All on loan from the tight-fisted estate of Elizabeth MacNamara. She wanted to go straight up the stairs, crawl into bed. Or under it. But it couldn't be done. Just one more thing that couldn't be done. So she walked to the doorway.
Carter was telling some story-she could tell by the way his hands were moving. He had such good stories. She knew he hoped to become a writer, and that he worked at it when he could. But teaching ate up most of his time.
Beside him Josie rolled her eyes, but she was laughing while she did. It was so sweet, the way they loved each other. Still so fresh and sweet.
There was Mama, looking so happy. Just peaceful and happy, her world full of people who made her so. And Ava perched on the arm of Mama's chair, sipping coffee from one of those lovely Wedgwood cups. Her little girl, sitting on the sofa beside Duncan. And oh my goodness, what was that look on Carly's face when she smiled up at him? Her baby was having her first crush by the looks of things.
And didn't he seem just right at home, Mr. Duncan Swift, sprawled back, all relaxed and easy, sending her little girl winks like the two of them were in on a big secret.
How many blocks from here was Hitch Street?
How could that distance have an entire world between them?
It was Duncan who saw her first. A quick light in his eyes, then an equally quick fade into concern. Was she so transparent?
He rose, came to her. "Are you all right?"
"No. I'm not hurt, but I'm not all right. I'm sorry I missed dinner," she said in a voice that carried into the room.
"Mama, we had the best time! And Duncan said… " Carly's words faded away as she dashed over. Phoebe saw her bright blue eyes latch on to the blood on her pants.
She'd had a spare shirt in her locker, but she'd had to come home with the blood-Charles Johnson's blood-on her pants.
"It's not mine. I'm not hurt, not at all. But I need such a hug from you right now. I need such a big, enormous Carly hug right this minute." She crouched and squeezed tight as Carly wrapped around her. She stayed crouched. She had her child tonight, right here, safe and sweet in her arms. Others didn't.
She leaned back, kissed both of Carly's cheeks. Then, straightening, she looked at her mother. Essie stood, face pale, hands linked tight. "Nothing happened to me, that's first. Look at me, Mama. Nothing happened to me. Nothing. All right?"
"All right."
"Carter, pour Mama some of that lemonade there. You sit down, Mama. I'm going to say I know you think I share too much of what I do, what there is, with Carly. I'm sorry we don't agree on the boundaries of that. Well. I think I could use something stronger than lemonade right off."
"I'm going to get you some wine, and some food." Ava walked to her, squeezed her arm. "You ought to sit down, too."
"I ought to. I will. I want to change these pants first. I'm going to be right back," she said to Carly.
Duncan glanced over ait Essie as Phoebe went out. "Essie, I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to go up with her."
He didn't wait for permission, but caught up to Phoebe on the steps.
"I'm just going to change my pants."
"I'm not looking to grab a quickie while you do. You look exhausted."
"It was a bad day. Very bad. I can't talk about it yet. I only want to talk about it once."
"I'm just going to be here, you don't have to talk."
In her room, she pulled out a pair of cotton pants. She stripped off the blood-smeared trousers, tossed them in the hamper. "Mama will likely perform some miracle of science and get that poor boy's blood out of those." She pressed her hand between her eyes as the grief swamped her. But before Duncan could take her into his arms, she stepped back, shook her head.
"No, no comforting hugs just yet. And no tears. If I have to cry, it'll wait until later. My mother's worried. She'll stay worried until I get back down."
"Let's go back, then."
He went down with her. Ava had already set a plate on a tray, had a glass of wine waiting.
"It'll be on the news," she began. "Probably has been. There was a situation over on Hitch Street. Gang-related. Hostages. The boy was sixteen. Just sixteen, grieving, so angry, so misguided. It took time to talk him down, but I did, I talked him down, and told him it would be all right. So he came out, just the way I told him. Unarmed, hands up high. And someone shot him. They shot him while he stood with his hands up, when he was surrendering. His mother was there, close enough I think she must have seen it happen."
"Is he going to be all right?" Carly asked.
"No, honey. He died." Before I got to him, Phoebe thought. "But why did they shoot him?"
"I don't know." She stroked Carly's hair, then bent down to kiss it.
"I just don't. We don't know why or who. Not yet. There'll be talk, on the TV about it. I wanted you-all of you-to know what happened."
"I wish it hadn't happened."
"Oh, baby, so do I."
Carly snuggled up. "You'll feel better if you eat. That's what you say."
"It is what I say." Deliberately she speared something on her plate.
It didn't matter what, she couldn't taste it. But she ate it with a little flourish. "And as usual, I'm right. Now, everybody should stop worrying and tell me what you did for fun tonight."
"Uncle Carter and Duncan played a duelette."
"A duelette?"
"That's what Uncle Carter called it. On the piano. That was fun. And Aunt Josie told the joke about the chicken."
"Not that again."
"I liked it." Duncan worked up a smile. He saw what she was doing, needed to do. Get everyone back to normal.
"And Duncan said you and me could go on his sailboat on Saturday if you said we could. So can we? Please? I've never been on a sailboat before. Ever."
"You're obviously a neglected and abused child. I suppose we probably could do that."
"Yes!"
"But right now it seems to be somewhat past someone's bedtime."
"But we have company."
"And a polite, self-sacrificing child, too. How'd I get so lucky? Now, say good night, and I'll be up in a couple minutes."
Carly dragged her feet all around the room, stalled, looked beseechingly toward the other adults for intervention. She circled her way around to Duncan, sighed heavily. "I wish I didn't have to go to bed, but thank you for coming to dinner."
"Thank you for having me. We've got a date on Saturday, right?" The sulks flew away. "Okay. 'Night."
The minute she was gone, Phoebe set down her fork. "I'd better get on." Duncan rose.
There were polite protests, mutual thanks, cheek kisses and handshakes. "I'll walk you out."
It felt so good to step outside, into the air. To take a breath of it. "I'm sorry I brought home something that tainted the evening."
"Don't think of it like that." He draped an arm around her shoulders as they walked down to his car. "Hard for you."
"It was awful." She indulged herself a moment, turning into him, holding on. "I don't know that I'll ever get it all the way out of my head. Maybe I shouldn't. I don't know how it could've happened. Some people are already saying it was us who did it. We're saying we suspect it was one of the members of the rival gang. We found the gun. AK-47. It wasn't one of ours. They riddled that boy. In seconds. One of the hostages inside was hit. He'll be okay, b u't… " She sucked in a breath, drew back. "That's not for here."
"It's for wherever you need it to be."
"I need to keep as much as I can away from here." She glanced back toward the house. "Whenever I can. So… about Saturday."
"I'll pick you and Carly up about ten. How's that?"
"It's nice of you to offer her such a treat. I don't want you to feel obliged to-"
"Don't." He tapped a finger to her lips. "Don't do that. And the fact is, you might as well know, if things don't work out with you and me, and Essie turns me down, I figure I can wait about, what, fifteen years, for the kid."