. “Mark—what is going on?”

“It’s . . . the twins.”

“There you go again. The twins. The twins. How can you blame the twins if these two girls—”

“I could storm out there and yell and scream and send everyone home,” he said. “But I’m kind of drunk, Lea. And I think maybe if we get calm first—”

“Get calm?”

“If we go screaming after Elena and Ruth-Ann and threaten to physically pull them back to the house, it’s war. And we’re the ones starting it. We need to be the adults here. I need to talk to the twins. But I need to go into the house and be the calm, reasonable one.”

“Do you hear all the voices out there? It sounds like a mob. How can there be
room
for them all in that tiny guesthouse!” she said.

The kitchen phone rang. The sound made them both jump. Lea glanced at the clock above the sink. Nearly midnight. Who would be calling this late?

Mark made a move toward the phone but let her reach it first.

She recognized the voice of one of the class parents. Alecia Morgan. She sounded agitated. “Lea, is Justin over there? Is he with you?”

She hesitated. “I . . . don’t think so. Was he—”

“He said he was going over to Ira’s. He was supposed to call so we could pick him up. I’ve been calling him since nine-thirty, but I only get his voice mail.”

“The boys are out back,” Lea said, staring hard at Mark. He was mouthing something but she couldn’t understand him. “In our guesthouse. They like having their own little hideaway.”

The woman’s voice turned cold. “I just want to know if he’s there and why I haven’t heard from him.”

“I’ll check. I—” A long beep. “Uh-oh. I’m getting another call. I’ll get Justin and tell him to call you.”

“Lea, wasn’t anyone supervising them?”

Lea cut off the call without answering her.

“Mark, go see if Justin Morgan is out back with the boys.”

He nodded and started to the door. But stopped to listen to the next conversation.

“Your daughter?” Lea made a shrugging motion to Mark. “Debra? No. I don’t think so, Mrs. Robbins. Elena is having a sleepover with Ruth-Ann. But I don’t think—”

“Would you check, please?” The woman’s voice quavered. “I’m going out of my mind. She was supposed to be home three hours ago.”

“Well, of course I’ll check. Do you want to hold on? I’ll—”

The doorbell chimed.

“I can’t believe Roz can sleep through this,” Mark muttered.

Lea waved him to the front door. She told Mrs. Morgan she’d call her back. When she stepped into the front hallway, Mark was talking with a smiling, middle-aged man in a gray running suit, a high forehead, square-shaped eyeglasses catching the entryway light.

“Oh, hi, Mrs. Sutter. I’m Steve Pearlmutter. Rex’s father. Sorry I’m late picking him up. There was an accident on Noyac Road and the cars were backed up for over an hour. No way to turn around. Unbelievable.”

Mark and Lea exchanged glances.
Rex Pearlmutter?

Lea spoke up first. “Sorry you were stuck for so long. Let’s go out back and find Rex.” She turned and led the way to the kitchen. “It’s been a crazy night. Our kids invited a lot of their friends over. I hope they haven’t been too wild. Mark and I had to go out and—”

Pearlmutter’s eyes grew large behind the square glasses. “You mean the kids aren’t in the house?”

“They’re right out back,” Mark offered. “They love hanging out in the guesthouse.”

Pearlmutter smiled. “We didn’t have a guesthouse when I was a kid. My friends and I had to play in the basement.”

“Is your son in Ira’s class?” Lea asked, pulling open the back door.

Pearlmutter nodded. “Yes. And I think they know each other from tennis camp.”

Mark shook his head. “Ira only lasted a few days at tennis camp. It was too rigorous for him. He got blisters.”

“They worked them pretty hard,” Pearlmutter agreed. “But Rex learned a lot. Really improved his technique.” He laughed. “He’s only twelve and he can pretty much keep up with me now.”

They stepped outside. Low hedges clung to the back of the house. Rows of just-opened tiger lilies, bobbing in a light breeze, led the way along the path to the guesthouse.

Music blared from the guesthouse. Lea’s bare feet sank in the dew-wet grass. The ground felt marshy even though it hadn’t rained. She felt something brush over her feet. It scampered into the flowers, making them shake. A chipmunk? A mouse?

She raised her eyes to the guesthouse. The lights were all on. Two tall pine trees stood as sentinels on either side of the red wooden door. The light from the windows made their long shadows loom over the yard.

“Pretty loud in there,” Mark murmured.

“They like their music loud,” Pearlmutter offered. “We used to—right?”

“I guess you’re right,” Mark said.

“Rex is usually an early bird,” his father said. “He uses up so much energy during the day, he’s exhausted by eight-thirty or nine. Staying up past midnight is a special treat for him.”

Lea stopped at the door. She had a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She thought of Elena and Ruth-Ann. And who was the other girl? Debra Robbins?

Why would these snobby, sarcastic fourteen-year-old girls want to hang out with a bunch of immature twelve-year-old boys? Did that make any sense?

No.

And the blue arrows on their faces. Would fourteen-year-old girls really want to join a club for elementary school kids?

These thoughts made her hesitate with her hand on the brass doorknob. “Should we knock first?”

“Let’s go in, see what they’re up to,” Mark said, motioning with his head.

Pearlmutter snickered. “Catch ’em in the act.”

Lea pushed open the door. Music roared out. Bright yellow light spilled over them. The bedroom was in the front of the house. Behind it, a narrow hall had a bathroom and a long, thin dressing room on one side, a closet on the other.

“Oh, wow,” Lea murmured, her eyes moving around the room. The bunk bed and the twin bed beside it had been stripped. Bare mattresses. No pillows. Nothing on the blue-green carpet. No clothes strewn about or tortilla chip bags or soda cans.

“Hello?” Mark called, squinting into the bright light. He moved quickly to the back of the room and swung open the hall door. “Hello?”

Lea’s eyes went wide. She turned to Pearlmutter, whose knotted face revealed only confusion, and murmured in a voice that seemed to be coming from someone else, “There’s no one here.”

S
aturday morning, Samuel followed Daniel onto a pale blue local Hamptons bus that took them on the old Montauk Highway to Hampton Bays. It was a warm, sunny morning, one of those beautiful May mornings with no humidity and the sweet fragrance of spring flowers in the air.

Samuel gazed out the window as they passed a green college campus. The sign said: Stonybrook Southampton. Trees were just sprouting leaves and the lilac bushes were spreading their violet flowers.

How good to be among the living,
Samuel thought.

Living is so special.

Deep thoughts for a Saturday morning as the bus bumped along the narrow two-lane road, twisting past an inlet of the ocean now, sparkling waters under the clearest of blue skies.

What a shame. What a shame.

Samuel wished his brother could enjoy being among the living as much as he did. If only Daniel had the same appreciation for the spring air and the delightful aromas, the brightness of the morning, and that special vibrant green on the trees you see only in springtime.

But Daniel had a different agenda. And, of course, it had to be
Samuel’s agenda as well. For he was the Burner, the Fire Man, the Punisher. And as sure as the lilacs opened every spring, Daniel had people to punish.

If Daniel could use his hypnotic powers without help, Samuel would be content to watch. And yes, enjoy. But wherever the power came from—Hell, most likely—it joined the two of them together the way no twins had ever been joined.

The bus bounced along the highway, past a model of an Indian teepee and a cigarette trading post. Some kind of Indian reservation, probably.

Samuel read somewhere that all this land had belonged to an Indian tribe. Now their territory seemed to be squashed down to a cigarette store on the old highway.

The road turned. They were rumbling through a suburban neighborhood of nice houses. The sun and the sky appeared brighter here.

Samuel and Daniel sat two seats from the back. No one else on the bus except for an elderly woman in the front seat, sound asleep with her head bobbing against the window.

Samuel thought about the big move. It had gone smoothly. And was very timely, since Mum and Pa had arrived home earlier than expected. Now they had room to spread out. And room to welcome the dozens of new kids flocking to them in order to move Up with Sag Harbor Middle School.