Part 21 (2/2)

”A '?”.

”It's just not what we do, inviting half the town.”

”Four people,” Donna signed, and said, ”All special.” Lucy looked at her again. ”How is Judd Streeter special?”

”He runs the granite compahy for my father.”

”And Nolan Mccoy?”

”He's looking out for Chelsea. Scary things have been happening to her lately.”

”Scary things wouldn't happen to her if she stayed where she belonged.” Donna had things on the tip of her tongue to say, but the arguments had all been made before. Over the years Donna had learned not to suffer speaking for no purpose. She was miserly with words. That meant getting right to the point, and in this case the point was winning Lucy over to her cause. ”Inviting Chelsea would be good for the Farrs,” she said in broad signs. Lucy drew in her chin. ”How so?”

”She has money. She plays a big role here. Before 450 The raswons of CAmisen AMC ryone will want her for dinner. We should the first.” She saw that Lucy was listening. ”People in the Corner like her. If we had her to inner, they'd like us more and be more apt to shop the store.” That thought did appeal to Lucy. Donna could it in her expression-until she suddenly gave a rt shake of her head and frowned. ”Emery would r hear of it. George and Oliver wouldn't approve.” Donna made a sign of annoyance that was more ommoln among the hearing than not. ”Have mery put them to shame,” she said, giving her voice its way. ”Have him put the Farrs in the lead.

”Chelsea should have been invited to dinner long Lucy looked torn. ”But she's pregnant, and she ”,,has no husband.”

”Good reason to have Judd along. He's like a hus- d.” She claims he isn't the father.”

”Does that matter?”

”In the Notch it does.”

”Used to. Times change. Farrs have to change, loo, or they'll fall behind. Do you want the others to t ahead?”

Lucy looked so confused that Donna actually felt or for her-but not enough to dampen a certain nse of achievement. Pus.h.i.+ng her advantage, she gned, ”Can I invite them?”

”No. No. Not yet. Not until I check with Emery.” Donna lifted one of the scarves and fingered its eave. It was bolder than the others, a blend of eep purple, lavender, and lime green wool. She nsidered buying it for herself. Touching Lucy's arm with a grateful hand, she 451 Barbwa Degnsky said, ”You'll make Emery like the idea. He'll be proud of you for suggesting it.” In the ideal scenario, Lucy would broach the idea to Emery that night, run through the arguments that Donna had given her, and obtain Emery's consent. Since Donna had long ago given up on ideal scenarios, though, she wasn't surprised when Lucy said nothing the next day or the next. When she finally drummed up the nerve to ask, Lucy said simply that Emery was considering it, which was, to Donna's dismay, as far from the ideal scenario as could be. ”Considering it” meant discussing it with George and Oliver. Donna thought of going to her father with a plea of her own but rejected the idea. Oliver had never pretended to like Chelsea. He resented the fact that she was saving his company. Besides, he wouldn't listen to Donna. She was nothing. So she kept her silence and hoped for the best. Then Matthew acted up. It happened at dinner four days after Donna's initial discussion with Lucy. Donna had left the store early to take Jos.h.i.+e to the dentist, though not without harsh words from Matthew to the extent that the boy should go alone. To compensate for having displeased him, she had set about making something special for dinner.

She knew she was in trouble the instant he entered the dining room and made a face. ”What's that smell?” She didn't know what smell -he meant-she had deliberately chosen shrimp, which was what he always ordered when they ate out-and conveyed that with a questioning look. 452 The Pa.s.sions of Cbelaw Kam h.e.l.l, ris it Parmesan cheese?” he shook her head, set down the pitcher of and hurried back to the kitchen, praying that Id like the looks of the meal enough to overe whatever he smelled.

She returned to the with the platter just as Jos.h.i.+e came in. gel that he was, his eyes went wide. ”That great.” atthew had his nose turned up.

”It looks disng. What is it?”

”Curried shrimp, eggplant and zucchini, and ' srimp. What's curd srimp?” ',@”Cur-ried sh-rimp,” she repeated slowly, and went k to the kitchen for the salads. He was no more pleased with those. He flicked e greens, as though half expecting them to turn r for his inspection. When they didn't, he raised tioning, eyes to Donna.

”Endives,” she said. ”I know they're endives. I sell endives. What I t to know is what they're doing on this plate.”

”It's an endive salad.” He pushed his lips out and nodded. ”Endive salad, cur-ried sh-rimp, vegetable glob, d rice-is there something wrong with good oldhioned steak, potatoes, and peas?”

”You complain that I make the same things.

You shrimp. I thought I'd try it.”

”This is interesting, Dad,” Jos.h.i.+e said. Matthew stared at Donna. ”And iceberg lettuce? @;Seems to me we had plenty of that in the store. And Aomatoes and cukes. Something wrong with good old-fas.h.i.+oned tossed salad?” C Donna had so, so carefully peeled and deveined 453 BArtwm Definshy Me Faswom of cbeav” Kam the shrimp, prepared the vegetables, steamed the rice, mixed the raspberry dressing for the endives. She didn't know whether to be hurt before furious or vice versa. Without looking up-she didn't want to see what anyone was saying, particularly Matthew-she took her place at the table and began to fill each plate from the platter. She was putting Jos.h.i.+e's before him when a glance at his mouth gave her the tail end of his sentence. ”... their moms don't cook as good as mine.” Her eyes flew to Matthew. ”Then you can just invite your friends over here and let them eat this, because I sure as h.e.l.l won't.” s.h.i.+fting to stare at her, he lifted the salad plate and turned it over, dumping its contents in a spill of green and red on the white linen cloth. ”Matthew,” she cried.

”Do you honestly expect me to eat this c.r.a.p?” His eyes went to Jos.h.i.+e.

Donna's followed. Jos.h.i.+e voiced her anger. ”That's gross, Dad. You tell me not to spill things. You didn't even try the salad.”

”d.a.m.n right I didn't, and I'm not going to try this, either.” With one sweep of his hand, his dinner plate sailed off the table onto the oak floor. Shaking, Donna rose. ”Why did you do that?” She could see that Jos.h.i.+e had risen, too, and prayed he wouldn't make things worse. Matthew sat back on his chair, laced his fingers over his belt, and smiled. ”That meal didn't deserve any better. Clean it up, and then make something else. I'm hungry.” Donna looked at the mess on the floor and thought of the effort she had put into the meal. She'd had the best of intentions, but Matthew 454 n't know what those were. He hurt her every @as much with his tongue as he often did with the of his hand. Vlean it up!” he bellowed loud enough for her to Y, the vibration of his words. ”I'm hungry. And take Of this, too.” Without pause, he dumped what ned of the platter onto the floor. s.h.i.+e started forward. Donna restrained him. _”He can't do this,” he signed furiously..,;-”He's in a bad mood,” she signed back quickly.

His hands flew. ”You spent a lot of time making ner. If he didn't like what you made, he could gone out for something. He'll go out later, anywhy do you put up with him, Mom? How can stand living in the same house as him?” The tines of a fork caught Donna on her collar- e, piercing both the sweater she wore and her . The fork fell to the floor as she spun away. Jos.h.i.+e lunged toward Matthew. She whirled back and caught him around the st, screaming, ”No, Jos.h.i.+e! For me, no! Get your hoolbooks and go to Pete's house! Do it now!” hie struggled against her arm for another second ore falling back. She came in front of him, placing rself between father and son. With less force she id, ”Please, Jos.h.i.+e?”

”I'm not leaving you here.”

”I'll be fine.” Jos.h.i.+e looked at his father. After a minute he wered, ”She is not always fine. You hit her. I've n it and heard it.”

”Go, Jos.h.i.+e,” Donna begged. He was getting larger the day, was into p.u.b.erty, physically an almost an. But he was still only thirteen. She didn't know ow a thirteen-year-old was supposed to handle 455 Barbara Denusky irrational cruelty. As a child she had handled it by blotting things out. She still did in some regards. But she didn't wish that on Jos.h.i.+e. More than anything she had wanted for him the warm, peaceful home that she hadn't had herself. ”Go?” she pleaded, and must have finally gotten through to him because, with a last, resentful look at his father, he turned away. At the front door he retrieved the jacket and books he'd dropped when he'd come home from school, then he went out the door. Donna immediately took the platter, knelt on the floor and, ignoring the stinging at her collarbone where the fork had stabbed her, scooped up what she could of the food with her bare hands. Her vision blurred. Through tears, the mess was no better, no worse. Dinner was ruined. She paused when a narrow stream of water began hitting the floor and looked up to see Matthew slowly and deliberately emptying'the pitcher. Her mind went in circles. She didn't know what had set him off, didn't know what he'd do next. She was frightened, humiliated, enraged. Standing, she took a step back. She wiped her hands on her skirt, and all the while the puddle on the floor grew. ”Why are you doing that?” she asked. ”I'm doing it,” Matthew said, mocking her with the movements of his mouth, ”because you don't deserve anything more. You're good for cleaning the floor, not much else.” His expression changed suddenly, pale blue eyes icing over. ”What possessed you to ask my mother to invite Chelsea Kane for Thanksgiving dinner?” So that was it. She should have known, should 456 The Aamlons of awraw K=w known. Lucy had told Emery, who had told and George. One of the three must have told hew, so now she had the piper to pay. But, it, she wasn't apologizing. ”I thought it would nice thing to do,” she said with as much poise ”he could. thew glared all the harder. hate that woman. You know I do. I hate Judd eter and that moron of a father of his. And I cially hate Nolan Mccoy.” He pointed a rigid finat. her. ”I see the way that man looks at you. Ire my wife! He can't touch you! And you can't him! You'd best remember that, or you'll have more trouble on your hands than one stinkin' er.” The words had barely cleared his mouth n, in a fit of-fury, he swept Donna's and then hie's plates to the floor. China shattered, fol- ”wed seconds later by gla.s.s as water goblets zzed past her and broke against the wall. She had her hands curled protectively around head. He threw her arms down. ”Clean it up!” he roared. ”And when you're done h that, you can go back to the store and clean the ce, and next time the kid has an appointment he get there himself. I give you room and board d clothes, and it doesn't come for free. You get thing for nothing, especially if you're a dim-witted an who can't talk right, much less hear a d.a.m.n I say.” Lip curling in disdain, he shouldered his past her out of the room. A minute later she felt e slam of the front door. With the ruin of the evening meal before her and r ogre of a husband out the door, she began to hake in earnest. Leaning against the wall, she amped her elbows to her sides and tried to still 457 Demnsky The Pa.s.sions Of MCLICA Kmw the shaking, but to no avail. Her entire body was into it, and her mind didn't help. Fragments of thought were ricocheting around in a sphere of nothingness-hatred, bewilderment, resentment, fear. She was paralyzed, unable to slide to the floor, though her knees were quaking, unable to leave the wall, though she was standing on broken gla.s.s, unable to cry out loud, though there was no one around to hear. The chaos of food, china, and gla.s.s on the floor became a surreal piece of art in the most starkly terrifying of traditions, so much so that she squeezed her eyes closed. As though shutting one door opened another, long, slow gulps of pain began bubbling up from deep inside her. She felt their rise. Her body pulsed with them. Her head and her hands fell against the wall, and she stood there, totally taken over by the dark forces of anguish. She lost track of time. After what might have beerl two minutes or ten, she felt the return of awareness. The gasping eased, as did, marginally, the shaking.

In the wake of what she had been through, she was spent, calmed by sheer lack of strength. Rubbing a hand under her running nose, she stepped over the debris. In the kitchen she took off every piece of clothing she wore, set them on the counter, and washed her hands, then her face. She ran her wet fingers through her hair, freeing it from its knot, and continued to comb it as she climbed the stairs. A short time later, wearing blue jeans and a sweater under her faded winter jacket, she left the house. She walked down the street to the green, turned her back on the church, and stared for a 458 Aime at the three stately brick homes.

Their was a sham, as was the arrogance behind family names. She cursed the day she'd been a Plum, cursed the day she'd married a Farr. cursed the ties that bound her to Norwich because she knew that she couldn't leave. , hands tucked deep in her pockets, she walking. She went down the store side of the n and up the inn side of the green, down one street and up another. Lights burned in win- , the occasional behind which townsfolk read or watched television. She didn't inside. She didn't want to see what others were ng. She didn't feel the cold, didn't feel the dark- Her body was as numb as her mind. e went past the firehouse to the school, skirted perimeter of the meadow, then returned and k the road out of town. She thought of walking Old walking, never turning back, starting a new life , place that was more honest and compa.s.sionate the Notch. It was a sweet thought and brought ,wistful smile to her face until she thought of hie. She walked on. In time she retraced her steps, but her feet went t her street and took her into the center of town .. She crossed the green and turned onto the row path, not quite a street, that wound between barber shop and the bakery. At its end was the rwich Notch Police Station. Immediately behind was the small frame house that belonged to the ief of police.

With calm, sure steps, she went to its door and ocked softly. Nolan answered. At the sight of her, e went dead still. He knew something had hap- ned, could read messages beneath her skin. Filled 459 Ewtuarn Deuns1w with concern, his eyes roamed her face for no more than seconds before he reached out and drew her in. He cared. Of all the things Donna loved about the man, what she loved most was that he cared. Thaf was why she didn't stop over the threshold but continued on into his arms. It was why she raised her face for his kiss and gave one back, why she let him take off her faded winter jacket, why she went with him through the small living room into the bedroom in back. He cared. He thought she was worthy of his caring. He treated her as though she were precious and very, very feminine. That was why she let him undress her, why she watched while he stripped down, why she took the weight of his naked body, then opened her legs and took him inside. He cared, and she loved him for it. 60 OUVE BEEN AVOIDING ME,- CHELSEA SAID ”,the minute Hunter opened the door to her on a chilly evening in early November. She slipped her cold hands into the opposite sleeves of her coat and raised her voice to carry over a robust Tchaikovsky's Ninth. ”You're never at the quarry w en ' there. You're never at the office when I'm there.

You're never at church when I'm there.”

”Never go to church.” He glanced at her stomach, . was a marked protrusion between her topcoat's lapels. ”Surprised they let you in.” Chelsea grinned. ”They have no choice. I donated a new organ. The pastor insists I sit in the front row, so that's where I sit, baby and all.” As though it had been waiting for the permission that maternity clothes gave it, the baby seemed to have doubled in size in the last month. When Chelsea walked down the center aisle of the church, she very definitely looked pregnant. ”Bet the town's leading ladies love that.” Her grin broadened. ”Don't you @now it.” Hunter snorted and looked away, but not before Barbara Deunsky a reluctant half smile touched his mouth. ”Can I come in?” she asked, hunching her shoulders. ”It's freezing out here.”

”is this another I'm-lonesome-Hunter-l-want-totalk thing?- ”No. I'm not lonesome.

Buck is great company.” He was running around outside. ”But I'm worried.”

”About what?”

”You.” She put both hands on his middle, guessing-correctly -that he would move to avoid her touch. She stepped into the house just as the music crescendoed. When she looked back, he was standing by the closed door. ”Will you turn it down?” she called. ”I like it,” he called back. ”But I can't hear myself think.”

”If you want to think, go home.” Shooting him a look of annoyance, she went to the stereo herself and lowered the volume, then sighed in relief. ”The neighbors must love this.”

”That's why I do it.- Bothering the neighbors might be a side benefit, but she figured the main attraction was the music itself. Given the size and nature of Hunter's collection, he appeared to be a connoisseur. ”You never did tell me what got you hooked.”

”No.” She waited expectantly. After a time he said flatly, ”I went to the symphony every Sat.u.r.day night when I was a kid.' ”Hunter.”

”Why does it matter?”

”I'm curious.”

”My mother liked cla.s.sical music.

Okay?” 462 The Pa.s.sions of CAmdww jcme interesting, another element Chelsea found that his background to explain why he was the way he another thing they had in common. ”It's fine. at's the big deal?”

”The big deal is that it's none of your business.”

”That's what bothers me.”

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