But he didn’t release them and Timmy thought he could feel the man’s arms trembling with anger. In a voice little better than a growl, he said, “Sandra, it’s not safe for kids back there. I don’t think I have to remind you what happened a few years ago. I know I certainly don’t want Pete back there and it’s becoming blindingly obvious that your son has taken the role of the neighborhood Piper, leading everyone else’s kids back there to get into all sorts of trouble.”
A hard look entered Mrs. Quinn’s eyes. “Now wait just a second — ”
“If you had any sense you’d send this little pup away for the summer like I sent Pete. It’s the only way to keep them out of trouble. I mean, what was your son doing back there on the other side of the trees? With a girl? Is this the kind of thing you’re letting him do behind your back?”
Timmy’s mother straightened, her eyes blazing. “Just what the hell are you saying, Wayne? That because we don’t shelter our boy and scream and roar commands at him around the clock that we’re doing a bad job? Is that what you’re saying? How about you mind your own business and let me raise my child how I see fit? Or would that be asking too much of you? He’s eleven years old for God’s sake, not a teenager.”
“Just what I expected,” Mr. Marshall said with a humorless smile. “All the time strolling around like you’re Queen of the Neighborhood, better than everyone else. Well, I’m afraid your superior attitude seems to be lost on your kid.”
“That’s rich coming from you. At least Timmy doesn’t live in fear of me.”
“Maybe he damn well should live in fear of you.”
“Watch your language in front of the children.”
“Fuck the children!” He wrenched Timmy’s collar hard enough to make the boy gasp. “You don’t keep a watch on them. You don’t care what happens to them. You let them wander and that’s how they get hurt. It’s bitches like you that make the world the way it is.”
The trembling in his arms intensified, spreading through Timmy and making him queasy. He tried to pull away but the man held firm. When he looked up he saw that Mr. Marshall’s face was swollen with rage.
“Let them go.”
He didn’t.
Timmy’s mother took a step forward, teeth clenched. “I said, let them go, Wayne. Let them go and get the hell off my property or we’re going to have a serious problem.”
Mr. Marshall dropped Kim’s wrist. Timmy felt the grip on his T-shirt loosen. They went to his mother’s side. Mrs. Quinn tousled their hair and told them to go into the kitchen. As they did, Timmy heard Mr. Marshall mutter darkly, “We already have a problem. But I’ll fix that. You’ll see.”
CHAPTER NINE
After Mr. Marshall stormed off, Timmy’s mother made the kids some lemonade and ushered them into the living room. Timmy noticed the ice clinked more than usual as she set the glasses down on coasters for them, her smile flickering as much as the lights. She switched on the television and changed the channel to cartoons. Spider-man twitched and swung through the staticky skies of the city. Rain drummed impatient fingers on the roof. Kim scooted closer to Timmy and, though pleased, the boy guessed the image of Mr. Marshall’s hands bursting from the trees was still lingering in her mind. Those hands had terrified him too. Even when he realized it was his friend’s father that he was looking at and not the mangled squash countenance of The Turtle Boy, he hadn’t felt much better. Or safer. Though Pete’s dad had never been the friendliest of people, it seemed he’d become a monster since the start of summer.
They watched cartoons for a few hours until Timmy’s father came home, cheerful though soaked from the hissing downpour. With a degree of shame, Timmy watched his father’s good mood evaporate as his mother related the day’s events. Kim shrank down further in her seat.
Eventually his father sat at the kitchen table with a fresh cup of coffee and called him over. His mother ferried a basket of laundry into the den and Kim watched with fretful eyes as he swallowed and slowly obeyed.
“Your mother tells me you were down at the pond today?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Timmy felt as if his chin were the heaviest thing in the world. It was a titanic struggle to meet his father’s eyes.
“Didn’t we discuss this? Didn’t I ask you to stay away from there?”
Timmy nodded.
“But you went anyway.”
Timmy nodded again, his gaze drawn to his shoes until he caught himself and looked up.
His father stared for a moment and then shook his head as if he’d given up on trying to figure out some complicated math problem. “Why?”
“We were trying to find The Turtle Boy.”
He expected his father to explode into anger, but to his surprise he simply frowned. “This is the kid you said you and Pete saw?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you really did see a kid down there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was everything you told me about him true, even the stuff about the wound he had?”
“It was horrible. He kept dipping it in the water. Said he was feeding the turtles.”
His father nodded and poked his glasses back into the red indentation on the bridge of his nose. “It sounds like one of your comic book stories, but I believe you.”
Timmy was stunned. “You do?”
“Yes. And I think the reason Mr. Marshall is so mad is because he’s been drinking like a fish the past few weeks. It doesn’t help to have you hanging around with his kid and making trouble.”
“But I wasn’t making tr—”
“I know, but the way he sees it you are. Wayne is going through a tough time, Timmy. His wife passed away, he started messing with…well, with bad stuff I don’t really want to go into. He drinks too much and it’s starting to get to him, to make him crazy, so I think it would be better to avoid him from now on.”
This had never occurred to Timmy. His mind buzzed with possibilities. “But what about Pete?”
A sigh. “Son, I think it’s time for you to start making new friends, like Kimmie there. Now wait — before you get upset. If you wanted to play with Pete I wouldn’t raise a hand to stop you, but I found out that Wayne put his house up for sale this morning. And with the way things are developing around here, he’ll have it sold in a heartbeat, especially at the low price he’s asking for it. So I don’t think they’re going to be our neighbors for much longer.”
Timmy was appalled. “It’s not fair. Pete’s my best friend.”
“I know,” said his father, clamping a hand on Timmy’s shoulder. “And God knows he’s not having an easy time of it either. It’s not right what Wayne’s putting him through.”
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind. I’m going to ask you now to stay away from Pete’s dad, and this time I want you to promise you’ll do as I say.”
Timmy was buoyed a little by this new alliance in the dark world his summer had become. “I promise. He scares me anyway.”
“Yes, I’m sure he does. He had no right to speak to you or your mother like he did. I’m going to go over there and have a few words with him.”
Timmy felt something cold stir inside him, an icy current in the tide of pride he felt at his father’s bravery.
“Don’t.”
His father nodded his understanding. “He’s a bully, but only with kids. He’ll think twice before crossing me, I guarantee it. He owes all of us an apology and I’ll be damned if I’ll let him be until I get it.”
“Are you going to fight?”
“No. That’s the last thing we’ll do. You know how I feel about violence, what I tell you about violence.”
“But…can’t you go over there tomorrow?” Timmy gestured toward the rain-blurred kitchen window where the storm tugged at the fir trees. “It’s nasty out there. You’ll get drenched.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not exactly bone dry as it is.”
“But—”
But Timmy wasn’t reassured. The storm was worsening, buffeting the house and blinding the windows. Lightning flashed, ravenous thunder at its heels, the sibilance of the rain an enraged serpent struggling to find entry through the cracks beneath the doors. It was the kind of weather when bad things happened, Timmy thought, the kind when monsters stepped out of the shadows to bask in the fluorescent light of the storm, drinking the rain and snatching those foolish enough to venture into their domain.
And his father wanted to do that very thing.
“Why don’t you wait until the storm passes?” he asked, though he could see the resolve that had hardened his father’s face when he shook his head and downed the dregs of his coffee.
“Timmy, there’s nothing to worry about.”
Timmy didn’t agree. There was plenty to worry about, and as he watched his father stand and steel himself against the weather and the things it hid, he felt his legs weaken. A voice, calling feebly to him from the far side of the sweeping desert of his imagination, told him that he would remember this moment later, that summoning it would bring a taste of grief and regret and guilt. And failure. It would etch itself on his brain like an epitaph, inescapable and persistent, haunting his dreams. He felt he now stood at the epicenter of higher forces that revolved around him in the guise of a storm, that this little family play was taking place in its eye, tragedy waiting in the wings.
“I want to go with you.”
Shrugging on his jacket, his father shook his head. “It’ll only agitate him further.”
“But you said he should apologize to me too, remember? You can ask him to apologize to me if I’m with you and I’d feel safer with you there.”
His father studied him for a moment, then a small smile creased his lips as he dropped to his haunches and drew Timmy close. He hugged him hard and the boy felt a comforting warmth radiating from his father, mingled with the smell of aftershave.
“Timmy,” he said softly, “I love you. You have no idea how hurt I am by what Wayne said to you. If I had been there I’d probably have punched his lights out, so I’m glad I wasn’t. Nobody has any right to speak to you like that and I don’t want you to ever take any of it to heart. Wayne Marshall is a sick man, and a coward. Remember that. Your Mom and I love you more than anything in this world and we’re proud of you. That’s all you need to know.”
He rose to his feet. The movement seemed blurry and strange through the tears in Timmy’s eyes. “Please,” Timmy whispered, but his father was already walking toward the door.
CHAPTER TEN
An hour passed.
Timmy sat in front of the television with Kim silent by his side.
His father had still not come home and the worry made him sick to his stomach. His inner voice chastised him for letting his father go alone, but he quelled it with forced reassurance.
And then the power went out, darkness thick and suffocating descending around them. Kim gasped and grabbed his arm hard enough to hurt. He winced but did not ask her to release him. He welcomed the contact.
His mother arrived downstairs following a candle she had cupped with one slender hand. The yellow light made her face seem younger, less haunted, and the smile she wore was as radiant as the flame she set on the coffee table before them.
“Don’t touch that or you’ll burn yourself, if not the whole house,” she told them. “I’ll set up some more candles so we can see what we’re doing. I don’t like the idea of losing you in the dark.”
Although she said it with humor, the phrase stuck with Timmy. Losing you in the dark. Was that what had happened to his father? Had he been lost in the dark? He was now more afraid than he could ever remember. Even more afraid than when he’d seen The Turtle Boy. He struggled to keep from trembling, something he was determined not to let happen. At least not while Kim was touching him.
“When’s Dad coming home?” he asked, and saw his mother stiffen.
“Soon,” she replied. “He’s probably managed to calm Mr. Marshall down and they’re discussing things man to man.” She didn’t sound like she believed it. “Wayne probably broke out the beers and the two of them are sitting out the storm and having a fine time.” She laughed then, a sound forced and devoid of hope. Timmy shivered.
“Why don’t you call and make sure?” he asked.
She sighed. “All right.”
He watched her, dread stuck like a bone in his throat as she picked up the phone and stared for a moment at the shadows parrying with the light. After a few moments she clucked her tongue and hung up.
“The phone’s out,” she told him.
Thunder blasted against the walls, making them all jump and Kim let out a little squeal of fright.
Mom sighed and set about placing pools of amber light around the kitchen. They made twitching shadows and nervous silhouettes of the furniture.
“I hope he’s okay,” Timmy mumbled and Kim scooted closer. She was now close enough for him to feel her breath on his face. It was not an unpleasant feeling.
“He’ll be fine,” she said. “He’s a big tough guy. Much bigger than Mr. Marshall. I bet if they got into a fight, your dad would knock him out in a second.”
Timmy grinned. “You think so?”
“Sure!”
“Yeah, you’re right. I bet he’d even knock some of his teeth out.”
“Probably all of them. He wouldn’t be so scary without those big white choppers of his.”
They both laughed and, as if the sound had drawn her, his mother appeared beside them and perched herself on the arm of the sofa. “You two going to be all right?”
They nodded.
“Good. I think I’m going to go see what’s keeping your father. Kim, if you want to come with me, I’ll walk you home. It’s not too far and you can borrow an umbrella if you like. I’m sure your mother is worried about you.”
Timmy’s throat constricted, his skin feeling raw and cold at the idea of being left alone while his mother and Kim ventured into Mr. Marshall’s house.
What would he do if they left him and never came back? What would he do if they left him alone and Mr. Marshall came looking for him? What if he lost them all in the dark?
“Okay, Mrs. Quinn,” said Kim. She sounded as if leaving was the last thing she wanted to do. She stood and Timmy opened his mouth to speak but nothing emerged.
“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” she said, with a look he couldn’t read in the candlelight.
He tried to make out her eyes but the gloom had filled them with shadows.
“I’ll go with you,” he blurted, scrambling to his feet. He looked at his mother. “Mom, can I go too? I don’t want to be by myself.” He felt no shame at admitting this in front of Kim.
“No, Timmy. I want you to stay here. We won’t be long.”
“That’s what Dad said and he has been gone long!” Timmy said. “Please, let me go with you. This house gives me the creeps. I don’t want to be here alone while you and Dad are over there with Mr. Marshall. He scares me.”
Again his mother sighed but he was already encouraged by the resignation in her expression. “Go on then, get your coat.”
He raced to the mudroom and returned with a light blue windbreaker.
“You may need something heavier than that,” his mother pointed out. “What happened to your gray one?”
“Ripped.”
Timmy started moving toward the door. He waited while his mother cocooned Kim in one of her overcoats. She emerged looking chagrinned, lost inside the folds of a coat far too big for her. Timmy suppressed a laugh and then his mother handed them each an umbrella. They clustered by the sliding glass door, looking out at a blackness broken only by small rectangles of yellow light, and listened to the crackling roar of a storm not yet matured.
“How come the neighbors have got power and we don’t?” Timmy asked.
“It happens that way sometime
s. The lightning must have hit the transformer box on the side of our house. Let’s go. Stay close to me,” his mother said, and tugged the door aside.
They filed into the raging night, huddling against the needle spray of the rain. The wind thudded into them with insistent hands, attempting to drive them back; the air was filled with the scent of smoke and saturated earth. With the door closed and locked behind them, they bowed their heads and walked side by side to Wayne Marshall’s house.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Despite their fears — and Timmy was in no doubt now that they all shared the same ones — Mr. Marshall’s porch was a welcome oasis from the storm. Timmy shuddered at the cold drops that trickled down his neck. Kim shivered, her hair hanging in sodden clumps like leaking shadows over the moon of her face. They snapped their umbrellas closed and his mother trotted up the three short steps to the front door.
It was already open.
His mother turned back to them, her face gaunt as she hurried them down from the porch and back into the rain.
“What is it?” Timmy asked, shouting to be heard above the shrieking wind. Sheets of icy rain lashed his face. Kim gave him a frightened look he figured probably mirrored his own. All he had seen as the door swung open had been a dark hall, broken at the end by the fluorescent glare from the kitchen. He was sure no one had been sitting at the table.
“Nothing,” his mother called back. “Nothing at all. But I don’t think they’re here!”
Timmy felt as if his head had been dunked in ice water. His teeth clicked and an involuntary shiver coursed through him. Over their heads, a plastic lighthouse struggled valiantly to keep its wind chimes from tearing loose. The resultant muddle of jingles unsettled him. Mr. Marshall’s weather vane groaned as it swung wildly from south to north and back again, adding to the discordant harmony of the turbulent night.
“Then where are they?” Kim shouted, her arms crossed and buried beneath the coat as she danced from foot to foot.
But Timmy knew the answer.
“The pond,” he said. His mother turned toward him and put a hand to her ear.
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