Part 8 (1/2)
”Did the driver describe him?”
”No, he never really looked at Grandpa.”
Sophie says, ”I like that he calls himself Robin Hood and leaves the green feather. He steals from the rich to give to the poor.”
I'm not so sure of that. ”Maybe yes-maybe no. We'll ask him when we find him.”
The wind outside is picking up, rattling the windows of the building. ”Everybody got their flash lights ready if the power goes out again tonight?” Evvie is always on storm duty. She gets the appropriate number of nods.
”Bella,” I say, ”you look puzzled.”
”I still don't know how he can rob a bank without legs.”
Ida throws a handful of popcorn at her. ”Get it through your head already. He has legs. He hid them under the box he was sitting on.”
She pouts. ”It looked real to me.”
”Which brings me to a few puzzling questions,” I say. ”Didn't Morrie tell us that the police warned all the local banks about him? So, why were the tellers surprised?”
Evvie refills my popcorn cup. ”And how does Grandpa make his getaway?”
Ida says, ”I'm guessing he hides things nearby, in his car. Or in a backpack. What we saw was a legless-man routine. I wonder how many other getaways he has in his bag of tricks?”
Evvie adds, ”What I want to know is how he knows us-does he live here in Lanai Gardens? Is he someone we see often?”
”And we should pay attention to this map,” I say, indicating the Fort Lauderdale map I've taped to the board. I used a marker to circle the locations of the six banks. Grandpa has. .h.i.t so far-all within a five-mile radius of one another. ”Within this same area there are at least three more banks that haven't been robbed yet. I wonder where he'll hit next time? We also need to figure out if there is a pattern to how often he robs and if there is a similarity to the time of day . . .” My cell phone rings, interrupting my daunting list of next steps. It's Jack. I tell him what we're up to. I turn so the girls won't see me blush as Jack informs me he's coming to my apartment tonight for our next attempt at a ”sleepover.”
”What was that about?” Evvie asks when I hang up. But I'm saved from having to answer her question when a loud burst of thunder and lightning hits right above us.
I quickly erase the board. Everybody hurries to the door. Evvie tosses suggestions as we go: ”Keep safe. Pull the blinds. Stay away from windows.”
We race back to our apartments, holding hands. But I'm not thinking of the amount of rain or the velocity of the wind or Grandpa Bandit- I feel warm and fuzzy at the thought of my own thunder and lightning show on for tonight.
12.
Let's Try Again.
It's after midnight. The weather outside is wild- the worst storm we've had in many seasons. But indoors we are comfy. Jack and I are wrapped in a blanket and stretched out on my couch in the living room, in front of a romantic fire sizzling in the fireplace. Candlelight takes the place of the power we no longer have. Wine warms our insides. Our clothes are still on, but in much disarray.
”I really missed you,” Jack says, nuzzling my neck.
I nuzzle him back. ”It's only been three days, silly.”
”It felt like a week to me.”
”What have you been doing?”
”Helping out. Stanley Heyer's been leading a group of residents from building to building, looking for damage from all the recent rain. And what mischief have you and the girls been up to?”
”Trying to find our Grandpa Bandit. He's very elusive.”
We kiss. Then kiss again. Our hands are exploring. Our breaths shorten. No need for words. I am happy to realize that even at our ages s.e.x is still an active urge. And to think I was sure I would never have these tingling feelings again.
The candles are burning down. The room grows dimmer. Our bodies are well heated. I am softly moaning with pleasure. Jack indicates the bedroom. He's ready. I'm ready.
As we get up there's a knock at the door.
We stare at each other in utter disbelief. It can't be happening again.
”Someone's knocking?” Jack asks incredulously.
”Impossible. On a stormy night like this? Must be a branch hitting the door.”
”Or maybe a whole tree falling down on the building,” he suggests jokingly.
The doorbell rings. Then there is the sound of a key turning in the lock. In the near-darkness we see the door open, and a small apparition enters. At first I don't recognize it-it's all bundled up with rain jacket, large floppy rain hood, boots, and a broken, upturned umbrella.
It's Bella. She flings the soaking-wet umbrella to the floor, drops the rain jacket from her shoulders, and kicks off her boots. She is wearing her favorite lobster and squid pajamas; her hair is in curlers. Her teddy bear is tucked in under the waistband of her jammies.
She slogs toward me, shaking her damp head.
”What are you doing here, Bella dear?” I ask gently.
She walks through the hallway and into the living room without stopping.
”The storm is scaring me. I don't want to be alone.” Her voice is slurry and sleepy.
”But, Bella! Dear, you live next door to Evvie. Why did you walk clear across the courtyard to my building? It's dangerous out there.”
She doesn't even look at me as she moves through the living room. ”I tried Evvie. But she was sleeping so soundly she didn't hear the bell. I used the key, but she double-locked the door. So I came to you.”
With that, she enters my bedroom.
Jack and I stare at each other. Jack whispers, ”She has keys to all your apartments?”
”Yes, we all do, in case of emergencies.”
”She didn't even see me.”
”That's because she forgot her gla.s.ses.” I smile weakly.