Twilight (13 page)

“I feel bad.”

“Don’t go there, Laurie. I know you’ve spent the day with the guilt patrol, but you can give it a break now.” He watched her battling that concept, then started up the stairs just as Luke darted back out of his room.

“Wanna see me fight the bad guy?” Luke scurried down to the landing with the video game still clutched in his hands.

Cal met him there. “Sure.” He set down the tool chest and peered into the screen gripped in Luke’s grubby fingers. He must have gotten some time outside at Laurie’s mother’s to accumulate that shade of gray.

“Luke,” Laurie called. “Wash up for dinner. It’ll only be a minute.”

“I have to fight the guy first!” He resumed the game as he hollered.

Cal was torn between Laurie’s orders and Luke’s enthusiasm. “Beat him quick, son.” He said the word
son
without thinking, but after it was out he felt another surge. He should not grow attached to Laurie’s kids. No easy thing, though. They were great kids. And they were Laurie’s.

“No!” Luke flounced against the railing, which visibly shifted. “I died.”

Cal tensed, fighting both the connotation of Luke’s words, and the peril the boy was in. He meant his game character died, but Cal felt the adrenaline start flowing. Not wanting a repeat overreaction, he caught Luke’s arm and pulled him forward. “Stay off the rail, Luke.”

“It’s stronger than it looks.” Luke hung the game by one hand and shook the rail with the other.

“Go wash up. Your mom wants you.”

“I don’t want SpaghettiO’s.” He dropped the game and shook the rail with both hands. “I want to help you.”

Great. Luke was going to pit him against Laurie for sure. “You go eat, and if it’s all right, you can help me later.”

“Luke!” Laurie called with annoyance. “Wash up right now.” Cal winced when Luke argued, “I’m helping Cal.”

“Run along, Luke.” Cal nudged him.

But the child knelt down and unlatched his tool chest. Cal gripped him by the elbows and stood him up. “Mind your mom.”

Luke shot him a glare. “Leave me alone, you … scaredy-cat.” He jerked his elbows free and stomped down the stairs.

“Luke.” Laurie caught his shoulder. “That was rude. Apologize.”

“I’m not sorry.” He pulled free and marched to the kitchen.

Laurie looked up and spread her hands. “Luke’s usually not the one to act out. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“That doesn’t excuse it.” She put her hands on her hips.

“Go have your dinner, Laurie.” Cal squatted at the tool chest and took out the upper tray. He wasn’t going to lose sleep over names called by a five-year-old. But it was an interesting choice. Had Luke equated the PTSD episode to being afraid? Incapacitated, overamped, superadrenalized, sure. But afraid? It wasn’t for himself he’d feared, nor hurt. But he stopped that thought before it bloomed into just the scene Luke remembered.

Laurie’s and the children’s voices came up to him in snippets while he worked. He didn’t hear clear words unless one of the kids raised their voices, and even then Laurie’s replies were barely audible. She hadn’t been kidding about her drained state.

Cal had scarcely removed the newel post, shimmed the hole with wood fragments, and replaced the post when Luke made his way back down the hall below, dragging his fingers along the wall. He stopped at the bottom post and clung to it, swinging a slow arc right, then left by one elbow, before letting go and climbing. He toed each stair with a soft thump before mounting the next. Cal glanced at his progress but kept working.

At the landing, Luke dropped to all fours and slid on his knees to him like a beggar on a cart. “Are you mad?”

“Nope.”

“Can I help?”

Cal seated the post tightly, pleased with the firm fit. “Hand me that wrench.”

“What’s a wrench?”

Cal glanced up. At Luke’s age he could have named every tool in the chest and used most of them with help. But then, Luke’s dad was not a cabinetmaker. “That metal one with the end like a claw.”

Luke picked it up, felt its weight, then handed it over. “How do you do it?”

“Come here.” He fit Luke between his knees and put the wrench into the boy’s hand. Then he covered it with his own and tightened the bolt.

Luke tipped his head up with a grin, tickling Cal’s neck with his too-long hair. Cal ruffled it and curled his arm around Luke’s chest. “Now we’ll check and tighten the balusters.”

They worked together until Laurie came out of the kitchen with Maddie curled around her neck, sleeping. She carried her up the stairs and disappeared into the second room. Soft mews and one short cry reached them as Laurie no doubt readied the child for bed. A few minutes later Laurie joined them on the stairs. She pressed her hands to her lower back, elbows jutting behind.

Before she could order Luke away, Cal said, “Why don’t you go have a soak? I’ll shoot Luke off to bed as soon as we’re done here.”

Laurie debated, seemingly unsure whether to capitulate or hold her ground. She must have judged their interaction worthwhile because she nodded. “Maybe I will.”

Cal refused to imagine her in the bathtub.
Just friends
. He and Luke started at the bottom and worked their way to the landing, then made the turn, checking and tightening the balusters to the top of the stairs. “I think we just about have it, buddy.”

Luke raised and dropped his shoulders with a sigh.

“You’ve been great. Thanks for the help.”

“Do I have to go to bed now?”

Cal took Luke’s hands in his and crouched eye level. “What does your mom want?”

He looked aside, shrugging again. “Are you leaving now?”

“Yeah.”

“You have to say good-bye.”

Cal straightened and held out his hand. “Bye, Luke.”

Luke shook his hand, then looked up with the most sorrowful eyes he’d shown yet. “We didn’t say bye to Daddy.”

Cal’s stomach clutched up. “Why not?”

“Mommy said we couldn’t wait.”

Cal gave a slow nod. “I’m sure she knew best.” But why not let a kid say good-bye to his dad? Even if there were hard feelings, as he guessed there must be for her to be living with no assistance or child support. He dropped one more time and gave Luke a hug. “Your mom’s doing her best for you.”

Luke hugged him tightly. “Will you come back tomorrow?”

“Not sure about tomorrow. But soon.” He released the boy. “Now show your mom how well you can get ready for bed.”

Luke’s obedience gave the truth to Laurie’s earlier claim. Cal could see his eagerness to please. He wasn’t sure what had set him off earlier, but they’d certainly made up. Not that it mattered. Nothing permanent could come of it.
Friends
. Well, okay. Luke could be his friend too. And Maddie for that matter.

Wasn’t Spanner friends with every kid in town? He just didn’t need the nose and wig this time. Cal gathered his tools and packed them up. Then he carried the tool chest down the stairs to the door. Glancing up once to where he hoped Laurie was getting some relief, he let himself out, then made for his jeep.

Laurie didn’t hear him leave, but when Luke tapped the bathroom door and called his good-night, she assumed Cal had gone. “Good night, honey.”

“I fixed the railing.” His mouth must be pressed right to the wood.

“Good job, Luke. Thank you.”

“Cal went home.”

“Okay.”

“He said bye.”

Laurie drew a long breath. That had become quite an issue for Luke. Could she have handled it differently? “That’s good, sweetie. Go to bed now.”

She laid her head back and slid lower into the claw-foot tub. She should have g iven Cal something, even just her attention. But Mother had drained her, dropping comments all day about their wretched situation. What was she supposed to do? Fresh guilt assailed her as she pictured Luke under Cal’s arm, his strong hand helping her son’s small one to do something Luke could be proud of.

Already Cal had put out more effort to connect, to teach Luke, than Brian ever had. She wasn’t sure what to think of that, and she was too dispirited to try. Avoiding Mother’s questions, barbs, and urgings to call Brian had been battle enough.

7

I
WILL SHOW YOU FEAR

IN A HANDFUL OF DUST.

T. S. Eliot

L
AURIE COULD HARDLY REMEMBER feeling so tired, as though every muscle was sapped. She had worked a double shift at Maple’s to cover for the second employee who quit during the three weeks of Laurie’s employ. She had picked the children up from her mother’s, taken them for fast food since they wouldn’t eat the meatloaf with red stuff on top that Mother had made. Now she hustled them up to bed with as little ceremony as possible.

When they were settled, she went downstairs to turn out lights, then planned to go to bed herself. She didn’t doubt her eyes would close the minute her head hit the pillow. Proverbial or not, she would prove the saying true. She locked the front door and pulled the living room drapes closed, then headed for the kitchen. She almost didn’t care to take her bedtime vitamins, but she couldn’t afford to get sick, and she was running herself ragged.

In the dim light of one hallway bulb, she went into the kitchen and headed for the counter where the vitamin bottles stood like bowling pins. She reached for the C first. There were enough germs circulating these days to warrant 1000 mg a day, 500 in the morning, and 500 at night. She took a glass from the cabinet and started toward the sink. Something crunched under her foot. Glass? She stopped, turned. A jagged hole in one lower windowpane swallowed the dim light from the hall. The door was closed and locked, but the window just above the knob gaped.

She swallowed her fear, eyeing the shards across the floor. How would the window break? Wind? A stone? A stick … wielded by someone? Who would break her window? And why? She had nothing worth stealing. The hair rose on the back of her neck. What if someone was in the house?

Her spine lurched. She lunged to the wall and flicked on the light, glancing all about her. A cold jolt of fear sliced up and down her back. The house was silent, but were they alone?
What do I do?
Go up to the children? Call 9-1-1? No. That was reactionary. It was probably nothing, an accident. She was overreacting.

Glass crunched under her feet as she crossed to the phone, dialing with trembling fingers. Not 9-1-1. Cal. She shouldn’t even call him, she should deal with this on her own. But she was tired and afraid. Through the earpiece, the phone rang twice, and she almost disconnected.

Then, “Cal’s Roto-Rooter. You fill, we drill. No job too rude, crude, or disgusting.”

“Cal …”

“Laurie?”

“Can you come over?” She couldn’t keep her voice steady.

“What’s the matter?” He was serious now, all joking gone from his voice.

She searched for an answer, but words choked in her throat and came out a soft sob.

“I’m on my way.” The line went dead.

She hung up. It was a mistake. She shouldn’t have called. She was overreacting. Of course the house was empty. It was some punk’s prank, some accident. A broken window for heaven’s sake. Even if someone had broken in, they’d obviously not found anything to take. She didn’t own a TV or electronics or any of the things thieves pawned.

She stood, fingers pressed to her cheeks, her thoughts locked and tangled. The clock ticked on the wall. She made herself walk into the hall toward the living room, so lightly furnished she could tell at a glance it was empty. The house was not large, two narrow stories, no basement. Steeling herself, she opened the coat closet. No one, of course. But she did take Luke’s T-Ball bat from its place in the corner.

Armed, she went upstairs and checked the children’s rooms. Neither closet was closed, and both were empty enough to provide poor cover for a lurker. The children slept through her search, warm, soft, and peaceful. How sweet they were. So free from cares. They had no idea, really, how their lives were changed. Even though Luke showed sadness, they were used to Brian’s absence. It was nothing new.

They had stayed in L.A. while Brian was in Phoenix for the baseball seasons. He’d said he didn’t want distractions. It was no different when he gave it up to do public relations in his father’s corporation. Of course, that involved international travel, flights across borders that he made in his own Piper or his father’s Leer.

Laurie shook her head. She had been so naïve. She checked her own room, still tense, but not as knotted as before. Her bathroom, behind the shower curtain, breath tight. But there was nothing there either. She went back downstairs. She’d tell Cal to forget it. She’d clean it up and—

The knock jolted her. He must have raced over. Drawing a long breath, she opened the door.

Cal pushed inside. “What’s the matter? Where are the kids?” He was primed and loaded.

She squirmed. “They’re upstairs in bed. Cal, I …”

He scanned the room. There was no way he’d let it go now. With a sigh, she led him into the kitchen and saw him tense as he took in the broken window in the door. He skirted the shards on the floor and inspected the hole. “Were you burglarized?”

Laurie fought tears—what foolishness was that? “What’s there to steal?” She rubbed her face. “I came home and found it broken.”

Cal looked from the window to her. His gaze probed, wondering, wanting to know more than she could tell him. She pressed her back to the cupboard. Why had she called him? Reflex. Now she wished she hadn’t.

He took charge. “Don’t touch anything. I’ll call the police.”

“No.” She surprised herself, but a sudden thought had occurred. What if it was Brian? Had he followed her? Broken in and … what? “I’ve already checked the house. There’s no one here.”

He shot her a glance and reached for the phone. “He could have left prints.”

She caught his arm. “I said no.”

His eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”
Everything
. If it was Brian—after what she’d done, of cour se he’d be ang r y, fur ious. She’d expected some reaction, expected it before this. She must have put him in a bad position. Maybe even dangerous. That was his own fault! But she couldn’t risk—