The Fultz’s, the Whitaker’s, the Dwyer’s, the Facinelli’s, the Scott’s and all the neighbors from along Lowell Road, the handsome street they lived on, stood along the Fultz’s manicured lawn speculating about what had happened. They stood around the fire truck and the ambulance, talking quietly amongst themselves. They watched while Shelby was taken away on a stretcher in a black body bag. Mrs. Fultz tried questioning the attendants, who didn’t really tell her anything.
Mr. and Mrs. Fultz had been their next door neighbors as long as Marianne could remember. The Fultz’s lived so close that Mavis and Helen Fultz could call to one another across the driveway when the kitchen windows were open. The houses were only a few feet apart on that side. Mrs. Fultz liked to sit by the window with her cup of coffee, staring out at the garden that Rex had put in for them before he hurt his back. The garden was small but elegant. There was a cherub in the center that spewed water out of its mouth and small gnomes and elves were placed just around the base. It had stone benches they could sit on to watch the fountain. Mavis had hung a humming bird feeder on a branch of a tree and it was fun to watch them flitting around it. Rex had even created a flagstone walkway, flanked by low trimmed hedges and shrubs.
“She’s just a nosy old busybody.” Rex said, and scratched his crotch. “She hangs out around that window, afraid she might miss something.”
“You’re so stupid. What else has she got to do? With her legs so bad and all?”
They had gotten into the habit of talking out the window when Mavis couldn’t leave Shelby alone. Mrs. Fultz had problems caused by arthritis in her legs and wasn’t able to walk around much or even stand up without a walker. She sat at the kitchen table and kept her feet up to talk. Some days it was so bad, Mr. Fultz had to carry her to the daybed in the living room, and she had to stay there all day.
The Facinelli’s lived in a fancy house on the other side. Rex always called the Facinelli’s; “Mr. and Mrs. Rich Bitches.” Mr. Facinelli was an attorney and had his own practice on the twelfth floor in a building downtown. Facinelli & Messina. Pietro Facinelli and Franco Messina. Italians. Mr. Facinelli said to call him Peter. His name was Peter in English, he said, and his partners name was Frank.
The summer evenings were warm and long. Especially since Indiana had changed the time zone like the rest of the country. It didn’t get dark until after nine PM. The grown-ups sat out on the Fultz’s screened in front porch, and talked as they sipped coffee or iced tea, tinkling ice in their tall glasses. Rex brought his own six-pack of Budweiser and kept going back and forth to the refrigerator. Lightning bugs flickered in the yard and children squealed with laughter, rushing about trying to capture them. Marianne liked to sit and listen to the adults, but some of the kids were playing hide and seek and kept calling her. They all had popsicles that Mrs. Fultz handed out. Mrs. Fultz told Marianne to call her Aunt Helen. “What’s the matter with your tongue?” Mavis asked her, but Mrs. Fultz took her side. “Leave her alone, she’s just a little shy.” She leaned down and hugged Marianne.
“Raising girls is such a worry,” Mavis said.
“I love her like she was my own,” Mrs. Fultz said. “I’ve always wanted a daughter.”
Mrs. Fultz had a nephew, Leon, her only brother’s son, who was just like her own because she had never been able to have children. He’d lost his parents and his leg just above the knee, in a car accident when he was only twelve. Leon had been thrown out of the car and bore the brunt of the impact. He slid across the pavement and under the wheels of an oncoming car. Many of his bones were broken, including one shattered leg. His leg was so badly mangled that they had to remove it. Many of his internal organs sustained considerable damage as well. He was in extremely critical condition and his remaining relatives were told that he would die. He had gone into shock and had been deeply traumatized by the death of his parents. He made slow progress and eventually recovered. Mrs. Fultz brought him home with her as soon as he was able. No one in the family had argued about it. In fact, they were relieved that Helen had taken charge of the boy. He lived with his aunt and uncle like a monk, only going outside when he absolutely had to.
Leon’s mother and father had been fairly attractive but something obviously went haywire when the two genes combined. Leon had a pushed in face and eyes that were close together, crowding his nose. He had a long scar that ran right below his right eye and curved downward to his mouth. “He looks like a prize fighter,” Rex said.
“Alright, so he’s not so handsome. Handsome is as handsome does,” Mavis said, then added, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
Marianne pretended she was looking for four leaf clovers in the lawn close to the porch, even though it was getting dark, so they wouldn’t notice her and tell her to run away and play. Mr. Fultz, whose first name was Max, always had a cigar in his mouth. He puffed and chewed on one all the time. He had a peculiar habit of blinking his eyes while chewing it. Chew, blink, chew, blink, chew, blink. He was in his late fifties and had a sturdy build that hinted of a life spent on a farm. He considered himself an expert on whatever subject was being discussed. He owned a chain of exotic tea and coffee shops. He had come into family money and had invested in those stores. Rex said he spent his days driving around all over Central Indiana from one store to another picking up money. “Hard work,” Rex said, meaning it really wasn’t.
Marianne saw Mr. Fultz coming home sometimes with canvas bags, one in each hand, when the bank was closed. She could tell that the sacks were heavy. “Probably laundering money,” Rex said.
“He wouldn’t do anything illegal, Rex,” Mavis said.
Rex snorted. “Well, he seems to have you eating out of the palm of his hand.” He took a long drink out of his Budweiser can. “Look at the way he put the blame on me over those houses.”
“Now don’t get started on that again,” Mavis said.
“He’s gotta’ be doing something else. Can’t make that kinda’ money sellin’ coffee or tea.”
Way back, when Rex was still able to work and Max had just gotten his inheritance, Rex and Max were going to form a partnership. Max’s money would back it and Rex would do the work. Rex said he should’ve gotten the bigger share because any one could have money but to make things was special. The two of them formed a partnership called Fultz and Zachary, Ltd. They built houses, first one then the other, then they’d put them up for sale. They all thought they were going to be rich but the houses always seemed to cost more to build than Rex figured, and something always seemed to be going wrong. It wasn’t Rex’s fault. The building inspectors picked on him. Max was losing money and Rex wasn’t even getting a decent wage. So they dissolved the partnership. Max blamed Rex as if he had stolen his money.
Leon had also lost some money from what he had gotten from his insurance settlement in the business too. He had been awfully mad when he found out that Rex had lost the money that belonged to his uncle and him. The arguments started over again sometimes, and Leon always shouted at Rex that he had robbed them.
Leon was disgusted with the conversation. He limped off the off the porch using his cane, good leg first and went to where Marianne sat on the lawn. “C’mon Marianne, I know a good place to hide.” Shelby had been catching fireflies in a jar and there was a loud crash as she dropped the jar. She started to cry so the kids asked her to play hide and seek and let her be “it.” She could count well when she tried but she was likely to get tired and quit. “1, 2, 3, 4, 35, 36, 88, 89, 100. Here I come, ready or not.”
Leon could walk awfully fast with his artificial leg and his cane. “Where do you think we’re going?” he asked.
“To the woods, out by the old farm.”
He pulled her into the backyard. There was an old shed back there and he opened the door and went inside, pulling Marianne in with him. “C’mon in here, quick,” he said. He had pasted a lot of posters of motorcycles, surfers and para-sailers on the walls. Pictures of all the things he would like to do if he had both legs. He had a battery operated radio, some chairs and a small table in there. There was no electricity but he had lots of candles and a kerosene lantern.
“Welcome to Leon’s clubhouse,” he said with a flourish.
He closed the door, lit the lamp and sat in one of the chairs. Leon was almost twenty now but he was smaller than Rex or Josh.
“Come sit down with me.” He pulled her down onto his lap she pulled her dress down over her knees, nice and neat.
“Sometimes I go to the woods to play,” she said, swinging her legs back and forth.
“What do you do in the woods?”
“We play house. One time Josh came out to play too.” Marianne stared, wondering how she could lie down. The floor had a carpet but that shed was awfully small; it was going to be pretty cramped.
Leon sat her off his lap. “Marianne, listen to me carefully. You’re just a little girl. Don’t try to grow up too fast. Do you understand what I’m talking about?” He cleared his throat. “You listen to Uncle Leon, now”
She felt ashamed that she wasn’t big enough for Leon.
“You’re not my uncle,” she said.
“Don’t be mad at me. I knew you since you were in diapers.”
Marianne giggled.
“I guess your mother tells you not to be in a hurry to grow up too, doesn’t she?”
“I don’t tell her much of anything. She’s not home very much.”
“Do you understand what I mean about not growing up too fast?”
“Sure.”
He whistled a strange whistle. “I think you do.”
Marianne liked him talking to her straight like that. It made her feel grown-up.
He laughed. “I love you Marianne. Honest to God, I don’t know how old you really are. But no more playing house,” he said. “No matter who asks you, or if they offer you presents, and even if they offer you money, don’t take it.”
“Mama says I was born old, Uncle Leon.” She called him that because it made him laugh and made her feel good.
“You’re just a little girl. Don’t forget.”
“I don’t forget anything. I let her think I’m old if she wants, but with you I’ll be a little girl.”
“You can talk to Aunt Helen about things like this, you know. She knows you’re just a little girl. Uncle Max does too.”
The game of “Hide-and-seek” was over when they came out of the shed. “Why didn’t you come when I called you?” Mavis asked coldly.
“We didn’t hear you.”
“Why do you want to play with little kids?” she asked Leon.
“Because he can’t get any girls his own age,” Rex said. He cleared his throat and spat over his right shoulder.
“Leon can get any girl he wants.” Helen said, and put her arm around Leon’s shoulders.