Part 18 (1/2)
”Nothing.” He was saving the last few cookies for dessert tonight.
When he turned to give her a gla.s.s of milk, the sandwich was gone. She guzzled down half the milk, then asked for a paper cup. A little milk might make Leonardo feel better. He didn't have any paper cups. She could take it over in the gla.s.s if she brought it back. ”Are you out of milk?” he asked.
”Yeah, but there's still some c.o.ke left,” she called back.
After she left he felt guilty. He should have given her the cookies, he thought as he cleared the table and counter. He hadn't seen Marvella Fossum for a while. Maybe she was sick. No, because Jada said she wasn't home. He remembered Jada's ravenous consumption at the cookout that night. Like a stray no one dared confront. Her dog probably wasn't even sick. She'd just needed an excuse to come begging. He stared out the window. Was it possible? Was there a hungry child over there? He couldn't recall such a thing ever happening when he'd been a boy. Not here, not on Clover Street. There'd been an old man over on Liberty Street, once, who fell down his cellar stairs and broke his hip. Days later the mailman found him incoherent from hunger and dehydration. Twenty-five years, and everything was different now. Children screamed at their mothers every day in the Market. Holdups were so commonplace, Neil had gone through three in four months. Last week a gang of girls had beaten up Serena's teenage niece in the school library for e-mailing one of their boyfriends. Expecting order and sanity, he had found a world gone awry, the planet tipped. Instead of meteors, airplane bolts and metal chunks fell from the sky. Untended babies plunged through open windows. But who was he, what right did he have to expectation, disappointment, indignation, of all people, him, Gordon Loomis, so insignificant, so lost in his own life, that he had surely been on his way long, long before the night she dead-bolts her door, hobbles on one crutch from the shower into bed, where the last book she reads is so insignificant, so lost in his own life, that he had surely been on his way long, long before the night she dead-bolts her door, hobbles on one crutch from the shower into bed, where the last book she reads is The Healthy Woman's Guide to Happy Pregnancy, The Healthy Woman's Guide to Happy Pregnancy, never suspecting that in minutes it will be over. Everything, past and to come. Ended. He would be twenty-five years old. Almost twenty-six. never suspecting that in minutes it will be over. Everything, past and to come. Ended. He would be twenty-five years old. Almost twenty-six.
Kevin, the father testifies, and Gordon's lawyer jumps up in protest, not wanting it allowed humanness or gender.What does its name have to do with the facts of that night? ”Everything!” the father bellows back. Gordon burrows deeper into the stony silence of shame one newspaper describes as ”an unflinching disregard for the victims. During testimony, the young man stares into the distance, making eye contact with no one, not even his own family.” But in the years since, he has found solace knowing the fetus was allowed that-at least a name in his father's mind, if not a memory, a name on some brittle page of court transcript, a name never entered on a birth certificate, but perhaps carved into granite, a name to mark his existence. Kevin Walters, a fact in the eyes of the defense, not a being.
It was four o'clock and they still weren't back. One more favor he'd owe Delores now. He wished he hadn't called her, but when Jada returned later in the morning, the dull-eyed puppy panting and limp in her arms, Gordon panicked.
”He's dying. Look at him, he's gonna die, I know he is. His heart's hardly even beating,” the girl wailed. ”My poor sweet baby's gonna die.”
He tried to explain over Jada's sobs, tried to apologize for calling Smick's, but there was an emergency. That's all Delores had to hear. She didn't even hesitate. Help was needed, so she closed the store and got there in less than ten minutes. Dr. Loop in Hilliard, that's where she used to bring her mother's cats, she called back as Jada's long skinny legs folded into the front seat with the dog wheezing at her chest. ”He's really good!” Delores called before she drove off, leaving Gordon confused but strangely energized, as if there were a thousand things he might do, if only he knew what they were.
When they finally returned, Jada had four different kinds of medicine for the slightly livelier dog that was sniffing the leg on the coffee table. Delores told Jada he had to go to the bathroom.
”Here.” Jada grabbed a section of the newspaper and tossed it. Leonardo squatted, spraying the paper. The long yellow stream dribbled over onto the floor.
”Jada!” Delores said.
”What?” Jada said.
”You can't let him do that in somebody's house!”
”But he's paper-trained,” Jada said as Gordon hurried out of the kitchen with paper towels and Pine-Sol.
”Here . . .” Delores took the roll from him and handed it to the girl. ”Clean it up and then bring him home. Poor thing's had enough excitement for one day.”
After a quick wipe of the floor, Jada gathered up Leonardo and his medications. She had already thanked Delores and said good-bye, but she lingered in the doorway. She asked Delores how long her nails had to grow before they could be manicured.
”I already told you-you gotta have some white showing. At least to the tips of your fingers,” Delores said.
Jada frowned over the dog's head at her chewed nails. ”How long's that take?”
”Not long. You'll be surprised,” Delores said.
”What if they don't grow?”
”They will. And if you'd wash your hands once in a while, they'd grow even faster.”
”What if they all grow, then one breaks?”
”Then we'll go anyway!” Delores laughed. ”Now will you please leave now so that poor thing can get some rest?”
”Oh, yeah, you sweet little baby,” Jada murmured, nuzzling his ear as she left.
”Wow! Is she a piece of work or what?” Delores sighed, watching through the window.
”I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you. I just didn't know what to do,” Gordon said. He felt foolish for having dragged her into this.
”No!” She was glad he had called her. What she meant was that she'd never met anyone quite like Jada Fossum. Amazing-in spite of the neglect, there was still a sweet girl under all that craziness. ”Do you know how long she's been alone over there?”
He didn't know she'd been alone.
”A week, anyway. Her mother's in rehab somewhere, she said, but she doesn't want anyone to know. She's afraid of being put back in foster care, so she gets up every morning and goes to school, then comes home right after. Funny, huh, kid like that trying to do all the right things because her mother's not around. The one she's most afraid of finding out, though, is Ronnie Feaster. Every day he comes by looking for her mother.”
”He even asked me if I'd seen her.”
”Yeah, she owes him money, so now he wants Jada to work for him and pay it back.”
”That no-good b.a.s.t.a.r.d,” he muttered, then was embarra.s.sed that he'd sworn, but she didn't seem to mind.
”I know. I told her she shouldn't be living alone like this, but she said her uncle comes by almost every day to see how she's doing. She said he doesn't like her living in this neighborhood, but she told him how there's a real nice family across the street that's always helping her out.”
”Really? What family's that?”
”You.”
In constant motion, each child had the presence of three or four, halfway up a tree one moment, then crawling out from under the deck the next, now trying to throw tennis b.a.l.l.s over the roof. Gordon didn't want to be here. He had expected a children's party, but most of the guests were friends and neighbors of Lisa and Dennis. The only one he knew was Delores, and she was busy helping Lisa. He headed toward the deck when he saw Delores come outside with a tray of toothpick-studded fruit wedges.
A tall, barefoot woman in a long gauzy dress was suddenly walking beside him. ”We haven't met yet. I'm Gretta Deacon.”
”h.e.l.lo.”
”I live in the green house. We just moved in a few weeks ago. I'm still working, so I haven't met too many neighbors yet. I'm not due till October, so I suppose I will then. I'm not going right back to work. Not until the baby's a year old, anyway. At least! And then who knows, maybe I'll-”
”Excuse me.” He turned, slipping into the cool shadows alongside the house. s.n.a.t.c.hes of conversation floated by.
”You try losing ten pounds in . . .”
”Lee and Kendra's littlest boy . . .”
”. . . how they lost the entire front to grubs when . . .”
”And who's got that kind of . . .”
”Hey! Hey, mister! Are you Jimmy's uncle?”
Gordon nodded. The boy bit his lip, then glanced back at Jimmy and two boys watching from the hammock.
”Are you really?”
”Yes.”
The boy raced back to the hammock.