The Odds (36 page)

“How about money, food?”

“I left money.”

“How much?”

“Forty, I think.”

“Forty dollars?”

“Yes.”

“How often did you call?”

“I think you’ve had more than three questions. A lot more.”

“They’re all related. Just the last easy one. How often did you call?”

“Not sure. I wasn’t counting.”

“Well, we can get phone records, so you might as well make a ballpark count.”

“Three or four times.”

“Closer to which?”

“Three.”

Joel put up two fingers in the kitchen. Meg shook her head in despair. Alison was hopeless, hopeless.

The detective and Alison came into the kitchen. “I’m going to let her eat with you, but just keep off the subjects we need to let Commander Christie ask about.”

“That doesn’t leave much,” Laurie said.

“I know it doesn’t.” Littlefield smiled, almost laughed. She, like most people, appeared to be amused by Laurie.

“What’s going to happen now?” Alison asked. “I mean, I’m here, right?” Alison looked eagerly at the table. “So does there have to be trouble?”

Littlefield turned to Alison. “Just try to hang on. We’ll sort it out. What would you like? Pork, beef, chick—”

“Pork. I haven’t had anything like this in ages.”

Littlefield studied her closely. Meg felt itchy with nerves. Anyone with sense could see Alison was not very mature. Alison sat down where Littlefield had been sitting while the detective stood at the sink, watchful. Meg tried to send messages to the others to talk, talk.

“You know that geography project? I got an A,” Laurie said.

“You already know about my Dickens report,” Meg said. Alison looked blank. “That it went well.”

Susannah got up from her chair and went over to hug Alison, who had taken her first bite of pork and rice. Alison looked surprised at the hug. She touched a hand to Susannah’s hair, tracing the outer layer of curls, the misty aureole of soft delicate hairs that caught the light. “Your hair is getting so long,” she said.

Littlefield’s intelligent eyes took it all in.

Alison didn’t know anything about Nick, and there was no way to feed her information. Or to remind her the rent was due two days ago. Or to reassure her with the fact that if she went back to work and brought in seven hundred a month minimum to cover rent and electricity, the kids could do the rest—Meg at Doug’s Market, Laurie babysitting and housecleaning along with Meg, Joel doing cars. She didn’t know anything she was supposed to know.

Not too long after Alison had finished eating and Meg was cleaning up, there was someone at the door again, ringing the bell this time. Police, then, not Nick.

It was Detective Greer without her partner. She came into the kitchen and studied Alison hard. “We have a whole army trying to straighten things out. My boss wants to know why you never got social security, food stamps.”

“I didn’t want those things,” Alison said, trying to make it sound like a point of pride.

The truth, and Meg knew this, was that Alison stayed clear of agencies because if she wanted to bail out—which was what she wanted, basically—it was easier to do it without a legal trail.

“We’re looking into what we can get you.”

Meg’s spirits lifted. If they were talking about food and money, they were going to work with Alison.

But then Detective Greer said, “We have to go through the courts, of course. We have to bring a case of negligence.”

And Meg’s spirits dived again.

“Why do you have to do that?” Alison asked. “It was only a few days. I had to look for work.” Her voice sounded terrified.

“Please don’t lie to us. We have evidence to the contrary.” Detective Greer turned away from Alison and addressed Meg. “You,” she said, “could do us all a big favor by keeping my card handy. If you hear from Nick, you need to call me. Immediately.”

Meg took the card reluctantly.

“I’ve worked out a way to protect him, but it isn’t any good to him unless I can find him.”

Protect. Meg’s breath quickened. “Protect him how?”

“Every which way. From jail. From the man who is after him. Call.”

Meg nodded. She had the feeling Detective Greer really meant it. “All right. I promise.”

“Now tell me what you guys told Commander about how you knew to set Nick’s leg?”

Meg pointed to Joel, and he began to tell again how he had fitted the bones together and how his siblings had searched for something to support the broken leg. Amazement showed openly on Alison’s face.

All the while, Meg was thinking of Nick out there, alone, with no money, and what she should do. Should she trust Detective Greer? Should she? Her heart plummeted. She could feel her eyes sting. She decided yes.

“There’s something … you should know. Nick didn’t leave two days ago. He left in the middle of the night or this morning before we got up.”

Detective Greer went very still before she asked, “And went where?”

“Bus station, we think. But we never could figure out if he really meant to do that.”

Detective Greer was already punching a number into her phone while she asked, “He took a cab?”

“He said he wouldn’t. He didn’t want a record.”

“What time do you think he left?”

“I think four or five o’clock.”

“Thank you, Meg. You did the right thing. If someone is after him, it’s important that we find him first. And we need to get you away from this house. Boss?” she said into the phone. “More news.”

   SUCH A DAY. THE PLANTS virtually sparkle. Joel and Laurie, Meg and Susannah are outside in the yard at the Pocusset Safe House, talking.

Christie can see them from the window of the office where he sits with an old friend, Elizabeth, who founded this place in honor of her husband. She doesn’t work here herself, but she makes sure it runs well. It’s a place where kids in transition can stay for a day or two while the courts get their various acts together.

Elizabeth Ross has her own practice as a therapist—she’s Christie’s idea of a great place to take your woes. Warm, friendly, smart. She has wavy light hair and always looks as if she’s blushing. He helped her through a bad time, best he could, when her husband, whom she adored, was killed.

He’s told her the whole story of the Philips kids, everything from the fact of their father’s dying two years ago to their recent adoption of a fugitive into their lives; they definitely qualify for a respite at the Safe House while Alison stays with a friend. But the other thing is, he doesn’t want the kids briefing Alison before court tomorrow.

“How are
you
doing?” he asks Elizabeth Ross now.

“I’m coming along,” she answers. “Slowly. Grief takes a long time, you know? You just have to give it time.”

“I’ll bet. I’ll bet.” He doesn’t tell her he’s ill, on chemo, and that Marina may be in her position all too soon. To say it is to let it happen.

He says instead, “I had a heck of a time getting these kids over here. They are all concerned about wanting to go to school tomorrow morning, so I assured them someone would drive them. The boy Joel is upset about missing exams.” He chuckles, watches her, waits expectantly.

“They sound interesting.”

“They are. Wait till you meet them.”

“Our staff will be good to them. I got the feeling you wanted me here for some reason. To meet them myself?”

“Actually, it’s something else. A kind of long shot I was working on.” She looks at him quizzically. “I’ve been thinking about your friends, the Morrises.”

“No. No, Richard, they couldn’t take four. Is that what you’re thinking?”

“They took a wild child.” Of course, it didn’t work out with the troubled kid he tried to save once, but he doesn’t say that now.

“They have their names in for two children from Turkey. They’re on a waiting list for adopting.”

“When does that happen?”

“I don’t know. A year or so.”

“Two, huh?”

“Yeah, they met another couple who got two infants, three months apart in age. Everybody calls them the twins, but, of course, they aren’t even related by blood. It’s funny, though, they
act
like twins, they even look like twins. So Jan and her husband are going to try to adopt two at the same time, too.”

“Hmm,” he says.

Elizabeth blushes. “I can’t believe I walked into that. I can see what you’re thinking, how you’re thinking, but …”

“Maybe only while we get the deadbeat mom to shape up. Stepmother,” he corrects himself.

Elizabeth hesitates. “How deadbeat is she?”

“Left them. Drifted back when things didn’t work out. It’s like putting a spacey fifteen-year-old hippie in charge of them.”

She sighs deeply. “I thought hippies were long gone.”

“Well, I think I’ve seen one.”

“Drugs?”

“My guess is no. Alcohol maybe. And emotional damage of some sort.”

“Half the world,” Elizabeth says.

“What I’d like is for Jan and Bob Morris to … just meet the kids today, show them around Pitt. Entertain them.”

“Today?”

“If at all possible. Give them a couple of hours. That’s it. Just give them a vision of something else.”

“I understand what you’re angling for. But, please, the Morrises are my friends. I don’t want to take advantage of their kindness.”

He smiles. “When you talk to the kids, you’ll see. And maybe … the Morrises will fall in love.”

She shakes her head. “Not four. Nobody could handle four. And the Morrises end up with another big heartache they don’t need.”

“But isn’t it better to be in love than not?”

“Do you always manage lives this way?”

“Marina says I do. She says I’m a monster.”

Outside the windows is a little drama being enacted. Joel walks away from his siblings. Meg watches him. Laurie capers. Joel turns. Laurie capers some more, swings a punch at him, he’s back in. Meg hugs Susannah, rocks her.

“What happens to these poor kids if they fall in love the other way around?” Elizabeth asks.

They might. They’re in love with Nick. A great itch comes over his neck, his chin. He feels blood rushing to his head, agitating all his skin surfaces. He can’t solve every part of it.

The day is so beautiful. The kids are floating in it, completely cut off from everything they’re used to.

Elizabeth sighs, dials a number. “There’s no answer,” she says. “They might be away. They go to Italy when they can. I know someone I can call to find out.” But when she calls the second number, there’s no one answering there, either. “I’ll keep at it,” she promises with a wry grin.

Christie goes out to the grounds of the Pocusset Safe House. “You’ll like it here for the night,” he says. “It’s probably just for one night. The rooms are pretty. Did you see them?”

They tell him they did. An assistant showed them around.

“And there’s always food. You get hungry in the middle of the night, there’s something.”

“Will Alison be all right?” Susannah asks.

He nods slowly. “Yeah. She’s going to be okay.”

“What happens tomorrow?” Joel asks testily.

“We talk to her, we figure out what her circumstances are, what she’ll be able to offer you. It might take a while. Court is never a lot of fun. I’ve made arrangements to have someone take you from here to school in the morning and pick you up from school when you’re needed in the afternoon at court. And … and bring you back here or somewhere tomorrow night.”

“Oh,” Joel says. “You’ve thought of everything.”

“I tend to do that.”

Meg steps in. “But if Alison doesn’t present herself well in court, what will happen … you know, long-term?”

He looks at them with all the steadiness he can muster. “If that happens, the next best bet is to get some decent foster care.”

“There isn’t any such thing,” Joel says.

“Well, let’s not think about it just yet… .”

“Maybe you could find Nick,” Susannah says. “And we could stay with him somewhere.”

“That’s quite an idea. A big idea. I don’t know if it’s the right thing for him, though, in terms of his safety. Well, while they’re getting your rooms ready, let’s go have a hot dog or something in the park in Oakland outside of Pitt?”

“We’ve done nothing but eat all day,” Laurie says.

“I have someplace I have to be after school tomorrow,” Meg tells Christie. “It’s completely necessary.”

“Well, then, we’ll work it out.”

“Our father went to Pitt,” Susannah says.

“Did he take you there often?”

She frowns. “No. Too busy. Two jobs.”

“Three, sometimes,” Laurie adds.

Out in the bright sunlight, at three o’clock, a little after, Christie drives the four kids down the wide portion of Beacon near Beechwood Boulevard.

“Where are we going?” Joel asks. “This is the wrong way.”

“Just for a ride first. I know some nice folks who live on this street. I was wishing you could meet them.”

“They have kids our age?”

“No.”

“Because we used to live near here. Over in Greenfield. But I remember driving down this street for something. Some kids from around here went to school with us.”

“Oh. Good. You know the area.”

“I thought we were going to the park at Pitt.”

“We are. I was just spinning my wheels first.” He stops in front of a house with a sloping lawn, neatly trimmed hedges, and a portico framed by two white pillars. “This is where the folks live that I wanted you to meet. They’re very nice, both professors at Pitt.” He can feel the kids looking at him curiously. “Let me just knock in case they were away and came home.”

He gets out of the car and taps on the door, then rings the doorbell, but nothing happens. The kids watch him from the car windows. He feels a bit idiotic.

“Not home,” Joel says when Christie gets back in the car. “There’s a dog bowl outside and no barking. That means the dog is out, too. They should put the bowl inside when they’re not home.”

“I’ll have to remember to tell them. Okay. Let’s go down to Pitt. Hot dogs if you have any room.”

   AT THE CAMPUS PARK AT PITT, there are summer students scattered on the lawn, sunbathing, bookmarked texts next to them. A few little kids ride the merry-go-round. “Want to?” Christie asks Susannah.