A House by the Side of the Road (17 page)

When they had left, Christine began to clear the table.

“Don't,” said Meg, taking plates out of Christine's hands. “I'll do this in the morning.”

The two women went into the living room with the rest of the dinner's large bottle of wine. Christine poured some into their glasses and lifted hers. “To a lovely new friendship that has not yet proven to be a terrible mistake.” She took a swallow. “You can drink, you know,” she said. “I wasn't toasting
you.
”

“But what was that?” asked Meg. “Do your friendships often turn out to be terrible mistakes?”

Christine waved a hand. “Sakes alive, child, of course not. I was making fun of Dan, but since he wasn't here to hear it, there wasn't much point. I had to explain to him about women and friendships. No, he knows pretty much about women and a reasonable amount about friendships. I mean, I had to explain about women's friendships.”

“What about them?”

Christine pushed off her shoes and put her feet on the coffee table. “
You
know. Like how we hadn't been in the same room three minutes before it seemed we'd known each other most of our lives? Like how that sometimes happens?”

“Oh,” said Meg, nodding. “
That.
I always figured it was because women have never had enough time. So it became a survival skill—figuring out who you thought you could be friends with really fast.”

Christine raised her glass. “There you go.”

“Or else women are just crazy.”

Christine raised her glass again. “Could be.” She gestured out the window at the fence, invisible in the darkness. “He thinks you did a nice job,” she said. “The fence does look terrific. Now you can get that puppy you said you wanted.”

“Ha, ha,” said Meg. She glanced over at the dog, who was dozing in front of an easy chair. “Destiny had another plan. But the work wasn't wasted. Mike says I've increased the property value by fifty bucks.”

“Ah,” said Christine. “I'm seeing a lovely vision … Dan behind a huge power mower.”

“Let me borrow your glasses,” said Meg. “I need to give you
the look.
”

“You're just afraid I'll jinx things by daring to speak of them.”

“Yeah,” said Meg, “that's it.” Actually, in a way, it was. She liked it that both Christine and Dan assumed two men would fight for her attention. She just knew it wasn't true. Especially of Jack. She hated to confess her insecurity about him, as if saying “I just don't know what he could see in me” would make Christine take a good, hard look and realize she was right. Instead she said, “I'm glad Dan approves. Your daughter was a big help.”

She pushed the shoe off one foot with the toes of the other and curled her shoeless foot under her on the couch. “Which reminds me, you were right that she's angry about Mrs. Ehrlich. Jane thinks she was neglected.”

“She wasn't,” said Christine. “Well, maybe she was, but people tried. Dan went over every day to check on her. Jack was there at least as often and really
worked.
John Eppler played whist with her and brought tomatoes and asparagus. I visited, and so did Jane, and Mike came when he could.”

Christine sighed and leaned back at her end of the couch. “Jane just isn't making much progress in getting over it. She knows Hannah was worried and upset before she died, and that makes it worse for her.”

“But you don't know what that was about, right?”

Christine swirled wine in her glass and watched it. “Not a clue. I asked, of course; it was so obvious that something was wrong. But she'd sigh in that way she had and shake her head. ‘I'm just tired,' she'd say. ‘It's nothing.' She wouldn't tell me anything.”

“I wonder,” said Meg. “I wonder what got her so upset.”

“Me too,” said Christine. “But we'll never know.”

Thirteen

“Go! Have a good time! I'm not a nincompoop,” said Meg. “I'm perfectly capable of helping Jane deal with equations that involve two variables.”

Christine hesitated in the doorway. “They
have
to be in bed by eight-thirty. They have to be asleep by nine. The school bus comes early.”

“I know where you store the bats,” said Meg. “Any trouble, a couple quick whacks on the back of the head … they're asleep. Go!”

She was looking forward to the evening, glad that the Bensons were so happy with their addition that they'd insisted on taking their contractor out to the fanciest restaurant in the area. Christine and Dan needed time together; Meg didn't mind abandoning vocabulary exercises for an evening. Now, if they would just
leave.

Christine looked different in a knee-length, black crepe dress and high heels, her blond hair swept up, delicate silver earrings emphasizing the slenderness of her neck. “You don't look like my mother,” Teddy had said a bit resentfully. “You look like a
lady.
”

“We're
going,
” said Dan, tugging his wife out the door. “We'll be back before midnight.”

Jane bent over a worksheet at the kitchen table and pushed her hair behind her ears. “It doesn't make sense,” she said, reading from the page. “‘One number is five less than the other. Together the two numbers total fifty-three. What are the two numbers?' Well, what
are
the two numbers?”

Meg pulled out a chair next to Jane and sat down. “Choose two letters, any letters.”

“
Any
letters? Not
x
and
y?
” Her interest was piqued.

“Heck, there's more to life than
x
and
y,
” said Meg. “How about
t
and
j?
Teddy is five less than you. Or
h
and
p.
Or whatever.”

It didn't take much to intrigue Jane, who tended to make the most out of whatever fun there was to be had. As they worked, she changed her variables' letters for each problem.

“Sometimes,” said Meg, “you really have more information than you think you have. You think you don't know enough, but all you have to do is put what you do know together.”

Teddy was working on a social studies report. “We have to tell about neighbors,” he said. “It's baby work. The only hard part is, it's supposed to be neat.”

He wrote slowly and painstakingly for ten minutes, then looked up at Meg. “Could I tell about a neighbor I
used
to have?” he asked. “We're supposed to say what's good about neighbors and we have to put in details. If I tell about Mrs. Ehrlich, I can think of lots of details.”

“Sure,” said Meg. “You probably learned a lot about neighbors from Mrs. Ehrlich.”

“How do you spell
narcissus?
” he asked a few minutes later.

Meg told him. “Are you writing about her flowers?”

“Sort of,” he said. “Not really. I'm telling about neighbors helping each other. Mrs. Ehrlich was happy because Jack drove a long way to get narcissus she wanted and dug holes for them, and she said she could think all winter about how pretty they'd be. And then she told me the story about the handsome man who fell in love with his own face in the water.”

“That's probably why Mike couldn't plant them for her,” said Jane. “He was too busy looking at himself in some water.”

“By George, that's what they were,” said Teddy. “Isn't that a funny name for flowers? By George?”

“She had ones called Sir Winston Churchill,” said Jane. “She used to talk to them. ‘Are you thirsty, Sir Winston?' she'd say. ‘Are you getting along with King Alfred?' That's another kind of flower, King Alfred.”

“I know him well,” said Meg. “You gave me six bunches of that fellow and I bought six more a few days later. I don't know Sir Winston.”

Jane disappeared and returned with a small catalog. She turned the glossy pages slowly. “Here it is,” she said, pointing to a lovely photograph of creamy-white double narcissus with yellow at the center. “Jack used to tease her about being in love with Sir Winston Churchill. ‘Make him leave his cigar outside if you let him in the house,' he said. She had to tell me why he said that.”

Teddy finished his report and put it neatly into his backpack. “What's her name?” he asked, reaching out to pat Meg's dog as she trotted by with Harding in loving pursuit.

“She doesn't have one yet,” said Meg. “Well … she's had about fourteen, but none of them has stuck. I'm still thinking.”

“Before she was your dog,” said Teddy, “I had a name for her. Danger Dog. Maybe that's not a good name anymore.”

“How about Rag?” said Jane. “Or,” she giggled, “Hag? Or Gag? Those would be good names.”

“Or Wag,” said Teddy, getting into it. “Or Bag.”

“Or Bag Lady,” said Meg.

The children looked confused.

“Never mind,” said Meg.

“Do I
have
to take a bath?” asked Teddy. “I'm not dirty.”

“Your mom said yes, you have to,” Meg replied. “Do you want some help?”

Teddy looked at her in horror. “I'm
seven,
” he said. “I know how to take a
bath.
”

He wandered off and, eventually, Meg heard running water.

Jane glanced at Meg. “Teddy thinks you're a good neighbor, too,” she said tactfully. “He didn't mean to be rude. He just knows more about Mrs. Ehrlich.”

“It wasn't at all rude,” said Meg, suddenly aware of the difficulties Jane would face in her life from being too worried about other people's feelings. “Really, it wasn't.”

Jane sighed, relieved. “He misses her, like I do. She used to read to him and tell him stories.”

“I gathered that,” said Meg. “Like about Narcissus.”

A meow at the door signaled Charlie's return home for the evening, and Meg got up to let him in. As he curled around her ankles, Meg's dog came into the kitchen and spotted him. She let out a short, eager bark and rushed at the cat. Meg lifted him into the air, but Harding was even faster. Coming seemingly from nowhere, he inserted himself between Charlie and the dog. He let out one deep bark. Meg's dog looked at him in disbelief.

“See,” said Jane smugly. “I told you he was loyal.”

Meg was surprised. Harding had never before stood up to her dog. “He is, indeed,” she said. “How stupid of me. I didn't even think about the fact that Charlie and my dog don't know each other.”

“I did,” said Jane. “But I wasn't worried.”

*   *   *

Meg could hear the phone ringing as she put the key in the lock of the kitchen door. She wrestled with it, pushed the door open, and raced through the house into the living room, the dog at her heels.

“Where have you
been?
” a familiar voice asked. “I was getting worried.”

“Oh, Sara, Sara,” Meg replied, sinking onto the couch next to the lamp she'd learned to leave on while she was out at night. “Get over it. I live in bucolic splendor now, not in the land of muggers and street gangs. The down side is, when you're out late at night, it's probably to visit the neighbors. I was baby-sitting Christine's children. She's been such a sweetie, I was glad for a chance to return a favor. But, to make my point about rural life crystal-clear, her kids don't know what a bag lady is.”

“How's doggie?” asked Sara. “Still hanging around?”

“She's moved in,” said Meg, “and made herself at home.” She peered at the floor. “As a matter of fact, I think she's got her own tiny shoes with gridded soles that she puts on just so she can leave little clumps of mud here and there when it's rained. When are you coming to see me?”

“Soon. Soon. I swear!”

They talked for nearly an hour, and Meg was yawning ferociously by the time she hung up. She brushed her teeth, pushing the door to the attic closed as she went down the hall, and crawled into bed. Half asleep, she remembered she hadn't locked the kitchen door. She groaned and got up.

The dog jumped up as she left the room. “I'm not
going
anywhere!” said Meg irritably. “Can't you just
park
it?”

She turned on the kitchen light and went to the door. Before she got there, the light flickered. It flickered again as she turned the bolt. She looked at the ceiling. The light flickered again and went out. She sighed. She'd change the bulb in the morning.

The sheets felt delicious against her bare legs as she slid into bed. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling for the couple of minutes it took her to fall asleep.

Barking and a weight on her back brought her to startled wakefulness. The short-legged dog had somehow managed to leap onto the bed. Meg rolled over, dislodging the dog, and sat up.

“Good grief!” she said. “What? Did someone toss an empty cigarette pack out of a car window and did that make a dangerous noise?”

The dog barked frantically.

“What?” said Meg, this time with no sarcasm in her voice. She reached out a hand. “What?”

The dog took Meg's wrist in her teeth and closed her mouth. It hurt.

“Ouch!” said Meg, shocked. She got up, and the dog jumped from the bed, raced from the room, and stood on her hind legs at the foot of the attic stairs, scratching frantically at the door.

Meg felt her heart thundering in her chest. If someone was in the attic, she didn't want to go up. She stood irresolutely outside the door. There was no way to lock it, no way to protect herself if a stranger was, indeed, hiding up there. She pulled the door open, and then she smelled it too.

She ran for the kitchen door, leaping off the stoop to the car. She swung open the hatchback, yanked out the fire extinguisher, tore back into the house, and took the stairs two at a time. At the top she saw the blaze.