Seventh Heaven (15 page)

Donna stood there staring, even though any other mother on the block would have looked away. On Dead Man's Hill, Lynne Wineman and Ellen Hennessy clucked their tongues when they saw Nora's baby on the sled and when they noticed that Billy Silk's winter jacket had a hole in the elbow. Ellen occasionally let loose with some of the information she'd gotten from her boy, Stevie, who sat two desks away from Billy Silk, so they all knew that Billy had once brought a sandwich for lunch that consisted of nothing more than a chocolate bar inserted between two slices of Wonder Bread. They knew his mother didn't allow him to climb the ropes during gym and that he often came to school sick and that he had vomited in the library corner. Donna Durgin listened to all this information, but really she was more interested in the jangling charm bracelet Nora wore, and the beat of the radio she heard when she walked with Melanie past the old Olivera house, and those black stretch pants, which were so tight you couldn't be more than a hundred fifteen pounds and get away with wearing them.

The truth was, Donna had begun to dream about clothes. Cinch belts and gold lamé dresses and little fur jackets made out of rabbit skins. She dreamed she was behind a counter of silk blouses and lace lingerie. She could feel the fabric when she woke up, and she felt as though she had somehow been unfaithful. She stayed away from silk and chiffon. She was still wearing her fat clothes, held up with Robert's belt and several safety pins. On the day she met Nora on line at the A&P she had on a smocked blouse she'd bought during her first pregnancy. Because it was school vacation, Nora and Donna both had their kids with them, and if Donna hadn't been so distracted by her boys' fighting she might not have pulled her cart up behind Nora's.

“Billy,” Nora said sharply.

She was loading her groceries onto the checkout counter and holding the baby at the same time. Billy was standing beside the rack of candy and gum; he had begun to slide a pack of Black jack into his coat pocket. He looked up, cool as a cucumber, when Nora called his name, but Donna could see that he had dropped the gum into his pocket. Nora came around her cart, dug into Billy's pocket, pulled out the gum, and replaced it in the rack. She gave Billy a little shove, but then she noticed Donna Durgin staring at her and she ran her fingers through her hair and smiled.

“Kids,” Nora said. “They think it's their job to drive us crazy.”

Donna nodded and lifted Melanie out of the kiddie seat of her shopping cart.

“Holy moly,” Nora said appraisingly. “You sure look a whole lot thinner than you did in the summer.”

Nora was wearing a black car coat and a straight black skirt. She had a red scarf around her neck. Chiffon.

“How'd you like the Tupperware?” Nora asked. “To tell you the truth, I would have killed my husband if he ever gave me Tupperware for Christmas, but I needed the sale so I couldn't tell him any wife would prefer a gold necklace. I did talk him into the three-quart container, because the four-quart is worthless unless you're cooking for an army.”

Donna Durgin was smiling at her, but Nora could feel her slipping away, and Nora didn't want to lose her; she was, after all, the first mother on the block who had stayed put long enough for Nora to get in two words. Fortunately, the checker who had replaced Cathy Corrigan was so slow they were trapped there together on line.

“Your husband happened to drive up when I was unloading mixing bowls. He told me you were a great cook, and I can't find a decent recipe for macaroni and cheese. People think it's so basic, but as far as I'm concerned, fixing good macaroni and cheese is a real talent.”

Donna Durgin was staring at the gold heart on Nora's charm bracelet. She didn't notice that Melanie and Scott had begun taking all the Almond Joys down off the candy rack.

“Do you use cheddar?” Nora asked.

“Velveeta,” Donna Durgin said.

“Aha,” Nora said. “That's the secret. I really appreciate this. My kids turn up their noses at everything I cook. They're very particular.”

Donna Durgin opened her mouth but nothing came out.

Nora grabbed a bag of potato chips and tossed it onto the checkout counter.

“You should come over to Armand's sometime. I could do your nails for half price and Armand would never know. He's a financial moron.”

Two huge tears slipped out of Donna Durgin's eyes.

“Oh,” Nora said when she saw Donna's tears. She put down the iceberg lettuce.

Donna Durgin still wasn't talking, but she had begun to cry in earnest. Her tears filled up the top of a sour cream container, then sloshed over onto the floor.

Nora hoisted her baby up and grabbed Billy. “Put up the rest of the groceries,” she told Billy.

“Me?” Billy said.

“You,” Nora told him. She put an arm around Donna and led her over to the empty carts.

“What is it?” Nora asked. “The Tupperware?” James struggled to get out of her arms, until she let him play with her bracelet.

Donna shook her head and kept crying.

“Everything?” Nora suggested.

Donna Durgin nodded and took a tissue from her coat pocket.

“Those black stretch pants you have,” Donna said finally. “Where did you buy them?”

“Lord and Taylor,” Nora admitted. “Not that I'm one of their regular customers, but sometimes you've got to splurge. Good clothes last forever.” Nora looked over at Billy and made a face at him so he would hurry up with the groceries. Between his taking his time and the checker's amazing lassitude, the line that had formed behind them was backing up past the fruit aisle and into poultry. “You'd look great in black,” Nora told Donna Durgin.

“You think so?” Donna asked.

“Trust me,” Nora said. “Black is classic.”

Donna blew her nose. She noticed that her children had taken most of the candy off the shelves.

“I'm okay now,” Donna said.

“You think so?” Nora said doubtfully.

“Oh, yeah,” Donna said. “Really. Thanks.”

They walked back to the checkout counter, and Nora paid for her groceries, then searched Billy's pockets for stolen gum while she waited for the checker to make change.

“Mom!” Billy shouted.

“Mr. Innocent,” Nora said to Donna Durgin. Nora grabbed her grocery cart and popped James inside to stand among the paper bags. “We should talk again,” she told Donna.

Donna smiled, even though she seemed to be looking past Nora. “Definitely,” she said. “I'd like that.”

Out in the parking lot, Billy leaned against the cart and watched as Nora loaded the car.

“You could help,” Nora told him. “It's a great way to build up your muscles.”

Billy grabbed a bag and set it in the front seat.

“I knew this would work out if we just gave people a chance,” Nora said. “People are basically shy, they have to warm up to you, they have to be won over. That's what you should be thinking about in school.”

“Mrs. Durgin's going somewhere,” Billy said.

“What?” Nora said, frightened that her one new friend planned to leave her in the lurch. She forgot to yell at Billy for listening in on Donna and grabbed him by his collar. “Where is she going?”

“For a walk,” Billy said.

“Oh, well,” Nora said, relieved. She let go of Billy and settled James into the backseat. “We should all do more of that.”

Donna Durgin went for her walk on December 29, after her children had been tucked into bed and her husband had fallen asleep in front of the TV. She dragged out her old black winter coat, which fit her for the first time in years, and put on some lipstick. She slipped into her snow boots; then, right before she left, she made the children's lunch for the following day and set the tunafish sandwiches and carrot sticks wrapped in foil on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. At a little after eleven she put her car keys on the kitchen table and went outside. There was some fresh powdery snow covering the ice and a pink moon in the center of the sky. Once she passed the line of poplar trees along her driveway, it was easy to just keep going, and by the time Robert woke up in the morning and realized she was missing, her footprints had all disappeared.

“L
OOK
,” J
OE
H
ENNESSY SAID
, “
WOMEN DO THINGS
we can't understand every day of their lives. They think in a completely different way, so if you're trying to figure out what she was thinking, forget it; that's not going to help you now.”

“You've got it all wrong,” Robert Durgin said to him.

They were sitting in the living room while Johnny Knight talked to the children in the kitchen over oatmeal cookies and milk. Ordinarily, Hennessy would have been the one to question the children, but Robert was his neighbor, so Hennessy owed him. And, actually, Johnny Knight wasn't as bad with the children as Hennessy would have guessed. He had overheard Knight ask the children a few questions about their mother—if she had a favorite place to go, if she had any secret money or bankbooks hidden in a bureau drawer or in the bread box—then he had sat down with them, enjoying the milk and cookies as much as they did. Sometimes being childish paid off.

“Donna wouldn't just take off,” Robert Durgin told Hennessy. He had smoked a cigarette down to the filter, but he was still holding on to it. “She's devoted to the kids. She wouldn't walk out of here. Not alone.”

Hennessy hadn't taken off his coat, and he leaned back carefully on the bedspread that covered the couch. Donna Durgin had been gone for nearly twenty-four hours, but even though the kids had left their toys around, Hennessy could see she had taken good care of the house. There wasn't a bit of dust on the Venetian blinds; a lace doily was neatly centered on the coffee table.

“Meaning?” Hennessy said.

“Somebody forced her,” Robert said.

“You were right here on the couch,” Hennessy said. “You slept here all night. You would have heard someone come in.”

“They snuck in,” Robert guessed. “Or they threatened the kids earlier in the day, so she was forced to go meet them in their car.”

“All right,” Hennessy said. “Let me think it over.”

Both men sat back and tried to imagine a madman loose in the neighborhood.

“It doesn't wash,” Hennessy said.

“I'm telling you,” Robert said. “She wouldn't leave here of her own free will. Just consider it might not be the way it looks.”

That meant Hennessy had to consider the man beside him. He might have a girlfriend hidden away somewhere, he might have taken out a big life insurance policy. Maybe he was chain-smoking not because Donna was gone but because he feared for his own skin.

“We'll look into all the possibilities,” Hennessy said.

When they were done in the house, it was too cold to do much talking on the street, so Johnny Knight came to sit with Hennessy in his car. Knight blew on his hands and rubbed them together. “The kids don't know a thing,” he said. “What about the husband?”

“Robert,” Hennessy said. He reached across and flipped open his glove compartment, took out his Pepto-Bismol, and uncapped the bottle.

“Robert,” Johnny Knight said. “Whoever. Think he's involved?”

“He's a printer,” Hennessy said. He took a swig of Pepto-Bismol and replaced the bottle in the glove compartment for later. “He's never cooked a meal or made a bed in his life, and now he's got three kids to take care of.”

Johnny Knight shrugged. “She's gone. He's still there.”

“Shit,” Hennessy said.

“Yup,” Johnny Knight agreed.

There had never been a murder in town, assault was the absolute limit, but Hennessy had to begin his investigation as if there'd been one. He checked for life insurance policies and found there was one taken out on Robert and nothing on Donna. He drove to Queens and questioned Donna's mother and sister; he went to the bank where they had their savings account. He found no boyfriends, no bad debts, no leads at all. He stayed out till midnight, searching the neighborhood, talking to neighbors, and when he came home Ellen was waiting up for him in the kitchen.

“Nothing,” Hennessy said.

Ellen had made him a cup of tea and set a plate of cookies on the table. She was wearing a flannel nightgown and her face was drawn.

“It's as if she was swallowed up by the ground.” Hennessy shook his head.

“I can't believe it,” Ellen said. While Hennessy was out, she had gone around the house locking the windows; she even latched the storm doors. “Donna and I talked all the time. I would have known if anything was wrong.”

Hennessy took a graham cracker from the plate and broke it in half. “Would you have?” he asked.

“Of course I would. She was my friend. Oh, God.” Ellen put down her teacup. “Was.”

They stared at each other across the table.

“Nothing to show that she's dead,” Hennessy said.

“Joe!” Ellen said. “Don't even say that.” She took a cookie and broke it in half. “What did Robert tell the kids?”

“She's on a trip, a vacation.”

Ellen stood up and rinsed out the teacups, then put them in the drain rack.

“She wasn't feeling so well,” Ellen said.

“What?” Hennessy said.

“She came over here a few weeks ago and started talking about eating rocks or something. I thought it was indigestion.”

“What exactly did she say?” Hennessy asked sharply.

“Joe!” Ellen said. “I'm not a witness. Don't talk to me as if I'm a criminal.”

“All right.” Hennessy began again, calmly, just as he would with any witness who was starting to balk. “Just think it over. Any little hint that something was wrong?”

Ellen shook her head.

“Rocks,” Hennessy said.

“I have to go to bed,” Ellen told him. “I can't stand this.”