NUGGED UP TO THE KITCHEN BAR, the younger children devoured their second bowls of cold cereal while the older ones hurried off for school. Resting on an acre lot, with nine bathrooms, eight bedrooms, a three-car garage, two stories rising atop a full basement, Kate’s spacious though tastefully decorated home looked out over the valley. The addition of Don and Christina had hardly made a dent, with seven children of her own. Christina had chosen to sleep on a bunk in one of the girl’s rooms, while Don stayed in the guest room. The decidedly upper-class neighborhood had left him slightly jealous—but he’d survive. It was kind of Kate to have taken them in. In earlier years, Kate had been as beautiful as her sister Monica. Tall, blonde, round cheeks, full lips always turned up in a smile, and slow to anger. And although she was still attractive, the 20-odd pounds she had put on while pregnant with her two-year-old had been hard to shake. And over the years she had shortened her long, flowing tresses. Like her late mother, she was a graceful woman, born to a religious household, filled with compassion. She and Alan likewise had raised their family “in the gospel.”
Kate, the oldest of nine children, had always tried to mother
Monica, sixth in line. Maybe it was because they were such opposites. Monica had always been the rebellious, promiscuous teenager. She stopped going to church at fourteen, experimented with illegal drugs, wore revealing clothes, flaunted her body (which was ravishing), and constantly fought with her parents. By age 16, she was pregnant with Christina, which ended any hopes she had for a modeling career.
“Jake, come back!” called Kate to her 16-year-old just as Don appeared at the base of the stairs leading to the kitchen.
Jake turned, clearly irritated. “What?” Then he caught sight of his uncle and regretted the rebellious tone he’d used. Then he flashed a sheepish grin. “Oh, hi Uncle Don.” Don smiled back, still a little sleepy.
“You forgot your backpack, honey.”“Thanks, Mom.” Jake grabbed his pack, slung it over his shoulder, and slipped out the back door to catch the bus.
“He’s a straight ‘A’ student with an attitude,” Kate smiled.
Don smiled and nodded. “I don’t know a thing about straight ‘A’s,’ but I can relate to the attitude.”
“How did you sleep?”
One of the smaller children interrupted their small-talk. “Mommy! I want more milk.”
“The bed was much better than the county jail,” Don replied. “Thanks again for letting us stay.”
“You know you’re always welcome.”
“Mommy, I want more milk!!”
Kate spoke back over her shoulder as she took the milk carton from the fridge. “You can stay as long as you need to.”
Christina, seated at the table, looked at Don with pleading eyes. “Daddy,” she asked for at least the sixth time that week, “can’t I go back to my old school?”
Don looked on helplessly. “We talked about this last night, ‘Tina,” he answered impatiently. “I’ll walk you to school on my way to look for a job.”
Christina sighed and propped her chin on her hands.
“More, please,” piped up the two-year-old.
Kate poured more cereal and milk into the child’s bowl, eliciting a “Tank you” from the little one.
“You are so polite,” Kate praised. “Okay, kids, almost time to leave for school. Jenny’s mom’s walking with you today.”
The neighborhood, unwilling to take any chances since the recent abductions, had organized a security patrol to accompany the younger children to and from school.
Don hurriedly gulped down a bowl of cereal, then showered and dressed. “Ready?” he asked Christina.
“I’m waiting for you, Daddy.” They were headed for the door when Christina noticed the 14-year-old, still home, seated at the computer in his father’s study. “Danny, why haven’t you left for school yet?”
“I’ve got it!” he said triumphantly as he typed away, barely acknowledging Christina’s question. Alan had asked Danny to test his new computer security system. Danny had been at it three full days, almost every waking moment. He seemed to have been born with a gift for computers. Kate and Alan encouraged it every chance they could, though they kept a watchful eye out when the kids were online.
Danny was an oxymoron—an admitted computer geek and a star athlete. On the outside he could be tough, but inside, he was a softie. His dishwater-blonde hair, personable disposition and deep-set hazel-green eyes attracted endless phone calls from aggressive 8th grade girls hoping to win his affection. “Dang!” Danny sighed, slumping back onto the chair. “So close.”
“Missed your bus again?” Christina teased. “Kate’s going to charge you.” Her voice raised a decibel or two, the better for her aunt to hear. Kate had warned that she’d charge her children a dollar each time they missed the bus and she had to take them to school (though she rarely cashed in on the threat).
In the three weeks since Christina had moved in, she and Danny had become fast friends. There was a chemistry between them, something that balanced them out. Danny had demonstrated more than enough I.Q. for both. Yet Christina seemed to have stockpiled all the emotional maturity, love of life, spirit and spontaneity. In concert, they made a fearless duo.
Meanwhile, Don and Christina had reached the mid-point of their 15 minute walk to Brookside School. Christina looked forward to the times she could be alone with her dad so they could talk. She hadn’t told him everything she wanted to the night before. Now was her chance.
“Daddy, why were you in jail?”
Don exhaled and bit his bottom lip. “Last time I saw you, your mother and I were arguing about the house. Well, I took off, had a few beers, and got pulled over on my way home.”
“Mom called the cops...told them you were drunk,” replied Christina, her eyes straight ahead. “She was really mad.”
Don’s voice raised in anger. “She called the cops?”
“Yeah, she did.” Too late, she realized what she’d done; she’d just made trouble for her mother. For so much of her life she’d worked to keep the peace between them, and now, in this instance, she’d blown it. But Don, sensing her dilemma, shrugged and let it pass.
“I wasn’t drunk. I only had two, maybe three beers.”
“I know. So why did you go to jail?”
“The cop that pulled me over checked my reflexes, gave me a sobriety test, lectured me about domestic violence. I didn’t take it too well—mouthed off at him. When they found out I wasn’t drunk, they still wanted to get me for something so they checked my insurance. It was a lousy week late. If I’d just paid it, I wouldn’t have gone anywhere.”
“Dad!”
“Yeah, it was kind of stupid. I know.”
Christina reached over and squeezed his hand. “I love you, Daddy.”
Two blocks from the school they stepped out into the street around a moving van, backed over the sidewalk in front of a unkept paintedbrick home. In the window hung a “For Rent” sign.
“Look, Dad. Let’s go see.” Christina towed him down the driveway. A man in his early fifties limped up from a side stairway that led to a basement unit. His wiry body seemed stiff and frail. His eyes were sunken back into his skull, accentuating his gaunt, thin-lipped face. Parachute-like ears billowed out on each side of his head. Smiling, he approached, trying woefully at pleasantries.
“Good morning,” he croaked, his protruding Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down his skinny neck.
“You have the apartment for rent?” Don asked.
“Sorry, I forgot to take down the sign,” he replied, peering back
over his shoulder. He rotated the mug he held in his hand in a tight
circle, twirling the ice cubes that swam in his drink. Then when he
figured they no longer held any particular fascination, he looked up
and added, “I do have other properties that may be available. What
are you looking for?”
“This was close to my daughter’s school,” replied Don. “But we
won’t be ready to move in for a few weeks.”
After another abbreviated twirl of the ice, the man said, “I think I
might have just the place. Why don’t you leave your name and number and I’ll call you if it comes available.”
“Nah. We’ll stop by again.” Don took Christina’s hand as they
turned to leave.
“You sure you don’t want to leave your number?” the man called
after them.
“That’s okay,” Don muttered over his shoulder.
The man turned and started up the ramp to the back of the truck,
where a young couple was sorting boxes. “Well folks, I have the contract for you to sign.” He transferred the mug to his left hand and
brought a paper from the pocket of his striped shirt, buttoned to the
top.
The young man reached into his pants pocket and got out his
wallet. “Here’s our deposit and first month’s rent.”
“So, you been married how long?” he asked the couple, one eyebrow raised, his head chocked awkwardly to the left as he squinted
at the check the handsome young man had given him. “Three weeks,” the young bride answered, fondly touching her
husband’s arm.
The newlyweds turned to a nearby stack of boxes and unfolded
the contract. Several minutes of silence passed as they scanned the
document, then they signed, folded and returned it to their new landlord.
“Well let’s see if we can get you unloaded.” The landlord returned the contract to his pocket and gave it a smug pat.
“Oh, you don’t need to help, Mr. Briggs,” the couple insisted.
“No, no. Glad to help.” He set the mug down. “And please, call me Melvin.” He glanced at a box; “Nancy,” it read. Hefting it up onto his concave chest, he headed for the apartment. With an amused chuckle, the couple each snatched up boxes marked “kitchen” and followed him into the house.
“I think we’ll like it here, Nance,” Paul observed. She nodded slowly, then flipped her long dark hair up out of her eyes.
Melvin toted his cargo into the bedroom. He took a deep breath and cocked his head once more. He was alone. Noiselessly, he reached down and slid open the box flaps and pawed through its contents. Seconds later, hearing voices, he quickly closed the box and glanced up at the ceiling as if he’d heard someone stirring above. Then he returned to the truck, his thoughts on the young girl; he remembered seeing her and her father somewhere before. But where?
Don and Christina came to a stop at the steps of the school. She swivelled and gave her father a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Bye, Daddy.”
“Bye, love. I’ll see you after school,” Don said. With that, Christina turned and skipped away toward a group of girls. Don was pleased. For several minutes he stood there outside the schoolyard, watching his beautiful daughter greet her friends.