“She saw me going to the handicapped bathroom and she said I could.” Melly turned, her eyes hopeful. “Can we get Stackers pickles at the store? And Kristenburgers?”
“Sure.” Rose wanted to know what had happened, though. If it was what had prompted Kristen’s email to her, about lunchtime, she didn’t know the details. “Why were you going to the bathroom? Was there a problem? I’m not going to do anything. I just want to know.”
“Ms. Canton said I needed a break. She calls it ‘me time.’ She says she eats alone on Friday, like me. She doesn’t mind, because that’s her ‘me time.’”
Rose knew the weekly schedule, but that wasn’t the point. On Friday, the teachers ate in the classrooms, because they made folders that got sent home with the kids, containing work from the week prior. Kristen, as a gifted teacher, wasn’t responsible for making any folders, but that still didn’t explain why she was eating with Melly. “So why were you eating with her? What happened?”
“She says I needed ‘me time’ from Amanda and Emily.”
“Were they teasing you?” Rose tried to put it together, like a puzzle.
“They were saying that Harry Potter is for boys, and I said, he’s not. They only saw the movies, so they don’t know. He saves Hermione from the bathroom. Remember, Mom? Like you saved me. I knew you’d come.”
Rose felt a twinge. “I love you, Mel.”
“I love you, too.” Melly twisted to the backseat and waved to John, who was asleep. “I love you, John!” she whispered, then turned back to Rose, cheered. “He’s cute, isn’t he?”
“He’s very cute.” Rose brightened. “I have an idea. How about we get some lunch, go over to the park, and have a picnic?”
“It’s not a sunny day.”
“You don’t need the sun for a picnic. It won’t rain.”
“Okay.” Melly nodded. “Then can we get the Kristenburgers?”
“Yes.”
“Yay!” Melly cheered, and Rose steered the car into the turn lane.
Two hours later they’d had a picnic at Allen’s Dam, found the reddest fallen leaf, and gone to the grocery store. Rose wanted to make one last stop before home, in one of the strip malls. She pulled into the lot, cut the ignition, and turned to Melly. “I thought we’d get some books.”
“Goodie!” Melly turned to John, who was babbling away in the backseat. “Johnnie, books!”
“Careful, it’s a parking lot. You have to hold my hand.” Rose grabbed her car keys and purse, and Melly was already in motion, climbing out of the car and closing the door. Rose went around to the backseat, unclipped John from his car seat, found his pacifier, and lifted him into her arms. “Hey, buddy, how’re you?”
“Bababsbsbsb,” he answered, and Rose kissed his cheek as Melly came around and took her other hand.
“Mom, can I lock the car?”
“Sure.” Rose handed her the car keys.
“Colloportus!” Melly pointed the key fob at the car.
“Good job.” Rose knew the basic Harry Potter incantations, since it was Melly’s second language. She dropped the keys into her purse and took Melly’s hand. “I want to get a book for me, and you can pick some out, too.”
“There’s a new one about Quidditch. My friend on Club Penguin told me. She’s Harryfan373 and I’m HarryP2009. She loves it!”
“Mel, do any of the kids in your class like Harry Potter? I would think there’d be a few.”
“William does.”
“Nice. Did you talk to him about it?”
“No. I only know because he has a Gryffindor beanie, too. It’s maroon like mine.”
“So maybe we can make a playdate with him.”
“Mom.” Melly rolled her eyes. “He likes the video games, not the books.”
Rose walked her toward the store. “A woman at assembly told me her daughter loves the American Girl books. She said they’re good.”
“They’re not.” Melly kicked a stone, sending it skidding across the rough surface of the asphalt.
“Have you ever read one?”
“No.”
“Do kids in your class read them?”
“All the girls do. They have the dolls, too.”
“Really?” They reached the bookstore, and Rose opened the heavy door. “So how’s it work? You read the book and you get the doll that’s in the book?”
Melly let go of her hand, skipping ahead. A woman standing at the octagon display of hardcovers looked up from behind her reading glasses, her gaze lingering a fraction too long on Melly’s face. Oblivious, Melly was already heading toward the Harry Potter books, in Fantasy. A cardboard Dumbledore presided over the section, his magic wand in hand. Behind him was a Hogwarts flag, its shield covered with fake spiderwebs.
“Mel, come check this out,” Rose called out, and Melly turned, her eyes bright and alert. She came alive in bookstores.
“Check what out?”
“This way.” Rose gestured at the children’s books section, a pastel-hued kingdom of pink mushrooms, cartoon parrots, and a papier-mâché cottage. “They probably have American Girl books, and we can pick some books for John.”
“I don’t want American Girl, Mom.”
“What about John? He needs books, too.” Rose smiled in an encouraging way, then walked toward the children’s department. “Follow me. Let’s do this, then go over to Harry Potter.”
“Okay.” Melly skipped ahead.
“Do you see the American Girl?”
“Over here.” Melly stood at a yellow shelf, her knees bent so they bowed backwards. It was her characteristic stance; she was double-jointed, one of the reasons she didn’t do well at sports.
“Find anything that looks good?”
“Nah.”
“Lemme see.” Rose came over and slid an American Girl paperback from the shelves. On the cover was a dark-haired girl in an old-fashioned straw hat. “Rebecca and the Movies.”
“She looks dumb.”
“Okay.” Rose shrugged, which was reverse psychology, the hallmark of professional parenting. “Maybe there’s a better one.”
“Here.” Melly slid one off the shelf and eyed the cover, which showed a girl with straight blond hair and a big smile, touching a butterfly.
“Lanie’s Real Adventures.” Rose thought it looked fine. “Wanna give it a try?”
“Amanda likes Lanie. She has a Lanie doll, too.”
Oops. “Amanda looks like Lanie, doesn’t she?”
“Yes.” Melly put the book back on the shelf, wedging it between the others with care. “Get it, Mom? You like the books that look like you. You get the doll that looks like you. You go on the website and make the doll that looks like you. Like Build-A-Bear, only with dolls.”
“Oh.” Rose wanted to kick herself, realizing the problem. None of the American Girls had a birthmark. She spotted one hugging a cute tricolored dog and picked it from the shelf, trying to recover. “Look at this one, about Nicki. She likes dogs, and we like dogs.”
“Bbsbssbsb.” John pumped his arm, and Rose put on a smile.
“He likes it. Let’s get it.”
An hour later, Rose pulled into the driveway at home, with sleeping kids, groceries, and a shopping bag of books. The clouds had darkened, and it looked like rain, so they were just in time. She cut the ignition and was about to wake Melly when she noticed a strange car parked in front of the house. It was a navy blue Crown Victoria, and in the next minute, two men in suits were getting out of the front seat and walking toward her car. They didn’t look like reporters or door-to-door salesmen, if there was such a thing anymore. She stayed in the driver’s seat and slid the key back in the ignition.
“Excuse me, Ms. McKenna?” one of the men called out, reaching into his pocket as he approached. He was young-looking, his sandy hair stiff with product, and he had on a dark suit and an edgy patterned tie. He held up a slim black billfold that flopped open to reveal a heavy, gold-toned badge.
Rose felt her heart stop.
“I’m Rick Artiss, with the District Attorney’s Office, Reesburgh County. Can I speak with you a minute?”
Chapter Thirty-six
Rose’s mouth went dry. Melly slept in the passenger seat, and John snored in the back, but for a split-second, she forgot they were there, that they even existed, and she was transported back to another time. Everything came rushing back, conflating the days of her life, collapsing the past into the present, making them one and the same, as impossible to separate, one from the other, as waves in an ocean.
“Mrs. McKenna?” The young assistant district attorney was frowning, and so was the other man with him, older and taller, in hornrims, a dark suit, and a preppy striped tie. Behind them, one of her neighbors, Sue Keller, was walking down the sidewalk with her dog, an old gray poodle.
Rose blinked, recovering. It wasn’t the lawyers or the neighbor that snapped her out of her reverie, but the poodle. His name was Boris, and he’d growled at Princess Google last week, scaring her and Melly. The incident anchored Rose in time, and she came zooming back into the present, shaken and seared, as if she’d traveled through the atmosphere of Earth itself.
“Whoa, don’t be afraid.” The young assistant district attorney closed the billfold and slipped it into his back pocket. “We’re just lawyers. We just want to talk with you for a minute or two.”
Rose signaled to him with a jittery index finger, mouthing hold on a sec. She thought of Oliver and Tom, who’d told her not to talk to the prosecutors, but she didn’t want to look guiltier than she did already. She slid the key from the ignition, trying to get in control.
“Mom?” Melly started to stir, and Rose leaned over.
“Melly, go back to sleep. Everything’s all right.”
“Okay,” Melly said, drowsy, and Rose reached for the door handle, got out of the car, and closed it behind her.
“Sorry, we didn’t mean to startle you.” The young assistant district attorney backed up, deferring to his older colleague, who stepped forward with a confident air. Deep crow’s feet creased his eyes behind his bifocals, and a bald spot left him with a sparse fringe of grayish-brown bangs.
“Sorry, young Rick comes on like a carjacker,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m Howard Kermisez, also an assistant district attorney with the county. Call me Howard.”
“Rose McKenna.” She shook his hand, managing a smile. Sue Keller eyed the scene as she walked by, with Boris sniffing the breeze.
“We didn’t mean to scare you. We thought you saw us. Sorry about that.” Howard leaned over, peering into the car. “And that must be Melly.”
“Yes.” Rose edged reflexively in front of the window, blocking his view.
“Welcome to Reesburgh. It’s great to see new folks moving in, especially babies. This is a great town, in a great state.” Howard smiled in a pleasant, if impersonal, way. “How are you and your husband enjoying it? He’s from Worhawk, I understand.”
“We love it, thanks. But excuse me, I have to get the kids inside.” Rose gestured behind her, as if that explained it all. She couldn’t go to jail because she had to make dinner, then there were fractions to practice, and another Flat Stanley to be pasted into the scrapbook, from a cell phone picture taken at the picnic. Melly had already thought of the caption: Flat Stanley Meets a New Newt.
“Of course, you’re busy now, I can see that. I have three sons. They’re older, but you know what my wife says? Little kids, little problems, big kids, big problems.” He smiled coolly, again. “So we won’t take long. We just have a few questions. You were volunteering at the elementary school last Friday, when the fire broke out, weren’t you?”
“No, wait, listen. I’ve been told not to speak with you. My lawyers are Oliver Charriere and Tom Lake.” Rose almost blanked on Tom’s last name, she felt so panicky. “You should call them if you have any questions for me. I have their card. Hold on.”
“I’m not sure we need to get formal about this.”
“I’d prefer it that way.” Rose opened the car door, grabbed her purse, extracted the card, and handed it to Howard. “Now, excuse me, but I should really get the kids some dinner.”
“Sure, okay.” Howard’s smile flattened. “I know Oliver well. I’ll give him a call, then get back to you.”
“Great,” Rose said lightly, as if it were a date, not an arrest. She opened the car door, and Melly was sitting upright in the seat, awake.
“Mom, who are those guys?”
“Just lawyers.” Rose reached in, unbuckled Melly’s harness, and let it retract. She wanted to get the kids inside and call Oliver, right away. “Let’s go, honey. Got your backpack? Get your backpack.”
“Like Leo?” Melly stretched slowly.
“Not as much fun as Leo.” Rose glanced over her shoulder, and the Assistant District Attorneys were getting back into their car. Sue Keller and Boris were on their way back, for the return trip. “Hurry up, let’s go.”
“Are you okay, Mom?”
“I’m fine, I just have to go to the bathroom. Let’s go, okay?” Rose hurried to the backseat, opened the car door, and unbuckled John’s car seat.
“Mom, don’t forget the bag from the bookstore.”
“I’ll get it later.” Rose slipped the seat belt over John’s head and lifted him up to her shoulder, where he flopped, staying asleep.
“But I want my books.”
“Then can you get the bag?” Rose checked over her shoulder. The sedan was still parked in front of the house. They hadn’t even started the engine.
“It’s heavy.” Melly had her backpack and was struggling with the bag of books.
“If you can’t do it, leave it. I’ll come back for it.” Rose glanced behind her, worried. Still, the sedan hadn’t moved. She felt her heart start to pound. Prosecutors, lawyers, charges. She had been here before. “Mel, please, hurry up.”
“Mom, you don’t have the Kristenburgers.”
“I’ll come back for the groceries.”
“Can we still have them for dinner tonight? You said.”
“We will, just hurry. I have to go to the bathroom, please.” Rose hurried down the sidewalk, reaching the sedan. The prosecutors were inside talking, and she slowed her pace so she didn’t look like a fleeing felon. “Mel, do you need help?”
“No. I can do it myself.”
“Okay, hurry.” Rose could see that Howard Whatever was pressing a number into his cell phone, and she wondered if he was already calling Oliver. Meanwhile, Sue Keller was catching up to them, with Boris yanking her forward. The cranky dog was getting close, so Rose hurried back to Melly. “Let me help, sweetie.”
“I was doing it, Mom. I can do it.”
“I know.” Rose bunny-dipped with John and picked up the plastic bag of books. “I don’t want Boris near you. Remember last time?”
Melly turned. “Oh, right. Norbert the dragon. Tried to bite me and Googie.”
“Yes. Come on.” Rose herded Melly up the sidewalk and past the sedan, where Howard was talking on his cell. The younger prosecutor sat in the driver’s seat, watching her. She turned with Melly onto their front walk and went up the flagstone path.
“Mom, we didn’t lock the car.”
“I will later. When I come back out.”
“Colloportus,” Melly said, anyway.
They reached the front step, where Rose set down the bag of books and handed Melly her purse. “Can you get the keys and open the door? I can’t with my hand.”
“Alohomora!”
“No unlocking spells, please. Use the key with the red thing on it.”
“I know, I see you do it, all the time.” Melly dug in the purse, found her keys, slid the key in the lock and twisted it, then pushed open the door. “Did it!”
“Good for you. Close the door. I’ll be right back.” Rose left Melly in the living room with the new books, went upstairs and put John down, then hurried into her bathroom with her purse. She got out her phone, and Oliver’s number was still in
the text function. She highlighted it and pressed CALL. “Hello?” she said, as soon as a woman picked up. “I’d like to speak to either Oliver or Tom. I’m a new client. Rose McKenna. I was there today.”
“I’m sorry. Tom is in court, and Oliver is on the phone. May he return—”
“Is he on the phone with an Assistant District Attorney from Reesburgh?”
“I’m sorry, I’m not permitted to give out that information, but I can ask him to return your call.”
“Thanks.” Rose left her name and cell number, then hung up and dialed Leo’s cell. It rang and rang, then the voicemail came on. She told herself to calm down when the beep sounded, and she left a message: “Leo, I met with the lawyers, and two assistant D.A.s were here at the house. Give me a call when you can. Love you.”
Rose pressed END, then sank to the edge of the bathtub, her thoughts bounding back in time, a wild animal set free. She knew these woods. She had brought it on herself. She had it coming, truly. Her heart raced, she broke a sweat, and her gaze flitted around the picture-perfect bathroom, finding the his-and-hers pedestal sinks and the cornflower-blue accents in the shower curtain, which matched the hue of the thick bathtowels.
She had picked everything out for the new house, and seeing it all now, she knew she didn’t deserve any of it; neither the pretty Italian floor tiles, nor the overpriced shampoos on the rim of the tub. She’d wanted to start over, to have one last starting-over in a lifetime of starting-overs, of endless moving from apartment to apartment, and from base to base. The only difference in each place was the color of the bathtowels.
Rose blinked. Her mother lay on the bathroom floor in her robe, passed out again. She’d need to be awakened, picked up, washed off, sobered up. Long, dark hair hid her once lovely face. The bathtowels in that apartment were yellow. Then pink, then white. The bathtowels were the only thing that changed in the apartments where her mother lay on the floor, until one day, she couldn’t be awakened, at all.
Mommy!
“Mom?”
It was Melly, at the door. The door knob was twisting.
“Yes, honey?” Rose asked, coming out of her reverie.
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