House Arrest (11 page)

13 ~ Emily

At dinner, I tried to forget Gina’s parting comment and concentrate on the story Anna was telling about her Family Life class.

“So it was Derek’s turn to take a computer-baby home for the weekend.” Anna carried the plate of veggie burgers to the table. “I programmed the computer for a cranky Saturday night. To keep the doll from crying, Derek had to carry it back and forth across the lobby of the movie theater while his buddies watched a karate film.”

“He missed the movie?” Zoe asked.

Anna nodded. “He was terrific. The computer printout showed no rough handling, no shaking or locking the kid in the trunk of the car. He’ll be a great dad.” She grinned at Zoe and me. “In at least ten years, I hope.”

“Bring a baby home for me next weekend,” Zoe begged, holding the ketchup bottle upside down over her plate and thumping the bottom. “I want a baby sister. Hey, this is empty. I need ketchup.”

“Those babies are a lot of work.” Anna looked through the crusty-rimmed jars of jams and pickles and mustards on the refrigerator door.

“Emily will help me take care of it, won’t you?”

Anna was closing the refrigerator when the phone rang.

She covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “Would you find Zoe some ketchup?” She carried the phone into the living room.

I searched the cupboards. “Sorry. We’re all out, kiddo.”

“Veggie patties are awful without ketchup.” Zoe pushed her plate away.

“How about salsa?” I held the jar for Zoe to inspect. “Mexican patties?”

“Only if you talk Spanish to me, okay?”

“Si, señorita. Now eat, por favor.” I spooned a pile of salsa onto Zoe’s plate, careful not to let it touch the patty or the corn. I strained to hear the murmur of Anna’s voice from the next room. It must be important. Anna had a firm rule about no phone conversations during dinner.

“Do you think Mexican people eat veggie patties and salsa?” Zoe tugged on my sleeve until I turned back to her.

“Don’t know. What do you think?”

I wondered how Zoe and Josué would get along. Zoe would love his collection of miniature cars and trucks, and he would take her crutches in stride. But in a couple of months, when Josué was finished with therapy and was able to run around normally again, would he forget the time he used crutches? Would he become one of those kids in Zoe’s class who snubbed her on the playground, didn’t invite her to a birthday party because it was at the skating rink? Maybe I could introduce the two of them, before that happened.

I could hear Chad’s voice in my head, the time I invited a lonely co-worker to our apartment for Thanksgiving. “You want to rescue all the misfits,” he’d said.

Anna returned to the kitchen and placed the phone back on the charger. She stood between our chairs, put one hand on Zoe’s shoulder, the other rubbing along my spine.

“That was Aunt Ruth,” she said. “Your grandfather died this afternoon. I’m sorry.”

I was surprised at how forlorn I felt. I hadn’t seen Grandpa Ivan since high school graduation. Momma was gone by then, and Daddy in prison. My grandfather and Aunt Ruth’s family were there to congratulate me. After the ceremony, Grandpa Ivan shook my hand, then seemed to change his mind and gave me a quick hug in the stiff way of old men. His flannel shirt smelled of pipe tobacco and pine forest. His voice was gruff in my hair.

“I’m proud of you, Emily,” he’d said.

That was fourteen years ago and I’d left it all behind. I didn’t know why I felt bereft. But I knew I didn’t want to have the conversation that was coming next. I got up and started clearing the table even though Anna was still eating.

“My grandpas are already dead.” Zoe looked at her mother.

“Ivan was Emily’s grandpa,” Anna said, wiping salsa out of Zoe’s hair. “And my great uncle.” She put a bite of veggie burger into her mouth and stood behind me, hugging my unyielding shoulders and resting her head against mine. Anna and I are exactly the same height. “Leave the dishes.”

I stacked the dishes in the sink, with Anna glommed onto my back.

“The service is Wednesday,” Anna said.

“I have to visit Pippa on Wednesday. And Thursday is Thanksgiving.”

“Work and Pippa will survive without you for a few days,” Anna said, finally letting go of my back to rescue her half-eaten dinner. “I called Sam. He’ll be down in a little while, so we can make arrangements.” She looked at Zoe. “Guess what, Poose? You get to stay a few extra days with your Papa.”

“Eating nuked food,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Emily.” Anna scolded, but she was trying to hide a smile.

“Sorry,” I raised my hands in mock surrender.

“Where are you going, when I stay with Papa?” Zoe put her hands on her hips and looked at her mother.

“Emily and I are going to the island where we used to live when we were little girls. That was Grandpa Ivan’s home. We’re going to his funeral.”

“I want to go. Why can’t I go?”

“Because funerals are sad. And you didn’t know Grandpa Ivan. You’ll stay here with Papa. I’ll take you to the island in the summer, for vacation.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Anna hugged Zoe, then positioned her crutches. “Now, you have half an hour to play before bath time. You want to finish your painting from yesterday? Don’t forget your smock.”

There was silence in the kitchen after Zoe left. I scrubbed the plates. I knew Anna was waiting for me to say something, but I kept my back to her. I had nothing to say.

She doesn’t know what’s right for me, I told myself. Just because she used to be married and has a child, she thinks she’s more mature than I am. I’m two years older and I can take care of myself. I set the last dish in the rack and started scouring the counter.

Anna gave in first. “Sam will be here any minute. Would you please talk to me?”

“Max died today. Gina’s patient. She was here this afternoon. Very upset.”

“Sounds like she cared more about him than you do about Grandpa Ivan.”

“I do care.” I abandoned the sponge on the kitchen counter and turned to face Anna. I didn’t owe her an explanation. Since leaving the island the morning after graduation, I had never gone back, not even to bury my father. Besides, if I ever returned, no way would it be in late November, when everything was dying and shrinking down for the winter. I had always hated that time of year on the island, when the wind and ice put a stop to my solitary walks. As a teenager, I liked to stand on the rocky ledges and look into the sunset, pretending I could see all the way home to Portland.

“No one’s forcing you to deal with anything you don’t want to.” Anna reached for my hand. “Just go bury your grandfather. Pay your respects. It’s the right thing to do.”

Anna was right; Momma would have expected me to go. I had never spent much time with Grandpa Ivan, but he was family.

“Hello in there,” Sam called as he came through the door. “I’m sorry, Em. I only met the old guy once, at our wedding.” He smiled. “And I don’t remember much about that weekend except that Anna’s clan danced so hard I thought Saperstein Neck would crack off the island and sink into the bay. Remember?”

“I had already left by then.”

“Oh,” he said. “I knew that.”

“Stop blithering, Sam. Go say hello to your daughter. Then, we have arrangements to make.”

Sam looked like he wanted to argue, but he went to the living room as instructed.

After he left, Anna looked at me. “Well?”

“Do I have a choice?”

•

Forty minutes later, I hung up the telephone and crossed the last item off my list. Marge had grudgingly approved my three-day bereavement leave. My regulars were all set. Andy had some extra time and would see Mrs. Grover and check on Josué when he was discharged. Gina agreed to stop in at Mr. S’s and do Pippa’s home visit on Wednesday. I wished I trusted her to keep her opinions to herself.

I had left a message for Mrs. Newman’s physician about my safety concerns. I could get fired for going over Marge’s head, but I wasn’t really worried. That situation seemed so simple and straightforward compared to my dilemma about Pippa.

I wandered into the living room and flopped down on the sofa next to Sam. He lounged, reading the newspaper and idly twirling the end of his mustache. The soft sounds of Zoe’s bedtime preparations tumbled down the hallway.

Sam looked up. “How’s the cult business going?”

“I don’t have to deal with the cult,” Emily said. “Just Pippa.”

“Is she weird?”

I thought about that. “No, she’s okay. It must be hard to be a prisoner in her own house. Too bad your computer skills can’t help with that.”

“Who says they can’t?” Sam smiled. “I can get into any system in the world.”

“What good would it do, to get into their system?”

“What would you want it to do?” Sam let the sports section dangle from his hand.

“Hypothetically,” I said with emphasis, “what if someone under house arrest wanted to sneak out. Just overnight, let’s say. Without anyone knowing. How would they do that?”

“Hypothetically?” The word had weight in Sam’s mouth. “You could hack into the telephone line and disrupt service. Or into the electric grid, and turn off the juice to the house. Better yet the whole section, so they’d think it was a transformer. That would take some time to check it out. But that’s a big deal, and could impact many other people—cutting power in December could be rough.” Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s an interesting problem.”

“Just out of curiosity,” I said.

Sam retrieved the newspaper. “That’s a serious crime. Interfering with a house arrest monitor, by any method. You’re not getting involved in anything like that, are you?”

“No,” I told him and myself. “I’m not getting involved.”

14 ~ Pippa

The attic stairs groaned, announcing a visitor. It couldn’t be Francie because she knew which two stairs complained if you tread in the middle. She was the one who had taught Pippa how to step silently right against the walls, lumbering side to side like a trained bear.

“Pippa,” Marshall hollered up the last few steps. “Telephone.”

Let it be Tian. He called whenever the bald guard came on duty. Pippa thundered past Marshall down the stairs, smack in the middle of each protesting step, then another flight down to the first floor, banging the ankle monitor into the telephone table in the hallway. She picked up the receiver from the table, ignoring the pain darting into her foot.

“Tian?” Pippa stretched the phone cord into the empty kitchen. She leaned against the wall to let her breathing catch up.

“This is Emily. Are you okay?”

Not Tian. “Yeah, just ran down two flights of stairs.”

“Listen, I have to cancel for Wednesday,” Emily said. “My grandfather died and I’m going to Maine for his funeral. Another nurse, Gina, will come instead.”

Pippa sat down on the bench at the kitchen table. She sighed, exhaling thoughts of Tian. “I’m sorry about your grandfather.”

“Thank you. Gina’s great. She’s my friend. You’ll like her.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

“I’ll see you next Monday, for your ultrasound, okay? And you have my beeper number, in case you need me.”

Hanging up the phone, Pippa leaned down to rub her throbbing anklebone. Double disappointment. It wasn’t Tian, and Emily wasn’t coming. The two regrets stuck in her throat. She wanted to ask for Emily’s help on the solstice, but she knew it wasn’t the right time. Not yet. She couldn’t quite figure Emily out. Could she trust her? Did she have the guts to go around the law? Or was she too fearful, too spineless, like the way she slouched to hide her height.

Pippa repositioned the sock under the rubber strap around her ankle and wandered into the dining room, where Marshall and Jeremy were tidying stacks of books and papers into neat piles on the table. Timothy sat at the computer, studying an elaborate maze of squiggles and lines on the screen.

“We’re studying electronics,” Timothy said without looking up. “So we can help you get out of that device without the cops knowing.”

“Is that on your approved home school curriculum?” Pippa poked Marshall lightly on the shoulder.

“It’s what they are interested in. So we rearranged the curriculum.” Marshall looked at Pippa then, his thick index finger tugging at the faded turquoise bandanna knotted around his neck. “Don’t hold your breath, by the way. I’ve been reading up about these things. They’re close to foolproof. Most of the time when people on house arrest escape, they get caught and go to jail.”

“Don’t worry, Pippa.” Jeremy slipped between Marshall’s arm and body, resting his head on the man’s overstuffed belly. “That won’t happen to you. Tim and me will figure this out.”

Timothy looked up. “Tian says kids are more creative. Our brains aren’t corrupted yet.”

“Bedtime.” Marshall mussed Jeremy’s curls. “Turn off the computer, Tim.”

Pippa turned away, but Marshall called after her. “One guy even tried to amputate his foot. Got the monitor off, but he bled to death before he could enjoy his freedom.”

“Terrific,” Pippa said. “Guess I’ll have to cross that option off my list.”

In the living room, Pippa sat on the button back chair and put her feet up on the window seat. Newark jumped onto her lap, revolving twice before curling into a soft circle. Pippa ran her fingers through his thick orange fur, two shades darker than the brocade of the chair. Once Marshall and the twins thumped up to the second floor, the evening hushed, leaving the pings and creaks of the old house in the November wind and the cat’s guttural purr. It was too quiet without Tian and Murphy. Liz and Adele were probably still crumbling the dried spearmint leaves and packaging them in fifty-gram baggies out on the back porch, where Marshall had stapled heavy plastic over the screens. Francie would be getting ready for her shift at the hospital.

Something about Francie was niggling at Pippa’s brain. Something she said, about Tian, when they were arguing that afternoon at the Tea Room.

Yes, she said something about Pippa having Tian mostly to herself.

Nobody in the family owned anyone else. That was Tian’s teaching, and Pippa tried to accept it, along with the other rules. Some rules made sense, like being vegetarian and sharing everything. Others were just annoying, like no doors allowed, even on the bathrooms.

“Can’t even take a dump in private in this family,” Marshall grumbled, and secretly everyone probably agreed, but they all went along with Tian’s teachings. Except Marshall, who quietly replaced the door on the second floor bathroom and Tian pretended not to notice.

But no matter what the rule was about sharing love, she and Tian were bound to each other, together and forever. Never mind Isis or family rules about ownership, never mind any of that.

Hooking up with Tian or anyone else had been the farthest thing from Pippa’s mind when Francie brought her into the family. For the first four months, she saw Tian only at family meals and rituals. That was another rule, new recruits couldn’t sleep at Pioneer Street until they became a full member, and people could only join at a solstice.

She would never forget her first solstice. Meg was hugely, gloriously pregnant. Later, Pippa began to see the tensions erupting between Meg and Enoch and the rest of the family. But that night she saw only the magnificence of Meg’s belly, the splendor of the frozen forest, the sanctuary of their rituals. The next morning, when she moved her plastic trash bag of clothes into the attic room on Pioneer Street, Pippa didn’t think she could get any happier.

But she did. Late one evening, two months after she joined the family, they were all stripping dried spearmint leaves from the bunched stalks hung drying from the ceiling. Tian stood up, looked at her and blazed his smile. She grinned back, not understanding his signal, even when Liz giggled. After a few minutes he took both her hands and pulled her to stand in front of him. He brought her hand to his face, sniffed the pungency of the spearmint, then licked her fingers, one by one. That’s when she understood, and she followed him to his room.

•

“What are you looking so moony-faced about?” Francie stood in the arch to the living room, spiffy in her white work clothes. At the sound of her voice, Newark arched and stretched, his claws jabbing through her cotton jumper as he deserted Pippa’s lap to rub against Francie’s ankles.

“Tian.” Pippa rubbed her thigh. “I miss him. And I’m worried about the trial. What do you think will happen?”

“Nothing good. They’ll probably convict him. Murphy too, though you don’t seem too concerned about her. Don’t forget, Pippa, you stand trial with them. You may get off, because you’re so much younger. But I wouldn’t bet on them letting you keep that baby.”

When had Francie become so mean?

As if she read Pippa’s mind, Francie smiled. The corners of her mouth turned up, and her lips parted to display perfect teeth like a warning. She turned back to the hall and reached into the closet for her coat. “Time to head downtown for my shift.” She paused for a minute. “Sometimes, I’m not sure what the point is of keeping everything together.”

“Tian says we have to stay strong.”

Francie made a sour face. “Maybe it’s time we think for ourselves.”

“If you want me to think for myself, why won’t you tell me what happened with Meg and Enoch? And what happened in Newark?”

Francie’s expression softened a little. “I will tell you. But not now or I’ll be late for work.”

After Francie left, Pippa enticed Newark back to her lap. Francie was just saying those things to get her riled up. She couldn’t really believe that they would all go to prison. Or that her baby would be taken away, to live with strangers who tidied up their house for the social worker visit; convincing some judge that they would make better parents than Pippa and Tian. What kind of life would this baby have, away from its family?

What kind of life did Abby have? Pippa cradled Newark against her chest, rocking back and forth, back and forth.

She stood up, unable to sit still with those thoughts. The trial date still wasn’t set, though there was the hearing next week. Newark squirmed in her arms growling a protest at the indignity of being held so tight, and jumped to the floor.

Pippa dialed the emergency beeper number on Emily’s card, thumb-tacked to the cork board by the hallway phone, and left her callback number. The telephone rang a few minutes later.

Emily sounded sleepy. “Pippa? Is something wrong?”

“Is this too late?”

“No, I’m packing for Maine. We’re leaving at five. What’s the matter?”

Pippa took a deep breath and then blurted it out. “While you’re away, please think about this. I’ve got to get out of the house for the solstice, just for one night—a few hours is all—and then I’ll come right back. I promise. I need your help.”

“I can’t.”

“Don’t say anything now. Just think about it? Please?”