Part 21 (1/2)
Although the question might have been perceived as a challenge, Pete heard no animosity in the man's voice. ”We needed a place out of the rain for a few minutes. If we're in the way, we can-”
”Then come inside!” Keith waved his hand, smiling at the children. ”Warmer in here. The missus has hot water boilin' on the stove. Wouldja like a cup o' tea? Or maybe some cocoa? My Norma makes the best cocoa in town-everybody says so.”
Lorenzo's face lit. He looked up at his mother, his eyes begging. ”Can we, Ma? Huh?”
To Pete's surprise, Berta Liedig looked to him, as if seeking approval. A lump filled his throat. He offered a nod, and she ushered the children into the store with gentle nudges and murmured admonitions. Pete followed, and a pleasant s.h.i.+ver wiggled across his frame as warmth from the roaring woodstove in the center of the market reached him.
Mrs. Branson hustled forward, her gently lined face wreathed in a smile of welcome. ”Oh my, you all look chilled to the bone! That rain's sure turned our pretty November into a drearsome time, hasn't it? Mrs. Leidig, there's a real nice rockin' chair over in the corner. Why don't you sit a spell-you look plumb tuckered. You children come on over by the stove an' I'll get to pourin' that cocoa. Nothin'll warm you faster than a cup of cocoa with lots of milk. An' cookies? Do you like cookies?”
Lorenzo nodded so hard his hair flopped. ”Yes'm!”
Laughing, Mrs. Branson tweaked Lorenzo's nose. ”I thought so. Well, I got cookies, too. Oatmeal just overflowin' with plump raisins. Come on over close, now.”
Berta sank into the rocking chair and rested her head on the curved back. But she kept her eyes trained on the children, who cl.u.s.tered around the stove while Mrs. Branson busied herself preparing the cocoa. With his family occupied, Pete returned to the front door and peered across the street, focusing on the apartment's entrance. He sure wished Jackson would hustle on out of there.
Keith sidled up beside Pete and nudged him with his elbow. ”Ever'thing all right?”
”I hope so . . .”
The man flicked a glance over his shoulder at the others, then inched closer to Pete. ”That fancy man I seen out on the sidewalk with you all . . . he here to help?”
Pete nodded. ”Yes. He's a lawyer. We're trying to get the children into a better home.” Please let it be with me! Please let it be with me!
”That'd be a right good thing.” Mr. Branson heaved a sigh. ”The missus an' me were talkin' the other night. Feelin' purty guilty, too, I don't mind admittin'.”
Pete sent the man a puzzled look. ”Guilty? Why?”
”All that time we spent fussin' about how n.o.body ever raised a hand to help them kids . . . an' we realized we'd done nothin' more'n fuss. We could've helped, too.”
Pete gave the man's shoulder a rea.s.suring pat. ”I'd say you did plenty. You let them sneak off with fruits and vegetables without ever paying a penny. You made sure they were fed. That's a heap more than others have done.” A hard edge crept into his voice.
Keith hung his head, his expression sorrowful. ”But it weren't enough. Not hardly enough. We seen that oldest one skulkin' on the street corners, hangin' with riffraff. I'm wis.h.i.+n' now I'd've offered him a job. Idle hands're the devil's workshop, they say. If I'd've kept him busy, maybe-”
”Don't blame yourself.” Pete s.h.i.+vered and slipped his hands into his coat pockets. Keith Branson was taking too much responsibility on himself. It was Gunter Leidig's job to keep Oscar out of trouble-a job he'd failed at miserably. The tingling ache in his stump increased as it always did when he stood in one place too long. Yet he wouldn't change this post until Jackson emerged. He tapped the tip of his peg on the floor. ”No, sir, it's not your fault. I should've come back long ago. I didn't because I was scared of facing my pa.”
Keith's head shot up, and his jaw dropped. ”So you are are a Leidig!” a Leidig!”
Shame-faced, Pete nodded. ”Yes, sir. I'm sorry I misled you. But my lawyer friend is helping me change my name. Won't be long and I'll be Peter Rowley.”
”How come?”
The childish voice startled Pete. He turned awkwardly to find Lorenzo standing behind him with a steaming mug of cocoa held between his palms. Confusion marred the little boy's face. ”Does that mean you won't be my brother no more?”
Pete wished he could go down on one knee before the boy and speak to him at his level. But the best he could do was prop his hand on his good knee and bend forward. ”Of course not, Lorenzo. I'll always be your brother.”
”But why're you changin' your name, then?”
How could he explain to this boy that the name brought ugly memories? His name made him feel shameful, knowing it was bestowed by a man who cared so little for his family. He detested his tie to Gunter Leidig. He sought words of a.s.surance, but before anything came to mind, a loud pop! pop! echoed from somewhere outside. echoed from somewhere outside.
Lorenzo jumped. Cocoa sloshed over the rim of the mug and dribbled past his hands. ”What was that?”
Pete stood up, looking around in puzzlement. Keith stepped closer to the door, his head c.o.c.ked.
Pop! Pop!
The older man spun to face Pete, his eyes wide. ”Those sounded like gunshots!”
”Oh, dear Lord. Jackson . . .” Pete stumbled past Mr. Branson and out the door, clear to the curb. Rain blinded his view, but he cupped his hands above his eyes and squinted through the steady downpour. Across the street, the apartment door burst open and a man leapt off the porch. Without pause, he ran pell-mell down the street and disappeared in the gray curtain of rain. But Pete got enough of a glimpse to recognize him. He quickly looked back at the apartment door. No one came in pursuit. That could only mean one thing.
He whirled toward the market to see Keith standing in the doorway, holding out his arms to keep the children and women inside. Pete hollered, ”Mr. Branson, do you have a telephone?”
The man nodded.
”Call the police! And tell them we'll need an ambulance- send them to the Leidigs' apartment. You all stay here. I've got to tend to Jackson!”
Ignoring the stabbing pain in his stump, Pete ran across the rain-slick cobblestones as fast as his peg leg would allow. His soul implored with every clumsy step, Please, Lord, let Jackson be all right Please, Lord, let Jackson be all right.
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Libby cupped her hands around the steaming mug of coffee and scowled at Bennett. The earlier frivolity that had exploded on the lawn continued in the dining hall. Although the room always buzzed with conversation at mealtimes, this evening students remained long after the dinner hour to chat and sip coffee. Bursts of laughter rang from various corners, giving the room an air of festivity. It seemed everyone had enjoyed seeing Roy get a taste of his own medicine.
”I understand why you'd want to see Roy roundly defeated, but I do not appreciate being the cheese in a mousetrap.” Libby used her sternest tone to address Bennett. ”If you were going to use me, you should have warned me.”
”Yeah, I probably should have.” Bennett's voice carried no remorse, and to Libby's increased irritation Alice-Marie released a little giggle at his nonchalant reply. He slipped his arm across the back of Alice-Marie's chair and grinned. ”But it would have spoiled the surprise.”
Another loud round of laughter burst from the group sitting behind their table. Libby leaned forward and raised her voice. ”I nearly forgot to breathe when that masked man picked me up and started running with me!”
Bennett snickered. ”Yeah. Half a dozen of 'em volunteered for that part of the plan. I chose Riley because I knew he'd behave himself and actually put you where I wanted you.”
She supposed she should thank him for his consideration, but another question filled her mind. ”How did you get Roy to come, anyway? I can't imagine him responding to anyone's beck and call.”
”That was the beauty of the whole plan.” Bennett raised his face and let out a hoot of amus.e.m.e.nt. ”He thought he he was beckoning was beckoning you you, but in reality we we were beckoning were beckoning him him. All it took was a few well-aimed messages sent in someone else's name.”
”In other words, lots of falsehoods.”
”But look at the end result!” Bennett threw his arms wide and bounced a beaming smile from Alice-Marie to the surrounding tables of jovial students and back to Libby. ”Wasn't it worth it?”
Bennett's comment teased at the fringes of Libby's mind. Was an end result more important than the means used to achieve it? ”I don't know.”
Suddenly Bennett pulled his face into a grimace. ”Besides, all you got was the brief scare of being swept off your feet. I'm paying a much higher price.”
”What's that?”
Bennett toyed with his napkin, his head low. ”To get Caroline to play along, I had to promise to take her to the drugstore for a sundae Sat.u.r.day afternoon.”
Envisioning loud-mouthed Bennett with the meek, mousy Caroline, Libby hid a smile. ”I think that's a fair retribution for being involved in such deception-for Caroline.”