Puma

by Jorrie Spencer

  Ruth glared. “I’m going out.” She flounced off, up the stairs, and Callie was left with Madison and her question. Callie cocked her head. “No, I’m not Scott’s friend.”

  “You belong to Scott?”

  Recalling how last night Ruth had declared herself “Scott’s”, Callie winced. “No.” An emphatic no. She found herself choking out the question, “Do you?” She was getting an awful, creepy feeling about the absent Scott.

  Madison slowly nodded. “It’s okay though. He’s not a bad one. Even if he tells you not to talk. That’s why Ruth tries not to. But it’s hard for her.”

  What the hell? Callie couldn’t really understand what Madison meant, though it didn’t sound good, so she chose her next words carefully. Seven years old or not, Madison might be her best source of information. “So Scott told you not to talk?”

  “Not me. I never talk in front of him. He thinks I don’t speak.” Madison’s blue eyes grew bigger, as if she was in danger. “Don’t let Scott know I can, okay?”

  “Okay,” Callie agreed. “Why is it a secret?”

  Madison looked upward while she chewed on her lip. Her expression indicated she was thinking hard about how to explain it all to Callie. “Scott would have to tell me what to do then, and Dev doesn’t like that. It’s not good for my brain when my brain is still growing. Unlike his.”

  “Uh…not good for your brain, how?” At the child’s frustrated frown, Callie added, “If it isn’t good for you, I’ll certainly keep your secret from Scott.”

  Madison nodded, pleased at that, and Callie decided she had a few choice words for Scott for casting this shadow over Madison, even if it was a shadow that Callie could not yet make sense of.

  “Dev told me to never talk in front of Scott and then I’d be safer, and Dev’s smart. Smarter than most of Scott’s.”

  Callie felt a sick, sinking sensation in her stomach. Absent or not, Scott appeared to be a controlling person. “Who else is Scott’s?”

  Madison licked her lips and acquired that expression Dev and Ruth had when they clearly didn’t want to say anything.

  “Never mind,” Callie said quickly, unwilling to put this little girl in a trance. “Maybe, when Scott visits, I won’t talk either.”

  At that, Madison looked sad. “Dev says that only works with children.”

  “Ah. He might have a point. Only, what’s wrong with talking?”

  Madison shrugged her shoulders dramatically, a big rise and fall. “Scott doesn’t like it.”

  Huh. Well, Scott, whether he liked it or not, was going to get an earful from Callie.

  “Scott doesn’t sound like the best type of friend.” Callie racked her brain for an appropriate but neutral question for the child, something unrelated to Scott and talking. “So, who else is your friend? Besides Dev.” Kind of lame, but hopefully not trance-inducing.

  Madison blinked, then smiled. “Hannah.”

  “Does she live on your street?”

  Madison snorted as if Callie had asked if the sky were green. “No. She lives in Malibu.” At Callie’s frown, Madison explained, “Hannah Montana. I don’t have any real-life friends. Scott wouldn’t like it.”

  With that, Madison turned around and walked back into the den, stuck her thumb back in her mouth and stared at the TV. Seven years old, thumb in mouth, no friends because Scott wouldn’t like it. Callie didn’t have a good feeling about this at all. Her maternal instincts were aroused, and now she wanted to take Ruth and Madison away from this weird house. From Scott.

  Ruth came back down the stairs, now dressed, and wore a worried expression as she entered the kitchen. She clutched Callie’s arm and Callie tried not to look fed up. “What now, Ruth?”

  “Don’t be mad, okay?”

  Callie sighed. “I’m trying.”

  Ruth seized on this like it was a great reprieve. “Oh good. It’s just that we haven’t seen each other for a while and you’re a bit of a loner.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  Ruth ignored the question. “Listen, let’s go out and…” She appeared to search for what they would do. Usually, Ruth wanted to go out for coffee and cake, but that would give them an opportunity to talk. So it was a no-go.

  As Madison laughed at Sesame Street, Callie lifted her chin towards the child. “We can’t leave a seven-year-old by herself.”

  Ruth flapped her hand towards the den. “It’s all right.”

  “Ruth,” said Callie, frowning.

  “We can wait until Dev’s finished running if you want.”

  “You don’t care?” Callie didn’t hide her disapproval.

  “Madison never does anything.” This statement appeared to explain everything, but at Callie’s gaping mouth, Ruth dropped her voice and added, “She doesn’t talk properly, you see. Scott says she’s autistic.”

  Autistic, my ass, but something warned Callie not to dispute this with her sister. “All the more reason to stay until Dev is back.”

  Ruth smiled. “Okay! See we can agree on things.”

  Callie squinted a little as she asked her next question. “When do I get to meet Scott?” She expected Ruth to, at best, fob off the question, or perhaps throw a fit.

  Instead, Ruth’s face brightened even further. “That’s a great idea, Callie.”

  Hmmm, Callie’s second great idea in as many days.

  “Besides, I should tell him when there’s anyone hanging around the house, even if I do know them. Right?” Ruth picked up the phone off its cradle and walked away.

  “Right,” murmured Callie. Hanging around? She’d thought she was visiting, but whatever the case she was going to eavesdrop on this telephone conversation of Ruth and Scott’s.

  As she moved to follow her sister, Dev walked through the front door, dripping sweat and looking like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  He’d kept his head clear during the run. Mostly by closely observing everything around him. The leaves, the squirrels, the small lake he passed by. The asphalt path he ran along. The blue jay.

  When that hadn’t been enough to distract him, he had mentally chanted: don’t think, don’t think, don’t think.

  He was turning into a blithering idiot.

  The newest woman, Callie, was staring at him and he couldn’t even bring himself to look at her. Instead, he wiped the sweat from his face with his T-shirt.

  “Good run?” she asked.

  Answerable. “Yes.”

  “Thanks for the pancakes.”

  He met her gaze then, blinking as he waded through the mass of obstacles that made up his brain and found this morning’s activities—he’d made everyone pancakes.

  “I’m the cook.” He tried for a smile, but probably didn’t make it past a grimace.

  “You like to cook?”

  Answerable. “Yes, thanks.”

  She was watching him too carefully. “Thanks?”

  God, sometimes Ruth was perfectly right. Don’t talk.

  “I need a shower. Ciao.”

  “Dev?” Callie’s voice stopped him halfway to the stairs. He should have ignored her, but it was hard. He was so damned hungry for someone new.

  “Can Madison speak?”

  Cold panic invaded. He should have told the child not to talk this morning, prevented it last night. It would help if he could keep his brain straight. “No,” he managed, trying not to choke on his denial.

  “Is she…?”

  “Autistic.” He grabbed that word, held on, because it protected Madison. “Yes.”

  Callie gazed at him, eyes wide and warm and amber. Really a delightful color and in another life, he would have been quite taken by her. “I still like her, Dev.” The words were cautious, but Callie didn’t argue the point about autism. That was the important thing and he could breathe more easily knowing it.

  “She’s a good kid. Just…” He didn’t know what to say. Different? God knows whoever came to this house was different, and not in a good way.


  “Dev,” said Callie quickly. “Who’s Scott?”

  Dev stiffened. Impossible to explain, and yet his mouth spoke the words as if they came naturally to him. “He’s a good friend of mine.” He walked backwards to the stairs, then suddenly turned and dashed up them. Mention of Scott always left him in a state of confusion, but Dev was alert enough to feel embarrassed by his strange behavior.

  Instead of jumping into the safety of a long, cold, mind-numbing shower, he heard Ruth’s voice.

  Wrong.

  She shouldn’t be on the phone. Almost of its own volition, his hand wrenched the door to her room open. She immediately stood, one palm held up in surrender while her other hand gripped the phone. “It’s okay, Dev. I’m only talking to Scott. He’s glad I phoned.” Her arm shot out towards him, phone in hand, as she offered him proof. “He wants to talk to you.”

  Dev’s gut twisted, but he took the phone. He didn’t keep Scott waiting. After all, Scott was a busy man. When had Scott become a man? Last year? Dev could swear he’d been a boy… Fuck, brain, shut up.

  “Dev? It’s me.” Scott sounded concerned, and not all that old. “Have you met this sister of Ruth’s?”

  Dev swallowed so he could speak through his dry throat. “Yes.”

  “Is she asking questions?”

  “Yes.”

  Scott swore.

  Dev broke out in a sweat again, but he had to try to protect this innocent woman who had stumbled upon them, who could still get away unharmed if only she’d leave immediately. So he prevaricated, though it hurt to go against the rules. “Not so very many questions, really, Scott. Not very interesting.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Give the phone back to Ruth.”

  It took a moment for Dev to unclench his hand from the phone as Ruth retrieved it. She cast him a short look of commiseration, before she was back speaking to Scott with her usual animation.

  Dev managed to find his way to the shower and ran cold water, staying there until his teeth chattered. It didn’t do much to clear his mind, though.

  Because his mind no longer belonged to him.

  Chapter Four

  It was time to read his notes. Dev hated doing it, hated the way it made him feel, but steeled himself for the task. Because he needed to know what was true and what was the illusion Scott had cast.

  Dev dried off, wrapped a towel around his waist and walked out of the bathroom, almost running into Callie who seemed to appear out of nowhere.

  Her gaze drifted down his chest before she lifted her face to look straight at him. There was something like admiration in that short assessment, and he should have been flattered that a beautiful woman admired him while he stood half-naked before her. Yet he observed it all from a distance, given that he had no sexual drive to speak of.

  It wasn’t in his nature.

  “Are you okay?” asked Callie.

  Dev realized he’d been staring, as if she was the answer to something, though what that answer could be, he didn’t know.

  “Of course I’m okay,” he said brusquely. “Do you mind if I get dressed?”

  The flush rose quickly to her cheeks, but he had no time for regret. If he didn’t keep his mind on track, he was going to forget to read his notes. And the reason he had to read his notes was because she’d arrived unexpectedly in his house. Without Scott’s approval. No one came here without Scott’s approval. Only Callie didn’t know the rules.

  He shut the door firmly behind him. Wished she’d vanish into thin air. It struck him, as it should have before now, that the way she’d arrived was exceedingly strange, crawling around in the high grass behind his yard. He’d thought he’d heard a cat. He’d been sitting outside in the dark evening, enjoying the simple smells, the simple sounds, trying to get rid of the noise in his head. The outside noise, unusual, out of place, had alerted him.

  Such an odd way to look for one’s sister. Though not as odd as his life, or Ruth’s life, or Madison’s.

  Notes, he reminded himself. He needed to stay on track or his brain wandered off to do its own thing, and he forgot what he wanted to accomplish. So, notes. He kept them in the false bottom of his desk drawer, though perhaps that wouldn’t really fool Scott or his colleagues. Still, no one had dislodged the strategically placed scrap of paper from the last time he’d closed it.

  He didn’t think.

  His fingers scrambled to push the mechanism up, and the drawer pulled out fully so he could reach his piece of paper at the back. Written to himself.

  At the top, in block letters, underlined, as if he were a drooling idiot who wouldn’t recognize that this was important—and perhaps that was exactly what he was, Dev thought grimly—he had written:

  STAY AWAY FROM ELEANOR AND MAX

  The names caused a shudder to course through Dev, but despite the frisson of horror associated with them, he couldn’t actually remember who Eleanor and Max were.

  Yes, the memory lapses made him sick. Move on.

  He kept reading, relieved that the numbered sentences were easier to understand.

  1. Scott rescues people, including you.

  Dev winced, because it must be true and yet he couldn’t remember being rescued. It made him feel dizzy, and with a sense of déjà vu, he wondered if he should just rip this paper up so he wouldn’t have to read it again.

  No.

  2. It is not useful to hate Scott. He’s not all bad. It could be WORSE.

  It sounded like something he’d write, a long time ago, before he became bitter and twisted with hate. He shied away from thinking about what “worse” with its capital letters meant. He’d learned not to force his brain into dark corners. It accomplished nothing.

  3. You love your family but you must not contact them.

  Okay. He didn’t much remember loving his family anyway. The idea of family just made him numb.

  4. Helen arrived September 30. Left January 24.

  A vague image of a redhead, face freckled, not young, not old. Gone.

  5. Ian arrived November 28. Left March 20.

  Another vague image. Brown hair, heavy build, sad eyes.

  6. Madison arrived December 3. Madison must not speak.

  This one was familiar, that last sentence even underlined. Dev breathed easier because he never forgot that in being autistic, Madison was not considered attention-worthy, and flew under Scott’s radar. Dev frowned, wishing he could remember where Madison came from. Did her parents miss her?

  7. Ruth arrived May 22.

  Dev’s heart rate kicked up. He could have sworn she’d only been here a week or so. Hadn’t he just recently known her name? So he read it again, to make sure.

  Damn, Scott was messing with him about Ruth’s arrival. Why did Scott want him to believe Ruth had only recently moved in when it had been two months ago? Because—Dev checked his watch—it was July now.

  Okay, okay, didn’t matter. He tried to shut down the rage that accompanied the realization that Scott was pushing him. Again.

  Instead, Dev picked up his pen and added number eight.

  8. Callie, Ruth’s sister, arrived July 11.

  Dev hoped that he wouldn’t be able to make sense of that sentence the next time he picked up this paper. He hoped for her sake that Callie would be gone.

  Callie learned that Scott was driving down from another city, four hours away, to deal with the emergency that was Ruth’s sister’s arrival.

  Not that Ruth put it that way. “He just wants to meet you,” she declared, as if Callie were concerned about Scott’s good opinion.

  She was not. In fact, she was spoiling for a fight. She and Puma, and she had to admit it was rather nice to be in partnership about this. Puma did not like this Scott, even at this distance.

  Despite her reaction, her desire to go toe-to-toe with Scott, a part of Callie wondered if it would be in Ruth’s best interest to get away before Scott arrived. Violence did Ruth no good at all. The truth was, Callie didn’t much like it. Wouldn’t be good for
Madison either. On the other hand, Callie felt uneasy about leaving Madison behind in this strange house. Even Dev didn’t appear to be comfortable in his own home. Perhaps, he, too, wasn’t safe. Puma wanted to rescue them all.

  However, Callie had to float the option of leaving. Ruth was the one she was responsible for. Dev didn’t seem to even like Callie.

  “Maybe we should go.” Seeing Ruth’s blank face, Callie clarified, “You know, take off. Leave.” Callie put it forth in as casual a manner as possible.

  It seemed like such a revolutionary idea that it still took a few moments for Ruth to understand what exactly Callie was proposing. When she did, a horrified “No!” was her sister’s reaction. At the baffled expression on Callie’s face, Ruth collected herself. “I mean, I really want you two to meet, Cal.” She twisted her hands, staring down like answers lay in them. “You see, Scott is very special to me.”

  “Oh, I’m beginning to think he’s special, all right. You’ve never had a boyfriend quite like this.”

  Ruth blushed, looking coy and gratified. Ugh. “Callie,” she protested too hard. “Scott is not my boyfriend. We’re just friends.”

  “Is he cute then?”

  Her little sister blinked, like the question needed to be puzzled out.

  “Ruth?”

  “Looks don’t always matter.”

  Since when? thought Callie. Looks had always mattered to Ruth. If nothing else, her past boyfriends had been attractive.

  “I like what’s inside Scott,” Ruth said quietly, uncharacteristically smug about it, and Callie wanted to shake her.

  They were in the kitchen, Ruth drinking water, Callie searching for some juice in the overcrowded fridge. “My God, you guys aren’t going to go hungry with all this food.” The fridge was packed full.

  Ruth smiled vacantly.

  “Should we make dinner tonight?” Callie wasn’t particularly good at cooking, but she liked working in the kitchen. There was a novelty in dealing with human food, and she would appreciate being kept busy by something while waiting for “special” Scott.

  “No.” Ruth dismissed the idea. “Dev cooks.”