Thirteenth Child (8 page)

“Great. Thanks,” Kate said. “I’ll go and get the counter cleared off.” What was it with those two, anyway?

Kate had been wrong to think Barney wasn’t strong.

“Wow,” she gasped when they had finally wrestled the tank into place. “You been working out or something, Barney?”

He flushed. “Got weights at home.”

To impress Melanie, no doubt. She suppressed a sarcastic comment.

It took most of the rest of the afternoon to set up and fill the tank and get the fish into it. When it was all ready and the lights were on, the three of them sat back to admire it. Kate had to admit it was pretty impressive. A couple of tourists came in as they were resting. The woman was so taken with the fish that they stayed for half an hour, just watching them and drinking coffee.

“Might as well eat while we’re here,” she said, finally, and they ordered toasted bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches and fries.

“See?” Mike crowed when they left. “Your business is going to take off.”

“You guys don’t need me anymore,” Barney said. “I’ve got to go.” He got to his feet, and Kate followed him.

“Who is that guy?” Barney asked as soon as they got out of earshot.

“What’s the problem, Barney? You and he were as bristly with each other as a couple of tomcats all afternoon.”

Barney shrugged. “I don’t like him. Guess he doesn’t like me back.”

“But you just met him. How can you say that?”

“Where does he come from? What’s he doing here?”

For a moment Kate was at a loss for an answer.

“He…. He works down to town with Jed. Picks worms for us.” The words came out sounding defensive.

“In other words, he’s just a drifter. I don’t like it. You shouldn’t have strangers like that around the place, especially when you’re alone so much.”

“Barney, he’s okay. It’s not like he’s the one been doing the robberies or anything—” She stopped abruptly. Why in the world had she said that!

Barney leaped on her words. “How do you know? You don’t know anything about him, do you?”

“I’m just sure…. He wouldn’t do anything like that….” There was a growing hollowness inside her. “Why should you care, anyway?” The
words rushed out to cover her confusion. “Why should you worry about me? It’s not like I’m Melanie Davis or anything.”

Barney blushed a deep, painful red. “Melanie has nothing to do with it,” he stuttered. “It’s just—you’re my friend. I care about you, that’s all.” He grabbed for his bike and pedaled off.

Kate looked after him.

“Your boyfriend didn’t like me much, did he?” Kate jumped. She hadn’t heard Mike come up behind her.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she snapped. “He just rides the bus with me. You’re the one said yourself I don’t have any friends, let alone boyfriends.”

“Okay, okay. Don’t bite my head off.”

Involuntarily, Kate moved away from him. Whatever had possessed her to blurt that out about the robberies to Barney? And why did Barney dislike Mike so much?

“Guess I’d better be shoving off too.”

Kate didn’t answer; then, as he climbed into the truck and slammed the door, she got herself back under control.

“Thanks,” she called after him. “For the fish, I mean.”

Mike leaned out the window and flashed that grin at her. “My apology accepted, then?”

Kate felt a warmth rising through her body. She couldn’t stop an answering smile. “Of course. Mine?”

“Sure thing.” He waved, and drove off with a protesting screech of gears.

“I don’t know, Kate,” Angie fussed when she appeared later on. “I don’t know what your dad’s going to say about those fish.”

But when Steve finally staggered in from the garage he was too drunk to notice anything.

Kate stayed down after her parents went to bed. She turned off all the lights except for the tank, then pulled a chair up in front of it. The fish swam easily. Even the cichlid seemed peaceful now. It was calming, watching them. She smiled to herself, remembering Mike’s enthusiasm. Really, he was just like a kid sometimes.

Her father’s anger the next day was tempered somewhat by a hangover of larger than usual proportions.

“Fool thing,” he muttered, when he finally saw the tank. “Be more trouble than it’s worth. You got to take care of it, Kate, and if it costs anything, out it goes.”

“It won’t cost much to feed them, Dad,” Kate answered. “We’ve got the worms. Mike says it won’t cost us much at all.”

“That’s another thing,” Steve growled. “That kid, Mike. I don’t think I want him hanging around here. The police were over at Jed’s the other day, asking about him.”

Kate froze. “What about him?”

“They were checking him out. Wanted to
know where he was the other night when that store got ripped off.”

“He was at the fireworks,” Kate said. “I saw him there.”

“Store got robbed long after the fireworks were over. Could have been him easy.”

“Dad! He wouldn’t….” The words petered out.

Luckily, Steve was in town the next time Mike turned up. He was driving Jed’s pickup again, this time filled with lumber. Kate saw him from the window of the snack bar.

“Miss?” A plaintive voice came from one of the tables as she headed for the door. “My coffee?”

Kate appeared not to have heard.

“What are you doing back here so soon?” Her hand strayed to her hair and she tucked an errant strand behind her ear. She kept her words light with an effort; there was a battle going on inside her. Her father’s words echoed in her mind, ominously, but she couldn’t check the sudden flash of pleasure at seeing him. “What in the world have you got now? And how come you’re not working today?”

“Got the day off. This was in that tavern’s basement and they said I could have it too. Thought you might like a picnic table out to the side there. People could buy stuff and eat there when they stop for gas, you know? Lots of places have them, and that bit of field there, that would be perfect. What do you think?”

“Mike, you don’t need to do this.” “Yeah. I know. But I figure—why not? Got nothing else to do. Besides—I owe you.”

“Owe me? What for?”

“You know. Hadn’t been for you—God knows where I’d be now.”

“Oh, that.” It was the last thing Kate wanted to think about. “Forget it.”

“Well, anyway. I got the lumber here now. Might just as well make the table. Don’t you want it?”

“Sure. It would be great.” As long as her dad didn’t turn up.

The pumps and the snack bar kept her busy all afternoon. Angie helped during the morning, but the lure of her soaps had been strong and now she was flopped out on the living-room couch with a Coke. By suppertime Kate was exhausted. Steve, luckily, had not turned up. She finished gassing up an overpowered convertible, handed the driver his change, and started back to the snack bar. The air conditioner was having fits again, but at least it was marginally cooler in there than out here on the shimmering tarmac. She reached a hand back to lift her sweat-soaked ponytail off her neck. She could certainly use a cold Coke too.

“Just a minute there, babe!”

She turned back to the car, bristling.

‘You short-changed me, honey. Short a quarter.”

Give me a break, Kate thought. The driver
was a man in his mid-thirties, dressed in the latest yuppie-fashion sports clothes, complete with designer sunglasses that must have cost more than she earned in a month.

“Well,
silly
me!” she drawled in her best Dolly Parton imitation. She reached into her pocket, pulled out two dimes and a nickel, and tossed them into the passenger side of the car.

“Have a nice day,” she caroled, the words syrup-sweet.

“Hey!”

The last she saw of him before she turned away, he was scrabbling on the floor of the car, messing up the carefully pressed knees of his slacks.

Sounds of hammering had been going on all day, but Kate had only registered them in the back of her mind; she’d been too busy to pay much attention to what Mike was doing. When she finally dug her Coke out of the refrigerator, however, she became aware of a silence. She was just popping the top when he pushed through the door.

“Finished! And not bad, either. Come on outside and take a look.” He was soaked in sweat, dark hair plastered to his head.

“You look hot. Want a Coke first? On the house.”

“Sure. Thanks.” He took the can from her, then threw himself down beside her. They watched the fish for a few moments in silence.

“Like them?” Mike asked.

“Yes,” Kate answered. “I do, actually. I watched them for ages last night.” Her voice turned dreamy. “I wonder what it would be like to swim in the ocean. You know—scuba dive in the tropics? Right down under the water there with the fish?”

The cool air from the air conditioner, slight though it was, felt good on the back of her neck. Stephanie, lounging on her tropical beach, rolled up again on the screen of Kate’s mind. The cool air became a light ocean breeze. A tall, dark stranger, laden with scuba gear, was approaching her.

“You arranged for a diving trip, miss?” he asked. “We are ready now.”

Stephanie donned the weight belt, tank, and buoyant, life-protecting vest. Mask, flippers—the water was so warm here only a light, close-fitting T-shirt was necessary over her bikini. She reached out her hand to her partner. Together, they walked into the foaming surf. The caressing water reached her knees, her thighs. A splash of spray suddenly drenched her and she cried out, but in delight.

“We swim now,” the stranger said.

She let her body sink into the waves, lowered her masked face to the surface, and took her first look at the world below….

“We could plant some flowers along the wall,” Mike said. “And the tree gives good shade. Too bad you only have an outhouse for customers, though. You sure your dad wouldn’t let them use the bathroom in the house?”

Stephanie was abruptly erased, scuba gear and all. Kate got up to follow Mike outside. “Are you kidding?” she asked. “No way would he let anybody in there.”

“It’s a problem. People nowadays don’t like that.”

“As a problem, that’s the least of my problems.” Kate sat down on the picnic-table bench and winced as a splinter stabbed into her thigh.

“I’ll get it all sanded down and then stain it,” Mike said quickly.

Kate ran her hand over the rough surface. “You did a real good job, Mike. Thanks a lot.”

Mike looked embarrassed. “No big deal,” he said. “Like I said, I got nothing better to do anyway.”

“You thought anything about what you’re going to do this fall?” Kate asked, careful not to look at him. “I mean, like going home or back to school or anything? There won’t be much here for you then.”

He shrugged and tossed his hair out of his eyes with a flip of his head. “Face that when I come to it, I guess. Sure won’t be going back to school. I’ve finished with all that. Going home … I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Just can’t.” There was a finality about his voice that closed the topic. “Whatever happened to that house over there, by the way?” he asked, changing the subject. “You never did tell me.” He gestured toward the burned-out foundation in the field next to them.

Kate stood up. She hadn’t talked about the house to anybody since the fire. Most of the local people knew the story anyway and didn’t bring it up.

Mike jumped to his feet as well. “I know,” he said quickly. “Sorry. None of my business.”

“No. It’s okay. It’s just … depressing, I guess.” She traced the outline of a knothole on
the picnic-table top. “It used to be our house. At least, it was going to be. Dad and Mom, they’d saved ever since they got married. Finally got enough to buy this place and build a house next to it. Dad was so enthusiastic about running his own business—he had so many plans. Going to make a really good restaurant, maybe a motel for truckers later on. The house was just about done—we were getting ready to move into it—but the wiring wasn’t finished in the basement. Dad had a big fight with the guy who was doing it about how much he was charging us for it—finally kicked him off the place. Said he’d finish it himself. So he did, but the inspectors wouldn’t approve it. Said it had to be done by a licensed electrician. Dad got mad at them too. He gets so mad sometimes…. Anyway, before we could move in, one night, there was a fire. There was nobody around—we lived in town at the time—and by the time somebody finally called the fire department, it was too late. The house was gone. Burned down right to the ground. Nothing left but what you can see now.”

Kate raised her eyes to look at the ruin, but she wasn’t seeing it. In her mind she was seeing a white frame house with green shutters. Gleaming, spotless kitchen, a living room with a light blue shag rug and an enormous stone fireplace, and her room. She’d decorated it herself. Forest green and burgundy.

“Wouldn’t pink be prettier?” Angie had asked,
a little taken aback by the strong colors, but she’d insisted. Angie had done their bedroom up in a froth of flowers, fluffy curtains, and bows. Kate had thought her dad would hate it, but he’d just laughed and let Angie have her way. They’d hardly ever fought in those days. Angie had been so happy. Always smiling. That house had been their lifetime dream.

“Insurance?” Mike asked. He looked as if he knew the answer.

“Wouldn’t cover it, of course. The wiring hadn’t been approved, and they found out the fire was caused by an electrical malfunction. Something Dad had done wrong. We couldn’t collect a cent. Everything they’d saved, everything they’d spent—and they’d gone into debt for the furniture and stuff—it was all gone. We’re still paying it off.”

“Your dad…. No wonder….”

“He can’t get over it. Blames himself.”

“Hates himself too, I guess. I sure know about that.”

Kate looked at Mike in surprise. His face had darkened.

“Yes. I guess he does. I never thought of it that way. We don’t hate him for that—Mom and I. Not for that.”

“The drinking?”

Kate didn’t answer.

“Guess that’s the only way out for him,” Mike said. “Why doesn’t he tear what’s left down? Get rid of it?”

“Sometimes, when he’s been drinking, he just sits and stares at it. Sometimes I think he cries.”