Comes the Blind Fury (29 page)

But Cal would not be budged. And so they had come. June had heard Constance Benson, and she was sure that Michelle had heard her, as well. She had seen the look in Estelle Peterson’s eyes—the look of hurt, and accusation, and bewilderment.

Finally, the service came to an end. The congregation stood as the casket was borne slowly down the aisle, followed by Estelle and Henry Peterson. As they passed the Pendletons, Henry glared at Cal, his eyes hard and challenging, and Cal felt a tightening in his stomach.
Maybe
, he thought,
June was right—maybe we shouldn’t have come
. But then, as the pews began emptying into the aisle, Bertha Carstairs stopped and took his hand.

“I—I just want you to know,” she stammered. “My family and
I
—we’re so sorry about all of this. It seems like ever since you came to the Point things have—well.…” Her voice trailed off, but she shrugged eloquently.

“Thank you,” Cal said softly. “But it’s all right. Things are going to be all right now. Accidents happen—”

“Accidents!”

It was Constance Benson, with Jeff’s hand gripped tightly in her own. “What happened to Susan Peterson was no accident!” Then, as Cal’s face turned deathly pale, she swept out of the church.

Suddenly, the Pendletons were alone. June looked helplessly around, searching for a friendly face, but there was none. Even the Carstairses had disappeared, lost in the crowd around the Petersons.

“Let’s go,” she said. “Please? We came. We were here. Now can’t we go home?”

Next to her, Michelle stood quietly, tears streaming down her face.

Corinne Hatcher had slipped out of the church with Tim and Lisa Hartwick just before the service ended. It hadn’t occurred to Corinne Hatcher not to go to the funeral, but it
had
occurred to her that, if she stayed after the service, she might be put in an untenable position. She would be expected—indeed, forced—to recognize that there were many people in Paradise Point who felt that Michelle had “done” something to Susan. Further, she might have to align herself either with the Petersons or the Pendletons. But at last it was over.

“I wonder if Michelle killed Susan,” Lisa said from the backseat of Tim’s car.

“Don’t be silly,” Corinne began, but Lisa promptly interrupted her.

“Well, I think she did. I think the kids are right-she’s crazy.”

“I’ve told you before, Lisa,” Tim said calmly. “Don’t talk about things you don’t know anything about.”

“But I do know about her.” Lisa’s voice began to take on the familiar whine that so irritated Corinne. She turned to look at Lisa.

“You don’t even know her.”

“I do too! I talked to her the other day, out at that old cemetery next to her house.”

“I thought I told you not to go out there.” Tim’s voice was mild, but Lisa did not ignore the reprimand.

“I didn’t go to her house,” she said. “I only went to the graveyard. Can I help it if she was there?”

“And what makes you think she’s crazy?” Tim asked.

“Just the way she talked. She thinks the ghost that’s supposed to be out there is her friend. She said I could meet her, if I wanted to.”

“Meet her?” Corinne frowned. “You mean Michelle thought she was actually there?”

Lisa shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t see anything. But when I told Michelle that Amanda was a ghost, she got real mad.” Lisa began to giggle. “She’s crazy.” She began repeating the word in an odd sing-song voice: “CRAA-zy, CRAA-zy, CRAA-zy!”

Corinne had heard enough. “That’s enough, Lisa!” she snapped. As if she’d been struck, Lisa fell silent. Tim glanced at Corinne reproachfully but said nothing until they were in his house and Lisa had gone to her room.

“Corinne,” he said when they were alone, “I wish you’d leave the discipline to me.”

“She’s spoiled,” Corinne shot back. “And you know it. If you don’t do something about it soon, she’s going to wind up in trouble.” The sadness in his eyes made her retreat. The subject of Lisa was just too painful to Tim. And right now, there was a subject of more immediate concern. “I want you to talk to Michelle about this imaginary friend of hers,” she said.

Tim was thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. “An imaginary friend at her age—wherever it comes from—is certainly abnormal. I don’t want to use Lisa’s words, but Michelle could be very disturbed.”

“Tim,” Corinne said slowly. “Suppose Michelle isn’t—disturbed, as you put it, and suppose she hasn’t really made an imaginary friend? Suppose Amanda really is a ghost?”

Tim stared at her.

“But that’s impossible, isn’t it.” His tone left no room for argument.

Michelle closed her book and set it aside. Try as she would, she couldn’t get her mind off the funeral. The way people had stared at her. It had made her feel like a freak. She was tired of feeling like a freak.

She rose awkwardly from her chair, stretched, then limped over to the window. The fall twilight, fading quickly, colored the sea an iron gray, and the sky, its reddish tinge fading to the dark blue of dusk, seemed low tonight. Below her, its outlines blurred in the gathering darkness, was her mother’s studio. Michelle stared at it, almost as if she expected something to happen. And yet, what could happen? The studio was empty—she could hear her parents downstairs, their voices low, punctuated occasionally by Jennifer’s happy squeals.

Jennifer.

Michelle said the name to herself, and wondered how she could ever have thought it was a pretty name. Then she said it out loud, listening to the syllables. She decided she hated the name. Suddenly, as if her hostility had somehow flowed directly into the baby, Jenny began crying.

Michelle listened to the sounds for a moment, then, as they quieted, picked up her book and stretched out on the bed. She opened it to the passage she had left a few minutes ago and began to read.

Again, she heard Jennifer squall.

Leaving the book on her nightstand, Michelle carefully maneuvered herself off the bed, and, taking her cane, left her room and started toward the stairs.

June looked up from her needlework, listened to the sound of Michelle’s cane, then spoke quietly to Cal.

“She’s coming down.” Cal, who had Jennifer on his lap and was playing with her toes, made no response.

As the tapping of Michelle’s cane came steadily closer, June picked up her needlepoint once again. When Michelle appeared at the archway that separated the living room from the entry hall, she feigned surprise.

“Finished with your homework already?” she asked.

Michelle nodded. “I was trying to read, but I couldn’t concentrate. I thought maybe Daddy and I could play a game or something.”

Cal’s face tightened. He remembered the last time they had tried that. “Not now. I’m teaching your sister about her toes.” He ignored the hurt in Michelle’s eyes, but June could not.

“Don’t you think it’s time Jenny went to bed?” she suggested. Cal glanced at the clock on the mantel.

“At seven-thirty? She’ll be up all night, and so will you.”

“She’s up all night anyway,” June argued. “Cal, I really think you ought to take her upstairs.”

She was not going to relent. Cal got to his feet and held the baby high over his head. He looked up into her grinning face and winked at her. “Come on, princess, the queen says it’s bedtime.” He started out of the room, but Michelle stopped him.

“Can we play a game when you come down?”

Still not looking at her, Cal continued toward the stairs. “I don’t know,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m pretty tired tonight Maybe some other night.” Because
his back was to her, he didn’t see the tears well in Michelle’s eyes.

June, however, did, and she hastily put her work down. “Come on—why don’t we make a batch of cookies?” But it was too late. Michelle was already on her way out of the room.

“I’m not hungry,” she said listlessly. “I’ll just go back up and read for a while. Night.”

“Aren’t you going to kiss me?”

Dispiritedly, Michelle went to her mother and kissed her on the cheek. June put her arms around Michelle and tried to draw her close, but felt her daughter stiffen.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “He really
is
tired tonight.”

“I know.” Michelle pulled herself out of her mother’s embrace. Feeling helpless, June let her go. Nothing she could say would make Michelle feel better. Only Cal could give her the reassurance she needed, and June was sure that wasn’t going to happen. Unless she forced him.

When Cal still hadn’t come back downstairs thirty minutes later, June made the rounds of the lower floor, locking up and turning off the lights. Then she mounted the stairs, stuck her head in to wish Michelle a final good night, and went down the hall to the master bedroom. She found Cal already in bed, propped against the pillows, reading a book. Next to him, sleeping peacefully in her bassinet, was Jennifer. For a moment, June found the scene disarming, but she quickly realized what Cal was doing.

“You aren’t that tired,” she announced. Cal looked at her blankly.

“What?”

“I said you aren’t that tired. Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me.” Her voice was quivering with anger, but Cal still only stared at her in puzzlement.

“I heard you. I just don’t know what you meant.”

“It’s simple,” June said coldly. “Half an hour ago, when I suggested you bring Jennifer upstairs—so that you could play with Michelle—you seemed to think it was much too early. And here you are, tucked happily in bed.”

“June—” Cal began, but she cut him off.

“Oh, come on. Do you really think I don’t know what’s going on? You came up here to hide. To hide from your own daughter! For God’s sake, Cal, don’t you know what you’re doing to her?”

“I’m not doing anything!” Cal said, almost desperately. “I just—I just …”

“You just can’t face her. Well, you’re going to have to, Cal. What you did down there was cruel. All she wanted to do was play a game with you. Just a simple, little game. My God, if your guilt is weighing on you so much, I’d have thought you’d be dying to play with her, if only so you could let her win. And then calling Jenny ‘princess,’ Didn’t you realize what it would do to Michelle? That’s always been your nickname for her!”

“She didn’t even notice,” Cal said, his voice sullen.

“How would you know? You won’t even look at her anymore. Well, let me tell you, Cal, she noticed. She almost started crying. I think the only reason she didn’t was that she was afraid no one would care. My God, can’t you understand what you’re doing to her?”

Her anger suddenly dissolving into frustration, June burst into tears and crumpled onto the bed. Cal
gathered her into his arms, rocking her gently, his mind whirling with her accusations.

“Don’t, darling,” he whispered. “Please, don’t.”

June forced herself to relax in his arms. He was her husband, and she loved him; what was happening was really no more his fault than Michelle’s. It was something that had happened, that’s all. Something they would have to get through.

Together.

She sat up and dabbed at her eyes with a Kleenex from the nightstand.

“I’ve done something,” she said. “You aren’t going to like it, but we have to do it.”

“Done something? What?”

“Corinne Hatcher’s friend, the school psychologist. I’ve asked her to set us up an appointment with him.”

“Us? All of us?”

June nodded.

“I see.”

The concern that June had seen in his eyes only seconds before faded abruptly, like a curtain being drawn. When he spoke again, his voice was icy.

“Are you sure all of us need to go?” he asked, drawing the covers around himself.

“What do you mean?” June’s voice was guarded; she could sense something coming, but wasn’t sure what.

“I wish you could have heard yourself a few minutes ago,” Cal said smoothly. “You didn’t sound quite—well, rational is the word, I think.”

June’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. For a moment all she could do was stare at him. Was he really saying what she thought he was saying? It didn’t seem possible.

“Cal, you can’t do this.” She could feel her control slipping away from her. Tears were welling up again, and the anger she had thought was dissipated was flooding back.

“I haven’t done anything, June,” Cal said reasonably. “All I did was bring Jenny up, put her to bed, and then go to bed myself. And the next thing I know, you come in, raving like a maniac, insisting that I’m some kind of monster, and telling me I need to go into therapy. Does that sound rational to you?”

June rose from the bed, her eyes blazing. “How dare you?” she shouted. “Have you completely lost your mind? Are you really going to do this? Are you really going to go on defending yourself, trying to pretend nothing’s wrong? Well, you listen to me, Calvin Pendleton. I won’t tolerate it. Either you agree, right now, to go with me to see Tim Hartwick, or I swear, I’ll take Michelle and Jennifer, and I’ll leave you. Right now. Tonight!”

She stood in the middle of the room, waiting for him to speak. For a long time their eyes remained locked in an angry challenge. When finally the moment came, the moment when one of them would have to surrender, it was Cal.