Dead Reckoning ss(v-11

by Шарлин Харрис

  The Pony Room teacher, Mrs. Gristede, was a nice enough woman, or at least that was what my quick look told me. Hunter nodded.

  We ventured into the Puppy Room and met with Miss O’Fallon. We were back in the hall after three minutes.

  “Not the Puppy Room,” I told Remy, speaking very quietly. “You can designate, right?”

  “Yeah, we can. Once. I can say one room I definitely don’t want my kid to be in,” he said. “Most people use that option in case the teacher is too close to the family, like a relative, or if the families have had some quarrel.”

  “Not the Puppy Room,” Hunter said, looking scared.

  Miss O’Fallon looked pretty on the outside, but she was rotten on the inside.

  “What’s wrong?” Remy asked, his voice also on a confidential level.

  “Tell you later,” I murmured. “Let’s go see something else.”

  Trailed by Remy, we made visits to the other three rooms. All the other teachers seemed okay, though Mrs. Boyle seemed a little burned-out. Her thoughts were brisk and had an edge of impatience, and her smile was just a bit brittle. I didn’t say anything to Remy. If he could turn down only one teacher, Miss O’Fallon was the most dangerous.

  We went back to Mrs. Gristede’s room because Hunter definitely liked the ponies. There were two other parents there, both towing little girls. I squeezed Hunter’s hand gently to remind him of the rules. He looked up at me, and I nodded, trying to encourage the boy. He let go of my hand and went over to a reading area, picking up one of the books and turning the pages.

  “Do you like to read, Hunter?” Mrs. Gristede asked.

  “I like books. I can’t read yet.” Hunter put the book back where it belonged, and I gave him a mental pat on the back. He smiled to himself and picked up another book, this one a Dr. Seuss about dogs.

  “I can tell Hunter’s been read to,” the teacher said, smiling at Remy and me.

  Remy introduced himself. “I’m Hunter’s dad, and this is Hunter’s cousin,” he said, inclining his head toward me. “Sookie’s standing in for Hunter’s mom tonight, since she’s passed away.”

  Mrs. Gristede absorbed that. “Well, I’m glad to see both of you,” she said. “Hunter seems like a bright little boy.”

  I noticed the girls were approaching him. They were longtime friends, I could tell, and their parents went to church together. I made a mental note to advise Remy to pick a church and start attending. Hunter was going to need all the backup he could get. The girls began picking up books, too. Hunter smiled at the girl with the dark Dutchboy bob, giving her that sideways look shy children use to evaluate potential playmates.

  She said, “I like this one,” and pointed to Where the Wild Things Are.

  “I never read it,” Hunter said doubtfully. It looked a little scary to him.

  “Do you play with blocks?” the girl with the light brown ponytail asked.

  “Yeah.” Hunter walked over to the carpeted play area that was for construction, I decided, because there were all sizes of blocks and puzzles around it. In a minute the three were building something that took on life in their minds.

  Remy smiled. He was hoping this was the way every day would go. Of course, it wouldn’t. Even now, Hunter was glancing dubiously at the ponytail girl because she was getting angry about the brunette’s grabbing all the alphabet blocks.

  The other parents looked at me with some curiosity, and one of the mothers said, “You don’t live here?”

  “No,” I said. “I live over in Bon Temps. But Hunter wanted me to go around with him today, and he’s my favorite little cousin.” I’d almost called him my nephew, because he called me “Aunt Sookie.”

  “Remy,” the same woman said. “You’re Hank Savoy’s great-nephew, right?”

  Remy nodded. “Yeah, we came up here after Katrina, and we stayed,” he said. He shrugged. Nothing you could do about losing everything to Katrina. She was a bitch.

  There was a lot of headshaking, and I felt the sympathy roll over Remy. Maybe that goodwill would extend to Hunter.

  While they were all bonding, I drifted back to Miss O’Fallon’s door.

  The young woman was smiling at two children who were wandering around her brightly decorated classroom. One set of parents was staying right beside their little one. Maybe they were picking up on the vibe, or maybe they were just protective.

  I drifted close to Miss O’Fallon, and I opened my mouth to speak. I would have said, “You keep those fantasies to yourself. Don’t even think of such things when you’re in the same room with kids.” But I had a second thought. She knew I’d come with Hunter. Would he become a target for her evil imagination if I threatened her? I couldn’t be around to protect him. I couldn’t stop her. I couldn’t think of a way to take her out of the equation. She hadn’t yet done anything wrong in the eyes of the law or morality . . . yet. So what if she imagined taping children’s mouths shut? She hadn’t done it. Haven’t all of us fantasized about awful things we haven’t done? she asked herself, because the answer made her feel that she was still . . . okay. She didn’t know I could hear her.

  Was I any better than Miss O’Fallon? That awful question ran through my mind more quickly than it takes to write the sentences. I thought, Yeah, I’m not as scary because I’m not in charge of kids. The people I want to hurt are adults and they’re killers themselves. That didn’t make me any better — but it made O’Fallon a lot worse.

  I’d been staring at her long enough to spook her. “Did you want to ask something about the curriculum?” she asked finally, a little edge to her voice.

  “Why did you become a teacher?” I asked.

  “I thought it would be a wonderful thing to teach little ones the first things they needed to know to get along in the world,” she said, as if she’d pressed the button on a recording. She meant, I had a teacher who tortured me when no one was looking, and I like the small and helpless.

  “Hmmm,” I murmured. The other visitors left the room, and we were alone.

  “You need therapy,” I said, quietly and quickly. “If you act on what you see in your head, you’ll hate yourself. And you’ll ruin the lives of other people just the same way yours was ruined. Don’t let her win. Get help.”

  She gaped at me. “I don’t know . . . What on earth . . .”

  “I’m so serious,” I said, answering her next unspoken question. “I’m so serious.”

  “I’ll do it,” she said, as if the words were ripped from her mouth. “I swear, I’ll do it.”

  “You’d be better off,” I said. I gave her some more eye-to-eye. Then I left the Puppy Room.

  Maybe I’d frightened her enough, or jolted her enough, that she’d actually do what she’d promised. If not, well, I’d have to think of another tactic.

  “My job here is done, Grasshopper,” I said to myself, earning a nervous look from a very young father. I smiled at him, and after a bit of hesitation, he smiled back. I rejoined Remy and Hunter, and we completed our kindergarten tour without any further incident. Hunter gave me a questioning look, a very anxious look, and I nodded. I took care of her, I said, and I prayed that was true.

  It was really too early for supper, but Remy suggested we go to Dairy Queen and treat Hunter to some ice cream, and I agreed. Hunter was half-anxious, half-excited after the school expedition. I tried calming him with a little head-to-head conversation. Can you take me to school the first day, Aunt Sookie? he asked, and I had to steel myself to answer.

  No, Hunter, that’s your daddy’s job, I told him. But when that day comes, you call me when you get home and tell me all about it, okay?

  Hunter gave me a big-eyed soulful look. But I’m scared.

  I gave him Skeptical. You may be nervous, but everyone else will feel the same way. This is your chance to make friends, so remember to keep your mouth closed until you’ve gotten everything straight in your head.

  Or they won’t like me?

  No! I said, wanting to be absolutely clear. The
y won’t understand you. There’s a big difference.

  You like me?

  “You little rascal, you know I like you,” I said, smiling at him and brushing his hair back. I glanced over at Remy, standing in line at the counter to order our Blizzards. He waved to me and made a face at Hunter. Remy was making a huge effort to take all this in stride. He was growing into his role as father of an exceptional child.

  I figured he might get to relax in twelve years, give or take a few.

  You know your dad loves you, and you know he wants what’s best for you, I said.

  He wants me to be like all the other kids, Hunter said, half-sad, halfresentful.

  He wants you to be happy. And he knows that the more people who know about this gift you have, the chances are you won’t be happy. I know it’s not fair to tell you that you have to keep a secret. But this is the only secret you have to keep. If anyone talks to you about it, tell your dad or call me. If you think someone’s weird, you tell your dad. If someone tries to bad-touch you, you tell.

  I’d just scared him now. But he swallowed and said, I know about bad touching.

  You’re a smart boy, and you’re going to have lots of friends. This is just a thing about you they don’t need to know.

  Because it’s bad? Hunter’s face looked pinched and desperate.

  Heck, no! I said, outraged. Nothing wrong with you, buddy. But you know what we are is different, and people don’t always understand different. End of lecture. I gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  “Hunter, you get us some napkins,” I said in the regular way, as Remy picked up the plastic tray with our Blizzards. I’d gotten a chocolate chip one, and my mouth was watering when we’d distributed the napkins and dug into our separate cups of sinful goodness.

  A young woman with chin-length black hair came into the restaurant, spotted us, and waved in an uncertain way.

  “Look, Sport, it’s Erin,” Remy said.

  “Hey, Erin!” Hunter waved back enthusiastically, his hand moving like a little metronome.

  Erin came over, still looking as though she weren’t sure of her welcome.

  “Hi,” she said, looking around the table. “Mr. Hunter, sir, it’s good to see you this fine afternoon!” Hunter beamed back at her. He liked being called “Mr. Hunter.” Erin had cute round cheeks, and her almond eyes were a rich brown.

  “This is my Aunt Sookie!” Hunter said with pride.

  “Sookie, this is Erin,” Remy said. I could tell from his thoughts that he liked the young woman more than a little.

  “Erin, I’ve heard so much about you,” I said. “It’s nice to put a face with the name. Hunter wanted me to come over to go around the kindergarten rooms with him.”

  “How did that go?” Erin asked, genuinely interested.

  Hunter started to tell her all about it, and Remy jumped up to pull over a chair for Erin.

  We had a good time after that. Hunter seemed to be really fond of Erin, and Erin returned the feeling. Erin was also quite interested in Hunter’s dad, and Remy was on the verge of being nuts about her. All in all, it wasn’t a bad afternoon to be able to read minds, I figured.

  Hunter said, “Miss Erin, Aunt Sookie says she can’t go with me to the first day of school. Would you?”

  Erin was both startled and pleased. “If your dad says it’s okay, and if I can get off work,” she said, careful to put some conditions on it in case Remy had some objection . . . or they’d quit dating by late August. “You’re so sweet to ask me.”

  While Remy took Hunter to the men’s room, Erin and I were left to regard each other with curiosity.

  “How long have you and Remy been seeing each other?” I asked. That seemed safe enough.

  “Just a month,” she said. “I like Remy, and I think we might have something, but it’s too soon to tell. I don’t want Hunter to start depending on me in case it doesn’t work out. Plus . . .” She hesitated for a long minute. “I understand that Kristen Duchesne thought there was something wrong with Hunter. She told everyone that. But I really care about that little boy.” The question was clear in her eyes.

  “He’s different,” I said, “but there’s nothing wrong with him. He’s not mentally ill, he doesn’t have a learning disability, and he’s not possessed by the devil.” I was smiling, just a little, when I got to the end of the sentence.

  “I’d never seen any signs of that,” she agreed. She was smiling, too. “I don’t think I’ve seen the whole picture, though.”

  I wasn’t about to tell Hunter’s secret. “He needs special love and care,” I said. “He’s never really had a mom, and I’m sure having someone stable in his life, filling that role, would help.”

  “And that’s not going to be you.” She said that as if she were half asking a question.

  “No,” I said, relieved to get a chance to set the record straight. “That’s not going to be me. Remy seems like a nice guy, but I’m seeing someone else.” I scraped up one more spoonful of chocolate and sugar.

  Erin looked down at her glass of Pepsi, thinking her own thoughts. Of course, I was thinking them right along with her. She’d never liked Kristen and didn’t think much of her mental ability. She did like Remy, more and more. And she loved Hunter. “Okay,” she said, having reached an inner conclusion. “Okay.”

  She looked up at me and nodded. I nodded right back. It seemed we’d arrived at an understanding. When the menfolk came back from their trip to the restroom, I said good-bye to them.

  “Oh, wait, Remy, can you step outside for a minute with me, if Erin wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on Hunter?”

  “I’d love to,” she said. I hugged Hunter again and gave him a pat and a smile as I moved toward the door.

  Remy followed me, an apprehensive expression on his face. We stood a little away from the door.

  “You know Hadley left the rest of her estate to me,” I said. This had been weighing on me.

  “The lawyer told me.” Remy’s face wasn’t giving anything away, but of course I have other methods. He was calm through and through.

  “You aren’t mad?”

  “No, I don’t want nothing of Hadley’s.”

  “But for Hunter . . . his college. There wasn’t much cash, but there was some good jewelry, and I could sell it.”

  “I got a college fund started for him,” Remy said. “One of my great-aunts says she’s going to leave what she’s got to him since she doesn’t have any kids of her own. Hadley put me through hell, and she didn’t even care enough about Hunter to plan for him. I don’t want it.”

  “In all fairness, she didn’t expect to die young. . . . In fact, she didn’t expect to die ever,” I said. “It’s my belief she didn’t put Hunter in her will because she didn’t want anyone to know about him and come looking for him to use him as a hostage for her good behavior.”

  “I hope that’s the case,” Remy said. “I mean, I hope she thought about him. But taking her money, knowing how she turned out, how she earned it . . . that would make me feel sick.”

  “All right,” I said. “If you think it over and change your mind, call me by tomorrow night! You never know when I might go on a spending spree or put that jewelry down on the table at one of the casinos.”

  He smiled, just a little. “You’re a good woman,” he said, and returned to his girlfriend and his son.

  I started the drive home with a clear conscience and a happier heart.

  I’d worked half of the early shift that day (Holly had taken my half and her own shift), so I was free. I thought of brooding over Gran’s letter a little more. Mr. Cataliades’s visit to us when we were babies, the cluviel dor, the deceptions Gran’s lover had practiced on her . . . Because surely when Gran had thought she smelled Fintan when she was seeing her husband, she was seeing Fintan in disguise. It was hard to absorb.

  Amelia and Bob were busy casting spells when I got back. They were walking around the perimeter of the house in opposite directions, chanting and swinging incense like the
priests in the Catholic Church.

  Some days I realized it was all to the good that I lived out in the country.

  I didn’t want to break their concentration, so I wandered off into the woods. I wondered where the portal was, if I could recognize it. “A thin place,” Dermot had called it. Could I spot a thin place? At least I knew the general direction, and I started east.

  It was a warm afternoon, and I began sweating the minute I started to make my way through the woods. The sun broke through the branches in a thousand patterns, and the birds and the bugs made the thousand noises that left the woods anything but silent. It wouldn’t be long until evening closed in and the light would fracture and slant, making the footing uncertain. The birds would fall silent, and the night creatures would make their own harmony.

  I picked my way through the undergrowth, thinking of the night before. I wondered if Judith had packed all her things and left, as she’d said she would. I wondered if Bill felt lonely now that she was gone. I assumed nothing and no one had popped up in my yard the night before, since I’d slept through the hours of the dark and into the morning.

  Then all I had left to wonder about was when Sandra Pelt would try to kill me again. Just as I began to suspect that being alone in the woods wasn’t a good idea, I stepped into a tiny clearing about a quarter of a mile, or less, slightly southeast of my back door.

  I was pretty sure this was the thin place, this little clearing. For one thing, there was no reason for it to be clear that I could see. There were wild grasses growing thickly, but there were no bushes, nothing above calf-high. No vines stretched across the area, no branches drooped over it.

  Before I stepped out of the trees, I gave the ground a very careful examination. The last thing I needed was to be caught in some kind of fairy booby trap. But I couldn’t see anything extraordinary, except perhaps . . . a slight wavering in the air. Right in the middle of the clearing. The odd spot — if I was even seeing it right — hovered at the height of my knees. It was the shape of a small and irregular circle, perhaps fifteen inches in diameter. And in just that spot, the air seemed to distort, a little like a heat illusion. Was it actually hot? I wondered.