Chapter 24
Ruthie was buried in sand, mouth agape, gulping for air. Slidell was wobbling toward her on a bike he couldn’t control. Ryan was crouched low, coaxing a rabbit from beneath a boulder.
“It’s too late.” Ryan rose to full upright, eyes blue lasers, body a black cutout against a burning white sun. “We have to—”
My eyes flew open.
My heart was skipping hard, and I didn’t know why.
Sunlight streamed through the blinds covering my bedroom windows, throwing bright diagonal slashes onto the carpet.
Birdie was pressed tight to my back.
I reached around to stroke his head.
The cat stretched and purred, then curled into a ball.
I lay a moment, trying to uncork this new dream and let it breathe.
Typically, my nighttime visitations are straightforward remixes of recent events. Nothing particularly enigmatic or creative. But my id had gone the extra mile with this one.
I gave the analysis a good five minutes.
My forebrain refused to interpret for my hindbrain.
Whatever.
I checked the clock.
Eight-forty-one.
Momentary alarm was followed by pleasant realization.
It was Sunday.
I had no class to teach. No lecture to present. No urgent case awaiting my attention at the morgue.
Ryan’s flight had been canceled, so I wasn’t certain when he’d arrive.
Little flip in my southern parts thinking about that.
I got up, threw on shorts and a tee, brushed my teeth, and knotted my hair in a topknot. Birdie watched my sketchy toilette, miffed that his breakfast hadn’t come first.
I’d just filled the cat’s bowl when my mobile sounded.
“Wow,” I said. “Two calls in two days.”
“Very funny.” Katy wasn’t laughing and her voice sounded strained.
“Are we grumpy?” A word my daughter had used to described herself at age three. An expression I still employ, much to her annoyance.
“I’m calling to let you know that Ruthie is here.”
“What time did she get home?”
“Two-seventeen. I know because I couldn’t sleep until I heard her come in.”
“Mmm.”
The irony made me smile. Katy had been a hellcat as a teen. Her difficulty with Ruthie was mirroring my experience raising her.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“Just mmm.”
A brief pause. Then,
“She wants to go up to Boone later this week with these UNCC students who seem to have adopted her. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“She’s seventeen, they’re in their twenties. I know what college road trips are like.”
“When did you go on a college road trip?” A rebel like Ruthie, Katy hadn’t started at the local university until she was older.
“I saw Animal House.”
“Belushi was hilarious in that.”
“Jesus, Mom. I didn’t call for a movie review.”
“What does Kit say?” Ignoring the prickly rebuke, I queried my nephew’s take on the issue.
“Ruthie’s doting Papá is currently at a camp outside Yemassee, South Carolina, fishing for drum. The place is so remote there’s no cell signal. I think that’s part of the appeal. While he’s off the grid I’m supposed to direct any questions about Ruthie to her grandmother.”
“Okay. What does Harry say?”
“She’s cool with it. But your loosey-goosey sister would be cool with flying to Pamplona to run with the bulls. No offense intended.”
“None taken.” Katy was right. Harry wasn’t the best judge of what was adolescent appropriate.
“Besides Lester Meloy, have you talked with others in that group?” I asked.
“Just a woman named Danielle Hall. And only to exchange greetings when she came to pick up Ruthie.”
“What is it you’d like me to do?”
“I’ve invited Meloy and Hall to join Ruthie and me for a picnic dinner at Freedom Park. I want you to come.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Ryan’s flight has been delayed and I’m not sure when he’ll arrive.” Read: I’d rather not.
“No problem. You’ll actually be closer to the airport.”
“Katy, I—”
“I’ll see you at seven.”
Dead air.
Less than an hour later, Ryan called.
“Hey.”
“All?, mon amour.”
“What’s the latest?” Reading his tone, I knew the news wouldn’t be good.
“I just spent forty minutes on the freaking phone with freaking American Airlines.”
“You spoke to an actual human being?” I was astounded he’d accomplished this given that every passenger from the ferret trip was trying to rebook.
“Her name was Ardeth. Don’t ask how I managed the miracle of live contact.”
I didn’t.
“According to Ardeth, every flight into Charlotte is sold out until tomorrow afternoon.
“Did you try the website?”
“That’s where I started.”
I said nothing.
“The lovely Ardeth was very sorry.”
“I’m sure she was.”
“It’s probably just as well.” Ryan tried to put a good spin on the situation. “I should do some winterizing.”
“Winterizing.”
“You know, change to snow tires, check my supply of warm socks, hunt down the electric blanket—”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Katy brought fried chicken, green beans, and mashed potatoes. Baklava cheesecake for dessert. Every dish was excellent. Because the meal came from Barrington’s, one of my favorite restaurants.
God bless takeout.
Meloy was as charming as he’d been the first time we met.
Danielle Hall was… what?
A lot.
While I had no idea what to expect, I certainly wasn’t prepared for the woman who showed up.
For starters, Hall was six foot two with a physique that suggested hours in a gym. Probably years. Her skin was so devoid of pigment it made me think of the troglofauna living deep in caves. Her hair was dyed an unfortunate baboon’s butt red. A gold ring pierced her right brow.
As we spread our blanket, then ate, I kept sneaking glances at the intricate tattoos showing dark against Hall’s pale skin.
The most striking featured a black snake with one orange eye.
The serpent’s head wrapped Hall’s right thumb and its body spiraled her wrist. When we’d shaken hands following Katy’s introduction, the creature had appeared to lunge for my face.
Despite the startling first impression, Hall turned out to be excellent company. She’d traveled extensively, liked many of my favorite authors, and was passionate about animal rights.
When it came up that Hall was working on an advanced degree in engineering and employed part-time by the city, Ruthie asked her about the passageways underlying Charlotte. Apparently, my niece had been intrigued since our earlier discussion of the subterranean network.
“Would you like to visit sometime?” Hall asked.
“You’ve gone down there?” As before, Ruthie sounded breathy with awe. Maybe trepidation.
“Many times,” Hall said. “I’d be happy to take you on a tour.”
“Pass.”
“It’s dark and dank, but perfectly safe if I’m guiding you,” Hall said.
“Call it a phobia, or whatever. Gloomy, underground tunnels are not my thing.”
“Let me know if you change your mind.”
“Never gonna happen.”
Conversation then shifted to the topic of phobias. At one point, Ruthie insisted we go around the group with each person naming the thing they feared most.
Hall mentioned spiders.
Katy went with heights.
Ruthie stuck with small dark spaces.
I said mine was losing people I love.
Meloy admitted to anxiety when around dogs.
“No way,” Ruthie said, with one of her snorts.
“I was attacked by rottweilers when I was a kid.”
Meloy rolled up his left sleeve, revealing a scar running from his wrist to the soft, veined triangle of his inner elbow. Sinuous and shiny, the pale swath looked like a worm crawling his flesh.
“Oh, wow,” Ruthie said.
“How did you escape?” Katy asked.
“A neighbor heard the commotion and turned a hose on the pack.”
“Your hero. You must have loved that guy,” Ruthie said.
“He was the owner who never properly contained the beasts.”
“That’s messed up,” Ruthie said.
“Damn straight.” Color rose to Meloy’s cheeks. “Excuse the language.”
“You call that language?” Ruthie guffawed.
“Don’t get me wrong.” Meloy scanned the faces around him. “I don’t hate dogs. I have two myself. A collie and a retriever. Poppy and Red. Well, I had two.”
“One died?” Ruthie’s question was honeyed with sympathy.
“Last week.”
“Ohmygod. I’m so sorry. Losing a pet really sucks.”
“I had to shoot Poppy.”
“She’d grown too old to enjoy a good quality of life?” Ruthie asked.
“She was around fourteen months.”
“Jesus,” Ruthie gasped. “That’s still a puppy.”
Meloy shrugged.
“Why?” Ruthie said in a tone that sounded like a challenge.
“The dog was untrainable.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Reading the escalating indignation in my niece’s tone, I jumped in.
“Has anyone seen the latest exhibition at the Mint Museum?”
“It means I wasted six months trying to teach the dog a few very basic skills. With zero success.”
“So you killed her!?”
“It features costumes from TV series going back to the fifties,” I said brightly, doing my best imitation of a smile.
“Everyone did love Lucy,” Katy said.
Ruthie fired to her feet, every cell of her being radiating contempt.
“I can’t stand it. You’re all fucking heartless.”
Slinging her purse strap over one shoulder, she stormed off in the direction of the park entrance.