Beyond Midnight (53 page)

Get me through this,
Helen begged her friend.
You
'
re a mother. You know what this is like. Help me.

"
Mom? You home?
"
yelled Becky.

"
In here, honey,
"
said Helen, forcing herself to sound composed.

Becky wasn
'
t fooled for a minute. She stomped into the sitting room, still in her combat boots.

"
What happened?
"
she said, pulling up short at the sight of her mother
'
s tearstained face.

Helen couldn
'
t possibly tell her. Instead she pointed to Becky
'
s shoes in a diversion tactic.
"
Shoes. Off. Now. There are rubber marks all over the hall
floor
,
"
she said, in a poor imitation of her usual scolding.

Becky dropped onto the hassock in front of her mother
'
s chair.
"
You had a fight,
"
she said, unlacing her heavy shoes.
"
Please
don
'
t tell me you had a fight. I
knew
something would happen to screw this up! He made a move on you and you decked him.
"

"
Not even close,
"
Helen said faintly.

Becky stopped midlace and looked at her mother.
"
He didn
'
t make a pass?
"

Helen gave her a pitiful fragment of a smile.

"
You didn
'
t deck him? You—? Oh
-
h-h
...."

Russ chose that moment to make one of his rare appearances in the sitting room.
"
Ma, I told Becky to wait in the car but she came inside the house to get me anyway. In front of everyone!
"

"
Oh, horrors,
"
said Helen, reassured by her son
'
s mundane lament. It was so normal.
He
was so normal. She loved them both so much.

Becky was able to study her mother and taunt her brother at the same time.
"
I baby-sit there. Why shouldn
'
t I go in?
"
she said.
"
I suppose you wanted everyone to think you were going home in the Porsche?
"

"
I wouldn
'
t be caught dead in it,
"
Russ said fiercely. He gave his mother a furtive look, noticed that her eyes were red-rimmed, did a double take, and promptly started backpedaling out of the room.

Helen said,
"
Wait. I need to talk to you both.
"

Becky, shoes in hand, stayed where she was on the hassock. Her face, always lively and curious, settled into an expression of thoughtful repose. She looked captivatingly beautiful; it made Helen want to cry again. Her Rebecca; innocent Becky—how dare anyone?

She said,
"
I know I told you both not to go around bragging about your spray-paint caper, but I have to ask you. Did either of you tell anyone about that night?
"

Russell
'
s logic was impeccable.
"
If we did you
'
d kill us, so what
'
s the point?
"

Becky had none of her brother
'
s flippancy.
"
Mom, how can you even ask me that? It was the worst night of my life,
"
she said, her face turning a lighter shade of pale.

Becky was looking for some kind of reassurance that the night wasn
'
t coming back to haunt her. Helen couldn
'
t give it. Instead she turned to Russ and said,
"
Would any of the other boys have said anything?
"

She
'
d only met one of them since the night of the arrest: a more or less presentable kid who was Russ
'
s age but who was being sent by his parents to private school in the fall, apparently to shape him up. (Helen, on the other hand, preferred to keep her son in public school and shape him up herself.)

Russell was taking his time to think his mother
'
s question through; he seemed to understand that the answer was important.

"
Martin wouldn
'
t say anything,
"
Russ decided.
"
He
'
d be laughed outta school. Kurt wouldn
'
t bother; it wasn
'
t a big enough deal. And Binny—well, you met Binny. He said he didn
'
t tell, but he likes this girl,
"
Russ said with a philosophical shrug.
"
Anything
'
s possible with Binny.
"

"
Which of the artwork was Binny
'
s?
"
Helen asked drily.

"
I
told
you. He likes this girl. Sarah. But he
'
s too dorky for Sarah.
"

"
Takes one to know one,
"
Becky got in.

Russ gave his sister a slanty look and sighed, clearly uncomfortable speaking of Matters Sexual.
"
Kin I go now?
"

"
Thank you very much for your patience and your thoroughness,
"
Helen said with the irony she reserved exclusively for him.

He got away, but not before whacking a chair with his way-too-big feet, which made Becky roll her eyes and Helen sigh. One look at Russ and anyone would know: He was much too clumsy to make a decent Satanist.

Becky turned to her mother with an intelligent, troubled look in her green eyes.
"
Who else has found out?
"
she asked, already blushing a speculative shade of pink.

T
wo more on Sunday.

Helen tried halfheartedly to press the parents for the truth behind their withdrawals; but she couldn
'
t bear to hear it, any more than they could bear to tell it.

"
It
'
s an impossible situation,
"
she told Nat that evening when he came by.
"
Part of me wants to confront them, but a bigger part of me—
"

"
—is too proud,
"
he said as they sat on the chaises in the garden, speaking in subdued voices.

Helen didn
'
t deny it. She
'd spent the day in a pendulum-
swing from anger to helplessness and back to anger again.

"
What can I do?
"
she said.
"
The rumors are beneath contempt. There are no facts. It
'
s infuriating. Doesn
'
t my reputation have any value at all? What about Becky
'
s? She
'
s baby-sat for years. Kids adore her. There has never been a single criticism about her.
"

Helen pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around her shins.
"
It gives me chills, to know there are people willing to believe garbage like that about my children. As for the ones who spread the garbage—well, let
'
s hope I never meet them in a dark alley,
"
she said grimly.

"
I
'
d like to have a piece of that action,
"
Nat said in a voice that was, if anything, more grim than Helen
'
s.

Something about it made Helen turn to him and say,
"
Have you heard anything more?
"

"
Yeah. I don
'
t know whether you
'
re going to laugh or cry at this one. It turns out that my neighbor Connie Bonham
'
s hairdresser is married to your plumber. Are you ready for this? He says your house is haunted. Something about your hearing knocking in the pipes, and he couldn
'
t find a thing.
"