David smiled. “I just might do that. Thanks, Bill.”
“Yuh. See ya.” Bill headed toward the lobby.
Johnson was already several feet beyond David when the tug of the leash prompted his master to follow.
Chapter Fourteen
David’s first conversation with Janice had occurred on a cool Sunday morning, seven months before in October. He’d been sitting on a bench in the courtyard, reading the newspaper. Johnson had been chasing a bee. The latch had clicked, and she’d stepped inside. Johnson had immediately bounded over, and Janice had knelt, arms opened wide to allow him all the access he desired.
“Hi, puppy,” she’d cooed. “Hi, you beautiful, beautiful dog.”
Whether it was the words or Janice allowing herself to be licked everywhere, Johnson had been taken with her. And this warmth had not diminished with time.
“Hi,” Janice had said to David when she eventually rose. “Do you mind if I sit here a bit, too?”
“Not at all,” David replied. His newspaper was still up, but he gave it a shake and carefully folded it onto his lap. “Nice day.”
She nodded as she sat down across from him. “Yep. Don’t know why I never come out here. I always forget this place is here.”
David recognized her – he’d certainly passed by her enough times since he’d moved in – but had no idea what her name was. Her face owned the hardened, distrustful look of a working girl that had seen it all and just wanted to be left the hell alone, but her body appeared delicate, almost elfin. She was short, barely touching five feet. And her hair was a natural bright blond, usually pulled into a ponytail that jounced when she walked, giving her that air of casual femininity that could drive men crazy. Today, it was hanging loose about her shoulders.
“You’re in F, right?” she asked. Her voice was soft, unassured.
“Yes. You’re 1D,” he replied.
“That I am. Are you Dave?”
“David. David Wilcott.”
She shrugged. “Apologies, David. Bill’s told me about you, but I can’t ever remember who’s who. I’m Janice.”
“J. Templeton,” David smiled. She shot him an odd look. “It’s what’s on your mailbox,” he added, a touch sheepishly.
She half smiled, and then her eyes roamed the garden, taking in the gaunt bushes and the few limp roses that were still clinging to life. “It was nicer before,” she stated.
“It was pretty lush until a couple weeks ago,” he answered. “Cold weather hit, everything began to shrivel.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?” she asked, pointing to the fountain. “At night. You must be able to hear it from your bedroom.” Her glance touched David’s bedroom window before meeting his eyes again.
“Doesn’t bother me. Sometimes Bill turns it off, sometimes he forgets. But I like it when it’s quiet, and I also like the sound of the water.”
“Easy to please. Must be nice,” she said, almost dismissively. Her eyes began to wander again.
David was ready to take up his paper once more when she asked, “Do you know what time it is?”
He leaned to the side so he could pull his watch out of a pocket. “Eleven fifteen.”
But Janice had emitted a giggle, an honest, ringing peal of amusement.
“What?” David said, smiling himself.
“I don’t think I’ve seen someone pull a watch out to check the time in years. Nowadays it’s always a phone.” Her hands flew up. “Sorry, sorry, I’m totally not makin’ fun of you.”
“I’m not upset,” he grinned. “I try to use technology as little as possible. Except for work, where I have to.”
Her eyes followed his hand as he returned the watch to his pocket. “I left to take a walk about an hour ago,” she said. “I forgot my phone, but didn’t want to bang back in to get it. My boyfriend’s inside, sleepin’ last night off, and he gets testy if I wake him up before he’s ready.”
David kept his expression neutral; the idea of sleeping past eleven on any day, even a Sunday, seemed impossible.
“He works nights,” Janice added quietly, almost as though she had read David’s thoughts.
And this is how nearly all of the conversations between David and Janice went. Standard pleasantries, innocuous statements, mild disclosures. She would step into the courtyard while he was there every few weeks, they’d talk, and then she would leave. Never once did she set foot in David’s apartment, never once was a line crossed when he was in hers.
Janice did eventually talk about Heck. She had to. An array of red and purple welts on her arms kept catching David’s eye as her long sleeves betrayed her, slipping down as she reached for glasses for their Cokes, sneaking upwards as she sat at her kitchen counter, elbows worrying the faded beige tiles.
“Sorry,” she said after a particularly long awkward silence. “Sometimes, I… things just happen to me.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve noticed,” he returned gently.
She nodded. “Yeah. Well, I tend to say the wrong things sometimes. I can’t seem to stop from…” She met his gaze directly. “Did Bill tell you about it?”
David shook his head. “Nope. Bill’s pretty quiet. If he’d said anything, I probably would’ve brought it up. But… I’ve seen marks on you before. Two months ago, you were wearing a ton of makeup on one cheek. We were outside; it was easy to see the bruising underneath. Janice, you don’t have to accept this.”
She looked away. “You don’t know anything, David. Best to keep it that way.”
“But can’t you…” His question faltered.
She was biting her lip, staring across the room at nothing. “I didn’t want you to find out. I didn’t want you lookin’ at me the same way as others who know look at me.”
“Have I looked at you any different the last couple of months?”
Janice remained inert for several long seconds. And then she answered, her voice thick: “No.”
“Well,” David said, “I don’t. I won’t. And this isn’t… it isn’t anything I’ll talk about with anyone, Janice.”
She nodded. “I was gonna ask you for that, but you beat me to it.”
David took a quick, careful breath. “I don’t know, maybe that isn’t the best way to phrase that,” he replied, immediately regretting his attempt at humor.
Janice stared at him then, almost laughing, almost crying. “Not funny,” she scolded as her face turned beet red from the effort of not reacting. “Cute, but not funny.”
Theirs was an odd relationship, yet at the same time a very normal one. Neighbors and acquaintances who shared bits and pieces of their lives, temporarily relieving stress while never having to fully interact outside of the Rainbow Arms. Heck knew that David and Janice talked, but didn’t care so long as it didn’t interfere with him. Genevieve was not so thrilled; she couldn’t comprehend what the two of them could possibly find in common to discuss.
Heck thought they talked about dogs and the other residents of the building. Genevieve knew that their friendship had attained a far greater depth than that, and hated that Janice could open herself up to David, never mind the vice versa.
Awkward, awkward. But on the very few occasions that Genevieve and Janice had met, the two women had ignored one another. Not so much because of jealousy, but because of an innate distrust each had for the other’s type.
David had been perfectly fine with this. It made things easier. And no reason needed to be more complicated than that.
Chapter Fifteen
Sunday morning brought an early alarm clock, a brisk shower, and breakfast eaten on the run.
David, however, left all of that to Genevieve. He accepted her brief kiss goodbye, rose to let Johnson out of the spare room, and then the two of them snoozed another two and a half hours until nine.
He’d been late for dinner the night before. Only fifteen minutes, but Genevieve hadn’t been pleased. The wine he’d picked out at the middlebrow liquor store on Dr. Longworth Avenue hadn’t been goo
d enough to atone for his sin of unpunctuality.
By nine thirty, he and Johnson were ambling south, his backpack bulging with the clothes he’d worn for dinner.
“What do you want to do today, boy?” David asked.
Johnson glanced at him, but didn’t offer any suggestions.
“Public square? You want to try the Frisbee again?”
Johnson continued to trot along, content for the moment, with no definitive thoughts regarding the rest of the day.
David shrugged, and they turned right on Smithfield. The evening hadn’t been a total disaster, at least. He’d thought long and hard en route to Genevieve’s, and had come to the conclusion that no good could come from bringing up his second confrontation with Detective Ormsby. Not only was there the Todd connection, but since so many of his questions had been focused on Janice… David could only imagine what Genevieve would make of that!
Johnson veered left onto Sixth Street ahead of him. After nearly sixteen months of sporadically following this route, he knew the drill.
The day was cooler than Saturday had been, and the streets were quieter. A few children were outside playing in front yards, but nary an adult was about. Sunday morning. Only ministers and bakers truly had to work on a Sunday morning.
David recalled entire weekends disappearing in a vortex of work not so long ago. Work, and then some serious play at night. How had he become that person? Or had that actually been who he was before he moved to Shady Grove?
And look at what all that hard work had earned him: nothing! Nothing, and more nothing.
But as the pair turned right on Piston, half a block from the Rainbow Arms, David felt disgusted with himself. How could he consider what he had to be nothing? He and Johnson had everything they needed: a home, a beautiful town in which to live, his Grandpa, their friends. A girlfriend who genuinely seemed to like him, at least most of the time. Perhaps Abby had been correct, and Genevieve really was trying to get it right, over and over again. Molding David and herself into the duo she felt they could be, knew they could be. Breaking things off temporarily so she could regroup, and gather herself with fresh energy so that they could try again and become better, more durable, stronger as a couple.
As he and Johnson stepped past the mailboxes in the lobby, David realized that he wanted it to be so. He yearned for the two of them to survive the constant skirmishes and face-offs. He loved Genevieve, and desired nothing more than for her to love him.
He had headed straight for the apartment door, but Johnson had other ideas. The dog was halfway down the passageway to the courtyard before David even got his key out.
“What is it, boy?” he called out. There was no reply, so David followed him around the corner. Johnson was standing by the gate, not pawing at it, but clearly determined to go inside. He glanced back at David, then at the gate again.
“Okay, okay.” David strode forward. “You could have chased any number of bugs on the way here, though.”
He opened the latch, and they stepped inside. Clair was there, seated cross-legged on the bench directly across from David’s favorite.
“Hi,” he said as Johnson did indeed go running after something. “What are you doing here all by yourself?”
She smiled. “Same as you. Not much. It’s a nice day, so I thought I would sit outside.”
David nodded. And then he walked to his bench. He set the backpack down before deliberately sitting himself. “How do you know so much?” he asked, the words emerging more brusquely than he’d intended.
Clair gazed at him, her smile still in place. The water in the fountain tumbled, Johnson’s jaw snapped as he leaped to grab a gnat, a light breeze feathered through the flowering bushes in the courtyard.
“What do you mean?” she asked ingenuously.
David took in her outfit: a dark blue jumper over a white blouse with a ruffled collar. He could just catch the black and white of her saddle shoes underneath two gently scraped knees. Was he truly questioning a little girl as though she had performed some criminal act? He wasn’t Detective Ormsby!
He softened his tone. “I guess it always seems like… like you say things to people that don’t make sense. And yet they do make sense. Sort of. Later, I suppose.” He shook his head. “And yes, I understand that what I’m saying right now doesn’t make much sense.” He met her eyes. “Why did you tell Janice that she should visit her mother last week?”
Clair uncrossed her legs, and began to swing them. “Why do you want to know?” she asked, her voice light.
David breathed out, wondering just what he was hoping to accomplish here. And where was Mrs. Rushen? “It just seems like an amazing coincidence – ” Careful, careful… “ – that you told Janice to go see her mother, and then Janice’s boyfriend was killed while she was out of town.”
But to David, the words he was speaking sounded idiotic. How could Clair possibly understand what he was getting at? And what could she know of abusers, of alibis and adults?
Her expression hadn’t changed. “Did Janice tell you I said that?” she asked.
His eyes narrowed. It was a good question. “No. I… I heard it from someone who… who overheard you.” He felt worse than an idiot, he was coming across like a busybody moron!
“Bill is the only one who could have told you that.” Her voice was clear, her tone not accusative.
“How do you know?”
She gestured toward the gate that led to the common area. “Only someone standing behind there could have heard what Janice or I said.” Her legs were still swinging, swinging, swinging. “I don’t mind. Bill and you are friends. He can tell you anything he wants. I know he thinks I’m strange, and I told you he doesn’t trust me. But I don’t mind any of that, either.”
“How did you know you’d see me today?”
Her head tilted. “How do you mean?”
“You whispered to me on Friday that you’d see me today. Maybe. Just before you left with Mrs. Rushen.”
This time it was Clair’s eyes that constricted as she thought about the question. “Don’t I usually see you on Sundays?”
“Sometimes. Not always.”
“I said ‘maybe,’ though. Maybe I was just hoping to see you today. I like talking with you, David. You know that.”
David was learning nothing here. If there was anything to learn, that is. “How about Genevieve’s name?” he said quietly. “When we first met. You’ve never told me where you heard it. How you knew it was pronounced that way.”
Her feet slowed and then stopped. After the constant motion of the past few minutes, it was almost disconcerting to David. “Why do you want to know?” she asked. She appeared confused. “That was so long ago.”
And for a girl her age, it probably would have seemed like years ago, he realized.
Johnson cantered by on his way to his favorite peeing spot, and both David and Clair followed his progress: surveying the ground, lifting his leg, checking afterwards to ensure that he’d marked his territory properly. He glanced around briefly, spotted another insect, and was off again.
“You would like Mrs. Jenkins,” Clair stated.
His eyes returned to her. “Would I?”
“She’s nice, like you. She’s lost things, too.”
“See?” David sat up. “That’s what I mean! How do you know I’ve lost things? And Mrs. Jenkins – how do you know that about her?”
Clair’s gaze was steady. “Am I wrong, David?”
“No! But how do you… It’s the way you say these things, Clair, with such confidence. Yes, I’ve lost things. But… I don’t know how you know this.”
“Mrs. Jenkins says that everybody loses things they care about. Parents, or friends, or jobs, or pets. She says that time takes away everything, but that the pain goes away with time, too. She read us a poem about it.”
“That seems like an odd subject for a first grade class.”
“Wally Smith’s grandfather was in that accident in March. The bad one, out on
the state highway.”
“Oh. Yeah, I read about it. Okay, that gives it a better perspective.”
Clair brightened. “See? That’s the same word Mrs. Jenkins used. And she didn’t even make us spell it.” She rose from her bench and approached David. Her hair lifted slightly in the breeze.
And then her hand reached out to take hold of his. It was warm, shockingly warm. “You will know yourself, David,” she said. “One day. Soon.”
That was it. Her hand had been retracted as soon as the last word was spoken. But for those few seconds, David had been mesmerized, utterly under the spell of this odd child who spoke so simply and yet with such wisdom, if wisdom was what this was called.
“Wha – ” he began to say.
But Clair had leaned forward to whisper into his ear. “Now are you going to tell me Genevieve’s last name?” she asked.
“No,” David replied in a gentle voice. “But I’ll trade you. Your last name for hers. An even swap. I’ve given up on guessing the first letter; I can’t even remember which ones I’ve tried.”
Clair had stepped back as he spoke. Her smile had returned, and she was shaking her head slowly. “I have to go now,” she announced. “I’ll see you again. Soon.”
“Don’t you know which day? Perhaps the time?”
Her smile widened. “Maybe I do. But maybe not. I don’t know everything, David.”
“But you know some things.” He scrutinized her countenance for clues, for a hint to anything that could explain this.
“I know I like you. Not many people deserve to be liked.”
David had been aware of that latter sentiment for quite some time now.
Clair had begun moving backwards toward the gate. “Goodbye,” she said tenderly.
And then she reached up to open the latch, pulled the gate toward her, and departed the courtyard.
Chapter Sixteen
It wasn’t until their fourth date that Genevieve began to open herself up to David. The first three times they’d gone out had been cautious forays for both of them: feeling their way, trying not to delve too deeply into the past, attempting not to invest too much hope in the possibility of a future.
A Shiver of Wonder Page 7