Part 23 (1/2)

”Okay, let's go.” We darted out the door. I locked it. I jogged to the car with Danny by my side, wind whipping around us and blowing stray newspapers in our path. We scrambled inside. I cranked the heater. ”It'll be warm in a minute.”

Danny's teeth chattered in lieu of a reply.

Halfway home, an odd thought popped into my head. ”Danny, did your dad ever buy flowers for a girl?”

I saw his expression in the rearview mirror. It was the ”yeah, right lady” expression. ”No. Why?”

”I was just curious. Erica got married to this guy named Maury Boor. He buys girls flowers all the time.”

”Erica really got married?”

”It looks that way, Danny.”

”I'm never getting married.”

”Why not?”

”I don't want to. I'm going to get a dog.”

I laughed. ”Man's best friend.”

The few miles to our house pa.s.sed quickly and I pulled into the driveway, pleased to see that the timer had lit the Christmas lights we'd strung the night before. Now we were as festive as the rest of the neighborhood. At least our family had one thing going right for us.

Danny followed me to the front door, slipping on the fresh snow in his high-top sneakers. I unlocked the door to let him scoot inside the warm house. Then I fished the mail out of our mailbox, which was filled to overflowing.

I took off my coat and carried the mail into the kitchen to sort. A blue envelope caught my eye. It was addressed to Danny, in care of me.

I picked it up. The handwriting looked like a child's. It had no return address. I waved it at him. ”You have mail.”

His expression was stunned. ”I never got mail before.” He darted over to stand next to me. ”Who's it from?”

I held it out to him then pulled it back, hesitant. What if it was something that would hurt him? ”Do you recognize the handwriting?”

Danny shook his head.

”Could it be from your dad?”

”I've never seen my dad write.”

Of course not. If he didn't read, he probably didn't write, either. ”Maybe someone at the jail wrote you a letter for him. Open it and see.”

Danny took the letter and flipped it over. ”How?”

”Just slide your thumb in this opening here and lift the flap. Or you can rip it across.”

Danny tried, but his hands shook. ”Here, you open it.”

I did. It was a card covered in footb.a.l.l.s that said, ”A Party ...” I opened the card.

Jacob, Bernie Shubert's son, was having a sleepover party for his twelfth birthday.

Danny was invited.

Danny turned the invitation over in his hands. ”Should I go?”

”Sure, why not? Ray and I know Jacob's parents. They're very nice. You know Jacob, right?”

”Yeah. We play football at lunch.”

”His dad told me that. He said Jacob thinks you're pretty good.”

Danny's face brightened. ”He does?”

I pointed to the card. ”Maybe you'll play football at the party.”

”Yeah.” He looked inside the card again. ”But it says to bring a sleeping bag.”

”You can use Ray's.”

”What about a present?”

I felt like I was talking him into feeling as excited as me. ”You can pick out something. I'll pay for it.”

”Okay.” But he sounded doubtful. He set the card on the table and went into the living room to turn on the television.

I pulled ground meat out of the refrigerator to make meatb.a.l.l.s. As I rolled the b.a.l.l.s, I smiled. Danny was invited to his first birthday party. I couldn't feel more delighted.

After our mother committed suicide, Erica and I didn't get many party invitations. Those we did receive were from kids whose parents made them invite us just to be nice. I knew that because the kids made a point of telling us. My mother had never been involved in school activities and she didn't encourage us to invite friends over. We were all she could handle, and in the end, she couldn't handle even that. So the invitations had always been few and far between, since people generally invited the kids with the parents they knew best to their birthdays. I didn't mind being left out, but Erica did. She'd cried many tears over it, which made me both angry and sad. I'd feared Danny's jailed father would prevent him from blending in with the kids in much the same way. Apparently, it hadn't.

Then it occurred to me. Bernie might have had a hand in this. It might be another pity invitation. Maybe Jacob invited Danny because Bernie insisted. If Danny found out, he would be hurt, too.

Tears burned my eyes. Why did life have to be so uncertain?

I finished rolling the meatb.a.l.l.s and put the frying pan on the burner. There wasn't much I could do but encourage Danny to go to the party and have a good time. I'd hope for the best.

Danny and I ate dinner. He had two helpings of spaghetti and, after asking me to identify the spinach, chewed and swallowed his serving of that without complaint. I tried to talk to him about school and the work he did with Cory. He gave short answers designed to discourage conversation. He wasn't a teenager yet, but he'd picked up all the mannerisms.

After he carried his own dish to the sink, I didn't ask him to clear the table or wash dishes. Ray would have. I preferred to do it myself, alone.

When I heard SpongeBob come on, I hid in our bedroom and tried to read. The pages blurred as I worried first about Danny, then his father, then Erica, and finally even Maury. I glanced at the clock. Seven p.m. and still no Ray.

I thought about calling him on his cell phone, but didn't want to disturb him. Maybe he'd find out something tonight that would answer some of my concerns.

I must have fallen asleep. I awoke at nine-thirty to find Ray standing next to me.

I sat up. ”Is Danny in bed?”

”He is now. He was watching television when I got home. He's all excited about Jacob's birthday party.”

”He is?” I filled Ray in on my concerns. ”Do you think it will be okay?”