Mrs. Spitz pounded on the door and demanded that someone open up.
Then Billy noticed Zoe’s backpack on the porch. “There,” he cried. “I told you she’s hiding something in her backpack that she didn’t want me to see!”
Mrs. Spitz paused, but only briefly, then began rummaging through the backpack. Finding nothing except school stuff, she straightened up and glared at Billy.
He shrank back.
His mother scowled at him.
“I know I saw some sort of weird book in there,” he said meekly. “She must have taken it out and hidden it.” Just then he spotted Zoe and Yoda crouched behind the car.
Zoe grabbed Yoda and pulled him back.
Billy opened his mouth to say something but hesitated.
“What is it?” his mother demanded, glancing in the direction of the car.
“Nothing,” Billy said, looking down at his feet. “Just a squirrel.”
As Billy and his mother disappeared out the driveway, Zoe considered her options. What if Mrs. Spitz was watching—maybe behind the large stand of mountain laurel at the end of the driveway where Zoe could not see her—hoping someone would come out of the house so she could confront them with her stupid complaints? Zoe decided to play it safe and take the narrow winding path through the woods behind the houses on her side of the street to the unfinished and unoccupied house next door rather than risk crossing her driveway and being spotted.
Staying low and holding the journal tightly to her body, she picked her way along the narrow, overgrown path. The dried leaves crunched under her feet and the thorny briers pulled at her clothes.
The path came out behind the garage next door. The house, which was directly across from Billy’s house, had been unoccupied for almost a year now, following the divorce of the couple who were having it built for them. It had only been a few weeks ago that the “For Sale” sign out front had been replaced with a “Sold” sign.
Zoe tightened her grip on Yoda’s leash and glanced around. She could cut through the back yard over to another road then circle around and come home the back way.
She had just started out when she spotted Billy coming down his driveway holding a bag of potato chips in one hand. He stopped and peered in the direction of Zoe’s house.
Jerking the leash, Zoe headed back to the cover of the garage of the vacant house.
The side door to the garage was slightly open. Straining, she managed to open it a little wider. A pile of bricks kept her from opening it all the way. She pushed her way into the garage. Yoda squeezed in after her, thinking it was all a fun game.
Once inside, Zoe pushed the door shut and slipped Yoda’s leash over the doorknob. Cobwebs hung from the rafters and unfinished walls. The air smelled damp and the trace of a foul odor hung in the air. Three rough wooden steps at the back of the garage led up to a door into the vacant house. Zoe tried the door—it was locked. Looking around, she noticed two neat piles of what looked like 4x4 boards stacked on a half sheet of plywood on the dirt floor under a broken window that faced the street. Water had pooled under the window from the storm the night before.
She walked over and cautiously put one foot on the boards. Stepping up onto the boards she peered out a corner of the window. Billy was still in his driveway, just standing there looking around—probably waiting for her to come down the street on her usual after-school walk with Yoda. Then he would run back and tell his mother. He probably regretted not having told her when he saw Zoe hiding behind the car and was now trying to make up for it. What a jerk!
She took a deep breath and thought about it. Maybe he just felt bad about what he had said to her on the walk home from the bus and wanted to apologize. He was like that. You never knew how he was going to act. She sighed. In any case, she could not take a chance. She would just have to outwait him.
She stepped down. Uncrumpling an old FedEx bag she found lying next to the plywood, she placed it on the dusty boards and sat down. Pulling Grace’s journal out from under her sweater, she opened it to the page where she had left off. It read:
Someone—a paramedic I think—came over and asked how I was feeling. He took my pulse and blood pressure and checked me over and told me I might have a concussion and I should go to the hospital to have it checked out. I told him I couldn’t just go off and leave Yoda especially after he had probably just saved my life! Then this tall, good-looking guy comes over and shows me his badge. His name it turns out is Lucian Esposito and he’s an FBI agent involved in the investigation of City Hall. Can you believe it?!
Luke—that’s what the others called him—asked me a bunch of questions about what had happened. Then he offered me—and Yoda—a ride to the hospital. I told him I didn’t want to inconvenience him, but he said he didn’t mind at all and he liked dogs. Yoda took to him right away.
Luke even came into the emergency room with me, which was a good thing since what had happened was all a muddle in my head. Then an orderly took me to get a CT scan—even though I told him I felt fine—and Luke went back outside with Yoda. After suffering through an interminable wait, this kid comes in—he couldn’t have been much older than my own students. He said he was a resident in neurology and shows me the CT scan, pointing to the front of the brain. To tell you the truth I really couldn’t see anything unusual. Then he spouted off some medical mumbo-jumbo about the blow to my head forcing my brain against the front of my skull causing a Con2—or something like that—which didn’t make sense to me because I had hit the back of my head, not my forehead. But I didn’t want to be rude, so I just nodded, pretending I understood what he was saying. Then he tells me there was nothing they could do about it (so what was I doing there!?) and I should make a follow-up appointment with a neurologist if I started “experiencing any physical or personality changes.” Then he rattled off a list of symptoms and handed me a yellow sheet of paper, which I promptly misplaced.
When I finally got out of there, Luke was waiting outside the main doors with Yoda. He asked me what the doctor had said, and I told him I was fine. We chatted the whole way home. Turns out we have a lot in common—we’re both single (his wife died of breast cancer seven months ago), and we both love hiking and reruns of X-Files and watching Masterpiece Mystery! on PBS and—get this!—he even majored in philosophy in college!! I mean, is this guy just too good to be true?! I hope I get to see him again SOON! More later—I’ve got to get some sleep.
Zoe smiled longingly—so that was how Grace met Luke. Although Zoe had only met him three or four times, she had liked Luke—he seemed like a great guy.
Zoe flipped the page. The next entry was dated four days later.
March 10th
Feeling a bit under the weather—nauseated, headache. Probably the flu—it’s going around campus. Decided to take the rest of the week off. I slept almost all day yesterday and today. First time I’ve used any of my sick leave in over two years. Luke called and left a message. I missed the call since I had my phone unplugged. Said he was just checking in to see how Yoda and I were doing.
March 12th
Guess who turned up at the front door this morning!!—none other than FBI agent Luke Esposito himself—holding a makeshift leash with Yoda at the other end and in the other hand a Dunkin’ Donuts bag. He said the neighbors found Yoda rummaging through their garbage and it was a good thing the cop on the beat recognized Yoda and called Luke—apparently the cop had seen Yoda in Luke’s car last week. Yoda must have gotten out when I was getting the morning newspaper. Then Luke offers me a cup of coffee and a muffin. I thanked him for all he’s done and apologized for not having returned his calls—told him that I had not been feeling well. So he offered to keep Yoda until I feel better. Of course I declined his offer—I didn’t want to put the poor man out any more than I already have. Then he asks if I want to go to a play at Trinity Theatre this weekend and of course I said, “Yes!” I still can’t believe that such a great-looking guy is interested in a schlep like me! I wonder if I can lose five
pounds by Saturday?
March 19th
Luke and I went to see Berthold Brecht’s Three Penny Opera at Trinity yesterday. It was fantastic!! Then we went out to eat at the Capitol Grille. I learned Luke has two children—a son and a daughter. His daughter Andrea is still in college and living at home. He has a house on Narragansett Bay on Warwick Neck his wife inherited from her parents. We’re meeting for dinner again after my classes on Wednesday.
P. S. We ran into one of Luke’s old friends—Kate Tasca—at Trinity. Turns out she’s a detective and profiler with the Rhode Island State Police. And I thought profilers were something made up by TV script writers! She seemed like a nice person. I could see she was sweet on Luke—the way she looked at him. I don’t think he even noticed—sweet, innocent Luke. That’s one of the things I love about him. It’s hard to believe he’s a tough FBI agent!
Zoe stopped reading. So Detective Tasca knew Luke—and Grace! This was a new twist. Did Detective Tasca hate Grace for stealing Luke—the love of her life? Was that why she wanted Grace’s journal—to try to find some “dirt” on her? Or maybe the dirt in the journal was on Detective Tasca and that’s why she wanted to make sure it was found—and destroyed. Maybe she was even taking kickbacks from the Mafia. Zoe knew police were known for being crooked—especially in Rhode Island. Maybe Grace’s death was all a cover-up and the medical examiner had just said it was bleeding on the brain from a fall when, in fact, Detective Tasca had arranged to have Grace murdered—or even did it herself. Police covered up for each other all the time.
Chapter Nine
Zoe skimmed through the next several entries looking for evidence to back up her new theory. The entries were mostly about what a great time Grace was having with Luke. On the downside, the headaches had returned. On April 12th Grace wrote:
Today was gray and miserable and I have this splitting headache. All I wanted to do was to go home and fall into bed. I had to cancel a date with Luke to go on a hike at Norman Bird Sanctuary—something I had really been looking forward to. I went to see my doctor about the headaches. He said they were probably just from stress and told me to take aspirin for them.
A familiar snorting sound from the other side of the garage caught Zoe’s attention. Slivers of sunlight streamed in through the tiny panes of glass above the two garage doors. She peered around through the dimly lit space and spotted Yoda snuffling his way around the edge of the garage, his leash dragging behind him, cobwebs dangling from his nose.
Zoe stood and peeked out the window facing the street—Billy was gone. She was about to close up the journal when the name “Michael Nunes” caught her eye. Wasn’t he that guy in Grace’s class who thought it was perfectly okay to torture people for the fun of it? Her curiosity getting the better of her, Zoe sat down and began reading again:
April 14th
What a day! I could feel a headache coming on when Michael Nunes comes storming into my office. I asked him what he wanted, and he announced that he deserved a higher grade than a C+ on his essay. When I didn’t give in to his demand (personally I thought I was being generous and that a D would have been a more appropriate grade), he proceeds to accuse me of giving him a low grade simply because I disagree with his position that morality is nothing more than personal feelings. I tried to reason with him—pointing out that he was contradicting himself, that if I feel like giving him a C+, then at least according to his argument, I was actually doing the right thing by doing so. Well, he totally missed the point I was making (or so I initially thought). He went on and on about fairness—a principle that he had totally denied the very existence of in his essay!! I tried to think of a way in which I might transform this unpleasant encounter into a teachable moment.
Then it struck me—what he was really saying to me: for me to let go and just go with my feelings. After all, he was kind of cute and it was perfectly reasonable for any female to fancy him. It’s like a light went off in my head. I said, “So you think you—or anyone—should do whatever they feel like doing? Let me show you what I feel like doing.” And I did as he was telling me to do, I did exactly what I felt like doing and let down my hair—as the saying goes—and gave him a little hands on (ha, ha) lesson. Mike, to my surprise—acted shocked—pretended to object. Such a hypocrite! He backs away and rushes out of the office. Jamal was out in the hall waiting for him. He gave me a strange look. I smiled and waved to him. Honestly, I couldn’t help but laugh.
Zoe smiled at the thought of that morally wicked Mike guy fleeing Grace’s office. She wondered if her aunt had changed his grade to a D—what she felt he really deserved. Knowing Grace and her “teachable moments” (a phrase Zoe had heard many times from her aunt as she was growing up) it was probably something pretty imaginative—and fun. Zoe knew the students loved Grace. She had seen the two brass Teacher of the Year awards in Grace’s office when she and Dad had stopped by the campus to meet her for lunch.
Zoe glanced up as Yoda brushed by her leg, his nose to the ground as he continued his inspection of the garage. Outside the sun had dipped below the treetops. Through the broken window she heard the sound of geese flying overhead and the happy shouts of kids skate boarding in the street. She checked her watch. It was quarter to five. She figured she would have time to read one more entry before her parents got home. She squinted in the dimming light, trying to read the scrawling handwriting.
April 16th
I can’t tell you how great it felt, how freeing to just be me for a change—to have, for at least that brief moment in my office, thrown off the chains of that herd mentality. And who would have guessed it would be Mike who pushed me into making the leap into the sweet abyss of freedom!! I feel like I have shed a skin—a tight dry skin that has held me in bondage for too many years. I can almost feel it peeling away, revealing a silky, soft new skin underneath. I’m lying here very still on my bed as I write for I don’t want to interrupt the process. I realize that what I thought was normal was just the result of stupidity on my part. Even my eyes—it’s like the scales have fallen from them, and I see the world anew—not the world where I was always afraid—worried about what others would think of me. I feel like a caterpillar, grown too big for its cocoon, waiting for the transformation to complete itself so I can fly free.
I just had a strange thought. I wonder if people—if my students, if Luke—will recognize me—the new me. An Ubermensche—a superhuman. ME. The great I Am.
Zoe ran her fingers over the page. It was too deep for her young mind to comprehend. But it sounded so wonderful—becoming a butterfly, flying free—all that stuff.
A sharp bark.
Startled, Zoe dropped the journal.
Crouching low, Yoda barked again at the plywood Zoe was sitting on.
“Hush, Yoda,” Zoe said, jumping up and clamping her hand around his muzzle. From the narrow opening under the garage door she could hear voices coming from the direction of her house. It sounded like Mrs. Spitz and…
“Zoe?” a voice in the distance called. “Zoe? Where are you?”
Chapter Ten
Zoe jumped up and peered out the small windows in the garage door. She froze. Oh no! It was Dad—he was home already! And he sounded pretty upset. Even worse, that nosy Mrs. Spitz was with him. Zoe ran back, picked up the journal, and shoved it into the FedEx bag, and stuck it behind the boards she had been sitting on.
She grabbed Yoda’s leash and raced out the back door of the garage. Staying along the wooded edge of the lot, she cut back to the road. After making sure no one was around, she came out of the woods and, with Yoda in tow, ran along the shoulder of the road to her driveway. Dad was standing next to his Volvo station wagon, holding a bag of groceries. Mrs. Spitz was waving one arm and pointing toward the street. Her eyes narrowed in a scowl of disapproval when she spotted Zoe.
“I was just taking Yoda for his walk,” Zoe said, catching her breath. She unclipped Yoda’s leash and brushed some of the cobwebs off his muzzle. “Well, I’ll just go inside and
get…”
“Zoe, did you kick Billy?” Dad asked, his jaw clenched. There were dark circles under his eyes.
“I…well…yes,” she stammered. But he…he…”
“He what?”
Zoe bit her lower lip.
Dad shook his head in frustration. “Zoe, why would you do such a thing?”
“I…I didn’t mean to. It’s just, well…he started it.”
“I don’t care what Billy said or did,” Dad snapped. “That’s no excuse for hurting him or anyone else for that matter. You should know that.” He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Look, I just don’t have the time—or energy—to deal with this right now. Zoe, you’re grounded for the next twenty-four hours.”
“Grounded!? But, Dad!”
“Being grounded is the least of your worries, young lady,” Mrs. Spitz said, waggling her finger at Zoe. “Billy may even have to get stitches where you kicked him. He could have a scar for life all because of you.”
Zoe doubted that. It was just a little cut. But she didn’t say anything.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Spitz,” Dad said wearily. “This won’t happen again.” He picked up another bag of groceries from the front seat of his car.
Zoe followed him into the house. “But, Dad,” she protested. Why did she have to suffer because of what that stupid Billy did? “Did you forget? I’m going over to Jen’s tomorrow. Jen’s mother is taking us to the Providence Place Mall. Remember, you said I could last week.”
Dad dropped the bags on the kitchen counter. “Well, you’re not going now,” he replied.
“It’s not fair!” Zoe cried, stomping her foot. “Billy made me do it. He said that Aunt Grace killed their stupid dog. I was angry ʼcause of the awful things he made up about Aunt Grace—and that’s why I kicked him.”
Fall From Grace Page 6