Watch for Me by Moonlight (12 page)

“He’s out in California. He has a bunch of kids. Four or five at least. Of course, he’ll be here. He’s already here. At least some of the kids were here too.”

“Since when is four kids a bunch?” Campbell asked sleepily. “You were the one who ...”

Tim stared his wife down. “At least four or five, from Adam’s age to college, I think. And he named one of those kids after his kid brother.”

“Are they all coming? The kids?” Mally asked. Drew would be here any moment to take her to the game. She wanted to get as much out of Tim as she could. She thought of texting Drew to wait up a few moments. But then they all heard the asthmatic honk of Drew’s truck in the driveway.

Campbell roused herself and began picking up plates. “Tell Drew he can come in here.”

“Mom?” Mally said. “Why?”

After instructing Adam to cover the baking dish with plastic, Campbell told Mallory, “That honking junk bugs me. He was all nice as pie until I broke down and let you go out with him a year before you were supposed to go out with anybody, and now he honks for you like you’re his servant.”

“Adam, do the dishes. Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad,” Mallory said.

The telephone rang and Campbell rapped on the counter with her knuckles before Mallory could flee out the front door. Rolling her eyes, Mallory stepped back inside and closed the door.

“Wait up,” Campbell said. “Carla Quinn needs a ride over. Her car won’t start. So you two pick her up first please? And then go on to the game.”

“Mom!” Mallory pleaded.

“You can stand to miss fifteen minutes,” Campbell said in a tone that didn’t invite an argument. “I’m not going to get her. I’m getting dressed. People in town don’t recognize me anymore unless I’m wearing a white coat.”

Big Carla’s house was small and as green as prussic acid. Mallory had no idea what prussic acid was, but when Drew said it, it sounded good. A limp Charley-Brown-type Christmas tree lay in the yard, with ears of cooked corn and cranberries and suet balls all over it. “It’s for the birds,” Drew told Mallory.

“It sure is,” she said.

“The tree is! People use dead Christmas trees to feed birds, nimble brain!”

“Oh, stuff a sock in it, Drew,” said Mallory. Tentatively, she went up to the door and knocked.

The kid Mallory recognized from the sporting goods store, where she’d come to buy soccer shoes, was Carla Quinn, the one everyone called Little Carla. She smiled and said, “You’re Adam’s sister.”

“Yes, I’m Mally.”

“He’s cute,” said the little girl, who had dark blue eyes and long red hair. She was only little in age, Mally realized. In fact, she was taller than Mallory and probably had a good two inches on Adam. Mally almost laughed. She had never thought of her brother as being old enough for a girl to think he was “cute.” But hey, he was in seventh grade. Meredith was “going out” with Will Brent in sixth grade.

For about six days.

“I’m here to pick your mom up to take care of Owen,” Mallory said.

“Please come in,” Carla said. “She’s just getting out of the shower. I’m waiting for my girlfriend’s dad to take us to the game. Your sister is the best, best cheer girl. I want to do that someday. I practice all the time. Mommy ... my mother ... says I can have lessons tumbling when she gets her degree and we have some more money. You don’t think it’s too late for me, do you?”

“Why?”

“Your sister started when she was six. That’s what Adam says.”

They were walking down a long narrow hall. The Quinns’ house was what Grandpa Arness, Campbell’s dad, called a “shotgun” house: If you stood in the front door, you could fire a gun right out the back door. All the rooms went off that one hall. “Our kitchen and our living room are at the back,” Carla said. “Come and sit down.”

“You know, Carla,” Mally said, her heart softening, “there’s a program at the high school where the cheerleaders take a little sister cheerleader and let her practice with the team and help her out.”

“There is?” Little Carla cried.

There is now,
Mallory thought.
For at least one cheerleader.

“Let’s sit in my mom’s sewing room,” Carla said. “It’s sort of our library too. Mom reads a lot.” She glanced at Mally. What’s wrong? My mom is just out of the shower. She’ll just be one minute. Please have a seat. I’m sorry she’s late.”

Mally said, “Sewing room?”

The room was filled with sewing projects and bolts of material. A pair of brown pants, probably capris, were still draped over the sewing machine. Different sizes of bookshelves lined the walls. But there was a baby rocking horse and a huge teddy bear, and the border around the top was a circus border.

Carla looked down at the toes of her shoes. “That used to be my little brother’s. Elliot’s. Ellie died two years ago. It wasn’t my dad’s fault. It was a drunk driver.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! You must miss him so much. My little brother’s been sick, and I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

“It was when we just moved here from New Jersey. Dad was so happy. It was his first house with a backyard. I like to remember him being happy. Daddy ... I mean Dad, that is. My little brother was only nine months old. It’s been a long time. But sure, I miss Ellie. I’ll never forget him. Sometimes, before I wake up, it’s like he’s still here. I’m glad Mom’s getting stronger though. Mom just doesn’t want to give up these couple of things.”

Mallory thought,
Poor Big Carla. Why would she want to give these little things up? But maybe those were the voices I heard in that vision!
Maybe the woman arguing with the man about getting rid of old things that had belonged to someone else was Big Carla. But Carla had no husband. Those people were older, judging by their voices. And Big Carla was younger than Mallory’s own mother. And whom was she talking with about it? Little Carla’s grandfather? Her own father? And Helene ... who was Helene? And even if all that fit, if Mallory had dreamed it, it hadn’t happened yet.

Just then, Big Carla came bustling into the room.

“Mallory, I got busy with a pair of summer pants I’m making for Carly and lost track of time. Honey, here’s your five dollars and the extra phone. Don’t use it except for an emergency, and be sure that Mickey’s Dad drops you off by ten. Mr. Brynn promised he’d be home by 9:30 because he’s only doing inventory at the store, so I’ll probably be here before you are. Be a good girl.”

Mallory said, “I’ll ask my sister about that program. And I’ll tell Adam you like him.”

“Oh no,” said the younger girl. “I mean yes about the program but please no about Adam. I’d just die.”

Big Carla rushed out with Mallory and Drew got them back to the Brynns’ in record time. Carla got out and slammed the door without even bothering to thank them. Drew shrugged. “Was the kid nice?” he asked.

“Real nice,” said Mally.

“Hmmmm,” Drew said. “Maybe Carla’s just the quiet yet obnoxious type.”

STEAL AWAY HOME

B
y the time Drew and Mallory arrived at the end of the second quarter, Ridgeline was up by eight points. The gym was buzzing, thick with the atmosphere of wet wool, popcorn and excitement. Everyone in town seemed to be there. Even practical people, like Grandpa Brynn, had their faces in their hands, wondering when the big fall was going to come. It was pretty pitiful, Drew said. Ridgeline fans were so conditioned to failure that when Mike Corrigan scored a three-pointer, they hardly dared to cheer.

Mally and Drew found their seats. Just as they settled in, making pillows for their backs out of their coats, Mallory saw her parents arrive with Uncle Kevin and another man she didn’t recognize. They all found seats higher up in the stands near Mallory’s grandparents.

Out on the floor, Meredith was on her knees on the sidelines, pounding the floor with her pom poms. “We’re the best! Forget the rest! We’re the best! Go, go! Go west!” the girls shouted. Kitticoe High School was west of Ridgeline.

When halftime came and Ridgeline was up by eleven, people were acting as though it were New Year’s Eve.

The cheerleaders ran out onto the floor. The cheer was called “Heat.”

We have the heart and we have the heat

And we have the beat for ...

Victory!

We have the goal and we have the soul

And we’re on a roll for ...

Victory!

It was when Merry was perfectly balanced in her Lib on top of the pyramid that she looked into the audience and zeroed in on Ben.

She didn’t lose her composure—which could have led to a broken vertebra—but she made a soft kissing motion that no one except Mallory saw. He grinned. And when Meredith and Neely hit the floor, while Sasha whirled past them in a flurry of green and white, Merry whispered, “Tenth row up, twelve from the left. That’s him! That’s him!”

“The guy?” Neely asked, as they rushed off the floor to the crowd’s applause.

“What guy?” Kim asked. “Oh, that guy! Where?”

“Right there in front of your face!” Merry said. “The guy wearing the white T-shirt and the beat-up leather jacket.” Covertly, she waved to Ben, who lifted his palm.

Behind her back, Kim and Neely exchanged looks.

There was no one in the seat tenth row up, twelfth from the left.

The only people in that row were old people, no cute boys.

When Mallory saw her sister’s intense gaze, she, too, glanced over at the spot. For an instant, she believed she saw something, a shimmer in the air. But then nothing. Her head dropped forward and she leaned against Drew.

Hands held Owen over the kitchen sink as he choked, then wiped and rinsed his mouth. Owen tried to smile. It wasn’t like before. He seemed to be okay except for the throw up. He clung to the arm that held him and gently began to pull off his onesie.

“We have to go home,” Mallory said. “Owen’s going to get sick again.”

Both of them ran for the gym doors, and Drew set the land speed record on the back roads getting back to Pilgrim Street.

Just as they walked into the kitchen, Big Carla was lifting Owen out of his high chair as he began to gag. Carla looked all concerned, even frightened, and when Mallory and Drew burst into the door, she seemed to try to hide Owen behind her.

“It’s not how it looks,” she said.

“It doesn’t look any way,” Mallory said. “Why do you say that?”

“I mean,” Carla said, her face cast down with shame, “I wasn’t just letting him lie there and throw up. I wouldn’t neglect him.” Mallory didn’t answer. Carla held Owen over the sink and gently wiped his lips with a little cloth, just as Merry had seen. Then she drew herself up and glared at Mallory. “What are you staring at? Why’d you come sneaking in here? You come running in here like you think I’m sticking him with pins. It’s not my fault. I can’t help it he’s sickly!” She set Owen in his play yard and he began to cry. When he did, Carla took a deep breath. She seemed to get a grip on herself. Her face changed and Mally could see traces of the loving mother her daughter saw and the young woman she might have been before the tragedy. “He’s okay, I think,” Carla said. “He’s sure not dehydrated, and it was only this one incident of nausea. I’m going to let your mom know, but I call it okay. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I guess I just got scared. There you go, big boy. That’s a big boy.” Carla sat down in the big rocker and held Owen against her chest, softly rocking him back and forth, back and forth, stroking his hair as Owen’s tense little body first wriggled and fought, then finally relaxed. Carla held him closer, and the look she gave Mallory was one of pure sadness.

Mallory thought Owen probably reminded Carla of her own baby.

Later that night, when Owen was peacefully asleep in bed with their father, Mallory said to her twin, “It’s frustrating. I don’t know why I can’t see who’s with Owen when he gets sick. I see him. I see hands. That’s it! At least it wasn’t bad this time. I was the last one who fed him. Maybe he’s allergic to something in our house.”

“That would be awful,” Merry said, yawning.

“Why aren’t you over at Neely’s?” Mally asked.

“Tired,” Merry said.

“Why don’t you have your night shirt on?”

“Too tired.”

“Who were you making kissy faces at while you were cheering?” Meredith didn’t answer. “We have to go to that service tomorrow.” Merry said nothing. “Dad gave me this whole talk about Vietnam and how the brothers both went, both of old Mr. and Mrs. Highland’s sons, and one died.” She waited for Meredith to react. “One part, you were right about. The older brother did name one of his kids Ben after his brother.” Mallory paused. “Merry! Answer me. I’m the one who ignores you!”

“I’m not ignoring you.”

“You’re not telling me something.”

There’s a reason she’s not at Neely’s,
thought Mallory,
and it isn’t because it’s a school night.
Meredith stayed over at Neely’s and got the limo ride to school a couple of times a month. How unlike Meredith to keep anything from her twin—to be
able
to keep anything from her twin, who was trying to pick the lock on her thoughts and getting nowhere with it. Because of the deliberate muddle of multiplication tables and lines of poetry that she could “hear” in Merry’s head, all Mallory knew was that Merry was hiding something.

Suddenly, her sister’s thoughts came through to her loud and clear—the way they hardly ever did since the twins were in the fire, the way they had when the girls were little.

And Mallory knew what the something was.