The apartment itself was better. A quick glance told him that it was small, although all he could see from the door was the tiny, galley-style kitchen, a part of the hall, and the living room–dining room combination, which the door opened directly into. The carpet was faded tan, and obviously cheap. The walls were basic white. But what he could see of it was immaculately clean, and it looked like a home, with comfortable if inexpensive furniture and dozens of thriving green plants.
Sara’s face lit up as she walked inside. As plainly as if she had spoken, Seth could read the word home on her face, and he wondered suddenly if Olivia had had to talk her into the move to LaAngelle Plantation. Olivia must have seen the same thing, because she leaned over to whisper something in her ear. Sara looked up at Olivia, and nodded solemnly.
‘‘Olivia! Is that you?’’ A woman burst through the apartment door, which Seth, the last person to enter, had not yet closed. The first thing he noticed was her red hair, obviously dyed, which was done up in some sort of kooky knot on top of her head that left the ends sticking up like feathers. Her gauzy purple pants and top caught his eye next. Only then, when she had brushed by him as though he wasn’t there, did he realize that she was tall, attractive, and from the looks of her maybe just a little older than Olivia.
‘‘Sue!’’ Olivia turned, smiling, and the two women hugged. ‘‘Thanks for watering the plants. They look great.’’
‘‘Hi, Sue,’’ Sara said, already on the way out of the living room with Chloe following close behind her. Both of them were dragging large, empty boxes.
‘‘Hi yourself, pipsqueak,’’ Sue called after Sara, as the children disappeared down the hall. Then she focused again on Olivia.
‘‘Tell me you were just kidding on the phone last night!’’ she demanded, stepping back from Olivia but keeping her hands on her shoulders while she looked with tragicomic intensity into her face. ‘‘You’re not serious about moving to some little backwater in Louisiana, are you?’’
One corner of Seth’s mouth turned down wryly as he closed the door. Although he supposed, from the perspective of Houston, a little backwater in Louisiana was exactly what LaAngelle was.
‘‘It’s where I’m from,’’ Olivia said excusingly, as her friend released her. ‘‘Sara and I are moving back to my old home.’’
‘‘Today? Don’t you know moving takes weeks— months ? These things have to be planned!’’
‘‘Sue, I explained the whole thing over the phone. We’re just picking up clothes and a few personal items today. Movers are coming next week to get everything else.’’
‘‘But you’re leaving today! What am I going to do for a best friend?’’ Sue almost wailed. ‘‘I’ll miss you!’’
‘‘I’ll miss you, too,’’ Olivia said promptly. ‘‘But we can talk on the phone. And you can come visit.’’
Seth felt a stirring of alarm at the idea—this woman didn’t look like anyone ever seen before in LaAngelle. Before he could take the thought any further, Olivia was introducing him.
‘‘Oh, my, I didn’t realize you had a new boyfriend,’’ Sue said, eyeing Seth up and down. ‘‘So that’s why . . . But what’s Mark going to say?’’
‘‘Seth’s my cousin,’’ Olivia said firmly, although she knew as well as he did that he technically was not. ‘‘And Mark and I have dated exactly twice. We’re really just friends. He doesn’t have anything to say about this at all.’’
Mark—he’d known there had to be a man, Seth thought. With Olivia, there had always been men.
‘‘If you say so, girlfriend. But I don’t imagine he would agree with that. Does he know about this?’’
‘‘I called him when I called you, and Anna, and Marybeth, and Dr. Green. . . .’’
‘‘What did Dr. Green say about your quitting your job?’’ Sue was instantly diverted.
‘‘He was very nice about it. He said he understood that I needed to get Sara settled before school started. He wished me well.’’
‘‘Mom, can we take my Beanie Babies with us today?’’ Sara emerged from the back part of the apartment to ask.
Olivia glanced at Seth. ‘‘Is there room? She has quite a few.’’
‘‘Sure.’’ Seth spoke to Sara. ‘‘Bring anything you like. Except the furniture. I don’t think there’s room for your bed on the plane.’’
Sara giggled. ‘‘Okay,’’ she said, and left the room again.
‘‘Plane?’’ Sue was mouthing at Olivia as Seth looked back at them. ‘‘His plane?’’
Olivia nodded.
‘‘Oh, my. And he’s sexy, too.’’
‘‘He’s getting married in two months.’’
‘‘To you?’’
‘‘No, nincompoop. He’s my cousin, remember?’’
Olivia was looking at him by this time, and from her expression she realized that he was perfectly well aware of what they were saying. Her cheeks pinkened. Seth watched with interest. He had rarely seen Olivia blush. She didn’t have the complexion, or the temperament, for it.
‘‘What do you want me to do?’’ he asked, pushing away from the door. Sue was eyeing him with a calculating gleam in her eyes that he had seen dozens of times before. He’d just as soon take himself out of her orbit.
Olivia put him to work clearing out kitchen cabinets, while she and her friend carried most of the plants down the hall to Sue’s apartment. Olivia was giving them to her, all except for a cactus garden that belonged to Sarah and a huge fern of which she was particularly fond. Seth guessed that, like the Beanie Babies, it was destined to go back on the plane with them.
Seth finished emptying the cabinets, and headed down the hall toward Sara’s bedroom. Just before he reached the open door, he got a glimpse of the little girls, who were sitting on the floor, apparently putting the contents of Sara’s small white chest into a box. He stopped just outside the room as he overheard part of their conversation.
‘‘Who’s that?’’ Chloe asked, holding a small, gold-framed picture that Sara had just removed from a drawer.
‘‘My dad.’’ Sara reached out and took the picture, handling it carefully.
‘‘I thought you didn’t have a dad.’’
‘‘Yeah, I do. It’s just—he and my mom are divorced, and I don’t see him much anymore. He lives in Oklahoma now, and he’s got a new wife.’’ There was a wealth of sadness in her voice.
‘‘My mom’s like that, only she lives in California. After they get married again, they don’t want you anymore.’’ Chloe was so matter-of-fact that Seth winced. Was that really what those children thought?
He retreated back to the kitchen so quietly that the girls never heard him, leaned against the counter, and took a deep breath. Guilt stabbed him again. He’d been seeing Mallory when Chloe came to live with him. Soon afterward, they’d gotten pretty hot and heavy. Chloe’s misbehavior had worsened as his involvement with Mallory had increased, he realized as he thought about it. Once they got engaged, she’d become unbearable. Seth wondered that he hadn’t made the connection before.
Chloe was afraid that once he and Mallory were married he wouldn’t want her anymore.
Olivia had seen it. She had told him Chloe felt unloved.
Seth felt like the biggest prick alive. It was suddenly as clear as a pane of glass to him that he had been neglecting his daughter.
The problem was, he didn’t know quite what to do to make things right. Something more was required of him, he thought, than just sitting Chloe down and telling her flat out that she was his daughter and he would always want her, whether he was married to Mallory or not.
He was still pondering the question on the flight back to Baton Rouge. In contrast to the nonstop chatter that had marked the flight to Houston, it was quiet in the plane for the return trip. Lulled by the drone of the engines, Chloe and Sara were both asleep in their seats, he saw with a glance around. Chloe’s head lolled sideways onto her shoulder while Sara’s rested back against the gray leather sea
t. Behind the girls, the enormous fern he had known Olivia would want to bring took pride of place. Next to it was a box filled with Sara’s Beanie Babies, with which the girls had played until they had fallen asleep. The rest of the gear was, thankfully, in the hold.
‘‘Is Sara okay with moving?’’ he asked Olivia softly, after checking again to make sure the girls really were asleep.
Olivia looked sideways at him. ‘‘She’s excited, I think, but a little scared, too. It’s hard for a child her age to change schools and friends and everything.’’
‘‘Did you have much work persuading her?’’
It was growing dark outside. The horizon was limned with vivid pinks and oranges and silvers, but up where they were the sky was nearly purple, and a handful of stars had popped out. Just enough light remained to enable him to see her clearly without turning on the inside lights.
Olivia had one leg drawn up under her, one hand on the armrest and the other in her lap, and her head rested back against the seat. She looked tired, faintly rumpled—and so beautiful that he couldn’t believe the woman he was looking at was the girl he had known for so many years.
‘‘I didn’t really have to persuade her. It was the possibility of a cat that did it, I think,’’ she said, not very clearly. Or maybe he had missed something. He’d been so busy looking at her that it was entirely possible.
‘‘A cat?’’ His question was wary. If, by chance, what she’d said made sense, he didn’t want her to know he didn’t know it.
‘‘Sara wants a cat more than anything in the world. We can’t have one in our apartment. I told her she could have one at LaAngelle Plantation. You don’t mind, do you?’’
‘‘Livvy, you don’t have to ask me if Sara can have a cat at LaAngelle Plantation. It’s your home. Sara—and you—can have anything you like.’’
Olivia smiled at him. ‘‘Sara will be thrilled.’’
‘‘I overheard them talking today, Sara and Chloe,’’ Seth said abruptly. ‘‘From something Chloe said—you were right. I think she does feel unloved. The problem is, I don’t know what to do about it.’’
For a moment she looked at him without saying anything. ‘‘Are you asking me for advice?’’ There was a note to her voice that told him their quarrel had not been entirely forgotten.
‘‘I guess I am.’’
‘‘My goodness, this is a first.’’
‘‘A watershed moment in our relationship, hmmm?’’ Seth said dryly. ‘‘Okay, Livvy, quit gloating. What do you think I should do?’’
‘‘Spend time with her. Do fun things with her. Don’t just drop her off to play tennis, play tennis with her. Get involved in her school activities. That kind of thing.’’ A sudden smile, quickly suppressed, made the corners of her mouth quiver. ‘‘Play Barbies with her.’’
Knowing when he was being teased, Seth shot her a quelling look. ‘‘I’m serious.’’
Olivia laughed. ‘‘All right, so I was kidding about playing Barbies. The key is for you to spend time with her in a way you both enjoy, I think. Let her know you like being with her. Hug her. Tell her you love her. And Seth . . .’’ She hesitated.
‘‘Hmmm?’’ He glanced at her questioningly.
She looked at him without speaking for a moment. He got the impression that she was hesitant to say whatever was on the tip of her tongue.
‘‘Go on,’’ he said.
‘‘Maybe you and Chloe and Mallory should spend time doing things together, too. Fun things. So Chloe can get used to the idea of the three of you as a family.’’
‘‘Good idea,’’ he said. And he knew it was. But he had trouble picturing himself, Chloe, and Mallory doing anything together that would not end with a tantrum from Chloe and a diatribe from Mallory. Suddenly he realized that he was having trouble picturing the three of them as a family, too.
And that gave him something else to think about all the way home.
CHAPTER 29
Donaldson, Louisiana—October 19, 1976
I HATE SCHOOL. ACCORDING TO THE CHIMES of the big grandfather clock downstairs, it was just after two A.M. Unable to sleep, Kathleen Christofferson lay sprawled on her stomach in the too-soft double bed in her grandmother’s guest bedroom, her head with its hated flaming-red mop hidden under a pillow, her hands closed into fists around folds of fresh-smelling white sheets. I hate school, I hate school, I hate school.
Little and skinny for ten years old, cursed with waist-length hair and freckles that all the kids teased made her look just like Pippi Longstocking, she had been, that day, the butt of jokes from the entire fifth grade.
Carrottop! Carrottop! Call the bunny rabbits!
It would help if her mom would let her get a pixie cut like a lot of the other girls so her hair wouldn’t be so noticeable, but her mom wouldn’t hear of it. Your hair’s beautiful, she said. You’ll be thankful for it one day.
Yeah, right, Kathleen thought with an inward snort. Like maybe if I were to get lost in a fog and needed somebody to find me, I might be thankful for it.
Everybody stared at her hair. This afternoon, some creepy guy followed her all the way to her grandmother’s house after school. Her hair was what had attracted his attention, she knew. Without her hair, and her freckles, she wouldn’t stand out at all. She would be perfectly ordinary, and that was what she wanted.
Be proud of being di ferent. That was her mother again. Her mom was full of little snippets of advice like that. Of course, her dad had had red hair. That was why her mother and grandmother both liked her hair so much: It reminded them of him.
He’d been a helicopter pilot who had died in Vietnam a month before she was born.
Her mom was a librarian. The school librarian. It was her mom who had suggested that Ellen Maddox, the most stuck-up girl in her class, read Pippi Longstocking at the beginning of the year, as a matter of fact. Ellen had showed the book around, with the picture of skinny, freckle-faced, red-pigtailed Pippi on the front, and that was when everybody had started calling her names.
Just ignore them and they’ll stop. That’s what her mother said. But ignoring them didn’t work. Kathleen had tried that, had tried it today in fact, by burying her nose in a book and pretending she was deaf. But they’d just kept on and on and on until she couldn’t take it anymore. To her eternal shame, she had finally burst into tears and run away to hide in the girls’ bathroom.
She wasn’t going back to school on Monday. She didn’t know how she was going to get out of it, but she wasn’t going back to school. She was absolutely determined about that.
Her mom was at a librarian convention in New Orleans this weekend, which was why she was staying with her grandma. Grandma was her father’s mother, and she was really old, like ninety or something. Kathleen loved her, though. She wished she’d known her father, Grandma’s son. Grandma said that she looked like him, even without the hair.
There was a picture of him in a brass frame beside her bed. Even with the red hair, he’d been handsome. Kathleen kind of thought she looked like him, too. Anyway, she hoped she did.
All her life it had been just her and her mom, living alone in their own little house, and Grandma, living alone in this big one two blocks away. When Kathleen had asked why they didn’t just all live together, her mom had said she and Grandma got on each other’s nerves.
Unexpectedly, the third step from the top of the stairs creaked, jerking Kathleen from her reflections. It was the one that always creaked, whenever she went up or down the stairs. She would know the sound anywhere. Coming out of nowhere in the middle of the night, the sound was enough to make the hairs rise up on the back of her neck. For some reason, or no reason really except she just was, Kathleen was suddenly very, very scared.
Grandma was asleep in her bedroom at the end of the hall. She couldn’t be coming up the stairs.
It was pitch-black with her head under the pillow. Kathleen couldn’t see a thing. After that one creak, she didn’t hear anything, either. Not another
sound. But she was positive, absolutely positive, that someone was in her room, which was the one closest to the top of the stairs.
She lay still, hardly daring to breathe. But to her horror she realized that she could hear breathing—in and out, in and out, not very loud but really, truly there.
Someone was in the room with her.
Suddenly the pillow was plucked right off of her head.
‘‘Peekaboo,’’ a man’s voice said.
Kathleen’s eyes popped open. Her mouth popped open. Starting up, she got just a glimpse of a weird-looking head and huge shoulders bending over her. Then, before she could scream, before she could run, a cold, wet, sick-smelling rag was clamped over her nose and mouth.
Kathleen was so surprised that she gasped, drawing in lungsful of the sweetish fumes. She gagged, coughing, and that was the last thing she knew.
He’d spotted this one coming out of a school. Her hair was beautiful—deep, flaming red. The sun had caught it, making it glow like it was lit from within. He’d never taken a redheaded one before, and he just couldn’t resist. He’d been trying to be so good, too, really he had. He’d thought a lot about his little fetish since the last one— Maggie—and he’d decided that he wouldn’t do it again. He’d even prayed to God in church to be delivered of his affliction. But prayers or no prayers, the urge had come on him with increasing strength in recent months, like there was a spring inside him that just kept getting wound tighter and tighter. He knew that if it got too tight the spring was going to break—and that’s just what it had done today.
The monster in him was once again on the loose.
Like Charlie Brown in Peanuts, he was a sucker for a little redheaded girl.
The thought made him smile. He was still smiling as he stuffed the little redheaded girl in a canvas laundry bag, and, swinging the bag with her in it over his shoulder, carried her right out the front door of her own house.
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