Shelter Me (7 page)

By the time she got to horror, Dylan was hugging her, suffocating himself against her spongy stomach, and Carly was reaching out to grab the shiny, jingling necklaces. Janie knew that, despite the explaining Aunt Jude would have to do to her church lady friends after Mass, she was in bliss.

It was strange for Janie to see Father Jake processing up the aisle in his Mass attire: the white robe and multicolored stole around his neck. He saw her as he walked solemnly by, she was sure of it, but there wasn’t even a hint of recognition.
The opposite of Aunt Jude,
thought Janie.
Pastor Perfect.

Janie didn’t have much of an opportunity to focus on the Mass, spending a good deal of time trying to keep Carly from strangling Aunt Jude with her own necklaces or chewing on the hymnals, which she preferred over the baggie of Cheerios Janie had brought. Most of them ended up on the floor, anyway. Then there were a couple of “emergency” trips to the bathroom with Dylan—he just wanted to check out the church basement and the crying room full of squirmy babies and their weary parents. Janie suggested that maybe the three of them should sit in the crying room instead of the pew, but he wasn’t having any of that baby stuff.

Accompanying Janie in line for Communion, Dylan refused to believe that the host would have no frosting. “Maybe just whipped cream,” he said in a loud whisper. When the Eucharistic minister gave Janie her wafer, Dylan grabbed it from her hand to inspect. “You can’t eat this!” he yelled. “It’s a Bingo chip!”

We are definitely going to get thrown out of here,
thought Janie.

When Mass ended, they found themselves trapped in a stream of people heading for the basement instead of freedom. Aunt Jude
told Dylan he’d been such a good boy, did he want a donut? Then Janie understood Dylan’s confusion. It was a little social thing she had always bypassed: coffee and donuts after Mass. Dylan must have remembered from some long-ago time when Aunt Jude had taken him, Janie realized. And sure enough, there were ones with chocolate frosting and rainbow sprinkles.

“Janie, dear, how are you?” murmured a raspy voice as Janie reached to secure a plain donut for Carly. It was Mrs. Northup, an old friend of her mother’s.

Still shitty,
was the response in Janie’s head, but she said, “We’re doing better.”

“Oh, isn’t that good to hear,” said Mrs. Northup, relieved, as she turned to another older woman who had asked her a question.

Yes,
thought Janie.
It’s a lie, but it’s a good one. For you, anyway.

Dylan ate his donut like he was auditioning for a donut ad. His whole body grinned in ecstasy, and by the time Janie had had her fill of smiling bravely at all of Aunt Jude’s friends, he’d had three. Janie pretended not to notice. At least they had killed the morning. She could be thankful for that

S
UNDAY
, J
UNE
24

T
HE NEXT DAY
, M
ONDAY
, was Miss Marla’s End of the School Year Family Breakfast. Janie dreaded it. It meant acting normal and saying, “I’m fine, how are you?” when she knew—and
they
knew—it wasn’t true. It involved small talk, a skill she seemed to have lost along with her gregarious husband. It required cappuccino coffee cake.

The Confectionary was always busy in the morning, and Janie had wanted to pick it up the day before. But Cormac would ask what it was for, and he did not approve of day-old bakery items at festive occasions except under the direst of circumstances. So there she was, in line behind a short man with an expensive suit and way too much product in his hair. The dull shine of the mousse or gel or whatever kind of personal lubricant he used made Janie want to dab him with a napkin.

“I’ll have two, no three of those,” the guy rapid-fired at Cormac. “And about six of those crescent-looking jobs, and what are those? Crullers? Yeah, about five of those, and, I don’t know, like ten of those little sprinkly things down there—”

He looked up to see Cormac with his huge hands planted firmly on top of the display case, and stopped his barrage. Cormac gave him a bored stare and said, “You want fries with that?”

The coffee-sipping regulars at the counter along the windows nudged each other and guffawed. One of the middle-aged baker women called from the kitchen, “Be nice to the customers, Cormaaaaaac!”

To his credit, the short well-dressed, well-oiled man laughed. Cormac decided to fill his order and threw in a free small coffee, too. Janie was next, and told him what she needed.

“Good choice, chickie,” Cormac murmured as he handed her the box. “Nothing like caffeine-spiked baked goods to pump you up for a challenge.”

At school, Miss Marla looked less disappointed than usual. In fact, she looked downright enthusiastic. Janie speculated that, in addition to being understandably glad for the summer break, she seemed particularly interested in one of the fathers in the classroom.

There were two divorced fathers, Janie seemed to remember, and possibly more had become available since January, when Janie had stopped noticing even things that were specifically brought to her attention. One father was the recipient of more than his share of Miss Marla’s glances and purposeful smiles. Around his neck he sported one of those leather strand necklaces with a single shell on it, as if he might be wearing board shorts underneath his business-casual attire, and was going surfing later. He seemed to be standing closer to Miss Marla than was absolutely necessary.

Good for her,
thought Janie. But in her brain it played more like
Better her than me
. The thought of any man breaching her personal command module made her skin prickle. Unless it was Robby. But of course it wouldn’t be Robby ever again. It had once occurred to Janie that his big, warm Robby-smelling body was now decaying. His skin might already be gone. The thought had filled her with such a dark hopelessness she had banned it. Whenever it surfaced
unbidden, she pinched the back of her hand and changed locations. Watching Miss Marla and this father do their subtle little flirting dance evoked a sudden sense of Robby’s body now lying in a dank, airless box. Janie clutched Carly a little tighter and told Dylan, “Let’s go up in the loft and read a book.”

“Can Keane come?” he said. Keane turned out to be a skinny blond boy with a big laugh. They sat on the loft pillows, Janie reading books, and Keane found them all completely hilarious. Dylan didn’t think they were that funny, but he liked laughing with Keane.

“Oh, there you are,” said a woman whose slight edge of exasperation indicated that she was Keane’s mother. Janie almost didn’t recognize her without her sporty biking outfit. She wore tan slacks, high-heeled shoes, and a pink silky sleeveless blouse with a large but tasteful beaded necklace. “I have to go to work now, sweetie, but I didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye.”

“Where does she work?” Dylan asked Keane.

“She does mucus groups,” Keane answered.

“
Focus
groups,” Keane’s mother quickly corrected him. She glanced at Janie, the skin on her neck now matching the pink blouse.

“Oh yeah!” said Keane, with a belly laugh. “
Mucus
means boogers, right?” He turned to Dylan choking with laughter. “MUCUS groups, get it?”

“Does she have to wear a RAINCOAT?” Dylan yelped. The two boys were now rolling in the pillows of the loft, howling with laughter. Carly dove out of Janie’s arms and onto her brother, wrapping her little fingers in Dylan’s short black curls and pressing her drooly lips against his cheek. This made Dylan scream even louder, which sent Keane into a convulsive hilarity that looked almost painful. “I wet my pants!” he finally shrieked.

“Oh, Keane,” his mother said with a slumping sigh. She checked her watch. “I’m late already…”

“You go,” said Janie, feeling oddly sympathetic toward the mother of the giggling wonder. “I’ll get him changed.”

“Oh God no,” she said quickly. “That’s the last thing you need.”

“It’s just pee,” said Janie, pulling Carly off Dylan.
Small potatoes compared to my shipwreck of a life.

Keane’s mother hesitated for a second, gauging whether Janie really meant it, and whether she could actually bring herself to allow the class tragedy to clean up her son’s bodily fluids so she could be slightly less late to her new life-eating job and fend off the advances of her sweaty boss for one more day. Janie herded the boys toward the bathroom.

“I really owe you,” called Keane’s mother.

“It’s no big deal,” said Janie over her shoulder.

She located Keane’s bag of extra clothes. When he’d changed, she put the wet clothes in the bag, intending to leave it in his cubby. They all washed their hands and went back into the classroom. The only parent left was the father with the shell necklace, and he was on his way out.

“’Bye, Dad!” called Keane.

“’Bye, buddy,” he said, and wagged his thumb and pinkie in the “hang loose” sign.

Ew!
thought Janie.
Check your birth certificate, pal. You’re not nineteen.

She said good-bye to Dylan and Keane and carried Carly out the door. It wasn’t until she got to the parking lot that she realized she was still holding the bag of pee-pee pants.

M
ALINOWSKI’S TRUCK WAS PARKED
in front of the house when Janie arrived home. An aging green station wagon with municipal plates was parked beyond his truck. Janie pulled into the driveway and saw Malinowski and a short gray-haired man peering into one of the holes in the yard.

“Hit any ledge?” the older guy was asking.

“Nope,” said Malinowski. “Nice and sandy.”

“Hi,” said Janie as she carried Carly, who was asleep in her bucket car seat, toward the house.

Malinowski gave her a nod, then cocked his head at the older man. “This is Burton Cranston, the building inspector.” To Cranston he said simply, “Homeowner.”

“Good morning!” Cranston said, hitching his dirty khaki pants up over his gut. “Lovely spot you’ve got here, nice little place. And who’s this now?” He aimed his too-wide grin at the sleeping baby. Janie instinctively pulled the car seat away from him, transferring it to her other arm.

“Her daughter,” said Malinowski. “You about ready to sign off?”

“Well,” said Cranston, eyeing Janie. “Long as I’m here, probably should take a look around, make sure everything’s sound.” He went to the kitchen window and banged his hand against the sill. “Might be some rot.” He licked his lips. “It’s a hot one. Shoulda brought a tonic with me.”
Tonic
was an old man’s word for soda, Janie knew. He was angling for a drink, and apparently irritating Malinowski, who crossed his arms and kicked the heel of one boot against the toe of the other.

“I should get her into the house,” Janie said, and left the two men to their business. After putting Carly in her crib, Janie went down to the kitchen. As annoying as the building inspector was, she figured giving him a drink wasn’t much trouble, and it might help smooth the way for her porch. As an afterthought, she poured a glass of ice water for Malinowski, too.

Cranston licked his lips again when he saw her coming, and said, “Now that’s just the thing, just what the doctor ordered, yessir!” She gave them each a glass, and Cranston grabbed her hand and swung it back and forth as he took a tiny sip. “Ohhhh,” he said. “Aren’t you just wonderful. And pretty.” He turned to Malinowski, “You ever see eyes like that? White-blue, like…like…well, I had a bucket that color once. Where
is
that thing?” He
slurped another few drops of water and smiled. “If I find it, I’ll bring it over here and show it to you.”

Malinowski downed the water and handed Janie the glass, furrowing his brows at her and giving his head a barely perceptible shake. He turned to Cranston. “You all set with the holes?”

“They’re fine, okay?” said Cranston, suddenly irritable.

“Great. Well, we should head out and let Mrs. LaMarche get back to work. She’s very busy.”

“Oh?” said Cranston, grinning again at Janie and waiting for an explanation.

Janie nodded. “Guess so.”

Cranston pulled a wrinkled card from his back pocket and handed it to her. “Well, if you have any questions about his work, any concerns at all, whatsoever, you just call me. I’ll run right down and take a look at it for you as a free service of the town. Okay? Don’t forget now. You just call.”

“Okay,” said Janie. “Thanks.”

The two men got into their vehicles and pulled away. A few minutes later, as Janie was putting the glasses in the dishwasher, there was a knock at the front door. It was Malinowski.