The Happy Housewife (Samantha Sherman Book 1) (8 page)

She knocked on the front door. It took a couple of minutes but it finally opened. Pat Walters stood on the other side. Sam didn’t know him that well. She definitely had more contact with Celine. She could immediately see where Dwayne got his looks from. Pat was a more filled out version of Dwayne, right down to the glasses perched on his nose. It was the same prominent nose that Dwayne had, but on a face and body that was a matching size. With the weight of adulthood it looked normal, it looked nice even. It was good to know that Dwayne would be handsome as an adult. He deserved it after such a difficult puberty.

“Hi, Pat. I’m Sam Sherman from down the street.”

“I remember. We’ve met at a couple of block parties. Come on in.” He caught sight of Lindsey who had moved behind her mother and said, “And of course I remember Miss Lindsey. You can definitely come in.”

He stepped back to let them enter his house. Lindsey went by him looking up, her eyes fastened on an adult she didn’t recognize. She said in a voice that was just above a whisper, “Is Dwayne okay?”

Pat’s shoulders slumped and he gave a weak smile, “We think so, Lindsey.” He looked like he was going to divulge more but then stopped himself, probably because of Lindsey’s age.

Sam caught on and broke in, “Lindsey and I don’t want to take up too much of your time. We just wanted to bring by some dinner and tell you how sorry we are to hear about Dwayne. He’s such a great kid.”

Pat’s face seemed to cloud up at this and Sam remembered what she had heard about the ELF connection. She just didn’t believe that Dwayne could be destructive. How hard it must be to not know if your child was involved in that kind of activity.

Sam changed the subject, “If you aren’t going to have this tonight, it can be frozen.”

Pat looked grateful for the change of topic. “Yeah, I think we’ll save it for another night.” They walked up the half flight of stairs that led to the living/dining room combination and the kitchen. Lindsey caught sight of the Walters’s cat at the top of the stairs and followed it into the living room. Sam and Pat continued into the kitchen.

As Sam put the casserole away, she asked, “How is Celine doing?”

“Not great. She’s still at the hospital with William actually. I’m going back to pick them up in an hour when visitation is over. Dwayne will recover physically. The burns on his legs will wind up being scars but nothing that will require plastic surgery. They’ve done an MRI and CAT scan which came back clean. Dwayne still hasn’t woken up though, and the doctor’s can’t say that he will.” Pat’s voice cracked a bit but he caught himself and went on, “I just can’t believe he would be involved in something like this. It’s just not Dwayne. William thinks that Dwayne overheard him talking about meeting a couple of friends out there and decided to come along. William had just arrived and saw the explosion. Thank God he went closer to check it out.” Pat broke off, visibly fighting his emotions.

Sam gave what comfort she could. “Of course Dwayne wouldn’t be involved in something like this. He is such a gentle, sweet boy. You should see how great he is with Lindsey. Whenever he sees her, he’s never too busy to say hi or play with her at the pool. So many teenagers get a ‘too cool’ attitude at some point, but not Dwayne.” Sam lowered her voice a bit, “Lindsey actually has a bit of a puppy love crush on him.” That made Pat smile and Sam felt better. “Pat, please let us know if there is anything we can do.”

“If you could say a prayer for Dwayne’s recovery and one for the police to catch whoever did this, I would really appreciate it.”

“Of course we will.” At that moment Lindsey showed up at the kitchen door clutching the Walters’s cat around the middle, holding it to her chest and rubbing her face in the fur. That made both Pat and Sam smile. Pat asked Lindsey a couple of questions about cats and school and then the Sherman ladies left.

They headed back down the street, Lindsey enjoying her bike and Sam feeling so grateful for what she had. The sun was almost all the way down as they approached the Sherman house. She loved this time of day when the heat had cooled somewhat and it was warm but not oppressive. It finally felt comfortable out and it made Sam want to take off her shoes and walk barefoot, maybe even through the grass. She thought about how the cool grass would feel under her feet, like a cushion. She loved the smell of cut grass, particularly in the summer.

They reached the Sherman house way too quickly for Sam. While she wanted to get her talk with Mrs. Thomas over with, she was not eagerly anticipating the actual conversation. Sam reluctantly followed her daughter inside. They found Mrs. Thomas, again in front of the television, with the kitchen looking spotless. Sam and Lindsey said their hellos and then Sam quickly hustled Lindsey upstairs to start getting ready for bed. It was a little early, but after they called Doug it would be about the right time. Besides, Sam really wanted to chat with Mrs. Thomas as soon as possible.

Lindsey could do a lot of getting ready for bed herself. Even though Sam wanted more children it was nice having Lindsey old enough where she just needed occasional supervision.
Maybe foster care was the way to go for more kids?

Once Lindsey was ready for bed, they called Doug on his cell phone. He had arrived safely and was at his hotel. Sam kept the conversation fairly short. She didn’t want to go into the Mrs. Thomas situation when she didn’t know yet what it was. Besides, she wasn’t in the mood to defend herself just yet for bringing a stranger, as Doug would surely say, home. She did mention what happened to Dwayne and Evelyn. Doug vaguely recalled who the Myers and Walters were and asked about the funeral. He also shared some details about his investigation of the Washington Mutual Bank collapse. They finally got off the phone and Sam went with Lindsey to her room to say a final good night.

It seemed to take forever to get through their simple, routine nighttime chores but Sam was finally done at 8:30 p.m. She suddenly got a stab of nervousness. She had been able to soothe her tension by focusing on the chores but now she felt breathless apprehension. Was she really going to confront Mrs. Thomas with some perceived connection to the Weather Underground? Suddenly she felt like a nut. Sam experienced that familiar feeling of panic and uncertainty which always pulled her back to THAT night.

Lt. Lee knew that the crew was looking to her for a decision. They had presented her with all the information, given their opinions and then waited for her response. As Aircraft Commander, the ultimate decision and responsibility were hers. Lt. Lee knew that her decision was an important one and that she needed to ‘make the call’ NOW. She took a slow breath in and out and counted to five, her usual method of forcing calm, slowing her heartbeat, and clearing her head. With the confidence of youth and optimism, she made her decision. She told the crew to take a hard look outside and see if they could spot the last man. Lt. Lee had seen an outcropping of rocks behind them before and now told the crew that they would maneuver the helicopter over to those, take a look behind them and then head for the hospital. In the end, none of the crew saw the actual wreckage of the boat, about a mile away, because they were erroneously looking behind the rocks.

The sound of the television pulled Sam back. Absorbed in thought, she found herself at the bottom of the stairs approaching the kitchen.
This
was not THAT. This was not life and death. It was just a conversation with an old woman. This was something she could easily complete. She took a deep breath in and out and walked into the kitchen.

Mrs. Thomas looked up as she entered and, appearing every bit the grandmother contentedly hanging out with her family, said, “Hi, hon. Is Lindsey tucked in?”

“Yes, Mrs. Thomas.”

“Oh good, I didn’t want to get in the way. I guess I’ll head up myself. You said you had books in your study?”

“Yes, absolutely, and you’re welcome to any of them.
Um,
before you go though, do you mind if we chat for a minute? There was something I wanted to ask you about.”

“Sure, hon. I’m not that tired anyway after that nap.” Mrs. Thomas fiddled with the remote control and jabbed slowly a couple of times at the power button before the television finally went blank.

Sam moved into the family room and took a seat on the couch to the right of Mrs. Thomas. She settled in and smiled at her. It was probably best just to go for the straight forward approach. “Well, I feel a little silly talking with you about this but I have a concern.”

Mrs. Thomas suddenly looked worried, “This is your house. I would never want to do anything to upset you, so please tell me whatever it is. By the way, please call me Helen. I know you didn’t feel comfortable when we first met but we’ve known each other for a year now and after all that has happened today the switch just seems right.”

“Okay. Helen. Yesterday when I was at your house your photo album fell and a bunch of pictures spilled out. I tried not to look because it wasn’t any of my business but I couldn’t help seeing a few. I saw some peace signs, pictures of your family, and, I think, a picture of you dressed in black with a beret holding up three fingers. I figured you were a hippie or something. However, when I was looking up those ELF and ALF groups that caused the fire out in Loudoun County, I saw a reference to the Weathermen, some radical group from the 60s. I was curious and did some additional research on them. They were domestic terrorists, they did horrible things, and Helen, I found an explanation of what that three finger salute meant. It was a sign of support for Charles Manson.”

Sam had said all of this in one breath and she paused for a second and took a big gulp of air. Helen wasn’t responding with outrage so she continued, “I like you a lot but it made me realize that I don’t really know you that well. Normally, I would have never asked you about it but given that you are staying in my house I have to ask.” With that she stopped and from the look on Helen’s face she didn’t feel as foolish as before.

“My,” was Helen’s only response for what seemed like a couple of minutes. She looked as if Sam had just punched her. This wasn’t being nosy, Sam reminded herself, this was protecting her daughter. Doug would want her to do this. Actually, Doug wouldn’t have invited Helen to the house but, whatever.

Helen/Mrs. Thomas seemed to make a decision and giving a confirming nod of her head said, “I understand you’re worried about your daughter. You have a right to know.” And then, “Why don’t you get my album, it’s on the dresser upstairs.”

“I’ll do that.” Sam moved quickly towards the kitchen and the stairs beyond. Behind her she could hear Helen clearing her voice to add something more. Sam glanced back to see Helen staring at her intently, “I want you to know, I wasn’t a hippie. I was a revolutionary.”

Sam shuddered and could only nod. She willed herself to finish walking out of the room in a calm manner and then raced up the stairs when she was out of sight. If she had heard Helen say those words in any other context she would probably have laughed, but not today. Too much had happened and Sam sensed that this was very serious.

She quickly found the album and after briefly checking to ensure Lindsey was sound asleep, she headed back downstairs. She went to give the album to Mrs. Thomas but she indicated that Sam should keep it. Sam settled back into her comfy couch and waited.

Mrs. Thomas finally said, “Well, I’m not sure where to start exactly. I grew up in Chicago, but for growing up in a big city I was relatively naïve. My mother kept a close eye on me. She couldn’t have any kids after me and I believe she was always desperately afraid of losing me. Anyway, I think I sensed that as a child, and as a result I wasn’t adventurous at all. I dreamed though, of being wild like some of the girls at school, but I didn’t have the guts to disobey my parents. They were nice, hardworking people and I knew they cherished me.”

“I met my husband John at the local grocery store. I had never had a boyfriend and I was a senior in high school. He was so handsome and smart. John was a college student, you see, studying to be a professor. I could not believe someone like that was interested in me! My parents really liked him, at first. They had converted when they arrived in the states from Ukrainian Orthodox to Catholicism and John was a Catholic. They also liked that he was a college student. My parents were immigrants from Ukraine and were desperate for their child to get a good education and move up in the world. I think they saw John with all his potential and learning as the ideal mate for me. In addition, they liked that he was an American, which to them was the highest ideal to aspire to. John’s family had been in the United States for generations, not quite Mayflower arrivals, but well established and firmly middle class. It was exactly the kind of life they had hoped for me and, for a time, things were great. When I graduated from high school, I immediately started classes at the local community college while John finished his degree. We fell in love and talked about getting married.”

“Over time, however, things began to deteriorate between my parents and John. It came out that he was a Democrat while my parents were Republicans. Growing up, before I even knew anything about politics, I can remember my father railing against FDR for everything he did, except the war. Even though they disagreed on politics, my parents still liked John and things were still pretty good. In fact, they made an effort not to talk about politics with him in order to keep the peace. When they found out that John wasn’t a practicing Catholic, they were upset but, again, they knew I loved John and wanted the family to stay together. I think they particularly bent over backwards because I was an only child. When things really got bad, my father called me spoiled and said they had coddled me too much. Perhaps that was true.”

“The final straw for them was when John admitted to being a Communist. I’ll never forget the look on their faces when he came out with it at dinner one night. I thought my father would explode but he didn’t. He just looked as though John had hit him. My mother, who never got mad or raised her voice, was the one who yelled. She was crying and screaming at the same time and she kicked John out of the house. As he was leaving, he turned around and tried to plead his case one more time. She asked him if he knew about 1932-1933 in Ukraine and when he said yes, she said to never to come back, and she shut the door in his face.”