A Place Called Home (38 page)

It still stunned him.

Somewhere in the distance thunder rumbled. A spattering of rain hit the open window, then stopped. He should get up and close it, he thought, but he made no move to do so. The curtains continued to beat a light tattoo against the wall and sill. Rain came and went and then came and stayed.

“Uncle Mitch?”

Mitch turned his head. The night-light in the hallway cast a penumbra around the figure at his open door. “Hey, Mutt. Where’s Jeff?”

“It’s Grant, Uncle Mitch.”

Mitch smiled. “I know, Sport.” He extended his arm over the side of the bed and beckoned Grant with a quick, curling gesture of his fingers. “You want to hop in?”

Grant’s response was to hightail it over to the bed and jump on board. “You’re not under the covers.”

“You think I should be?”

“There’s gonna be a storm. Can’t you hear the thunder?”

“I hear it.” Mitch also heard someone moving with exaggerated stealth in the hall. “Your brother’s coming. Move over.” Grant rolled himself across Mitch’s chest and flopped on the other side. “Come on, Case. There’s room.”

Case peeked around the door frame. “How’d you know it was me?”

“I have X-ray vision.”

That stopped Case in his tracks. His eyes narrowed in the semidarkness of the room. “You’re just joking me, right?”

Mitch smiled at Case’s word choice. “Teasing,” he said. “Right.”

Giggling, Case climbed in. “Hey, you’re not under the covers.”

“Seems to be the consensus.”

“Huh?” Both boys questioned him at the same time.

“It means everyone agrees.” His definition was met by silence. “Never mind,” he said, sitting up. “Help me out here.” They all tussled with the sheet and blanket together. It only took another boomer for the twins to find an opening and burrow deep. They wedged themselves on either side of Mitch. Their small bodies smelled of soap and sleep. The comfort was mutual. Mitch didn’t bother asking them to leave him some room.

The rain began to fall steadily. Mitch could tell by the direction the droplets were hitting the house that the carpet in front of the open window was going to be damp. It didn’t make him any more motivated to get up and shut it.

“You guys okay?” he asked. He felt heads nodding on either side of his shoulders. “Good. So what do you think’s going on up there to make all that noise? Angels bowling? God talking? Thor’s hammer?”

Grant raised himself up on one elbow and peered closely at Mitch. “Actually,” he said with careful precision, “it’s two air masses butting heads.”

One of Mitch’s brows kicked up. “Really? Who teaches you stuff like that? You sure it’s not angels bowling?”

Case said importantly, “They teach kids a lot of different stuff now. Not like in the olden days.”

Mitch groaned softly. “You guys are killin’ me.” As soon as the words were out Mitch regretted them. Beside him he felt the twins jerk to attention. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said quickly. “It’s just a way of saying that I can’t keep up with you two. You’re too smart and fast for me. It’s a compliment.” He looked from side to side trying to figure out if he’d explained it adequately. They seemed to be mulling it over. “You understand?”

“Got it,” Grant said.

“Got it,” Case said.

“Good,” Mitch said, relieved. “Go to sleep.” There was some snuggling, a few moments of peace, then the two air masses butted heads again. The rumble actually shook the house. Mitch thought the boys were going to crawl under his skin. Apparently semiscientific explanations didn’t significantly reduce the fear factor. Still more surprising was Emilie’s continued absence from his room, then, as if on cue, she materialized in the doorway. “What took you so long?”

“I just woke up,” she explained with some dignity. Lightning flashed, illuminating her pale face on the threshold, and dignity was no longer a consideration. Her feet barely touched the carpet as she made a run for the bed. Case and Mitch held up the covers for her and she threw herself under them. The bed shook.

“Everyone accounted for?” asked Mitch.

“Where’s Anthea?” Case wanted to know.

“Aun
t
Thea,” Emilie said. “When are you going to get some teeth, anyway? You sound like a baby.”

Mitch cut it off before Case could retaliate. “No kicking,” he said, grabbing one of the boy’s legs. “Em, you used to sound exactly the same.”

Case voiced approval of Mitch’s defense. “Yeah! You were a baby, too. A
girl
baby.” He managed to inject the g-word with all the righteous scorn a five-year-old chauvinist could muster.

“Enough,” Mitch told him, thankful no one could see he was smiling. He brought the subject around to the question that had started the ribbing. “Thea went home. She has to go to work tomorrow.”

“You think she’s afraid of the storm?” asked Grant. “Girls are sometimes.”

Here we go, thought Mitch. But Emilie remained uncharacteristically quiet. “Sometimes,” Mitch said. “But so are boys. And no one is always afraid of the same things. Thea might like watching a lightning storm.”

“Really?” Case asked. “Mum didn’t.”

“I’m not crazy about them either,” Mitch admitted. “But I bet you anything that Thea’s watching this one.”

“Can we call her?” Emilie asked suddenly. “Please, Uncle Mitch? Aunt Thea’s all by herself. What if you’re wrong?”

Mitch glanced at the clock. It was almost three. “I don’t know, Em. It’s not a good idea to be on the phone in an electrical storm.” More importantly, Thea was probably asleep. He had worried about sending her home so late and as tired as she was, but she had her mind made up and in the end she had convinced him. “I’m sure she’s fine,” Mitch said lamely. On the other hand, he was wide-awake and so were the kids. Perhaps this was a moment she should share with them.

“Call her,” Case said.

“Please,” Emilie said.

“Seems to be the consensus,” Grant said. The pitch of his delivery was higher than Mitch’s, but in every other way—inflection, rhythm, and tone—it was a dead-on imitation.

Hearing not only his own words come back to him, but in a manner that mimicked him perfectly, just about took Mitch’s breath away. Pride, amusement, a touch of fear at this reminder of his influence, he felt all of that. It was worth risking electrocution to share the moment. “All right,” he said. “But I’m calling her and holding the phone. You can listen. Em, hand me the phone.”

She did, reciting Thea’s number for him before he could find it on speed dial. The children were silent as Mitch held the phone a little away from his ear so they could hear the ringing. Thea picked up on four.

“Hello?”

“It’s Mitch, Thea.” He added quickly, “We’re all fine.”

There was a pause. “Mitch, it’s three o’clock.”

“I have two-fifty-seven.” He smiled as she made a sound somewhere between exasperation and a sigh. “I’ve got company in my bed.”

“Are you talking about the hand puppet?”

Mitch immediately pressed the receiver back to his ear and covered his mouth and the mouthpiece with his hand. “Jeez, Thea, I’ve got the kids here,” he whispered.

“Oh. Well, you should have said that right away.”

He could tell she was laughing. Mitch held out the phone again. “Are you having a storm there?” he asked.

“A spectacular one. Lots of thunder and lightning. You?”

“The same.”

“Aaah,” she said after a moment. “I understand. Are they listening?”

“Uh-huh. They wanted me to call. They were concerned that you might be afraid.”

“Afraid? No. I love storms. I was sitting on the sunporch watching this one.” There was a hesitation before her voice came over the line a little huskier and more intimate than it had in the moment before. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Mitch’s own voice deepened. “Same here.” Beside him, Case puckered his lips and began making kissing noises. Grant joined in almost immediately. Emilie started giggling.

“What’s going on?” Thea asked.

“A little comedy routine,” Mitch said dryly. He poked Grant lightly with his elbow. It had absolutely no effect. “Three kids who think they’re pretty funny.”

“Well, if they’re laughing they can’t be afraid any longer.”

“I think you’re right. Thanks, Thea. Good night.”

She answered automatically. “Sleep tight.”

The chorus finished. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite!”

Chuckling softly, Mitch ended the call and passed the phone back to Emilie. He heard her fit it back in the base. “Satisfied?” he asked. “Told you she wouldn’t be afraid.”

“How did you know?” Emilie asked, settling back down.

Because a little girl who had her fingers forced through a wringer wouldn’t be afraid of something so natural as thunder and lightning. That little girl knew about things that were infinitely more frightening.
“I just knew,” Mitch said quietly, tucking them all in. “I just knew.”

Thea walked into work on Monday charged with energy. She gathered the Blue Team together in the conference room and told them her idea about Shine and Shield. “We’ll do a product tie-in. Work up ideas for the Nissan Xterra, especially the yellow one they have. GMC. Ford. Toyota. BMW. You know the drill. Find a hot color and model.” She saw some skeptical expressions. “Test it on your own cars if you don’t believe me. I did. This morning. My Volvo”—she pronounced the make of her car very carefully and looked around to make sure no one was snickering—“shined like it was just off the assembly room floor. What I want to know is why didn’t any of you know this?”

There was silence, then one brave soul ventured, “Because we use the laser car wash?”

“Exactly. So find out what those automatic washes are using and I’m betting we can pitch Shine and Shield to them as well. You know what this is, don’t you? A new product use. Carver Chemical has never tapped this before.”

“Is it safe?” someone asked.

“It was a 1953 Chevy truck, meticulously restored over a period of five years. Does the person who restored that sound like someone who would risk ruining a paint job by using something that
wasn’t
safe? This truck looked brand spanking new. Mitch said he’s been using Shine and Shield for years. Apparently his father told him about it.”

There were a few more questions and comments. Everyone knew Carver Chemical already had a line of car products. In effect, Shine and Shield would be competing against them for a market share. On the other hand, if this product worked as well as Thea thought it did, it meant Carver had something to sell that had already been developed. The big costs were behind the company. They would have to run some tests, but they weren’t going to be spending the kind of money they usually did on R&D. Thea didn’t have any trouble convincing the Blue Team that meant extra money in Carver’s advertising budget. The Foster & Wyndham creative team practically stampeded out of the corral.

Mrs. Admundson took a step backward to avoid being crushed. “Those people would kill their young for the next best idea,” she said, entering the conference room. “What did you say to them?”

Thea made a three-sixty in her chair. Her smile was beatific. “I just gave them the next best idea, Mrs. A. And I might take the rest of the day off.”

“But it’s only nine-thirty. And it’s Monday.”

“I know. What could be a better way to start the week?”

Mrs. Admundson looked confused. That expression settled uncomfortably on her strong Nordic features. She held up a sheaf of pink message slips. “I have these for you,” she said, waving them in her fingertips. “Plus, Mr. Baker is on line two. He’s been holding for a while.”

Thea immediately reached for the phone. “Leave those with me,” she said, punching the line. “I’ll take the call here.” Thea lifted the receiver while Mrs. Admundson put the messages on the table in front of her. She mouthed a thank-you and fanned them idly in front of her, hardly sparing them a glance. “Mitch?”

“Oh, thank God, Thea.”

His tone had her immediately sitting up straight. She didn’t even hear her assistant closing the door. “I didn’t know you were holding for me. What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Emilie,” he said. “I had to pick her up at school this morning.”

“Is she sick?”

“No, not what you’d call sick. Aww, hell, Thea, I don’t know what to do. My mother and Amy are out shopping together and they must not be able to hear their phones. I hate to call you while you’re working.”

“It’s all right. What’s wrong with her?” Before he could answer that, Thea asked a second question. “Where are you, Mitch? What’s that noise in the background?”

“I’m in Target. You hear the TVs in electronics. You need anything? I’m going through domestics.”

Thea relaxed a little. He’d found his sense of humor so whatever it was that had him shaken was not a matter of life and death. “Where’s Emilie?”

“She’s waiting for me in the car. She didn’t want to come in. Well, actually she
couldn’t
come in. She ... umm ... she had an accident ... sort of.”

Her calm was short-lived. “Mitchell Baker, so help me God, you better tell me what’s going on or I swear—”

“Emilie started her period.” This announcement was met by silence. “You still there?”

“I’m listening. Go on.”

“Well, it happened right after she got to school. One of her friends noticed the blood on the back of her dress and told her about it. Em, of course, was mortified.”

“Oh, poor Em. What did she do? Is she all right?”

“Her friend has a cell phone—and don’t think I won’t hear about that later. Anyway, Emilie called me at home and I went and picked her up. She was too embarrassed to go to the office or tell her teacher. She was waiting for me outside.”

“You forgot to take her clean clothes,” Thea said.

“I didn’t even think of it,” Mitch admitted miserably. “I’m telling you, Thea. It kinda shook me up. This is way out of my league. I thought ... you know ... since you play for the away team, you might—”

Thea made a strangled sound.

“Are you okay?”

She reached for her bottled water and took a swallow. “Fine.” She managed not to choke on the word, but only barely. He was deeply nuts. “I’m fine. Mitch? Why are you in Target?”