Part 20 (1/2)
Christine hurried around the yard to the back door and pushed it open, entering the kitchen. The house was still. At last she heard her mother's footfall in the hall above, and then the creak of the stairs.
”Chrissie,” her mother said as she entered the kitchen. She still wore her long blue housedress; she had always dressed early in the morning before.
”Who's that little girl?”
”What little girl?”
”The one I saw in my room, looking out the window.”
”You must be mistaken.” Her mother's voice was flat. ”There was no one in your room.”
”I saw her.”
”You're imagining it.”
Christine pa.s.sed her mother and pounded up the stairs. The door to her old room was still open; she hurried through it.
The little girl was not there. The room felt cold; Christine pulled her coat more tightly about her. Abruptly the floor s.h.i.+fted under her feet.
She staggered, righted herself, and heard the sound of a child's laughter.
Christine covered her ears, then let her hands drop. The room was warm again; everything was as it had been. Her mother had said that there was no little girl; that meant she had imagined it all. She would have to put it out of her mind.
After Christine had greeted her sister-in-law, said h.e.l.lo to her nephew, and peeked into the baby's room, Charles led her to the bas.e.m.e.nt. His bar sat in one corner in front of a stainless-steel sink. He poured her a bourbon, then opened the refrigerator and took out a light beer. ”My refuge,” he said. He came around the bar and sat down next to her.
”Shouldn't we go upstairs?”
”It's all right. Jenny's got to nurse Trina again, and then she'll have to put Curt to bed, and then she and Mom'll watch the MacNeil-Lehrer Report before supper. We can go up then.” He paused. I heard about Jim.”
”He moved all his stuff out finally.”
”I thought you two would be together forever. I kept expecting you to call and say you'd gotten married.”
Christine sipped her bourbon, then gazed at the gla.s.s. ”After he left, I came home one day and started fixing drinks. Jim always had a vodka and tonic and I always had a bourbon. Well, I fixed myself a drink and then I suddenly realized I'd fixed his, too. That was when I finally cried about it.” She shook her head. ”You seen=m to be doing all right.”
”I guess so.” Charles's ash-blond hair was already thinning around his temples; his mustache was thicker, as if to compensate. ”One thing about being a dentista”the customers can't talk back to you while you're working.”
”You'll be all right. You always were. You were always the good child.
I screwed up.”
”Chris, Mom worries about you sometimes.”
”No, she doesn't. She's never forgiven me, not since my breakdown. It was as if I was saying she was a lousy mother because I didn't turn out right. And I'm not married, and I don't have kids, and I don't have a lovely home and a fine husband. She hates me for it, but she won't say so.” Christine gulped at her bourbon. ”If she says she worries about me, it's only because she thinks she's supposed to say it.”
”Oh, Chris, come on.”
”She never came to see me when I was in that expensive bin. She never asked me why I broke down.
After that, I was damaged goods as far as she was concerned. As long as I was perfect, she loved me.
When I wasn't, she just turned herself off.”
”What do you want her to do, say she's sorry?”
”That wouldn't change anything.”
”Then forget it. It's your problem, Chris. You can't keep feeling sorry for yourself.”
She glared at him. ”It's easy for you to talk, Chuck. You didn't fall.”
”You think so? Every time Dad visits, he asks me why I don't keep up my sports more, maybe coach Little League. I know he would have liked to see me pitch in the major leaguesa”h.e.l.l, I wanted it, too.
n.o.body grows up thinking, *Boy, I'm really into teeth.” But I'm not going to get depressed over it.”
”Chuck, Mother's been spending a lot of time in my old room. It worries me. She” Christine was about to mention the little girl, but changed her mind. ”That room gives me the w.i.l.l.i.e.s. I wish she'd put all my old c.r.a.p away.”
”You could take it with you when you drive back to the city.”
”I don't have room. And I wouldn't care to be reminded of how wonderful I once was.”
”Chris, you've got to stop it. You have the rest of your lifea”don't poison it. Grow up. Everyone fails in some way. You have to learn to live with that.”
She heard the voices again.
Christine threw off her sheet and coverlet and tiptoed toward the door, opening it slowly. Creeping into the darkened hallway, she moved cautiously toward her old room.
A child's voice giggled. ”Do you like it?”
”I think it's beautiful. But you always do everything well.”
”I'm glad. I love you, Mommy.”
”I love you, too.”
Christine trembled as she recognized her mother's voice.
”Read to me, Mommy.” Bedsprings squeaked.
”Which book?”
”The House at Pooh Corner.”
”You're such a good little girl. You won't disappoint me, will you Chrissie?”
”Never.”
Chrissie. Christine backed toward the guest room. How long had the child been living in this house, and what had enabled her to appear?