Approaching Menace (10 page)

“I needed to help someone.”

Josie wanted more, but he held her while they sat on the swing, and the cushion of his shoulder felt perfect for what she needed. She leaned on him and for a long time remained quiet. The slight breeze stirring against her skin felt pleasant, as did the place where she rested.

“I’m concerned about Sylvie,” she said after a while.

“I understand.” They looked at each other. Josie had heard little about Andrew’s parents, whom he described as excellent. They lived close to his brother in Cleveland, Ohio, and Josie had spoken to them twice, each time during a holiday. His mother and father sounded pleasant, although his father seemed a little pompous. Rosalie and Theodore Premeau didn’t phone Andrew often and neither did he contact them. Still, they all seemed to believe theirs was the best life a family could have.

And maybe it is, Josie thought in dismay, determining she had no idea.

She told Andrew her worries about her mother.

“Why don’t the courts locate your dad and make him help pay for support for Colin?” he asked.

“Sylvie’s afraid if anyone makes Dad angry, he won’t come around.”

“He’s not here much now.” Andrew had never seen Jack Aspen.

Josie’s focus formed a picture of her family. Her dad’s brown luggage going out the door or returning with him. Sylvie shuffling back and forth between reality and wherever her mind went the rest of the time.

Bringing Andrew back into view, Josie noticed his gaze also took him inside himself. He might also be recalling childhood. His turned-down lips and eyes empty of expression told her what he recalled might not have been so flawless.

He looked at Josie, and she had an uneasy feeling, sensing someone else was doing the same.

She peered at the yard. Had the pampas bushes just moved?

“Maurice,” she said. He’d been acting so strange lately without his grandparent. The bushes were still.

“What is it?” Andrew said.

The breeze must have made the plumes sway, she decided, sinking the side of her head to his shoulder. “I was wondering aloud, trying to determine what happy families are like.”

* * *

“Are you sure you remember how to do this?” Colin asked inside the house. Worry lines creased his forehead. He kept eyeing Sylvie’s hands, which fumbled with the tape for his shunt.
I’d do much better if you weren’t watching so closely, as though you expected me to fail,
Sylvie silently told him.

“Of course I remember,” she said, forcing her fingers to quit trembling.

Colin appeared troubled. She didn’t blame him. She was anxiety-ridden because she hadn’t attempted this whole business in quite some time. Josie was so proficient, so willing to give up her own life for her brother.
That’s why I depend on her so much now
, Sylvie remembered.

Josie had been the one to take over these duties, but during the month Colin became ill, before she moved down, Sylvie had done all this herself.

And I still can
, she avowed.

“Now you have to weigh me,” Colin said. He stood beside the recliner and slid out the scale that stayed beneath it.

“I know that.” She hurried for the notebook her daughter left on her sewing table. “Stand straight and tall,” Sylvie said and recorded the results and the day’s date.

“This is as tall as I can get.” Colin attempted a grin.

“But you’ll grow much bigger. Your daddy is such a large man.”

Her boy’s grin turned downward. “Yeah.” Colin left the scale. Using his foot, he shoved it until it could no longer be seen.

“Colin.” Sylvie’s word stopped him from going to his bedroom. When he glanced back, she used reassurance. “You will keep growing. Not all kids stop gaining stature when their kidneys…”

His right eyebrow rose, and she fumbled for the correct words. “Just because some children stop developing when something like this strikes, doesn’t mean you will.” No, that didn’t sound encouraging.

But it was all she had.

His brow lowered. “Uh-huh.” Her son sauntered off.

Moments after he left, he returned. “You don’t have to do that right now,” he said, making Sylvie see herself beside his machine, her hands open, not touching the plastic. “Josie can do it when she comes in.”

“No, I can.”

“Oh, okay.” His shoulders drooped as he went away to his bedroom.

Sylvie eyed the tubes with their insides coated with bloodstains.
I can do this. I can strip this machine.

She stared at them, then realized she could get the new clean ones first.

Josie’s bedroom looked neat, attractive but not pretty. Sylvie knew she could make this room lovely again if Josie let her. Josie complained about money, but Sylvie had credit everywhere. She’d seen lovely drapes just today. Most of them had matching bedspreads, so colorful and delightful to the eye instead of the drab shades Josie selected.

An idea lifted Sylvie’s spirits. Maybe she could purchase a set and remodel Josie’s room while she was at work.

Newly inspired, Sylvie threw open the door to Josie’s closet. Clutter inside appalled her. The instinct struck to throw everything out.

But her gaze traveled past the few hanging clothing items. Most of the disorder came from equipment for Colin’s machine.

Sylvie shrank back. The sight reminded her of the home she’d grown up in. It had overflowed with all those junky things. Her mother’s closet, brimming with reptile boots, tight jeans, and short slinky dresses.

“Your mamma’s trashy,” a classmate that Sylvie immediately hated had told her.

“No, she’s not!” Sylvie had given that response while fuming for retaliation. “And your dress is ugly!”

She chased that girl off.

Once again, Sylvie felt her cheeks burn. She would never, she had declared at that moment, allow a classmate to come over. And maybe she couldn’t stop her mother from working in barrooms and doing those other things, but she could make their house a nicer place to live.

Peering into Josie’s closet now, she sat back on her heels, considering how she’d taken the task upon herself. Sylvie had wished she could have made her daddy want to see her, but had never known where he was. Her mamma had once showed her his picture. He wore a uniform. He was a handsome slim soldier with blond hair.

Again Sylvie felt grateful that her mamma never brought her other men home. Her pretty mother often came in loud, wobbly, and drunk, needing to sleep it off. Sylvie would tell playmates she was sick.

She really was, Sylvie again contended.

Even as a young girl, she knew her mother had an illness. Her mamma hadn’t been able to control her drinking, young Sylvie had concluded, but she could have tried to make herself and their place more presentable. And then a real man might want her.

Might want me, if I’d do better.

The overhead light attached to Josie’s ceiling fan glinted, its glow reflecting against the red plastic bag Sylvie removed from a large cardboard box.

She stood, pleased with having become the happy, gracious homemaker her own mother had not been. She had gotten her lover, her Jack, back in high school. Again she regretted she’d never been able to become the gorgeous or popular cheerleader she’d wanted to become.

But I got my lover, she thought with pride. She tried to do all that would please him. Sylvie had her Jack. Women were attracted to him, but so were some men to her. She shrugged them all off. She wasn’t her mother.

She returned the plastic bag to the box she removed it from, deciding Josie could take care of discarding the bloody tubing after Andrew left. Josie wouldn’t mind. She was such a good daughter. Dependable. Creative. A great sister for Colin.

Josie could strip off those nasty tubes better than she could since Josie had more practice. And no matter how much she tried, Sylvie had never been able to make Colin’s machine or equipment shiny enough. His tubes and needles couldn’t be polished.

But, concluded Sylvie as she shut Josie’s closet door, she could fix up herself and their home.

She
had a father for her children.

So sometimes he left. But Jack would return.

Didn’t he always?

And she would be better. She would look nicer the next time. When he came back.

Sylvie’s shoulders lifted as she left Josie’s room. She had her Jack. Maybe she could change her name to Jill.

Chapter 7

Josie tossed in bed with a disturbing dream. Sylvie resembled a grubby child dressed in rags. She meandered through a vast field, came across Colin asleep on the grass, and plucked money from his pockets. She took fives and tens and hundreds, and adorned herself with them. Then she stared straight ahead, her excited face seeming to fill the wide lens of a camera.

Josie awoke grumbling.

While driving to work later, she made a decision about Sylvie and the expensive black dress she’d purchased.

A report came from her car radio about the unsolved recent murder. Josie leaned over to change the station and, on the passenger floorboard, spied the corner of something dark. She found only a few familiar vehicles in the shop’s parking lot for a Sunday morning and parked in her usual space. She bent and grabbed the item she’d noticed, her mother’s royal blue silk scarf.

Wondering how it got there, she then remembered. She’d gone to look for Colin’s shoes in her car. The scarf had been on her shoulder. It must have slipped off when she bent down for the cleats.

She draped the scarf across the seat, knowing she would see it there when she left work and think about returning it to Sylvie’s closet.

Ahead of Josie, someone bent toward the door of This ’n That Shop. Cora Ripley then stood and shook her mass of red hair. Josie smirked, knowing her boss would not come in today.

* * *

The man walking from his car in the parking lot knew he looked like many others, about to begin a day’s work or maybe shop. Some stores in the strip mall remained closed on Sundays, allowing more empty spaces than usual.

He meandered from his sedan, looking relaxed. Reaching his destination, he glanced over his shoulder.

Two cars and an SUV were pulling in.

The man slowed, waiting while the cars parked and their drivers went off toward stores, intent on their own purposes. The SUV stopped last. A young woman climbed down and then gripped the hands of two small girls with curly hair while they hustled toward the donut shop.

The girls with unruly hair made the man watching them acquire Josie’s image. Her curls would soon close around his fingers.

He held his hands up and stared at them. Thick. The slightest trace of a tan. He could feel Josie’s hair caught up in them. The urge hit him so strongly he needed to glance away.

A white GMC truck started near Josie’s shop, making him recall he could do nothing now. He must behave in front of others. That’s what would keep him away from prison. That’s what those counselors drilled into him.

Not until she’s ready, he told himself.

And that would be soon.

He smiled, considering his plans.

No one in the lot paid attention to him strolling toward her car. He paused, raising his eyes like he wanted to check the weather.

With his head turned up, he gazed from one side to the other, still with a casual motion.

Not a soul was looking. Unless someone was glancing out a window. Maybe Josie.

A thrill ran from his shoulders down his back and his heart beat with great thrusts. Hopeful, he glanced down at the little car’s window and surveyed its insides.

Yes, there was something. He knew she would leave him some token.

Pulling the door open, he reached in.

He shut her door and strode off to his own car. Only once he sat inside with his door locked did he dare sniff what he’d taken.

The silken scarf smelled of Josie’s scent. The blue rectangle contained all the things she was fearing. She had purposely put out that smell to draw him to her.

* * *

Josie felt the vacuum of the door opening before she saw it moving. She’d been arranging stacks of fine soft sweaters, placing those with bright colors in more prominent positions.

“Good morning, Mr. Ripley,” she said.

Her boss’s shoulders hunched more than usual under his brown suit jacket. He glanced at the office with the door shut. “She didn’t come in?”

“Mrs. Ripley did come in, but only for a little while.”

Ripley gazed at Cora’s office. He then peered at the front door before holding out a box. “I made these purchases, Josie. Maybe you could find a place for them.”

She took the bundle from his hands that for some reason she could not fathom appeared thickly callused. Recently she’d noticed his formerly smooth palms and considered asking Cora what had happened to them, but decided not to. Mr. Ripley’s business, other than the store, was none of hers. Right now, with him standing so close, she felt a need to step away.

She moved and saw his package held three dozen scarves. Working to hide her disappointment, she wondered if he didn’t know how many he already had that weren’t selling.

Probably not. Ever since the divorce he seemed so different that Josie sometimes worried about him. “These are pretty,” she said of his scarves.

Ripley nodded but his gaze shifted from the scarves to her face. He looked at the front door and then back at Cora’s office. He seemed jittery, as if he wasn’t certain of what he might do next.

He appeared to decide and headed toward the storeroom. “Cora might be coming back.”

* * *

After an early dinner at home, Josie picked up the clean dishes.

“I can’t find my blue scarf,” Sylvie said, coming from the direction of her bedroom.

“Oh, it’s in my car,” Josie recalled.

“Get it, would you? It’s one of my favorites.” She left the room, first pausing to adjust Jack Aspen’s chair closer to the table and shifting a picture on the wall.

Josie put away the last glasses and walked out toward the garage. Young boys were yelling.

Josie spied boys running on the grass between their driveway and the Allens’. Someone tossed a football. Hands reached out as the other boys tried to catch it. Wearing his jersey, Colin scrambled from their midst.