Part 33 (1/2)
”Don't say that. You don't know that.”
”And yours.”
”How do you-?”
”This was never about saving me. You wanted to alleviate all that guilt you felt for not being part of your sister's life. This has been about you from the beginning.”
”That's not true. That's-”
”Taking me to bed was about you, too. If we slept together, you could off-load some of that guilt you felt for all the c.r.a.p you threw at me when we first met. I veg out and you're guilt-free.”
”That's an awful thing to say.”
”You f.u.c.ked me in every way possible.”
”I'm sorry if you see it that way, but I was-”
”Keeping me from saving the lives of the only two people on this planet I ever loved.”
You had to give her points for sticking. I would have flown out of there like a broken promise. But then you already know I'm a stone-cold b.a.s.t.a.r.d. More and more I was realizing it, too.
A moment later we heard a disturbance in the dark field behind us, a volunteer from Snoqualmie's department trying to turn back someone who was traipsing toward us across the gra.s.s from the paved road several hundred yards away. The interloper, a small, slender figure, went around the volunteer and proceeded directly toward our gathering.
It took me several moments to recognize her.
It was Morgan. My baby-sitter.
Morgan was alive.
Some yahoo blinded her with a spotlight from his pickup truck, causing her to stumble the last thirty yards. For the first time in almost an hour, I got up off the stump. When she got close, I hugged her. Out of grat.i.tude, I guess, grat.i.tude that she was alive. She hugged back with an uncertainty that was clear to all of us.
”Why weren't you with my girls?”
”I . . . had to . . . What happened?” She was as confused as a b.u.t.terfly at a c.o.c.kfight. The fire investigators and the homicide detective approached, and all five of us began shooting questions at her simultaneously.
”Morgan,” Stephanie said, taking charge of the interrogation by virtue of her gender. ”We thought you were in the house.”
”I was.” Morgan stepped out of my embrace and stared at the hulk that had been my home, her lower lip quivering. I knew what she was thinking, because I'd been thinking the same thing. She was thinking she'd just made the worst mistake of her life.
”Why did you leave my girls? And who did you leave them with?”
Turning to me in tears, Morgan said, ”I didn't leave them with anybody. We thought you were going to be home pretty soon. I didn't mean to do anything-”
”If this is your baby-sitter, who the h.e.l.l is in the backyard?” Stevenson asked.
”You have anything to do with setting this fire, young lady?” Shad glared at her.
”No. Of course not.”
Obviously Morgan had left my children with a friend while she'd gone off to be with a boyfriend or to a beer party or some such teenage nonsense. My girls were dead. I'd dragged the subst.i.tute baby-sitter out of the fire.
”Who was baby-sitting?” I asked.
”I was.”
”Who else?”
”n.o.body else.”
”You didn't leave my girls alone. I know that. We found her.”
”You found who? I didn't leave them. I would never leave them.”
”Then where were you?”
”I was-”
”Daddy! Daddy!”
I turned around so fast I almost twisted an ankle.
Like broken-field runners, the two of them raced through the line of vehicles in the long driveway leading to our house, Britney barely able to keep pace with Allyson, Allyson sprinting in and out of the various groups of firefighters, who were drinking Gatorade and chucking down cookies. I wasn't sure if I was hallucinating or not.
When I started to run toward them, Shad must have thought I was trying to flee the scene, because he leaped in front of me waving both arms. I knocked him down so fast I didn't get to see the look of surprise on his face. Later, they told me he went down like a mousetrapped stop sign under a truck.
And then they were in my arms, Allyson and Britney.
And I was swinging them around and hugging them, and we were all alive again. The three of us.
We were a family again. I couldn't believe it.
51. RECONSt.i.tUTED PIZZA AND c.o.kE.
”Where were you?” I asked, setting them on the ground and kneeling between them, holding them. I was afraid this was another hallucination. During the last hour, had I renounced my atheism and prayed to G.o.d, I would have given anything in exchange for my daughters. Instead, here they were free of charge. Maybe there was a G.o.d.
”Daddy, what happened to our house?” Allyson couldn't tear her eyes away from the smoldering ruins.
”I don't know.”
Wide-eyed and mute, Britney refused to let go of me. I held her close, Allyson alone in front, her eyes vaguely accusatory, as if I or someone else on scene were responsible.
”It's all burned up,” Allyson said.
”Yes, it is. And you know what? I thought you were in there.”
”Daddy, that's silly. We were at a movie.”
”Why did it burn up?” Britney asked.