The windowed classroom doors on the second floor glowed from a streetlamp outside. The basement yawned before me, pitch black. “Shit.” I swallowed hard. Why couldn’t they have gone upstairs? “Shit.” With my heart galumphing like a herd of startled wildebeest, I started down the steps.
The flashlight’s beam illuminated only a couple of feet in front of me. “Jake,” I called out, my voice shrill with fear. “Ray!” I made it down the stairs and into the subterranean depths, where a constant drip, drip, drip splattered. A horrifying vision of dripping blood blossomed in my mind.
With my heart pounding a hysterical staccato in my throat, I swung the flashlight’s weak beam from one side of the cavernous space to the other. No hallways here, just monstrous piles of shadowed objects lurking in the bowels of the old building. The footprints I’d been following disappeared, the dust consumed by the damp concrete floor. The bare brick walls emanated the cloying, sweet-sour odor of decay.
“Boys?” I held my breath, but heard only the scrabbling of rats scurrying from the flickering light. I walked slowly, staying away from the tall support pillars in case someone might be hiding behind them. Something soft whispered across my face; its sticky tendrils clung to my hair. I screamed—from surprise more than fright—then my flashlight went out.
Surrounded by complete darkness, I shook the dead flashlight. “Damn.” Looking down, though I couldn’t see my feet, I felt my way through the dark room, moving, I hoped, in the direction of the stairs. The darkness seemed less complete up ahead, and I shuffled toward the hope of light coming from an unseen stairwell.
A sound made me look up. Harsh light blinded me. Hard hands closed around my upper arms. A wall of unyielding muscle blocked my escape. I screamed, this time from pure terror, and held my pink flashlight up in defense. It wasn’t much, but I fully intended to knock the vagrant’s brains out with it.
“Sweetheart, it’s me.”
Relief took the starch out of my legs. “Ian.” I sagged against him. I must have looked in danger of passing out, because he pulled me against his chest and held me tight.
“I haven’t found the boys,” I wailed. “I haven’t found them.”
Ian brushed my hair away from my forehead and ran his fingers through its length, gently sifting through the tangles. “Angela has them. They’re all right.” He pressed his lips to my temple. “Getting the scolding of their lives right about now.”
“Lizzie—”
“Angela took her home. Lizzie was standing outside the window, barking like a maniac when I got here.” Ian led me out of the basement and up the stairs with an arm around my shoulders, his heavy-duty high-beam flashlight showing the way.
“Where were the boys?” I huddled against Ian’s side and clung tight, gratefully letting him lead me out of this hellhole. I’d think about being rational later. “How did you find them?”
“They were going out the window as I was coming in.” He smiled, and I caught the glimmer of his white teeth in my side vision. “I think I scared the piss out of them. I hope so.”
“So Angela—”
“Drove up as I was tossing the boys out the window. I told her to meet us here.”
We reached the dark little room I’d first climbed into. I sniffed back tears. Now that the boys were safe and I wasn’t about to be killed any second, my stifled emotions threatened to erupt.
“Let me climb down first.” Ian handed me his big flashlight. “Then I’ll help you.”
When my Keds hit the red dirt below the window, I’d have crumpled to my knees, but Ian caught me. Adrenaline’s strength had deserted me, so I let Ian lead me to his car and guide me inside. He reached across to buckle my seat belt and gave me a gentle kiss.
“Thank you,” I whispered. The image of him with another woman kept me from saying more.
“Any time.” He closed the passenger door and got into the driver’s seat. An uncomfortable silence shimmered between us. With all my heart, I wished I could go home with him right now. I wanted to spend the night in his big bed and let his strength shelter me from the big bad world. But he had chosen someone else. Even if that betrayal had only been for one night, it was betrayal enough. Once again, I’d come in second with a man I loved.
And shit-fire, I realized what I had just admitted to myself. I loved the bastard.
For a moment, he looked like he was about to say something, but with a tiny shake of his head, he started the engine.
If I had any sense, I’d let him take me all the way home without saying a word. But a quiet little voice whispered inside my head. If you love him, you have to give him a chance to explain. “Ian.”
“Hmmm?” He turned toward me, one hand on the steering wheel though the car was still in park.
“I saw you at the restaurant the night you broke our date. Ben and I were there, and we saw you come in with a woman. Do you want to tell me what that was about?”
Then we could deal with the fact that she had also gone home with him afterward.
Ian leaned against his closed door, as far away as he could get and still be in the car. “First, why don’t you tell me what you were doing there with Ben? That’s not the kind of place people take their kids.”
“The kids weren’t with us.” I hoped to hell Ian felt half as jealous as I did.
He clenched his jaw. His face looked hard, like a stone statue of a Greek god. “I’m unsure why you’re angry about seeing me with another woman, when you were obviously there yourself, accompanied by another man. I guess I’m just slow, but maybe you’ll inform me—what’s the difference?”
I couldn’t believe he’d skirted the issue by putting the heat on me, when he was totally in the wrong. “Ian,” I explained, trying to sound patient, “the difference is you broke our date. I wouldn’t have been there with Ben if you hadn’t.”
“So...” he drew the long O sound out in a way I found incredibly pompous and irritating. “Anytime I’m not able to keep a commitment with you for whatever reason, you’re likely to run to Ben for comfort before the day’s out.”
“Ian, this conversation is not about me and Ben.”
“Oh?” His voice drew out the O sound again, deadly soft. “What’s it about, then?”
“I went to your house that night, after you broke our date to go out with that woman. I wanted to talk, to give you a chance to explain. But when I drove up, I saw her standing in your kitchen, wearing a slinky black robe.”
“Christ, lass, what am I going to do with you?” Ian’s gentle tone made my hopes rise that he could explain all of this away. “The woman is a business associate, nothing more. If you hadn’t been so busy avoiding me, you’d know that. This would have been so much easier if you had answered my phone calls.”
“Well, sure it would,” I snapped. My newly-risen hopes plummeted when he didn’t immediately explain-away the woman’s presence in his kitchen at midnight. “I’d have believed anything you said, without having to see with my own eyes what you were up to. Business associate, my hind foot. What kind of business associate spends the night at your house?”
“Casey.” His voice was quiet. Sad. “I think it doesn’t matter what I say. You’ve already made up your mind.”
“Then change it! Tell me why you stood me up to go out with her. Tell me what she was doing at your house that night.”
“Sure. Then you can tell me why your shirttail didn’t hit your back before you asked Ben to take my place.”
“Just forget it,” I huffed, staring out the windshield into the darkness. I should have known he’d argue like a lawyer, going on the offensive to keep from dealing with the real subject of the conversation.
Thank God we’d used birth control. “Take me home.”
Ian revved the engine more than necessary. “With pleasure.”
*
Monday evening, Ben came up the studio stairs to collect a backpack Maryann had left after her ballet class. “How did Melody keep up with all this shit?”
“It wasn’t easy.” I handed over the backpack. “It never is.” I looked at the room full of girls, some taking off ballet shoes and gathering their things to leave and others getting ready for class. Their harried parents rushed in and out, hoofing it from point A to point B and back again. “Kids are hard work.”
Ben sighed. “I had no idea.”
I patted his shoulder. “I’m sure Melody would be gratified to hear you say that.”
“I didn’t give her enough credit. Even though she didn’t work—”
“Hey, Buster, she worked, she just didn’t get a paycheck.”
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I know Melody worked hard. That’s exactly what I’m saying, isn’t it?” Ben put an arm around me and leaned his head against mine, heedless of the roomful of kids and the few parents who still hadn’t left. “How did this conversation get away from my complaints about being overworked and under-appreciated?”
“I’m sorry. I know you’ve got it rough, just like every other parent in the world.”
“If I could just have one day a week off. One afternoon. A few hours. Anything.”
The guilt-monster struck again. I could help Ben. It would mean giving up my Friday afternoons, but how could I refuse? I owed it to Mel, and maybe I owed it to Ben, too. “You mean,” I asked, “if I pick up your kids from school every Friday, and keep them till dinnertime, I won’t have to listen to you whine?”
“I’d be your slave forever.” He looked so sincere, I worried that he might drop to his knees in front of me, but thankfully, he didn’t.
“Okay, done deal. Tell Amy’s school I’ll pick her up at noon on Fridays. We’ll spend a little time together and then pick up the big kids, and you can catch up on work, or sleep, or whatever you need to catch up on.”
“Thanks, Angel. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. Now get out of here. I have a class to teach.” I turned back to my class, shaking off the bittersweet realization that life had gone on, even with Melody’s family.
Only a few girls were here, their pointe shoe paraphernalia littering the floor. “Where is everybody?”
Keely, a carrot-topped munchkin of a girl, looked up from ribbon-tying, her snub nose wrinkling. “Parent-teacher meetings. They’ll be a few minutes late.”
“Okay. I’ll find some fun music for us to warm up to while we wait.” While I scrolled through my iPod for inspiration, I glanced around and noticed Maryann’s ballet bag sitting by the door. She’d sent Ben for the backpack because she needed it to do her homework, but she hadn’t mentioned the dance bag, and probably wouldn’t think about it till next week. I grabbed it up and headed out the door. If I hurried, I could catch Ben before he left. “Y’all get your shoes on. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I started down the long, narrow staircase. Loud, masculine voices carried up the stairwell on a draft of cold air.
“What the hell is your problem?”
I recognized Ian’s pissed-off Scottish accent.
“You’re my problem!”
I couldn’t mistake Ben’s voice, either, not at that decibel. I doubled my pace down the stairs.
“How the hell am I your problem?” Ian’s Scottish burr was getting thicker by the second.
“You’ve got a hell of a nerve,” Ben yelled, “taking advantage of Casey when you know how much she’s been through.”
“You’re the one using Casey,” Ian roared. “She’s not free labor. She’s not your kids’ mother, and she’s not their nursemaid, either. Have you thought of hiring somebody instead of calling her every time you need bailing out?”
“What Casey is to me or my kids is none of your damn business.”
Lord God. Any minute they’d be punching each other. Right outside my studio. With more students due to arrive any second. I galloped down to street level.
Even the clattering echo of my wooden-soled winter clogs on the metal stairs didn’t drown out Ben’s voice. “Hurt her again, and you’ll answer to me.”
I made it onto the sidewalk in time to see Ian grab Ben by the collar. “Keep treating her like your personal servant, and I’ll shove your teeth out your arshole.” He released Ben with just a little force. Ben stumbled back, then leaped forward.
“Stop it!” I got between them and grabbed Ian’s arm. He shook me off, a barely-noticed mosquito. I put my butt into Ian’s crotch and shoved backward. I hurled Maryann’s ballet bag at Ben. He had no choice but to catch it before it hit his face. “You’re both acting like children.”
A car pulled up to the curb, and a girl hopped out, swinging her ballet bag over her shoulder. “Hi, Mr. Hansen,” she greeted Ben on her way up the stairs. “I’m late!” The girl’s mother leaned across the seat to wave, then drove away, apparently too distracted to notice the imminent fight.
“Ben, go home to your kids.”
Ben stalked toward his car, stiff-legged as a cur dog. Of course, just like a man, he had to toss the last word over his shoulder at Ian. “You stay away from Casey.”
“The hell I will.” Ian walked to his own car without even looking at me. “The hell I will.”
*
On Friday, Lizzie and I took Amy to McDonald’s then back to my house, where the three of us snuggled on the couch and watched cartoons until Amy fell asleep. She napped until it was time to pick up Jake and Maryann at school. Leaving Lizzie at home, the kids and I went straight from the school to the local movie theatre for the Friday Matinee. Free to kids twelve and under—the cinema made their money on concessions—this week’s movie was a rerun of Disney’s Happy Feet. In spite of my desire to support the community, I doubted the cleanliness of the soda fountain and popcorn machine, so I smuggled our own snacks in my biggest handbag.
Waiting in line to give money for my ticket and to show Jake and Maryann’s school IDs to the gum-popping ticket taker, we shivered in our sweaters and light jackets.
“I’m cold,” Amy whined. “Hold me. I’m tired of standing here.”
“Okay, sweetie.” I hitched Amy onto my hip, glad of her warmth and the camouflage she provided for the humongous shoulder bag that hid bottled water and Ziploc bags of popcorn.
“This is so lame,” Jake complained for the thousandth time. “I can’t believe you’re making me go to a kids’ movie.”
I didn’t respond to his attitude. I took a step forward as the person in front of me did.
“I want to see it,” Maryann piped up. “Aunt Casey, you’ll love it, too. There’s lots of dancing.”
“I hope none of my friends see me standing here.” Jake looked around as if he’d just robbed a bank and cops lurked behind every corner. “Why couldn’t I just wait for y’all at your house?”
I handed over cash for my ticket. “Because you disobeyed me the last time you were there. You’re lucky your father didn’t ground you for the rest of the school year.”
Once in the darkened cinema, we made our way down a nasty, squelching tongue of carpet that stank of spilled Coke and ground-in popcorn. We settled into our seats, with Amy on one side of me and Maryann on the other. Jake sat several seats away, pretending he’d come here alone.
The already-dim house lights went out.
Amy squealed in alarm and squeezed my hand. “Can I sit in your lap?”
“Sure.” I hauled her over the seat’s plastic arm and passed my handbag to Maryann, who dug out a Ziploc bag of popcorn. When the movie started, Maryann leaned against me. Even though I held Amy on one arm, I put the other around Maryann and snuggled her up. She looked so much like Melody, with her thick dark hair and brown eyes, but she hadn’t inherited Mel’s attention-getting gene. In fact, she seemed to be perfecting the art of invisibility.
Jake demanded attention by being hardheaded and difficult. Amy demanded attention by being loving and sweet. Maryann didn’t demand attention, but I should remember that she needed it anyway.
After the movie, I took the children home to their house. We walked inside, welcome
d by the savory aroma of spices wafting from the kitchen. We followed the enticing smell. The table was set with plates and silverware, and steam rose from a matching set of serving bowls and plates. Ben had cooked. An entire meal, vegetables and all.
“Wow, Ben, I’m impressed! Kind of unsure why you spent your kid-free day cooking, but...”
He handed me a glass of wine. “I thought I should thank you properly for giving me a full day of uninterrupted work time. Besides, I cheated. I cooked the meat on the grill and the biscuits are from a can.”
I took the glass and hung my purse on the back of a kitchen chair. “That works.”
“At least it’s not macaroni and cheese,” Maryann said. “Should I fix everybody’s drinks now, Daddy?”
Amy jumped up and down. “I wanna.”
Jake picked Amy up. “Come here, squirt.”
Amy pushed at his shoulders. “I am not a squirt.”
“Want to help me put ice in the glasses?” Jake made it sound fun by the inflection in his voice and the excited look on his face.
Amy bounced in his arms. “I can do that.”
“I wish Melody could see this.” I regretted the words the moment I heard myself say them. Thank goodness the kids hadn’t heard. They were too busy helping each other.
Ben put a gentle hand on my arm. “I’ve thought the same thing a million times. You know what I think?”
“No, what?”
“I think she can see them. I think that maybe somehow, she’s helping them get over her death and get on with living.”
“I hope so.” Tears pricked my eyes. “They still need her so much.”
Ben pulled me against his side. “Know what else? I think Melody knows you’re here for them when she can’t be.”
“Everything’s ready,” Maryann announced. “Come eat.”
Ben and I sat next to each other with the kids around us at the oval table with seating for six. Amy was on my right in her booster chair. Then Jake, then Maryann. The extra chair was on Ben’s left. I couldn’t help looking at it and wondering if somehow, Melody was sitting there.
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