The Murderer's Daughter (19 page)

She went to check, found Ramona at the front door, looking nervous and glancing at the big Hamilton man's watch she always wore, the one Steve Stage had worn when he was alive.

Ramona turned to see Grace. “Got some new ones checking in, Grace. You'd best be heading back to slumber-land.”

“I can help.”

“No, you go to your room.” Speaking more roughly than usual.

Grace obeyed and climbed the stairs. Opening her window, she perched on her bed with a clear view of what was happening down below.

A big dark-green car and a white-and-black police car were parked in front of the house.

Out of the police car stepped two policemen in tan uniforms. Out of the green car stepped a man in a suit with a badge clipped to his breast pocket. All three were big men, with mustaches. They formed a half circle facing Ramona. A conversation Grace couldn't hear lasted for a while, everyone looking serious. Then one of the uniformed policemen opened the rear door of the police car and made a waving motion.

Out came three kids, two boys and a girl.

The smaller boy was about Grace's age, the taller one older—thirteen or fourteen. The girl was the youngest, maybe eight or nine, and she stood in a way that made her seem even smaller than she was.

All three were blond, really light blond, just as light as Sophia Muller. Their hair was like straw in the wind, wild and sticking out all over the place.

Long hair, reaching below their waists, even the boys.

Their clothes looked strange: too-large, loose-fitting black shirts with no collars and baggy, too-long black pants whose bottoms collected on the dirt like accordions.

As if the three of them were members of a club that you needed a uniform for but the uniforms hadn't come out right.

The girl stood close to the younger boy, who was biting his nails and tapping his foot. Those two had round, soft faces and looked almost like twins, if she hadn't been so much younger. He moved his shoulder so it touched hers and she began sucking her thumb. His foot began tapping faster.

The older boy had a longer face. He stood away from them and seemed relaxed, slouching and bending one leg as his eyes moved all over the place. First he stared straight at the house, then past the house and out to the desert, followed by a quick swing toward Ramona.

Then his face tilted upward. Aiming himself directly at Grace. She realized she'd left her light on, was framed like a picture.

The older boy locked in on her eyes and smiled. He was handsome, with a firm jaw and a crooked smile. His look said he and Grace shared a secret. But there was nothing friendly about the smile.

Just the opposite, a hungry smile. Like he was a coyote and she was food.

Grace backed away from the window and drew her curtains.

She thought, but couldn't be sure, that she heard laughter from down below.

The following morning,
as usual, Grace was the first to get up and Ramona entered the kitchen as she was pouring herself a second glass of juice.

“Morning, Ms. Blades.” Ramona began fiddling with the coffeemaker.

“Who are they?”

Ramona's hands stilled. “I figured you'd be curious. But trust me, Grace, don't be.” She kept her back to Grace, as if she and Grace didn't know each other as well as Grace thought they did.

When she'd loaded coffee into the urn, she said, “I'll tell you their names because obviously you need to call them something. But that's it, okay?”

It's not okay at all, it's stupid.
“Sure.”

“They'll be gone soon, anyway. It's a favor I'm doing for social services because they need a…” Head shake. “That's all you need to know, young lady.”

Walking to the fridge, Ramona pulled out eggs and butter.

Grace said, “Their names…”

“What…oh, yeah. Okay, the big one is Sam, his brother is Ty, the little sister is Lily. Got that?”

“Yes.”

“Sam, Ty, Lily,” Ramona repeated. As if Grace needed to memorize a lesson.

Sam.
That smile remained in her head, like a bad smell. Ty and Lily had acted like scared babies and she didn't want to spend time with them, either.

Ramona began frying up a clump of her tasteless eggs. The coffeemaker burbled. She looked at her man's watch. “Oops, better check on Bobby.”

She went upstairs and returned looking exhausted as she eased Bobby into the kitchen. He was walking on two canes that fit around his elbows, moving slowly, with jerks and starts. In the middle of his trek to the table, he stopped and flashed Grace one of his confusing smiles. Or maybe he wasn't smiling at Grace, just at…being there. But it was better than Sam's smile so she smiled back and helped Ramona seat him and strap him in and filled his special cup from one of the cans of nutritional shakes in the fridge.

During Ramona's absence, bumps had begun sounding from above. The three new fosters were awake but they hadn't come down.

Grace fed Bobby his shake. He gurgled and rolled his head, worked hard at sucking up liquid, finally succeeded.

Ramona kept frying. Her reaction to Grace being helpful with Bobby had changed over three years. She'd started out insisting Grace didn't need to work, she was a kid, not a caretaker. When Grace kept up her chores, anyway, Ramona began thanking her.

But that had stopped, too. Nowadays, Ramona said nothing, expecting Grace to be part of the ranch routine.

As she placed a plate of eggs in front of Grace, the bumps from the second floor grew louder and faster and moments later they transformed to the rhythmic
thump-thump-thump
of feet on stairs. Six feet made a lot of noise. To Grace it sounded like stampeding horses in one of Steve Stage's old movies.

Sam appeared first, swaggering into the kitchen as if he'd always lived there. Sharp eyes took in the room, settled on the fry pan. “Thanks so much, ma'am, but I don't eat eggs. None of us do. It's animal matter.”

Ty and Lily hid themselves behind him, yawning and rubbing their eyes. Ty was even softer-looking up close, all boy, no man. Sam, on the other hand, had muscles in his arms and the beginnings of facial hair: oily-looking smudges on his chin and above his upper lip.

All three of them had on the same strange black clothing they'd arrived in. Up close, Grace could see the uniforms were hand-sewn, with clumsy, crooked stitching and loose threads, fashioned of a rough fabric that looked more like a bag for potatoes than for clothes.

Another weird thing she noticed now was that Sam wore an earring, a small gold loop that pierced his left lobe.

Grace ignored them and ate but a cold feeling was spreading on the back of her neck. Glancing up from her plate, she saw Sam looking at her. His lips would've been pretty on a girl but on him they looked like…a costume.

Grace returned to her plate. He snorted.

Ramona said, “You're vegetarians, huh?”

Sam said, “Most vegetarians eat eggs and milk. We're vegan.”

“Be nice if someone told me. So what's your usual breakfast?”

“Greens,” said Sam.

“Vegetables?”

“Green vegetables, ma'am. Manna from the earth.”

“Wasn't manna birds or something?”

“No, ma'am, that was the miraculous quail visited upon the sinful Hebrews. Manna was a heavenly vegetable.”

Ramona grunted. “Greens…” She rummaged in the fridge. “I've got lettuce and cucumbers that were supposed to be for dinner but I suppose I can cook something else for dinner. Sit down and I'll wash you a mess of
greens.
”

Talking differently than she did to other fosters. Like she didn't want these kids here.

“Where?” said Sam.

“Where what?”

“Where should we sit, ma'am?”

“Where?” said Ramona. “At the table.”

“I understand that, ma'am, but where at the table? Please assign us positions.”

Ramona put her hands on her hips. Bobby's head rolled. Sam laughed. At Bobby.

Ty and Lily hadn't uttered a word, remained pressed together, same as last night.

Ramona said, “Positions, huh? Okay, you—big brother—sit over there.” Pointing to the seat farthest from Bobby. “Then we'll have your little brother sit next to this gentleman, who is Bobby, and you, cutie—Lily—you're between Ty and this young lady, who is Grace. She's very smart and she likes her privacy.”

Aiming the statement at Sam. Maybe she'd seen the hunger, too.

Sam grinned. Usually, Grace didn't like being protected, but this morning, she didn't mind it at all.

Sam moved toward her, shifted direction, and followed Ramona's seating instructions. Telling his siblings, “Go.”

They obeyed.

Once seated, he flicked his earring. “Privacy is an illusion.”

Ramona glared. “Well, then, you go on respecting Ms. Blades's illusion.”

“Blades,” said Sam, as if he found the name amusing. “Of course, ma'am. We're here to be respectful. And grateful.” He snickered. “We're here to be absolutely perfect.”

That day, at
ten a.m., Grace experienced a new emotion.

Malcolm Bluestone drove up in his brown station wagon, hauled out what she recognized as testing materials, but when she walked up to him, he said, “Hi, there. I think we'll have some time in the afternoon.”

Grace looked at the tests.

“Oh, these,” said Malcolm. “I'm going to be spending some time with the new fosters.”

Going
to be. Not
have to.
That made it
his
decision, he preferred to be with the weirdos in the weird clothes.

Grace turned away.

“Maybe one p.m.?” Malcolm called out. “Love to hear how you liked the anthropology materials.”

Grace didn't answer. Her eyes were burning and her chest felt tight.

She'd read about this and now she felt it. Jealousy.

She'd make sure to be somewhere else at one p.m.

Malcolm found her
at two thirty. She'd been reading, sitting behind a group of old oak trees on the far side of the green slimy pool, her back feeling the roughness of the bark. For part of the time, Bobby had been nearby. Sitting limply on the pool deck and dangling his feet in the water and laughing, as Ramona clutched his elbow to keep him steady.

Grace's current favorite book was a thick volume on spiders written by a biologist from Oxford University in England. She was concentrating on the wolf spider, with its fangs and its hiding holes from which it killed its food. Wolf spiders also carried their eggs—their babies—on their stomachs. A lot of the killing they did was to stay healthy so they could be good mothers…

When Ramona and Bobby left, Grace was reading about the wolf spider's breeding habits and didn't notice.

At two thirty, Grace was thirsty. Figuring Malcolm was gone, she headed back toward the house for some juice. He was just coming out the front door and smiled. “There you are! Got time for anthropology?”

“I'm tired,” she said, and went inside.

The following day,
he arrived earlier than ever, when everyone was still in the kitchen. Grace was poking rubbery eggs, Bobby was struggling with his nutritional drink, and the new fosters, still in their strange clothing, were eating huge plates of salad.

Sam had given up smiling hungrily at Grace after she kept ignoring him. Now when their eyes met, he yawned and snickered. Ty and Lily continued to have frightened eyes and stick close to each other. Like they were brother and sister but Sam was outside the circle.

If Sam was Grace's brother she'd have kept him outside, too.

When Malcolm entered the kitchen, the room got small.

Sam said, “Again?” with a whine in his voice.

“Only if you're willing,” said Malcolm. “But not now, anyway. I need to confer with Grace.”

“Confer,” said Sam.

“It means—”

Sam laughed. “I know what it means. I just don't get what you'd confer with
her
about.”

Malcolm drew himself up even taller. His lips moved, as if he was trying to figure out an answer. Instead, he turned to Grace. “If you've got time, Ms. Blades.”

“
Ms.
Blades,” said Sam.

Lily let out a small whimpering sound. Sam whipped his head toward her. That silenced the little girl. Ty watched, eyes soft and moist, and Grace felt like telling him everything would be okay. Then she told herself,
That's probably a lie,
and went back to her eggs.

Malcolm said, “Grace?”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you've got time…”

“Sure,” she snapped and marched out of the kitchen.

Sam said, “Someone's got an attitude.” He was the only person laughing.

When they were
settled in the living room, Malcolm said, “They'll be gone, soon.”

Grace said, “Who?”

Malcolm's smile was faint and not at all happy. “Precisely. Okay, the so-called primitive tribes of Borneo and Sumatra. What did you think of their…”

For the next hour, Grace listened and commented, told him what she figured he wanted to hear. The jealousy she'd experienced had faded but now she found herself bored with his little speeches, just wanting to be alone.

Still, she cooperated. He'd done lots of nice things for her and she figured she'd find him interesting again.

The next morning, she was up extra early at six, spent some time in bed reading before descending to the kitchen. As she passed the door to the room where the new fosters slept, she heard a young voice whining or crying—a girl, obviously Lily—then a deeper voice shushing her to silence.

She poured herself milk and waited for Ramona. When she was still alone at seven, she began to wonder if Ramona was okay, she'd been looking so tired and seemed to be taking more pills. At seven fifteen, she was considering knocking on Ramona's door. Against the rules, but still…