Part 13 (1/2)

”I know,” Keely said, interrupting. ”What happened?”

”I saw you go out this morning. So when I was raking the side yard next to your house and I heard an unG.o.dly shriek coming from your house . . . well, after what happened the last time, I figured I'd better look into it. I could tell it was the baby, and she was just screaming b.l.o.o.d.y murder.”

The image of the quiet street rent by Abby's screams made Keely feel both ashamed and wildly frustrated, as if it were her own incompetence causing everything in her life to go wrong. ”Oh Lord,” she said miserably.

”Apparently,” said Evelyn, was.h.i.+ng out her gla.s.s and carefully placing it in the dish drainer, ”she'd fallen and banged her chin on the coffee table. There was blood all over the place. When I walked in, she was sitting there by herself, wailing, with blood all over her, all over the carpet . . .”

”Where was Dylan?” Keely demanded.

Evelyn Connelly shrugged. ”For a minute, I thought you'd left her all alone in the house. I a.s.sumed the boy was in school . . .”

Despite her guilty feelings, this was too much for Keely. ”That's absurd. I would never do that,” Keely said angrily.

Evelyn wiped her hands on a dish towel, examining, for a moment, her large, sparkling diamonds. ”At any rate,” Evelyn continued,”I cleaned up the mess and changed her clothes, bandaged her cut . . .”

”Thank you, Evelyn. That was good of you,” Keely said stiffly.

”Oh, I'm used to it,” said Evelyn. ”I'm a doctor's daughter. I've seen my share of blood.”

”And where was Dylan all this time?” Keely asked.

Evelyn c.o.c.ked her head and pursed her lips. ”He wasn't much help,” she said. ”He was more in the way than anything else.”

”So he tried to help,” said Keely, somewhat relieved. ”Well, toddlers do fall. They have accidents.”

”Ifthat's what happened,” said Evelyn. ”We only have his word for that.”

Keely felt as if her face were frozen. Abby tugged cheerfully at her mother's hair. ”Well, thank you, Evelyn, for helping us out.”

”I brought her over here because I didn't think it was a good idea to leave her alone in the house with him,” Evelyn continued ominously.

Keely had to bite her tongue, to remind herself that her neighbor had been trying to do what she thought was right. ”As I said, thank you for your help. We'll get out of your way now.”

”All right,” said Evelyn, in a tone that indicated she had done all she could and was was.h.i.+ng her hands of the problem. She led the way back down the hall, followed by the dogs, to the front door. Keely bundled Abby close and edged past the dogs and her disapproving neighbor. She hurried away from the dark house without looking back.

Once she reached her house, she closed the front door and leaned against it, holding Abby so tightly that the baby squirmed in protest. Keely gazed up the stairs. The hallway seemed to spin around her, so she shut her eyes. Finally, she exhaled, opened her eyes, and carried Abby into the nursery. She changed her, got her a bottle of juice from the kitchen, and set her down in the playpen. Though the playpen was once her favorite place, when she wasn't very mobile, Abby now fretted in protest at being confined there. ”I'll be right back,” Keely promised.

Taking a deep breath, she started up the stairs. The door to Dylan's room was locked. She knocked loudly. ”Dylan,” she said. ”Open the door.” There was no answer from inside the room.

She stood in the hallway waiting, her anger rising by degrees. ”Dylan,” she said.

”G.o.ddamit.” She turned the k.n.o.b and jiggled it. ”Open this door.” She heard the lock turn, and then the door opened and they were face to face. The room surrounding them was in a state of utter chaos, as if he had deliberately strewn his belongings across the surfaces of his desk, bureau, and bed. He gazed at her defiantly.

Her anger and frustration boiled over. ”Dylan,” she said, ”I told you to watch your sister when I went out. I told you not to leave her alone,” she cried.

”I didn't,” he said sullenly.

”Ms. Connelly told me that when she came in the house, the baby was sitting there all alone, covered in blood and screaming.”

”She's an old b . . . bag,” he said.

”Are you saying she's lying? She has no reason to lie about it, Dylan. You, on the other hand . . .”

”It's my fault, of course,” he said bitterly. He sat back down in his chair and swiveled it away from her. ”The stupid baby falls down and busts her chin and you blame it on me.”

”What am I supposed to think?” Keely cried. ”How am I supposed to trust you?”

”I wouldn't, if I were you,” he said sarcastically.

”I trusted you today,” she cried. ”I trusted you to take care of Abby. In spite of everything, I trusted you to take care of her.”

Dylan looked up at her with narrowed eyes. ”In spite of everything.”

”Oh, come on, Dylan. Let's not play word games. I'm over there trying to convince the district attorney of what a fine, upstanding kid you are and how she's not being fair to you, while you're here letting G.o.d knows what happen to your sister.”

”You don't trust me,” he said flatly. ”Why can't you just admit it?”

”It's not about me trusting you. I thought you would have learned your lesson by now. To be careful. To think,” she cried. ”Instead, you just continue on the same way. You think about yourself, and that's it. The h.e.l.l with what happens to anybody else.”

Dylan leaned back in his chair, laced his hands behind his head,and nodded. ”You're right, Mom,” he said. ”Everything you say is right.”

Keely shook her head. ”Don't take that att.i.tude with me, Dylan.”

”I'm just agreeing with you,” he said innocently.

”You're just being fresh-that's what you're doing. Instead of taking responsibility for your actions-”

Dylan leaned forward and the chair landed on the floor with a crack, at the same time that his fists landed on the desktop. ”Just get out of here,” he shouted.

Startled, Keely jumped but stood her ground. ”You don't tell me what to do,” she said.

”It's still my room,” he snarled.

”And a royal mess it is,” she observed angrily. ”Clean this place up.”

Dylan looked around at the littered surfaces, the piles of clothes. ”It looks fine to me,” he said.

In that instant, staring at the utter disarray, Keely was reminded of another, worse mess-the way Prentice Weaver's apartment had looked when she and Lucas had unlocked the door and walked in. It was as if the horrible condition of his dwelling had reflected the torment of his mind, the chaos of his life. Keely didn't want to think that about her own son. It was different with kids, after all. They were messy. It took time for them to learn to clean it up. But she realized, even as she told herself that, that Betsy Weaver had probably told herself the same thing when Prentice was a teenager, only it hadn't been a pa.s.sing phase. It had been a sign of trouble yet to come.Oh Dylan,she thought.What do I do with you?She took a deep breath and tried to think calmly before she spoke.

”Dylan, did Dr. Stover call while I was out?”

”Yeah,” he muttered. ”You're supposed to call him back.”

”Okay. I will. Look, honey,” she said. ”I want you to try to clean this up, and then I think we need to sit down calmly and talk about what's going to happen next.”

”What does that mean?” he asked suspiciously.

”Dylan,” she said. ”Dr. Stover was recommended to me by the school as someone who might be able to help you with your problems.”

”Great. A shrink,” he said.