Regarding Anna

by Florence Osmund

  “Oh, I know all about your parents, darlin’,” he said with lips curled in icy contempt. “I know about their connection to this house and, best of all, what’s hidden here.”

  I continued stepping backward until I reached a corner.

  “You’re bluffing.”

  For every forward step he had taken, I had moved two steps back, but eventually I had nowhere to go. I was halfway around the island—ten feet from the back door in one direction and ten feet from the entrance to the hallway in the other. Given his position directly across the island from me, he could have easily caught me before I reached either escape route, even if I had been able to run.

  He laughed. “Bluffing, you think? Think again.”

  “You won’t get away with this.” I couldn’t remember if I had already said that.

  “What, telling the police you threatened Henry? Oh, I’ll get away with it all right. Because my friend Naomi will back me up on it.”

  I was pulled back to a psychology class exercise I had gone through in school. I forced myself to relax—first my facial muscles and then my neck and on down my body—until I was able to collect myself and speak to him calmly. I kept my voice low and steady, taking on as much of a sympathetic tone as I could muster.

  “Elmer, I know why you’re doing this. You’re a desperate man, and I completely understand your motive.” My heart was beating so vigorously that I couldn’t hear my own words, but I kept talking anyway, hoping that what I was saying made sense and had the right impact.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I know about your son and your wife’s death.”

  A wave of red took mere seconds to ripple up his neck.

  “You don’t understand shit!” he said, almost choking on his rage.

  “But I do. How is your son?”

  “Stop talking about him!”

  “Is he doing better?”

  “Shut up!” he bellowed.

  Then his demeanor shifted. His eyes rolled skyward, and his body haphazardly swayed from side to side. He cried out, “It wasn’t her fault!”

  Both of his hands were now palms down on the counter, his arms stiff as metal rods. The veins on the top of his right hand stood out from the tight grip he had on what appeared to be a ring of keys.

  “It was my fault for forcing myself on you, Hazel! I’m so sorry,” he said through a prolonged wail. His gaze was still directed up, and I didn’t think he knew at that instant where he was or who else was in the room. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be here.”

  Then his voice transitioned from quivery and loud to soft and contrite as though something had broken the spell of his rage. “I tried to get him the help he needs, but I never could afford it. And he deserved that help.” He whimpered as if surrendering to his failure as a father. “He still does.”

  The atmosphere in the room turned eerily calm, sending shivers down my back.

  Elmer turned to me, and as abruptly as his remorsefulness had come on, it disappeared.

  “And you’re the one keeping my son from his treatment! So let’s just do this the easy way, you annoying little twit, or you’ll—”

  “Or she’ll what?” Tymon barked as he boldly walked into the kitchen, a foot-and-a-half-long pipe wrench dangling from his hand.

  Elmer turned toward Tymon, and the two of them sized each other up like two male lions competing for the same territory. Elmer didn’t take his eyes off Tymon. Tymon didn’t move from his wide stance just inside the back door. They both stood erect and silent.

  Without warning, Elmer bolted toward the hallway and disappeared. Tymon ran after him.

  “No!” I shouted after Tymon. “Let him go.”

  I heard the bang of the front door against Minnie’s copper umbrella stand and then the shriek made by the screen door Minnie had often said needed a little WD-40.

  I wanted to sit down but was too afraid to move.

  Tymon came back into the kitchen, gathered my crutches, and helped me to a chair.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “No.”

  “How did he get in?”

  I didn’t respond.

  “Do you know him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who is he?”

  “That was Elmer Berghorn.”

  “The guy who locked you out of your office and apartment?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “How did he get in here?”

  “I feel pretty stupid about this, but I thought it was you, and I opened the door without looking to see who it was.”

  “Gracie.”

  “I know. I know.”

  “What did he want?”

  “I think he had something to do with breaking in here. I think he knows about the Irish money, and I think he thinks I have it or know where it is, and he wants it.”

  “That’s a lot of thinking.”

  “I know, but that’s what I think.”

  “And what if I hadn’t come in when I did?”

  “I don’t know what he would have done.”

  “Gracie, you can’t—”

  “I know. It was stupid of me to open the door without knowing who it was, and I won’t make that mistake again.”

  His unrelenting stare prompted me to keep talking.

  “It’s okay now. He’s gone and—”

  “It’s not okay now,” he said. “I saw the look on his face. I’m going to call the police.”

  “No, don’t.”

  “But he was a threat to you. You can’t let him get away with that.”

  “He’s more of a threat to himself than me.”

  “It’s your call, but I don’t understand why you don’t want to report this.”

  I wasn’t sure I fully understood that myself.

  “He won’t be back,” I told him. The look on Elmer’s face when he had poured out his soul to his late wife had convinced me of that. I’d seen the gut-wrenching pain in his eyes when he assumed responsibility for his wife’s death—something I suspected he had never contemplated before.

  “You can’t stay here, Gracie.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “You said that after the break-in. You were wrong then too.”

  He wasn’t going to let it go.

  “Look, I have extra bedrooms. Come stay with me.”

  “And how long do I stay away?” My stomach was so upset, I was afraid I might be sick. “Tymon, I’m not leaving this house. It’s all I have right now.”

  He shook his head. “Then let me move in with you. I can take one of the rooms upstairs, and you can move down to Minnie’s room.”

  Move in with me?

  “Nothing more is going to happen.”

  “You’re being naive. He’s not going away as long as he thinks you’ve got something he wants. You may leave out your back door one day, and he’ll be holed up in the bushes or something or behind the garage when you’re getting into your car. You’re not safe here, and I’m not going to let you stay here alone.”

  Not going to let me? Who did he think he was?

  “Tell me you’ll stay with a friend then. Anything but staying here alone.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  Tymon got up and walked toward the door. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes with a few of my things. Lock this door behind me.” He paused. “Thirty minutes.”

  Now what? I didn’t want him moving in with me. I didn’t even know if I should trust him. After all, I had trusted Elmer.

  I locked the door and plunked myself back down at the kitchen table. Of course I trusted Tymon. But I still didn’t want him to move in with me. If Tymon knew about Elmer’s threat to tell police I had something to do with Henry’s death, he’d be making plane reservations for me to go to some other country right now.

  Had Minnie been here, she would have said, “It’s after noon. Pour yourself a Scotch, Gracie.” God, I missed her.

  Elmer’s behavior had frightened me—it had been like se
eing two, maybe three, entirely different people inhabiting the same body. I had never witnessed anyone become that emotional, that pitiful, and that desperate.

  “Desperate people do desperate things,” my mother’s voice whispered in my ear. Observing him behave like I just had made me think that desperation might have been Elmer’s driving force.

  If I allowed Tymon to move in, which room would he take? The only one with quick access to the downstairs was the one above Minnie’s bedroom, which would be right above where I’d be sleeping. I was supposed to feel comfortable with that?

  He’d said it hadn’t been her fault. Did his wife think she had caused her son to be ill?

  He’d be back soon. What was I going to do?

  Elmer knew about my parents, or had he said he knew about this house?

  I’d need separate space from him.

  He had mentioned Tymon. Should I tell Tymon this?

  I’d put a lock on my bedroom door.

  He called Naomi his friend. Were they in cahoots?

  The phone was ringing, but I didn’t want to answer it. I needed to figure this out. Shoot—it could be him.

  “Hello.”

  It was Naomi, and she was talking so fast I had to strain to understand her.

  “He just stormed in here saying, ‘Tell Danny to meet me at the house.’ Then he grabbed something from his desk drawer and ran out. I thought you should know. Gotta go. My other line is ringing.”

  I heard a car door slam and scrambled for my crutches. When I peered out the window, I expected to see Tymon’s car in the driveway. Instead, there were two cars, and I didn’t recognize either one.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Roommates

  My heart pounded so hard my chest hurt. I was frozen in the spot where I stood, too afraid to look out the window again. There was a knock at the back door. I waited. Another knock.

  “Gracie!”

  It was Tymon’s voice. But who was with him?

  “Open up. It’s me.”

  “And who else?” I asked through the door.

  “Let me in, and I’ll explain.”

  “No.”

  “Gracie, it’s me. I’m alone. Let me in.”

  I crept to the back door and peeked through the curtains. Just Tymon was standing there. I unlocked the door but not the security chain.

  I glanced past him. Only one car remained in the driveway. “Whose car is that?”

  “A friend of mine’s. He’s going to leave it here for a few days so it looks like there are more people in the house.”

  “Another car just left. Who was that?”

  “That was Jack. Carl, the owner of the car sitting in your driveway, needed a ride back to his house. Gracie, everything is okay.”

  “Where’s your car?”

  “On the street.”

  I stared into his eyes, which were full of compassion. Feeling a little stupid, I unlatched the security chain to let him in.

  He chuckled. “I’m glad you’re being more cautious about who you let in, but really...”

  “Get in here. I have to tell you something.”

  I told Tymon about Naomi’s phone call.

  He didn’t say anything for several seconds.

  “Sit down, Gracie.”

  His gaze was so intense, I had to look away.

  “How do you feel about having a few boarders until things get resolved?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “I’m pretty sure I can get three of my poker buddies to stay in the other upstairs rooms for a while. That means four more cars going in and out of your driveway—lots of activity—and four able-bodied men around in case there’s trouble.”

  An hour earlier, I hadn’t wanted one person staying with me. Now he was suggesting four. My head told me this was absurd and not to agree to it. But my stomach was saying something entirely different.

  “Can I use your phone?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  One by one, Tymon called Jack, Otto, and Carl to ask them if they would help him out by staying in the rooms for a few nights. I did not attempt to stop him. When he was done, he turned to me and said, “I have loyal poker buddies.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Before we go upstairs and see what needs to be done for their arrival, I have to ask you what you want to do about Berghorn.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did he do anything to you that could result in him getting arrested?”

  “Sort of. He made one idle threat—”

  “What kind of threat?”

  “Not one that made me fear for my safety or anything...”

  “What threat did he make?”

  I didn’t answer right away—as much as I despised Elmer, for some reason I felt the need to protect the vulnerable side of him that had spilled his heart out on the kitchen countertop.

  “Grace.”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me what he said that threatened you.”

  “It wasn’t anything really. I may have—”

  “Tell me.”

  I repeated what Elmer had said about telling the police I’d had an argument with Henry right before his death.

  “That’s extortion, isn’t it? You would know better than I.”

  “Maybe.”

  “And you don’t want to press charges against him?”

  I thought about that for a moment and then shook my head.

  “Why did you tell me to let him go the other day?”

  “Because there’s another man inside of him that needs rediscovery right now.”

  “I don’t understand you.”

  “I’m pretty sure he’s done things far worse than this. I’d rather they get him on something bigger, down the road.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “If you change your mind, you’ll let me know?”

  “I will.”

  We spent the next half hour listing what each of us had to do before the guys arrived. I hoped they had simple needs, because I didn’t have much to offer them. We moved all my things from O’Gowan’s old room on the second floor to Minnie’s bedroom on the first, and the furniture in that room to the room above Minnie’s bedroom, where Tymon was going to sleep. Each of the other rooms had a bed, a small dresser, a lamp, and a chair. I put clean sheets on the beds, dusted off the dressers, and put all the extra towels and linens I could find in the upstairs bathroom.

  It was eight o’clock, and I was tired and hungry. I checked in on Tymon who was under the kitchen sink fixing the leak with the heavy-duty wrench that he had brandished like a weapon earlier.

  “I called Otto, and he’s bringing a pizza with him for us. I hope you like it loaded,” he said.

  “I’m so hungry, I could eat anything.”

  As he slipped out from under the sink, he said, “I’m done with my list. How about you?”

  “Done.”

  “Gracie?”

  “What?”

  “I know you’re uncomfortable with all this.”

  “I’m okay with it.”

  “No, you’re not, but as smart as I think you are, you have no sense for when you’re in a dangerous situation, and somebody’s got to look after you.”

  “Tymon?”

  “What?”

  “Thanks.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  The Connecting Puzzle Pieces

  If someone had told me a few days earlier that I’d be living with four men, three of whom I had never met before, I would have called that person crazy. But during the first night of their stay, I slept better than I had slept since Minnie had died three and a half weeks earlier.

  First thing the next morning, I quickly got dressed and grabbed some juice and a bagel for breakfast before my roommates began to stir. Tymon’s cohorts were younger than he was—somewhere in their forties. They were all bachelors, I was told—I wasn’t sure if any of them had ever married. Jack was an electrician, Otto a toolmaker,
and Carl a chef. Based on the way they interacted with each other—the way they bantered, slapped each other on the back, and joked around—I could tell they’d known each other for a while. Their camaraderie was enviable.

  I spent the day arranging my things in Minnie’s bedroom, careful not to disturb her things too much or change the way she had the room organized. It was hard to be in her room—where she had slept, kept her personal things, and died. The dirty laundry in the hamper, her toothbrush in the bathroom, the half-read book on her nightstand were all painful reminders. I couldn’t imagine throwing any of her things out like they were trash.

  I finished in Minnie’s bedroom a few minutes before Fern arrived with a pizza—I’d almost forgotten she was coming over. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was sick of pizza, having had it twice in the last twenty-four hours. At least the one she brought wasn’t “loaded,” like the one that was still lying in a heap at the bottom of my stomach. We agreed to talk before we ate.

  The first thing I did was explain the activity in the backyard, where Tymon and the gang were rebuilding Carl’s transmission.

  “They look harmless enough. How long are they going to be here?”

  “As long as Tymon thinks I’m not safe here alone, I guess.”

  “You don’t sound too happy about it.”

  “I’m sleeping better, and that’s a good thing, but... Anyway, let’s talk about Essie. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about her. When you last met with her, she was on the brink of telling you something important and then changed her mind.”

  “Right.”

  “What if we could do or say something to make her change it back?”

  “Like what?”

  “If I knew something that would change a person’s life, I would be more compelled to tell them if I knew they were going down the wrong path by not knowing. Does that make any sense?”

  “I’m with you,” Fern said. “So let’s say, for example, that Anna is really your mother, and your mother Rosa kidnapped you after Anna died.”

  “What made you say that? Because bizarre as that sounds, I think that could be possible.”

  “I don’t know. Anyway, so let’s think about what path you could be taking that would cause her to spill her guts. It has to be something with big consequences.”