After All These Years (15 page)

Lia raced through the back room, yet she couldn't reach the door. The bell buzzed and buzzed. Why hadn't she told Cal she wanted chimes or at least a singsongy ding-dong? Maybe just a simple ding?

She smacked a hand to her ear and woke up. What a crazy dream! It must have been Barb Olafsson's heavenly three-layer chocolate cake.

The annoying buzz sounded again. And again.

This wasn't a dream. Someone
was
at the door!

She rolled out of bed, grabbed her robe from the chair, and glanced at the clock radio's red digital numbers. It was 1:24
A.M.
Did someone need medication? She hurried to the kitchen. Street lamps bathed the room like a giant night-light. She propped her hands on the counter, boosted herself to lean over the sink, and peered through the lace curtains. The angle was wrong. She couldn't see the door. The buzzing continued. What was going on?

She flipped on the stairwell light and went down. The buzzing stopped. At the bottom of the steps was a small, high window beside the door. She twisted the rod, opening the
tiny horizontal blinds. The alley was empty. Across it, a spotlight shone brightly above the empty loading dock of the grocery store.

Lia shook her head. Had she only imagined the doorbell ringing? Her icy bare feet on the linoleum floor told her she wasn't still dreaming. She padded back up, turned off the light, and shut the door at the top of the staircase. Halfway across the kitchen, she went back. There was a flimsy old-fashioned latch on the door that she never bothered to hook. She hooked it.

Her heartbeat tickled in her throat.
Jesus, protect us.

“It's a prank,” she said aloud. “Some silly kids' prank. I can…I can live with that. It's not Nelson Greene. He's foolish, but this is childish, vexing behavior, not threatening.”

She tiptoed into Chloe's room. Enough light shone through the front window blinds that allowed her to see her niece sleeping soundly, sprawled crossways, only partially covered with the comforter. Such peace and trust in the soft, even breathing. Soot was snuggled up against an arm.
Dear Lord, thank You for this precious child. Protect her from Nelson. And please give me wisdom.
She pulled the comforter over Chloe.

Back in her own room, Lia took the extra quilt from the back of the chair and spread it on the bed. The apartment was chilly tonight. She hugged herself against the cold sheets. Time to get out the flannels. Maybe even time to turn on the furnace.

Sleep came quickly. And then the doorbell buzzed again. Eyelids heavy, she peered at the clock. Only 2:16. Did she have to get up? Obviously no one wanted her to answer the door. Chloe slept through anything. The buzzer went again. And again.

Cal would ask her for details. She certainly wasn't going to sleep anyway. With a groan she threw back the covers, grabbing her robe and, from a drawer, socks. She paused in the kitchen to slip into them. At the stairwell her hand hovered above the light switch. Maybe it'd be better not to warn them. No doubt the light had shone before through the alley window at the bottom of the steps and chased them away.

With one hand on the rail and the other trailing along the wall, she made her way down in the dark, turned the corner landing, and continued. The buzzing let up only long enough for someone to repress the button.

Without touching the blinds she had left open, she peeked through. It was dark. Too dark. She could barely see the outline of the grocery store. Its floodlight was out! There were shadows by the door, but she couldn't make out faces or even how many figures stood there silently jabbing her doorbell. Lia flipped the switch to turn on the outdoor light. Nothing went on.

They'd tampered with her light bulb! This went beyond a prank.

She yanked up the blinds and shouted through the closed window, “What do you want?”

There was a muffled yell and two figures raced away.

“Oh!” She swished shut the blinds and stomped up the stairs. “You'd think kids would have something better to do in the middle of the night! Like sleep!”

In the kitchen she slid onto a chair at the table. Should she call the police? She'd say, “Some kids rang my doorbell.” They'd reply, “Oh? And?” What could they do? She could call Cal. He mentioned at the party earlier tonight that he wasn't on duty, but why disturb him? He couldn't do anything either.

Her father had warned her that she would encounter prejudice in a small town. Being a single mom/aunt and half
Chinese were two strikes against her. In Chicago she blended in. Here she stuck out like a neon sign blinking, “I'm different! Hate me for it!”

Her stomach hurt. What should she do?

She shuffled over to the couch and lay down, pulling the afghan over her. Curled up like the kitten, she waited.
Lord, please don't let them come back.

Twenty minutes later she heard a violent shattering of glass.

Lia cried out, jumped up and ran to grab the cordless phone. She punched 911, circling the apartment and turning on all the lights in the living room, kitchen, and bath.

The answer took too long. Her explanation took too long. The woman's calm voice didn't calm Lia. She heard no siren in a town barely ten blocks wide!

What was going on downstairs? She couldn't hear anything.

“Ma'am, please stay on the line.”

“I'm calling Cal.” She hit the off button. Where was Cal's number? In her dress pocket? No, she had put it in the kitchen drawer.

Pager? Cell? House?

Middle of the night. Try house. Her hands shook. It took two tries.

The other end rang and rang. At last an answering machine picked up. Answering machine!

She held the off button and listened. As if nothing had splintered her sleeping hours, hushed night sounds echoed in her ears.

Her whole body shook now. She punched in his cell number.

“Yo.”

“Cal! Someone's trying to break in!”

“Lia?”

“I called 911, but nobody has come!”

“Slow down. Tell me what happened.”

“A window broke. I heard a loud noise like glass breaking.”

“The big front one?”

“I—I—” She didn't know!

“It's probably the little back one. The alarm would have gone off if it were the front. I'm just three minutes away. Are you upstairs?”

Tears flowed now, choking her throat.

“Lia, talk to me.”

“I'm upstairs. They kept ringing the doorbell!”

“Who? When?”

“Before.”

“Is Chloe there?”

“She's asleep.”

Cal's voice soothed during the long three minutes. “All right, I'm on Main. Turning in the alley now. Man, why is it so dark back here?”

She heard tires squealing outside.

“Lia, it's the back window.” A door slammed shut. “Looks like a rock or something was thrown through it. The door's locked. Nobody's inside, hon. Come on down and let me in.”

She stood in the middle of the kitchen, frozen to the floor, shaking.

“Lia?”

“Y-you're sure?”

“I'm shining my flashlight at the window. The hole's too small for someone to climb through. Go to the stairs and turn on the light. I'm hanging up now to call headquarters and let them know I'm here. Okay?”

“Okay.” She slowly crossed the kitchen, unlocked the door at the top of the stairs, and went down one step at a time. At the bottom she saw the window blinds bent and askew. “Oh!” she moaned.

“Lia!” Cal called through the window. “Open the door.”

It felt as if she floated beside another person going through the motions…until Cal held her in his arms. The fears of the night poured out, her face buried against his chest. Her entire body shaking, she cried wildly.

“Shh, Lia, it's all right.”

After a time, the tears slowed. “Oh, Cal, I am such a pathetic phony!”

“Pathetic phony?” He smoothed her hair back from her face and smiled down at her.

She sniffled and dug a tissue from her robe pocket. “Impressively independent, my eye. I can do it all by myself! Yeah, right, except cope with a little harassment!”

“Here, sit down and let me look things over before the cops get here.” He guided her across the room to the desk chair.

“By the way, 911 works great around here.” Sarcasm helped mask the fear.

“There was a major accident out on 18. They needed everybody. It happens.”

She watched him crouch below the window. The overhead light was on. He must have switched it on when he came in. Bits and pieces of glass had sprayed across the floor. A brick lay against the opposite wall, near the closed door that led into the store.

“Lia, there's blood— Let me take a look…” He knelt in front of her and raised her left foot. Red splotches dotted the bottom of her white sock He checked the other foot before stepping over to the sink. “You must have walked through the glass and cut yourself on one foot. Mind if I wet this towel here?”

“No.” She pulled off her sock. “Ouch! How weird! I couldn't feel anything a minute ago, but now my foot stings like crazy.”

“That's good. It tells me you're not in shock.” He slipped the warm damp cloth under her heel and lifted it. “I can't see any glass. Do you have antiseptic and bandages?”

When his eyes met hers, a tearful giggle caught in her throat.

He grinned. “Yeah, I suppose in a pharmacy you might have one or two.”

She stood. “I'll get some.”

“No you don't.” He scooped her up as if she were a bride.

She cried out and flung her arms around his neck. “Cal!”

“There's shattered glass everywhere.” He stepped to the door, glass scrunching beneath his shoes.

“It's locked. The key is in the top left-hand drawer of the desk.”

Balancing her in his arms, he leaned sideways and easily fished out the key. He unlocked the door, pulled it open, and carried her through. “Bandages. Tell me where.”

“If you ever shopped here, you'd know where. Put me down in that chair. I can prop my foot up on the table. First aid stuff is in the far right aisle.”

He strode down the aisle, chatting the whole time. “Handy-dandy place you've got here, Miss China Doll. Bet you never run out of toothpaste.” He reappeared, opening a package of latex gloves. “I took a pair of these, too. You can send a bill to the county sheriff's department.” Putting on
the gloves, he knelt again and gently he took her foot into his hands. He examined it more closely. “I see two nasty slices, but nothing major sticking out. Maybe you should have the doctor look at it tomorrow, though. In the meantime, I'll wrap it.”

She studied the top of his head. “China doll?”

He glanced up. “I don't mean it in a derogatory sense.”

“I know.” She bit her lip and grimaced.

“Sorry. One more.” He misted antiseptic over the cuts.

“They hate me.”

“Who hates you?”

“Whoever did this. I'm half Chinese and that makes me an oddball in Valley Oaks and that frightens them.”

“Well, I know one thing for sure.”

“What?”

“You sure don't have china doll feet.”

His impertinent comment cut through the frustrations and made her laugh. “So what? My dad is 6' 2” and wears a size 12 shoe. You know, that's not a very nice cop thing to say to a victim.”

He patted the top of her foot and smiled. “But if she's my friend and it makes her laugh, I think it's the
right
thing to say, don't you?”

By 4:00
A.M.
Cal had bandaged Lia's foot, swept the back room clean of glass shards, nailed cardboard over what remained of the window, and written down the sequence of her eventful night.

He stood in her kitchen, prepared to go home until he looked over at Lia. She sat in the corner of the couch, huddled under an afghan, nibbling on a fingernail. Her eyes were
wide, her fair skin paler than normal. Like a china doll, she looked fragile, as if the slightest disturbance might make her crack.