Companions of the Night (6 page)

Kerry felt her cheeks go hot. Thinking that Ethan was incredibly good looking, and that it was a sign from heaven that he lived in "her" house, then being disappointed to find that he apparently already had a girlfriend—a much older girlfriend—this was not the same as planning to spend the night with him. Or anybody, at this point in her life.

She guessed Ethan was probably as mortified as she was. "This is Kerry Nowicki," he said hastily as the woman started to turn. "She just saved my life."

The woman turned back, looking mildly amused.

"And, Kerry, this is Regina Sloane." He hesitated before finishing, lamely, "My technical writing instructor."

Regina blew him a kiss that couldn't disguise she was miffed at how he'd chosen to identify her. "
Mon cher,
" she said again—Kerry found her use of the French endearment pretentious in the absence of a French accent—"there's a minimum number of classes you must attend before even I must penalize you."

As though she were here only to check on a truant student. And let herself into his house. And into his refrigerator.
It doesn't make any difference to me if he chooses to make out with a teacher old enough to he his mother,
Kerry thought. She fought back the little voice that argued Regina might be old enough to be
her
mother, but not Ethan's. She shrugged to show she didn't care.

"Did you walk here?" Ethan asked Regina. "Or did you drive?"

She gave him a tight smile. "Oh, I drove," she said. "My car's back by the garage." She indicated with a nod where the driveway curved around behind the house. And still no request for an explanation of what had happened.

"I'd like to get Kerry back to her home before her father catches on that she's missing," Ethan said. "And she isn't supposed to be driving without someone who has a license." Kerry noticed that he'd picked up on the fact that her mother didn't live with them.
Quick,
she thought.
As well as incredibly attractive.

Stop it,
she told herself.
As Jar as he's concerned, you're a kid.

If Regina was his type, Kerry would be a kid until she hit her thirties.

"Could we use your car?" Ethan asked.

"Certainly." Regina gave another of her predatory smiles. Finally, offhandedly, she asked, "Are you going to tell me what happened?" She'd shifted her attention to Ethan now that she'd seen Kerry was no competition, and Ethan dismissed Kerry, too, with an "I'll be back in a minute," which obviously meant,
Don't come in.
Regina walked along the porch railing, keeping pace as Ethan limped down the flagstone path to the front steps.

"There'll be more time later," he said, somewhat breathlessly He had to lean on the front post before he could make it up the three stairs.

Standing by the car, Kerry was too far away to be any help, and Regina, standing right there, didn't budge. "Nasty," she said, indicating his torn and bloody leg. She downed the rest of her wine and hurried into the house, as though the cold had suddenly seeped into her feet.

"I'll be back in a minute," Ethan told Kerry again, and he disappeared into the house behind Regina.

Standing where she was—rather, standing on tiptoe where she was—Kerry could see into one corner of the living room Ethan might not be able to afford a jacket or a car of his own, but his uncle was certainly well off. She could see part of an Oriental rug, a grand piano, a grandfather clock, and a huge gold-framed mirror. Regina walked into the part of the room that was reflected in the mirror. She stopped abruptly and turned, and in a moment Ethan caught up.

Kerry ducked, afraid to be caught staring with her nose pressed against the glass, but then she estimated that—unless there was another mirror—she could see in better than they could see out.

When she peeked in again, the two of them were talking, though with the windows closed Kerry couldn't hear a thing.
Ha!
she thought of Regina.
Too sophisticated to care what happened, are we?
She would have loved to hear Ethan's obviously condensed story. She couldn't tell, from Regina's face, what she made of it all.

Then, suddenly, they were kissing, too fast for Kerry to catch who had made the first move. Kerry ducked again. She'd never had a teacher kiss her like that, she thought. On second thought, she'd never had a teacher she'd have
wanted
to kiss her like that. And just when she'd begun hoping that maybe she'd misinterpreted the situation.

Kerry wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly aware of the cold.

When she glanced in again, the mirror showed only the fireplace, flanked by leaded-glass bookcases. She'd just gotten off her tiptoes when the front door slammed and Regina came out.

No telling if she guessed Kerry had been spying. She came and leaned against the car, smoking a cigarette, never quite looking at Kerry, wearing a distant but smug smile.
What was that for?
Kerry wondered. Surely not relief? Surely somebody that gorgeous couldn't have been nervous about competition from a sixteen-year-old who didn't have any makeup and who was wearing a nightshirt that was now hanging below her jacket? More likely, it was just Regina's natural expression.

When Ethan finally came out, he'd changed clothes. Still no jacket, but he'd wrapped a fresh bandage around his right hand, and in his left he was carrying a bucket of sudsy water.

Regina moved a fraction of an inch so he could open the passenger door. Stiffly, and without a word to either of them, Ethan got down on his good knee and began scrubbing at the blood that had gotten onto the seat and floor mat. Regina pulled out another cigarette.

Even realizing that their indifference was likely only a case of not-in-front-of-the-child, Kerry felt sorry for Ethan. "Here, let me help," she offered. "You're in no shape..."

Ethan shook his head, giving a fleeting smile that was almost enough to make her resolve to take on Regina. But in any case, he'd brought only one rag.

She hovered uselessly, convinced she really should insist, and equally convinced Regina was silently laughing at her.

The question was: was Ethan?

He wiped down the steering wheel, inner and outer door handles, and the dashboard. If anything, Kerry's father was going to wonder why the car was cleaner than it'd been in a long time.

Finally Ethan stood, moving slowly, favoring his injured leg more than he had been previously. He had gotten his bandage wet, and blood had seeped through onto the cuff of his gray sweater.

Kerry noticed again how pale he was. It was stupid not to have gone straight to the clinic. At the very least he should sit until he caught his breath, but Regina crushed out her latest cigarette and asked, "Ready?" Then, hardly giving him a chance if he planned to say no, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek and told Kerry, "Why don't you come in my car? I think Ethan's done a pretty good job of soaking down the passenger seat here, and there's no use in your getting a wet bottom just to be able to ride with him."

Kerry felt her cheeks go hot and red again, so she hardly glanced at Ethan to see if he'd offer any objection.

Not that she could think why he would.

He didn't.

Regina's car, parked beyond the bend in the driveway, turned out to be a red Ferrari. Somehow Kerry wasn't surprised. Impressed, despite herself, but not surprised. While she waited for Regina to lean over and unlock the passenger door, she noted that Ethan's uncle had a three-car garage and a tennis court back here. There was also a stockade fence, which probably indicated a built-in pool. The house was looking better and better. And ever more unattainable, no matter how rich and famous Kerry ever got.

"Lift the handle, sweetie," Regina said, as though she didn't realize Kerry's mind had momentarily wandered, as though she thought Kerry couldn't figure out for herself how to get into the car.

There was a man's denim jacket on the floor of the passenger's side.
Probably not Ethan's,
Kerry thought, picking it up rather than stepping on it,
or Regina would likely have taken it into the house. Just bow many students does she make house calls on?
Kerry wondered.

Looking over her shoulder to back out, Regina saw Kerry holding the jacket. "Just wad it up and toss it in the back," she said.

If Regina didn't care, why should Kerry? She flung the jacket behind her.

Ethan had already backed her father's car up to, but not into, the street. He pointed to the left and then to the right, asking which way to turn.

Kerry pointed to the left, and he backed out to the right but facing left, so that they could lead.

"Where to, sweets?" Regina asked.

"Fawn Meadow Circle," Kerry said. "It's—"

"I know where it is," Regina interrupted.

That was a surprise. It wasn't in the village of Brockport itself but in a nearby development, all of which had pseudo-woodsy names like Doe Run and Meadowlark Lane. Kerry was prepared for Regina to be hesitant once she got into the development, but she wasn't even fooled by Fawn Meadow Drive, the street before Fawn Meadow Circle.

"Do you live near here?" Kerry asked, thinking that might be good news if Ethan ever visited Regina's house. She might actually get to see him again.

But Regina gave her a look that said she most definitely didn't live in this neighborhood and that Kerry was a fool to even consider she might. "Which house?" she asked, the first thing she'd said in the seven- or eight-minute drive.

"The blue two-story with the basketball hoop on the garage " Kerry figured that in this light Regina was just as likely to pull up in front of the Armendarizes' house, which, in daylight, was green.

But by chance—either that, or Regina was
very
familiar with the neighborhood—Regina found the right house.

"Thanks," Kerry mumbled, glad for an excuse to jump out of the car—to show Ethan exactly where in the driveway he should park so Dad wouldn't notice that it had been moved.

Ethan turned off the engine and got out to look at the house, which Kerry realized she should have already done. The light by the front door was on, but she'd left it that way so as not to have to find her way up a dark walk. None of the other downstairs lights were on. Upstairs, lan's drapes were open and—though there was no sign of Ian—she could see his elephant lamp was on. But the windows of her father's room were dark. Most significantly, Kerry's father hadn't come crashing out the front door bellowing, "Where have you
been,
young lady?" so Kerry felt confident telling Ethan, "Everything's fine."

"You're sure?" he asked. "Do you want to go in, maybe flash the lights as a signal if you don't need me?"

It was, she felt, a serious offer, but she shook her head.

He handed her the keys. "I'm..." He seemed to search before settling on just the right word: "...
certain
your name is never going to come up."

Kerry shrugged, unsure how to answer.
If you say so? I hope not? Are you free the night of the junior dance?

Unexpectedly, Ethan took her hands, leaned forward, and gave her a light kiss on the cheek. The second time tonight, and on neither occasion had she had the time or the presence of mind to respond. "You
did
save my life," he told her, smiling, his tone light but his eyes very, very serious.

Out on the street, Regina tapped her car horn. It only lasted a moment, but at two-thirty in the morning, that might just be enough to rouse the neighborhood. "
Uhm
...," Kerry started.

But Ethan only waited a second to determine that she didn't, in fact, have anything to say. He smiled again as he pulled his hands from hers "Thank you," he said, turning to head back out to the street.

Kerry hurried to the front door, flew in, turned off the light before Mrs. Armendariz could see it and say—later that morning, when Kerry's father dropped Ian off for the day—"There was some sort of commotion in front of your house last night, and your light was on. Are you letting your children run wild?" Mrs. Armendariz had a thing about single parents who let their children run wild.

Kerry went upstairs as quickly as she could without making noise. Her father's door was still closed. Ian was sprawled across his bed, asleep despite the light being left on. Kerry pulled his blanket up over him, then removed Footy from her jacket pocket and wedged the koala bear under her brother's arm. When she went to the window to shut the drapes, she saw that Regina's car was gone. "Good-bye, Ethan," she whispered "It was nice knowing you. Bizarre, but nice."

She flicked off the light, leaving only Ian's night-light on. Then she headed for her own bed, knowing that unless something went wrong with their plan and the police came banging on her door demanding explanations, the chances were she'd never see Ethan Bryne again.

K
ERRY'S ALARM WENT
off four hours later, but she felt as if she'd had only about fifteen minutes' sleep.

In the kitchen, her father was whistling while he poured himself a bowlful of the cereal that Kerry thought of as Bran, Twigs, and Gravel. She searched through the cupboard for anything with a lot of sugar and marshmallow shapes.

"Good morning," her father said, planting a kiss on the back of her head as they met in front of the refrigerator, he getting the skim milk and she the regular.

Kerry gave a noncommittal grunt. Under the best of circumstances, mornings were not a good time for her, and her father didn't seem to sense anything unusual now. He had the newspaper on the table, which meant he'd been outside already. Apparently Mrs Armendariz hadn't come running out to complain, and apparently nothing was so obviously wrong with the car or its location that he commented. Kerry, who never read anything besides the comics page, tried to be unobtrusive about skimming the headlines. No story about a ring of vampire hunters being captured, nor about the police looking for a mystery girl.

Still, she didn't let herself relax. There really hadn't been time for the morning papers to get the story. They'd probably have her picture by the evening edition. If there was time after Dad left for work, she could turn on the TV and try the local news.