Time and Trouble (45 page)

She thought Gary had slept through the whole cop thing, but then he came down and said he
’
d heard. He was more rumpled and wild-haired than ever, and he looked as if he
’
d been crying, but said it was his cold. Later she heard him snoring. Asleep and snoring as if nothing had happened while she paced and cried and couldn
’
t even close her eyes so that they got gritty and hurt, but still stayed open and all the while she felt scissors snip the air around her, till she hovered above earth
—
thin, two-dimensional, arms out, holding nothing.

Near dawn, from her point in space, she
’
d been able, finally, to connect the scraps and see what must have happened. And what she saw wasn
’
t Yvonne at all.

She saw Arthur. Stephen had visited him. Until then, Arthur hadn
’
t known who Stephen was, not for sure, probably not at all. And because of Yvonne, nobody could have found Stephen unless he showed his face on purpose, said his name, let Arthur Redmond know him and about him. She
’
d warned him about her stepfather
’
s temper, which was worse than ever now that he was afraid of her
—
afraid because she knew about his other woman. He was going to lose his slave-wife and slave-kids because of Penny.

Arthur had expected her to be in that car with Stephen. She was supposed to be dead, too, now. It all made shudderingly-clear sense.

That
’
s what this was about, that was its meaning. Penny had to set things right, make it up to Stephen. Tell the world the truth. There was always a reason why things happened and now she saw this one clearly. As clear as the picture that would be worth the thousand words nobody listened to or believed. Stephen was dead and she might as well be, unless she made things right. If it was dangerous, then it was still right that she face that danger.

Stephen had died for her, because of her, because of their connection. She had to be worthy of him. In his world of knights and ladies, ladies fought too, and all lived by the code of honor. She could, too.

She packed Stephen
’
s camera, a notebook. Everything. She didn
’
t have much, but what was the point of leaving it here, with only Morgana left to care, if birds cared about anything. Maybe she
’
d come back and maybe not. This way, she had her freedom, her choices to make. She
’
d get Alicia
’
s car back to her somehow, or leave a message about where Alicia could pick it up. So what if she
’
d be angry about the car
’
s being somewhere else. So what?

She heard a long honk, like a scream, saw the wide-eyed horror on the face of the driver of a car veering away from her. She clutched the wheel of Alicia
’
s car and tried to remember about not pressing too hard on the pedal, but she couldn
’
t concentrate on things like that when so much else was on her mind. So much that was so much more important.

*

Billie could have used five more hours
’
sleep. Could have used a night in which Jesse did not have a bad dream
—
that brought her son to her bedside. His thumb was in his mouth as he stared her into opening her eyes. This was serious. He
’
d almost completely given up the thumb.
“
What?
”
she
’
d whispered.
“
What
’
s wrong?
”

By then he was beside her on the bed.
“
Do I have a skeleton inside me?
”
he asked.

Two A.M. and her son was into Human Anatomy. It would be amusing, maybe, if she weren
’
t exhausted.
“
Yes,
”
she said.
“
It holds you up and mine holds me up.
”
She yawned. Wasn
’
t going to ask why and hear the long, digressive explanation. Was not.

He stared at her, his thumb back in his mouth.

She gave up.
“
Why do you want to know that in the middle of the night?
”
she whispered.

He looked down, then at her.
“
How would it get outside me, like that baby
’
s?
”

“
What ba
—”
Oh. The skeletons in the cow pasture.
“
Well, when you
…”
No. That wasn
’
t going to set his mind at ease. Couldn
’
t do the
“
When you grow very, very old
”
routine with a baby involved.

“
His mommy, too,
”
Jesse said mournfully.
“
Hers was on the outside, too.
”

“
And it frightened you, didn
’
t it?
”
She
’
d told Ivan about limiting and monitoring Jesse
’
s TV. The news, pumped and primed only for the worst of humanity, was definitely off-limits. She lifted her son and carried him back to his room where she sat on the side of his bed while he neared sleep again. As if she
’
d answered anything, except by existing. By being there for him, evasive as she
’
d been.

“
But Mom?
”
he murmured a few seconds after she thought he was asleep.
“
Ivan said it was because they were dead. That
’
s how their skeletons got on the outside because the outside they had disappeared. Is that true?
”

She might evade, but she
’
d taken a vow long ago to never lie to him.
“
Yes,
”
she whispered back.
“
There was a terrible accident a very, very long time ago, before you were even born.
”
Not exactly a lie. Maybe it had been an accident. At least, an accidental meeting with the wrong person.

Another silent spell and she was sure he was asleep, and then his eyelashes fluttered.
“
But Mom?
”
His voice was hollowly urgent.
“
What if it happened to us?
”

No theology, no metaphysics, no philosophy was going to work here. Vow or not, major lie was called for. The lie of saying you were in control of anything important. She stroked his dark honey hair.
“
It won
’
t, Jesse love,
”
she crooned.
“
It simply won
’
t. That
’
s a promise. No bad accidents for us. No bad things. I will keep us safe. That
’
s my job. Yours is to rest now so you
’
ll grow big and strong.
”

Night Fears put aside, he slept. Billie stayed wide-eyed till dawn.

In the morning, he was all activity and smiles and they were back to trivial household concerns
—
he had no idea where his shoes were, or how the Cheerios box got under the sofa pillows.

Meanwhile, Ivan was making ominous murmurs about his mother
’
s health, about how worried he was, which was nothing compared to how worried Billie was going to be if he intended any long-term relocation to his mom
’
s north-country bedside. Billie couldn
’
t bring herself to ask him about it out loud, to sound as hardhearted and selfish as she knew her priorities were. In theory, she had the backup student-sitters, but the idea of the phone calls and arrangements, the juggling of their schedules
—
semesters had changed and who knew if they were all compatible anymore?
—
gave her a case of the vapors, whatever
they
might be.

At least the search for Penny Redmond was about to be concluded or abandoned. Emma had called someone she knew and found out that Alicia Malone
’
s business address was that of a private home as well. The house, please God, where Stephen had lived and who would
—
please God still more
—
have had Penny living with him. And still there today. And given those givens, Billie would deliver Sophia
’
s message, write up the report, and that would be that.

Or it would not please fate to provide any of it, in which case, that would still be that.

Alicia Malone
’
s house was off Creamery Road, built on the side of the street that sloped down. It looked as if it might fill like a measuring cup in a good rain, although it was set up from the ground, with lattice separating the first floor from its foundation. A causeway for the runoff, she supposed. The pale blue house had the look of something quickly constructed for transient use.

She walked down the three front steps and rang the bell, noting the peeling paint around the window frames, the yard filled with plumes of pampas grass, the indestructible scourge of organized gardens, and she felt a perverse fondness for the place and whoever lived in it.

The man who answered her ring and question said his name was Gary. He looked in his late twenties, about her own age, and was extremely tall, gangly, and unkempt. His hair, his sweats, his oversized beard, were in harmony with the yard outside. His nose was red and his eyes bleary, and she reminded herself that this was a house of mourning as she explained that she was here to see Penny Redmond.

His shaggy eyebrows raised, and he invited her in.
“
You could leave a message. She isn
’
t here.
”
His voice was hoarse and nasal.
“
I
’
ve got this bitch of a cold. Everybody else is gone.
”

The room was full of listing or sagging pieces with crocheted afghans and Indian fabric throws covering arms and backs, and all colors faded or muddled. The coffee table was buried under sloping piles of magazines and books. Predictable rental unit furnishings, except for the computer and a strange arrangement of leather and metal in a corner.

“
My armor,
”
Gary said, following her glance.
“
I was getting it ready. Thought I was going to Arizona with the others this weekend. There
’
s a war there.
”

“
Excuse me?
”

“
Every year this time. A battle, a feast. In fun,
”
he said.
“
We
’
re part of a group that, well, we
…
He blew his nose, to buy time, she thought.
“…
re-create the Middle Ages. The way they should have been. I felt too sick to go. I thought I
’
d work on the armor this weekend, but I haven
’
t had the energy. Or heart.
”

“
Because of Stephen?
”
she asked softly.

His shoulder twitched in a shrug.
“
I meant because of the cold.
”

She adjusted her emotional expectations and wondered how little he cared about Stephen or his fate. Had he stayed back because of the sniffles or because he had a plan to use against an enemy? The war in Arizona sacrificed to the war at home.
…

“
I won
’
t take much of your time,
”
she said.
“
I
’
m interested in finding Penny Redmond.
”

His noncommittal palms-up gesture fit all the other people she
’
d spoken to who didn
’
t know and didn
’
t mind not knowing, Penny Redmond.
“
She lives here,
”
he said.
“
But I don
’
t know where she is.
”

“
Is she due back soon, or at all?
”

He shrugged.
“
Don
’
t know. I never could make sense of her, and she was going to have to leave anyway, and that was before Stephen
—”

Billie nodded.
“
My condolences to all of you. It must be awful, losing a good friend, especially through violence, somebody you live with.
”

Gary looked as if he were considering her words, then he nodded.

“
But about Penny.
”

His shrugs were a tic, a universal response, no matter the comment.
“
What about her?
”

“
Do you know where she might have gone? When did she leave?
”

“
Not long ago. She didn
’
t say where. Look, maybe you don
’
t know this, but Stephen was moving somewhere else, too. Because of her. Getting away from her. The girl is bad news. She ruined everything here, or he did, bringing her here.
”

Billie looked at the man
’
s bloodshot eyes, at the overflowing basket of wadded tissues next to the computer, and still thought he might be faking the illness. He obviously bore a deep resentment against Stephen Tassio.

“
She looked weird when she took off,
”
Gary said.
“
Acted weird, too, although it
’
s hard to tell with a girl like her. Took Alicia
’
s car. Said she had permission, and frankly, I don
’
t want to get involved when I already feel like shit. Last time she borrowed a car, it was Stephen
’
s, and he went ballistic. He loves that
…
loved that car,
”
he finished softly. Then he coughed, cleared his throat and drank water out of a glass that had been sitting atop a pile of newspapers.