The Lyre and the Lambs

by Sydney Avey

  “No, of course not. But I don’t think he meant to go as far as he did. I’ve used chain saws. I know that once you have it revved up and moving smoothly through wood, it’s hard to know when to stop.”

  “That’s easy, Andy. He should have stopped on his side of the hedge.” I look over at Roger, who knows when to stop talking. He just stands behind Andy like he’s waiting for Andy to figure out that he’s digging himself into a hole.

  “I will have a conversation with Carlo about boundaries. I think our bigger concern right now is figuring out who has moved in with us.”

  R

  We ask Detective Ramos to come and check out the campsite we found, not in any official capacity but just so we will have some idea of what we are dealing with. In the Thirties, hobos used to come up from the creek and beg for food. No one felt threatened. They made the ragged men sandwiches and sent them on their way. But this is the Sixties; it’s a different world. We have no easy explanation for a hastily made shelter on our property.

  We are a people looking over our shoulders at threats we never thought could possibly make their way to our shores, much less our backyards. When a chicken set out to defrost went missing, my mother’s generation blamed the hobos, those sad men burned out of their nests by a bad economy. When our peace is disturbed, we blame the kids, thoughtless young people who pitch their tents where they have no right to be.

  As I suspected, Manny tells us it is probably kids coming up from the creek looking for a place to drink beer or smoke pot. I don’t know. Rigging and stocking a shelter sounds a bit more permanent than Huck Finn and Joe making a pit stop on a life journey. Manny didn’t disagree that the binoculars we found stashed under the hedge might indicate that whoever had been here had interests that went beyond getting high but he asked us not to jump to conclusions.

  Suspicious as I am, I have to agree that it is ridiculous to think that Carlo, who is not above spying on Sophie through the hedge when she is sunbathing, would wedge his skinny old self between the tree and the hedge at night and train a pair of high-powered binoculars on her window. The detective is probably right. It’s probably kids.

  Lifelines

  Lifelines

  These days, dusk catches me unaware. At the end of the day when I sink into my chair to read the evening paper, the light goes quickly. I hear banging and scraping in the boys’ bedroom, and then silence. Roger comes through the door, wiping sweat off his forehead with the end of his tee shirt.

  “Well, that’s done. The car is all packed. I’m going to take a shower. The boys have gone to get a pizza.”

  Tomorrow, David is moving into his dorm room at Stanford. He’s been with us for seven months, but we’ve barely gotten to know him. Roger strips off his tee shirt and jeans and sits down on the end of the bed in his boxers. He runs a weathered hand through his hair, massaging his scalp.

  “Dee, I feel like I’ve failed my son.”

  “How? You helped him get into Stanford. How have you failed him?”

  “I’ve spent so little time with him and now he’s leaving.”

  “You’ve spent a lot of time with David. You practically live in the garage with him. And he’s not leaving. He’s just a few miles away. He’ll be here lots of weekends, I’ll bet.”

  Roger continues to worry his scalp with hard rubbing. He draws his hand down across his chin, feeling a day’s growth.

  “I forgot to shave this morning.” He reaches over and takes my hand. “David and I never really talked. Oh, we talked about this thing he’s trying to invent, but not about anything personal.”

  He drops my hand and stands up from the bed, wincing at a pain he gets in his knee sometimes. He walks around the room like he’s trying to work something out, soreness in a muscle or a mystery in his mind. I stay quiet.

  “I don’t think I know any more about him or what he’s interested in than I did before he got here. The difference is, now I can’t blame Dara for that, I only have myself to blame. I didn’t try hard enough to make a connection with him.”

  I think about the stretches of time Roger spends on the golf course, the evenings he and Andy enjoy each other’s company at The Echo, and the way he stays busy with home improvement projects, but I say nothing. I fold the paper and set it aside. Then I stand up and go wrap my arms around my well-meaning husband who did not get the opportunity to raise his child.

  “Give it time.” I lay my cheek on his bare chest. He hugs me and we release each other. “You know, David came to us at time in his life when boys close up to their parents. You still think of him as a boy you should be tossing a ball with. He’s a young man who is focused on making his own way in life.”

  Roger smiles at me, like a man who expected censure and got a reprieve. “How did you get so smart?”

  “Trial and error. Mostly error. Go take your shower.”

  Water blasts from the showerhead, and Roger yells above the noise. “Hey, Dee, can you guess what David’s decided to major in?”

  “Finance?” Of course this would please Roger.

  “Electronic Engineering.”

  R

  Pizza boxes pile up on the counter. We sit around the table, pulling salty meat off the remaining few crusts and popping the last of the olives into our mouths. We’re like a flock of birds that keep picking at crumbs long after we’ve had our fill. Sophie is making an effort to be part of the celebration, even as she deflects attention away from herself. She looks decidedly plain these days, if that’s possible. I’m alarmed to think that our environment is so toxic for her. She is not the brave girl who emerged from a taxicab last spring carrying a cosmetic case full of hopes and dreams.

  “Sophie?” What do I say now? I don’t want to put her on spot.

  She squares her shoulders as if she’s been preparing for this moment.

  Tread lightly. “Would you like to help me clear the table?” I shoo the rest of the family into the living room with the back of my hand.

  We stand at the sink, shoulder to shoulder, washing and drying.

  “Have you signed up for any fall classes?”

  “No, I want to be here to help Valerie with the baby.”

  “The baby isn’t due until November. There’s really not much for you to do until then.”

  “I can find ways to make myself useful. Anyway, I can’t afford the tuition, but that’s okay. I’ve been thinking I will take a typing course. That seems like a good skill to have, don’t you think?” She is pulling for approval. I tilt my head from side to side, disallowing a blessing but offering no objections. Sophie barrels on. “I can probably get a manual and teach myself at home.”

  “You could, Sophie, but if you want to make yourself really useful, I know someone who could use your help.”

  “Who?”

  “Laura. She’s starting up her girls’ leadership group again, and I know she would welcome your assistance.”

  Sophie frowns. “It’s a Bible study group, isn’t it?”

  “It’s that too, but the emphasis is on the unique gifts God has given women to lead their families and communities in the way of peace.” As those words tumble out of my mouth, I wonder how well I’m doing in this arena. Have I been a peacekeeper in my family? In my neighborhood?

  “I’ve never thought of myself as a leader of anything. I’m the ballet corps, not the principal dancer.”

  I see a spark of the old Sophie.

  “True enough. But, isn’t leadership required when you are pioneering a new dance movement?” The more I talk, the clearer I see the transition Sophie needs to make, from an obedient dance student who exercises her muscles on cue to a young woman capable of employing her mind and spirit with conviction and courage. Where Laura is in life right now, she’s the perfect person to help Sophie set her dancing feet on a new stage.

  We’ve finished the dishes. I take my last opportunity to give Sophie a gentle shove.

  “It takes courage to move in a new direction, Sophie. You have courage; yo
u just need to draw from it. Sure, take a typing class, but challenge yourself in other ways that will free you. Let our cousin Danny teach you how to drive the stick shift so you won’t have to depend on anyone else to take you where you want to go. And if you are afraid of being out by yourself, let Roger teach you how to shoot a gun.”

  “What?” Sophie gasps with shock and dissolves into nervous laughter.

  “I’m not suggesting that you shoot anyone who threatens you. Just knowing that you could shoot a gun if you had to can give a girl courage.”

  New awareness blooms in her eyes. “You have a gun?”

  “We feel no need to keep one in this house. Roger has a gun that he keeps locked...” Careful, “he keeps it locked in a case, in a safe place that’s not in the house.”

  Kaleidoscope

  Kaleidoscope

  Mike stands in the driveway and chortles at me. I look up from the punishing task of pulling a deeply rooted dandelion out of the adobe soil. At least he’s not witnessing me trying to conk a salesman on the head, like the first day we met. He reaches down, picks up a handful of dirt, and makes a face.

  “Are you here to make amends?”

  “To this?” He lets the dirt filter back to the earth through his fingers. “This soil could use amending, that’s for sure.”

  “To this.” I tap my heart. “Not one letter.”

  “Oh Dee, I know you get plenty of information on my activities.”

  I bring Mike inside and go wash up. Over tea, he tells me he’s back for a few months, but only to wrap things up with the Diocese before he makes a permanent move to Berkeley. The seminary has offered him a teaching post. More than that, Saint Mark’s in Berkeley has asked him to lead sensitivity groups in their student ministry. They are offering a small stipend and holding out the promise of a staff position at some future date.

  “What does this mean for you and Laura?”

  “Let’s not talk about that yet. I have something I need to ask you. My boys from last term would like to have a reunion, and they’d like to have it here.” He sweeps his hand around the living room. “They love your house.”

  I’m confused. “Are you starting a new session? Here?”

  “No, this is a one-shot deal. Do you think your neighbors could put up with us one last time?”

  “We won’t ask them.”

  “Maybe we should. Ask them, I mean.”

  “For their permission to entertain in our own home?”

  “No, invite them to the party. Well, it’s not for me to say, and the boys would want to meet together first, but it would be an opportunity for them to test their skills in the real world.”

  “With nasty neighbors who hate them?”

  “With people who have preconceived ideas. We haven’t made much of an effort to change their minds. Hard hearts won’t change, but sometimes the one you think is least likely to come around surprises you.”

  The next surprise is Valerie. She likes this idea.

  R

  In the middle of party planning, Valerie gets it into her head to add a dog to the family. She thinks that if we walk a cute puppy up and down the road, people will fall in love with us. Thirty seconds after she gets Andy’s approval, they are off to the pound. Three hours later, they are back with Boofus, some kind of a hound who runs in circles and pees all over the floor.

  “We can dress him up for Halloween and take him trick or treating. I’ll wear an orange tent and go as the pumpkin carriage.” Valerie looks down and addresses her big belly. “What do you think of that, my little pumpkin seed?”

  “Can I be Cinderella?” Sophie looks up from where she’s practicing her typing drills at the end of the dining room table. She’s stopped hiding in her room. More to the point, she’s been forced out of hiding. Her room is filling up with boxes of diapers and baby furniture in various stages of assembly.

  “That works,” Valerie says.

  “Then I’m Prince Charming.” David is home for the weekend. He sits at the table next to Sophie, watching her type. Six weeks at Stanford have transformed David. I’ve always suspected that he has a thing for Sophie, as the kids say. Discovering that his status as a foreign student makes him interesting to girls has boosted his confidence immensely.

  “Someone else will have to be the wicked stepmother,” I say. “I’m going as the Fairy Godmother.”

  We all laugh, and Boofus pees. Danny chooses this moment to walk into the melee from the garage, a Swedish-looking blonde on his arm.

  “Hi everyone.” He keeps talking but it is the amazing looking goddess at his side who commands our attention. “This is Ursula. Ursula, this is everyone.”

  It turns out that Ursula isn’t Swedish, she’s a German au pair who takes care of the Tanakas’ two-year-old, Simon. Ursula greets us in a heavy German accent and then joins Sophie’s little fan club. Like a kaleidoscope, we form patterns. The young ones fall to the center of the house and we tumble to the corners. I think Valerie and Andy are surprised when they find themselves in our corner.

  Welcome to parenthood.

  Mix and Mingle

  Mix and Mingle

  A year ago, four of us were unpacking boxes in this house, gazing through the glass panels past a new lawn that lay between the patio and the old orchard. We’ve been through a season of growth and harvest and learned some lessons. We were slow to collect the fruit from the trees, allowing a late crop to drop and lie on the ground. Now we live in an uneasy truce with roof rats, an offshore species of invader that travels the highway of telephone wires above our heads.

  Today, we are a messy tribe of seven and counting, spilling into the street on nightly walks with silly Boofus. When everyone is home and up for a walk, we look like the international entry in a holiday parade. Boofus leads, pumping his short legs, keeping rhythm with his jaunty tail. Hitched to Boofus by a slim lead, Roger and Andy trail behind talking football scores. Valerie and I nip at their heels, remarking on whose landscaping is thriving and whose could use some attention. Sophie and David drift in our wake, paying no attention whatsoever to their surroundings. Bringing up the rear, Ursula pushes Simon Tanaka in his stroller, Danny by her side paying close attention to every word she says.

  Today, we are out delivering invitations to our open house. We introduce ourselves to the new neighbors in Laura’s house. They accept our invitation on the spot and then return to their front porch swing to watch their little girls play dolls on the walkway. We’re making our way back around to the Dolds’ house where Lukas is bouncing a ball against the garage door. Good. I can hand him the invitation to take inside to his parents. I break away from our formation and motion the rest to continue on up the street.

  As I approach Lukas, I see the curtain in the front picture window flutter. Kay is like one of those prairie dogs I’ve seen at the zoo, the ones that stand for hours at the threshold of a hole in the earth, erect and watching for threats. The front door opens and Kay signals me with an urgent wave of her hand.

  “Dee, do you have a minute?” She strides with purpose down the walk and alongside the driveway to join me in the street. “Lukas, stop banging that ball against the house and go inside. Wash up for dinner.”

  Lukas gives the ball two more hard bangs against the garage door. Then he rolls the ball under a shrub and heads into the house.

  “Dee, I’ve been hoping for a chance to catch you. There is something I think you should know.”

  Whenever I hear those words, I know that somebody is going to tell me something I really don’t want to know. I put my hand in my wool jacket pocket and feel for the second-to-last envelope. I want to be ready to hand it to her at the first possible opportunity.

  “I think someone is watching your house.”

  “Huh?” You mean, besides you and Mr. Nosy next door? “What makes you think so?”

  “Whenever your family is away from the house, a blue van drives up and parks by the hedge in front of Carlo’s house. Whoever it is seems to know y
our schedule, because they always drive away before you come back home.”

  Kay’s words give me goose bumps. “Does anybody get out of the van?” I choose my next words carefully. “Or, does anyone come out of the house to talk to whoever is in the van?”

  “Not that I’ve seen. But it seems strange, don’t you think?” Kay seems to be seeking my approval.

  “A little strange; thanks, Kay. I’ll keep an eye out.” I pull her invitation out of my pocket and explain that we’re inviting the neighbors in for cocktails next Saturday, that there will be cider and cookies for the children, and that we hope they can come. Kay takes the envelope and opens it up. Pulling out the card, she inspects it, front to back. Valerie and I silk-screened these invitations ourselves in my studio. I felt quite proud of how they turned out until I see one in Kay’s perfectly manicured hand. Does handmade seem childish to her?

  “Well, you really are an artist, Dee. This is lovely. Thank you for the invitation. We’ll be there.”

  “Okay, good.” There are not very many people that make me feel tongue-tied, but Kay Dold is one. I don’t know why.

  Across the street, Roger is walking up the driveway. He jabs his forefinger in the direction of Carlo’s house and gives me an evil grin.

  I drew the short stick on this one. We actually drew straws to see who would be the one to knock on Carlo’s door and invite him and Marjorie. Sophie refused, saying there was no way she would get anywhere near that creepy old man. We didn’t press her. Now I wish I had declined to participate in this charade.

  As I stand in front of the Santorini’s mailbox praying for grace, Petey runs snarling to the end of his leash and Carlo pops out the front door. I think I have enough adrenaline gushing through my veins now to do this. Is this what grace feels like?

  R

  If there is one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that the thing you spend the most time worrying about never happens. Like two slices of toast, Marjorie pops out of the house right behind Carlo and I grab her and butter her up.