Some Other Child

by Buchbinder, Sharon

  Winston was waiting at the door with something white in his mouth. She could just see the tail end of whatever it was.

  “Drop it.”

  He stood there wagging his tail, mouth closed.

  She opened the door, let him in and made him sit in the kitchen. She yanked on the white thing, yelling at him to “Let go!” the whole time. He finally released it when she waved a biscuit under his nose.

  It was a handkerchief, slimed over with his saliva and covered in dark smears.

  “Yuck. Where did you get this?” She held the edge of it with two fingers. He just wagged his stubby tail, as if he had given her the greatest gift of his life. She tossed it into the garbage pail and rushed to wash her hands.

  Maybe she’d lose some weight and shape up a little before Dan moved back to town. Yeah, that was a good plan. Take her mind off her mother for a bit. Think happy thoughts. Dan. Back in town. Dan. Back in her life, back in her arms, back in her bed. She’d better take both pies to the office. Time to find the slimmer, sexier inner Sarah. She knew she was in there, somewhere. She fed the cats, and rummaged in her closet for sneakers and a sweat suit. Tunes, earpieces, leash, dog. Ready for a jog. The sun was just beginning to push away the dark night sky when she pulled up the hood to her jacket.

  They walked the tenth of a mile from the house to where the sidewalk began on the main drag, near the elementary school. Dozens of people were out walking, jogging, and strolling with and without dogs. Who knew the neighborhood was such an exercise friendly place? She should have started this ages ago.

  A heavyset man with a gray beard stood at the edge of the school baseball field with a fat yellow Labrador. He called and waved at Sarah to come closer. Probably just some harmless retired guy, but caution restrained her from getting to close to him. For all she knew he was homeless, or worse, a serial killer.

  “What’s your dog’s name?”

  “Winston.” Then it occurred to her that she should probably ask his dog’s name. She didn’t want to be in violation of some sort of doggy etiquette. “What’s your dog’s name?”

  “Polly. Does your dog want to play with her?”

  She looked down at Winston. He glared and growled at Polly. No. He did not want to play with Polly. He wanted to eat Polly. “I don’t think so.” Sarah leaned backwards to control Winston.

  “Why don’t you let him off his leash so they can play together?”

  “No. He’ll run away.” At this point, she was hoping to keep Winston from ripping Polly a new throat.

  “Would he stay and play if you brought a wiener with you?”

  A wiener? Did he really say wiener? This was getting creepy. “No. He’d still run away. I have to go. Bye.”

  The man started toward the sidewalk where she stood with Winston.

  Sarah yanked at the leash and hauled Winston away from poor Polly and her weird owner. She vowed not to speak to anyone else on morning walks. She’d be pleasant, nod her head, smile, but there would be no more conversations, especially about dogs and wieners.

  Winston rushed to greet and groin each person they approached. She finally got off the sidewalk and headed down a side street away from the crowd. She was tired and hadn’t even walked a mile.

  A large, green SUV passed by. A German Shorthair Pointer’s head and neck poked out from a rear window. The dog yapped non-stop. Just what they needed: a drive-by barking. For once, Winston didn’t respond. She had to try this a different time of day, when fewer people were out and about with their pets. This was nuts. Time to go home.

  The maple trees were on fire with gold and red leaves. The dewy grass soaked her sneakers. As the sun began to heat the lawns, steam rose as if fires smoldered deep beneath the surface. Black mailboxes smoked like chimneys, and tree trunks, leaves, and bushes gave off a hazy mist. The world looked magical, mystical, and marvelous. Too bad, she didn’t have a camera with her. Dan would have appreciated the moment.

  “Well, Winston, that was interesting, wasn’t it?” The Weimaraner gave her a big doggy grin. Yeah, he wanted to go back and have a wiener with a side order of Polly.

  They approached a blind curve banked on both sides with pine trees and undergrowth. The disco music segued to a love song and her walking slowed down, too. A large red fox shot across the street in front of them and ran into the thicket. The dog yelped and lunged after the fox, dragging Sarah with him. She felt a blow to her back and was airborne. When she hit the ground, she lifted her head and saw a white van race past.

  The world went black.

  She didn’t know how much time had passed, but somewhere in the distance, a dog howled. Sarah opened her eyes and winced at the bright light. The lined face of an elderly woman swam into sight. Her head was turned at an odd, bird-like angle, looking past her.

  “Easy. Let me help your owner. She needs help.”

  Winston was lying beside Sarah, howling. She grunted, and Winston turned his head in her direction. She signed to him it was okay.

  “Thank God, you’re awake. Someone went to call the police. What happened?”

  Sarah struggled to push up from the cold, wet ground.

  “Don’t get up,” the elderly woman ordered. “You might be injured.”

  Sarah found her voice and recounted the fox running across the road, being dragged by Winston, and the van zipping by.

  “I saw one flying by like a bat out of hell just a little while ago, heading toward Greenspring Avenue. I wonder if it’s the same one?”

  The sound of sirens approached from the direction of the school.

  “Here they come. They’ll know what to do,” the woman said.

  The sirens stopped. Officer Mike squatted down next to Sarah, his wholesome face a welcome sight. He reached over and patted the dog on the head.

  “Hey, Winston! What’d you and Ms. Wright get into now?”

  Sarah repeated her story, feeling a little silly talking to him from the ground. She was fine. Just needed to sit up and show them, but he insisted she stay down.

  “Did you see it happen?” he asked the elderly woman.

  “No. I found her passed out. She just opened her eyes a few minutes ago. I did see a white van speed by.”

  Officer Mike motioned to two paramedics who approached with caution. Winston allowed them to take Sarah’s vital signs and check for broken bones. While they poked, prodded, and felt where she had no complaints, Officer Mike scribbled in a small notepad, stopping only to ask for details.

  “If it hadn’t been for Winston chasing that fox and dragging me into the trees, I think I’d be dead.”

  “Aside from the van being white, do either of you recall anything else about it? A license plate number?”

  “No. I just saw it racing off. I wonder if it’s the same one I saw yesterday morning,” Sarah said.

  “Do you remember the Sniper shootings? I must have stopped about a hundred white vans during that investigation,” Officer Mike said. “If you don’t have a plate number, or some other distinguishing characteristic, it’ll be impossible to find.”

  A young paramedic with greasy hair, a pockmarked face and garlic breath broke into the conversation. “We gotta take you to the hospital.”

  “Do I have any broken bones?”

  “We didn’t feel anything, but that don’t mean nothing. We’ll take you to Randallstown Community Hospital,” the second paramedic said and spat out a huge wad of chewing gum.

  These guys made Sarah’s skin crawl. “I’m not leaving my dog. I’ll sign a waiver.”

  The paramedics exchanged glances. The Greaser shrugged and said, “Suit yourself. I’ll get the form.”

  The elderly woman had waited throughout the exchange. “Is it okay for me to go now? I need to get home.”

  “Could I get your name, address, and telephone number?”

  “Woods,” she replied. “I live on Pecan Hollow Court.”

  Heart racing, Sarah almost sat bolt upright. “Woods? Elizabeth Woods?”

&nb
sp; “No. Bernice. Elizabeth is my sister-in-law.” The woman’s brow furrowed. “Why do you ask?”

  “I’ve been trying to reach her about a medical matter.” Fearing she’d alarm the elderly woman, Sarah decided not to tell her the nature of the investigation.

  Bernice shook her head. “Elizabeth had to go into a nursing home a few months ago.”

  Officer Mike cleared his throat. “The paramedics need Ms. Wright’s signature.”

  He turned and walked toward the street, looking at the ground.

  A few yards away, the Greaser waved a clipboard with a piece of paper. Sarah motioned for him to come over. Despite her freezing butt, she wasn’t eager to stand up until after the paramedics left. No need to give them reason to toss her into the wagon.

  The sketchy EMT handed her the clipboard and a pen. She signed it and thanked him for his understanding.

  “No problem.” He snatched it out of her hand and stomped off.

  Officer Mike returned and stood over her. “I can’t find any tire tracks in the grass. Is it possible you got dragged by the dog and tripped over a tree root and that’s why you ‘flew’ through the air? Maybe it’s just a coincidence the van was driving by at the same time.”

  “Well, I guess it’s possible, but why would I have felt a blow on my back if I wasn’t struck by the van?”

  “Our minds can play tricks on us. Happens all the time when an accident occurs. Adrenaline is rushing around. People get confused.”

  “Usually I’m not confused.” She wavered a bit under scrutiny, doubting her memory. Had the shock of hitting the ground and passing out scrambled her perceptions? “Usually I’m very accurate in my observations.”

  “Always a first time.”

  This wasn’t getting anywhere. Sarah decided to change the subject. “Any possibility you could give Bernice, Winston, and me a lift home? I drank two cups of coffee before I left the house.”

  Officer Mike smiled. “I’ll give you a ride home if you promise not to wet the seat.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Give me your hands. Let’s see if you can walk.” He pulled on her hands while she stood up on wobbly legs.

  Bernice gasped.

  “What’s wrong? Did I wet my pants already?”

  “Officer, look at the back of her jacket,” Bernice said.

  “Turn around, Ms. Wright.” He whistled. “I stand corrected.”

  “Why do you say that?” She winced from painful muscle spasms and gave up on turning her head.

  “Unless your jacket had the outline of something about the size and shape of a headlight in dirt on it when you left your house this morning, then it appears you were, indeed, struck by a van.”

  Rubber legs betrayed her. She teetered and Officer Mike grabbed her elbow.

  “Okay. Let’s get you in the car. You and Winston can ride in the back. Ms. Woods, why don’t you ride up front with me?”

  Winston leaped into the back seat, and Sarah crawled in behind him. A metal cage divided the front and back, and the door closed with a heavy thud. With Officer Mike’s assistance, Bernice climbed into the front passenger seat.

  “I’ll take Ms. Woods home first, okay?”

  “Fine by me.”

  When he stopped, Sarah remembered her manners. “Bernice, thank you for all your help. Is there some way I can thank you? Can I take you to dinner?”

  “That’s not necessary. It’s what anyone would have done.”

  “Sorry I messed up your day.”

  “It’s okay, I can go see her later. She’s happy whenever I get there.”

  “At the nursing home, you mean?”

  “What?” Bernice looked at Sarah with a puzzled expression. “Oh. No. I saw my sister-in-law yesterday.”

  It was Sarah’s turn to look puzzled.

  “I meant my niece. She lives in a group home for adults with disabilities. We had to move her there after they closed the Rosewood Center.”

  Officer Mike drove Sarah and Winston home at about ten miles an hour, scanning the neighborhood. His radio crackled in the background. Dazed, Sarah stared out the window at passing cars. As they inched down her street, a car approached and then passed them on the opposite side of the street.

  The Heckler locked eyes with Sarah, did a double take, and smirked. Sarah was certain the harpy thought she’d been arrested. Perfect. Just perfect.

  The police car turned into the cul-de-sac. Officer Mike climbed out of the driver’s seat and released them from the cage.

  Sarah invited him in for a cup of coffee. She thought it was the least she could do for him.

  “No, thanks, I have to get going.” He handed her a gray brochure.

  “Here’s your crime victims’ pamphlet. That’s your complaint number. You’ll need it if you want a copy of the police report.” He fished in his shirt pocket. “Here’s my card. If you see the van again, call me. Any questions?”

  “No. Thanks for everything. Winston thanks you, too.”

  “Take care.” He reached down and patted Winston’s head. “You, too.”

  The cats stared at Sarah as she entered the kitchen. Mitzi had commandeered a dishtowel from the front of the range. Neferkitty stood on the kitchen counter, poised to leap. The thought of the cat landing on Sarah’s shoulder was too painful to bear. She hobbled to the bathroom as fast as she could, turned on the hot water, peeled her clothes off, and assessed her naked body in the mirror.

  At one time, she had been slender, almost svelte, and sexually attractive. Dan had loved her body. He had even loved her breasts, although she thought they were too small.

  “They’re perfect. When you’re old, your breasts will still be above your waistline, unlike women with melon-sized breasts.”

  Dan and Sarah had made love on their first date. Progress had been slowed down by the snap in the crotch of her body suit. After fumbling for what seemed to be an eternity, he yanked it apart, yelling, “I got you at last!”

  They fell back on the couch, laughing and lusty, paired in perfect union until she was sore and he was limp from exhaustion. The chemistry between them was so intense, fatigue didn’t last long. They invented places to have make love, even pulling off the Interstate one night to do it in his tiny sports car. The stick shift had added an interesting dimension.

  She smiled at the memory of their tearing at each other’s clothes like sex crazed teenagers, heedless of the headlights passing by. He had made Sarah feel like Venus. Today, however, she was feeling old, fat, beat up, and un-goddess-like.

  Her reflection showed a myriad of scratches on her face, with a pattern of dark blue spots blooming under and around the scrapes. No doubt about it, she was going to have a black eye.

  Even her breasts were beginning to show bruises. As she turned her neck with difficulty, she saw a large curved blue spot on her flank. That must have been a huge headlight, she thought. She stepped into the shower, adjusted the water temperature, and tried to clear her mind while shampooing her hair and soaping her battered body.

  Her thoughts skipped to her conversation with Bernice Woods. What did she say?

  “I meant my niece. She lives in a group home for adults with disabilities. We had to move there after they closed the Rosewood Center.”

  Toweling off, she mused over her incredible, dumb luck at finding the Woods family. Here she’d been looking for Elizabeth Woods and it turns out there were not one, but three Woods: a mother, sister-in-law, and a daughter. Aunt Ida’s favorite phrase ran through her mind: “There are no coincidences.”

  Aunt Ida. Sarah padded into the kitchen and dug her cell phone out of her jacket pocket.

  No messages. No missed calls.

  She tried calling her again, got the voicemail again, left a message again, and had the feeling something was terribly wrong.

  Chapter Ten

  Spasms seized Sarah’s neck as she rushed to dress. Okay, she’d have to go to the ER. She skipped the make-up. No amount of foundation would cov
er the bruises and scratches.

  Pulling Aunt Ida’s itinerary off the kitchen cabinet door, she began calling all the places in North Carolina she had called the night before.

  Once again, no one knew anything about Ida Katz. She called all the other places on her itinerary and all the state police along the way. No sign of Aunt Ida and no reports of accidents involving a large white Cadillac bearing her license plate and “Mah Jong Maven” bumper sticker came from her inquiries.

  She called Sol Weinstein’s office, but Sol was out. Molly said she’d leave him a message. She, too, was concerned that Sarah hadn’t heard from Aunt Ida. Molly agreed it was out of character. Sarah was getting zip, zero, zilch, and bupkes.

  Where the hell was Aunt Ida?

  “Dammit, dammit, dammit!”

  Sarah yelled and slammed her palm down on the kitchen table. The cell phone bounced off the table and landed on the floor with a clatter. It rang, and she snatched it up.

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  “That’s a fine hello,” yelled a gravelly smoker’s voice with a strong New York accent.

  Sarah grimaced and pulled the phone away from her ear. “Sorry, Mrs. Rosen. I thought you were Aunt Ida. I’ve been trying to reach her since last evening. She’s not answering her phone, and she’s not in any of the hotels where she said she’d be staying.”

  “She’s a big girl. She can take care of herself. You young people think you’re the only ones who can be in charge of your lives. We crossed the streets long before you did, girlchik.”

  Sarah felt a chill go down her spine and shuddered. The stress must be catching up to me, she thought. Maybe I’m overreacting.

  “You’re right, I’m sure. With my mother in the hospital, I worry a lot. How are you?”

  She wondered if Dan had told her they’d spoken. She glanced at the clock on the stove. Nearly ten o’clock. No great parking space today. Mrs. Rosen said something to her. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Rosen, what did you say?”

  “I asked if you were available to meet my son this Sunday for bagels and lox at Essen Deli? He’s coming into town for a visit.” She began to cough like she was hacking up a piece of lung.