The Other Child (16 page)

“Here, honey. Let me help you with that.” Mike came into the kitchen as Leslie was putting away the dishes. It was a week since Karen’s accident and he’d finished one assignment and started on a second. Rose said she could use his features heavily in the next few issues and everything was looking up. His last bets, the ones he’d placed before he promised to quit gambling, had paid off. He was going to take the money he had won and spend every cent of it on Karen.

Leslie smiled up at Mike tentatively. He’d been around more after the big fight with Mom and she knew he wasn’t drinking. She’d gone in the darkroom this morning and there weren’t any bottles or glasses. Of course she knew it wasn’t right to check up on Mike, but she’d had to make sure.

“I got paid for the third installment today.” He reached up to put the mugs on the top shelf. “That’s the section featuring this kitchen. They’re printing the shots of the miniature opposite the actual pictures of our work so the reader can compare.”

Leslie was excited. She could hardly wait to see it. There was one shot of Mom and her, sitting at the antique kitchen table.

“I need your opinion on something, Leslie.” Mike looked down at her seriously. “We’re going to have some money left over this month. Do you think we should use it to hire a housekeeper?”

Leslie thought hard. “I don’t know.” Taking care of the house was a lot of work and it would be nice if Mom didn’t have to do it.

“You know school starts next week and you won’t be here all day to help,” Mike went on. “I’m taking a couple of assignments on the road and I don’t like the idea of leaving your mother all alone here. I thought a housekeeper might be the answer. We could hire a lady to do the cleaning and the cooking and that would leave your mother free to work on the house. Does that sound like a good idea?”

“Yes . . . I think it does.” Leslie nodded thoughtfully. Mom couldn’t do all the housework and decorate besides. And she did have to go to school, even though she was dreading it. They really did need a housekeeper.

“I thought you’d agree. That’s why I talked to Rob Comstock yesterday. He suggested Harry Wilson’s older sister, Thelma. She’s a widow and she lives all alone out in the country. Rob thought she might be willing to move in for a month or so, until your mother has the house all finished.”

Leslie frowned. “Would she live right here? In the house with us?”

“I think that would be best. Thelma doesn’t drive and transportation would be a problem for her. We’ve certainly got plenty of room and it might be nice, having someone right here when we needed her. Rob could call her for us; and if we like her, we’ll hire her right away.”

“I guess I could live in.” Thelma Schmidt settled her large bulk into a chair and faced the three of them. “Of course I just hate to close my house, but it could be arranged if you really need me.”

“We certainly do!” Karen smiled at the older woman. “This house is too big for me to handle all by myself, and it would be nice to have company.”

“When could you start, Mrs. Schmidt?” Mike gave Karen a quick smile. She had taken to the idea of a live-in housekeeper right away.

“Why, I can start later this afternoon, if you like.” Mrs. Schmidt gave them all a big smile. “There’s certainly plenty for me to do. I’ll give this whole place a thorough turning out and have it spic and span in no time. You just leave everything to me.

“Of course you realize I have to bring Trixie with me.” She looked at Karen anxiously. “I just couldn’t put her in a kennel. Poor Trixie would pine away of loneliness. She won’t be any trouble, Mrs. Houston. Trixie’s very well behaved and your little girl will love to have a dog to play with.”

“Rob didn’t say anything about a dog.” Karen looked slightly dubious. “How big a dog is Trixie, Mrs. Schmidt?”

“She’s just a tiny little thing.” Mrs. Schmidt laughed. “Why, you’ll hardly know she’s here. She’s a Chihuahua, registered and purebred.”

Leslie glanced at her mother and looked away quickly before she started giggling. All three of them hated small, yapping dogs. Mike said Chihuahuas looked like bug-eyed rats.

“Trixie sounds very nice, Mrs. Schmidt,” Leslie said politely. She supposed she could put up with a Chihuahua for Mom’s sake.

“Why don’t you go out and get her right now,” Mrs. Schmidt suggested. “That way we can all get acquainted. She’s tied to the railing on the front steps.”

“Oh, no!” Leslie untied the leash from the railing and groaned as she surveyed the damage Trixie had done. In the few minutes she’d been outside, the tiny Chihuahua had managed to dig under the new arborvitae shrub and uproot it. And she had messed all over the brick steps!

Leslie pushed the dog out of the way with one hand and gently replaced the small shrub. She patted the earth around its roots and made a face as she turned to the steps. She had a notion to just leave the evidence of Trixie’s mischief right here where Mrs. Schmidt could see it, but the hose was handy and someone had to clean it up eventually.

“Bad dog!” Leslie hissed, squirting the steps clean with one hand and holding Trixie’s leash with the other. She sighed as the dog started yapping sharply.

“Come on . . . let’s go inside, Trixie.” Leslie tried to be friendly, even though she already disliked the noisy little animal. “Let’s go in and see Mrs. Schmidt.”

Trixie dug her hind legs into the grass and wouldn’t budge. Leslie pulled a little harder on the leash and the tiny dog was forced to move. As she pulled the yapping dog forward, Leslie saw something that made her giggle. Trixie’s toenails, every one of them, were painted bright red! That, coupled with the fake diamond collar Trixie wore, made the dog look just plain ridiculous!

“Oh, well.” Leslie scooped the squirming little dog up in her arms and carried her inside. Maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad, having a dog in the house. She’d offer to walk Trixie so she wouldn’t have accidents inside. Trixie might even be nice, once she got to know her.

“Leslie? Will you walk Trixie? I’m right in the middle of waxing the floor!”

Mrs. Schmidt’s voice carried clearly through the whole house. Leslie groaned as she got to her feet. Their new housekeeper had been with them for three days now and the house had never been so clean. Mrs. Schmidt was a ball of energy, waxing and polishing and sweeping until the downstairs glistened. Leslie thought Mrs. Schmidt was working out fine, but Trixie was another matter. The little Chihuahua was a terror, destroying everything in her path.

She glanced at the two books on her dresser and frowned. There was a ragged hole in the corner of one of them and the cover of the other was chewed half off. With Trixie in the house, she had to close her door at night. And it didn’t do a bit of good to complain to Mrs. Schmidt. She would never admit that her precious dog did anything wrong.

“I wish I had a lock!” Leslie sighed as she pulled her door tightly closed and hurried downstairs. The latch was worn and Trixie was a smart dog. She had already discovered how to push it open.

“There you are.” Leslie found Trixie and snapped the leash on her rhinestone collar. “You’d better be a good little dog this morning or I’ll—”

“Let Trixie lead you now,” Mrs. Schmidt called out loudly, interrupting Leslie’s threat. “She knows where she wants to go. She’s a good girl, aren’t you, sugar? Hurry and walk her before it rains. My arthritis tells me there’s a storm brewing.”

Leslie winced as the yapping Chihuahua led her around the flower beds and over the lawn. Any of these places would be fine, but Trixie had other ideas. She sniffed and yapped, but that was all. The little dog pulled Leslie on a merry chase all over the yard until finally they were forced to cross the crushed-granite driveway. There, defiantly, Trixie squatted in the exact center of the path.

“No! Oh, Trixie! You’re a bad dog!” Leslie glared at her and the little dog glared right back, growling low in her throat. This was the third time in as many days that Trixie had gone in the driveway. The little scooper Mrs. Schmidt had given her didn’t work on the crushed rocks, and Leslie had to remove the stones from that section and wash them with the hose before she replaced them. It seemed as if Trixie deliberately made things as difficult as possible. Leslie was sure the little monster did it on purpose.

Finally the odious chore was done and Leslie took Trixie back inside. She hung the leash on the nail by the kitchen door and tried to decide what to do. Mom was upstairs going over paint samples, and Mrs. Schmidt was scrubbing down the bathroom walls and floor. Mike had left for the Cities early that morning to shoot another series of buildings. There was no one to talk to.

Leslie slipped quietly out the kitchen door and wandered toward the greenhouse. The old building fascinated her. She knew that Amelia and Dorthea had raised exotic roses in here and someday they’d fill it up with flowers again. Thoughtfully Leslie opened the latched door and stepped inside.

The walls were filled with shelves and old earthenware pots. Leslie sat down on a potting bench and sighed. It was hot and muggy in the greenhouse and she knew Mrs. Schmidt’s arthritis was right. A summer storm was approaching. Dark gray clouds were rolling in from the west and the air was charged with electricity. Above the amber glass roof the sky was an eerie sight, ominous and boiling.

The rumbling started as Leslie sat, looking up. She jumped as a bright flash of lightning cut across the sky. It was quickly followed by a second bolt and then a third. Usually she loved thunderstorms, but she felt a little frightened, out here all alone.

The air was still and heavy. Not a single leaf fluttered outside. The whole sky seemed to be waiting and Leslie began to tremble. She didn’t want to go outside now. The storm was too close.

There was a loud crash as lightning struck nearby and Leslie heard a tree branch fall in the yard. She reached up and grabbed her key, her heart pounding. She’d stay right here, where it was safe.

Perspiration dripped off Leslie’s small body and made wet splashes on the redwood bench. The odor of old wood and wet heat made it hard for her to breathe. Leslie sucked the air into her lungs and swallowed nervously, her fingers squeezing tightly around the solid shape of the key. She was dizzy and the flashes of lightning made everything inside bright yellow. Her eyes hurt and she huddled up against the bench, terribly afraid.

I’m here, Leslie. Don’t be afraid. Watch and I’ll show you something.

She felt rather than heard his voice. Christopher was inside her. She held the key and gave a timid smile. Now she felt better. Her friend, Christopher, was here.

The next bolt of lightning was so brilliant it hurt her eyes and something shone like a star in the reflected light. Metal gardening shears lay on the far side of the bench, gleaming with each new bolt of lightning.

Use them, Leslie. . . . I’ll show you how. If you cut off your hair, you’ll be just like me.

Leslie stared at the shears as another flash of lightning set them shining brilliantly. Christopher wanted her to cut her hair—her pretty, long hair. He wanted her to cut it off as short as his.

She sat stunned for a moment and then she slid carefully along the bench. Her fingers reached out and grasped the shears. They were sharp and shiny, almost new-looking.

Cut, Leslie. I’ll help you. Grab a handful of hair and snip it off.

Leslie raised the shears, holding them in her right hand. She pulled her long hair into a clump and held it above her head. As the lightning flashed, it sparkled along the blades of the shears. They squeaked and cut, severing the golden strands cleanly.

A laugh poured from Leslie’s throat as she lifted more hair and cut again. The shears twirled and twinkled in her fingers. The pile of hair at her feet was growing deeper, floating down like strands of moonbeams.

It was finished. As the last clump of golden hair fell to her feet, Leslie smiled. She’d done exactly as Christopher wanted.

Perfect, Leslie. Go show Mother. She’s going to love it.

Leslie turned and walked to the door. She felt strange and disoriented, as if she’d just awakened from a dream. A blast of heavy air hit her as she stepped out onto the lawn. The sky was dark and the lights were on in the house. She had to hurry and get inside before the rain started.

Lightly, her bare feet just brushing the grass, Leslie ran across the lawn. There was something she had to show Mom. Mrs. Schmidt gave a startled gasp as she pushed past her and up the stairs.

Karen was at her desk, samples of material and color charts spread out around her. Her eyes widened as Leslie burst into the room.

“Leslie! What—?” Karen’s face turned white and she gave a gasp of shock as she saw Leslie’s hair. “Your hair! Leslie! What happened to your hair?”

“I cut it.” Leslie gave a smile as she remembered. “Don’t you love it, Mother?” She fluffed out her short blond hair with her hand.

“I—I . . . yes.” Karen spoke slowly, a little color coming back to her cheeks. “It’s really a change . . . but . . . yes, I do. I really do like it, kitten! I never thought I’d like to see your hair short, but . . . well . . . it’s just right for you.”

Leslie gave her mother a hug and raced down the hallway to her room. She was so happy, she thought she’d burst. She picked up the tintype and held it close to her face, looking critically in the mirror. After a moment of careful consideration she smiled happily. She felt so much better now, now that she was just like her friend, Christopher.

It was a large room, with long, narrow windows, smelling faintly of sweeping compound and newly varnished wood. The erasers were lined up neatly on the chalk ledge, with the cursive alphabet on lettered green cards above. The desks were bolted to the floor in precise rows, stretching the length of the room. Each one was occupied, except the third-row front, Leslie’s place.

Leslie stood in the front of the room by the teacher’s desk, wearing the expensive dress her mother had insisted on for the first day of school. She felt terribly self-conscious up here all by herself.

“Class? Come to attention!” Mrs. Ogilvie clapped her hands sharply for order. “That’s enough talking for now! Quiet down, please . . . quiet down!”

Mrs. Ogilvie blew a sharp blast on the whistle she wore around her neck. The sound made Leslie jump. None of her former teachers had been forced to blow a whistle for attention.

It seemed to take hours before the class finally stopped talking. At last the room was still and all eyes were turned toward the front of the room, fixed on her.

“This is Leslie Houston, our new student,” Mrs. Ogilvie announced. “I think the rest of you know each other from last year. Of course we’re missing a familiar face today, but hopefully Gary Wilson will be back with us soon.”

Leslie shifted from one foot to the other. Talking about Gary made her uncomfortable, even though her mom kept telling her the accident wasn’t her fault. She had a funny feeling about it all, and couldn’t help feeling sorry for Gary, even though he was a troublemaker and a tease.

Mrs. Ogilvie cleared her throat and drew a lace handkerchief from her sleeve to wipe her face. “Leslie has a nice surprise for our first day of school,” she went on. “She brought her camera to take our class picture. Won’t that be wonderful?”

Taffy rolled her eyes heavenward, and Bud gave a little chuckle under his breath. Mrs. Ogilvie obviously didn’t hear him because she went right on talking.

“Bud Allen and Taffy Comstock? I want you two to be Leslie’s special friends today. Let’s show her how nice and friendly we are at Cold Spring Elementary. I know we’re all going to benefit from Leslie’s contributions this year. She has a straight-A record from her school in Minneapolis.”

There were several giggles from the back of the room, but again Mrs. Ogilvie didn’t seem to hear. Leslie’s face turned red and she stared very hard at the picture of George Washington hanging over the bookcase. It was humiliating standing up here this way, especially with Bud and Taffy whispering and making faces.

“Now, pick up your lunch boxes and form an orderly line at the door. Mary Ellen Ness? I want you to be Leslie’s partner for the walk to the river.”

Leslie took her place at the rear of the line with Mary Ellen. The rest of the kids were giggling and talking together and she felt like an outsider. Mary Ellen didn’t say a word. She just fell into line without even glancing at Leslie.

The class moved forward with Mrs. Ogilvie in the lead. This seemed like a strange way to start the school year, but Mrs. Ogilvie said the Labor Day picnic was a tradition here. It was a celebration of the beginning of their year together and a reunion for all the kids who hadn’t seen each other all summer.

“Now, class . . . we will march in orderly fashion to the river.” Mrs. Ogilvie raised her voice as she stopped the line at the heavy wooden double doors that led to the sidewalk. “Let’s all behave like responsible adults. Ready? Proceed!”

Bud Allen made a rude face behind Mrs. Ogilvie’s back and Taffy rewarded his daring with a soft giggle. They had been in her class last year. Mrs. Ogilvie taught fifth and sixth grade combined.

“I think we’ve got a new teacher’s pet this year.” Taffy spoke in a low voice, which only Bud heard. “She sure made a hit with Mrs. Ogilvie.”

“Well, she didn’t make a hit with me!” Bud grinned at Taffy. “Did you get a good look at her hair? It looks like she cut it off with an axe! You’ve got the prettiest hair, Taffy.”

“Maybe she got caught in a lawn mower.” Taffy grinned back and fluffed out her shining red hair. She knew she was the cutest girl in the class. Today was super, being paired with Bud, even if they did have to put up with Leslie.

Bud leaned over and whispered in Taffy’s ear. “Let’s ditch her. How about it, Taffy?”

“Sure.” Taffy grinned back, pleased by Bud’s attention. “It should be easy to ditch her once we get to the river. We’ll give her the deep freeze. I’ll pass the word to the girls, and you take care of the boys. We’ll fix it so nobody even looks at her. If we’re lucky, she’ll start crying and have to go home.”

Leslie sighed as she marched along behind her class. The fresh air was making her hungry, but there wasn’t much to look forward to for lunch. The other kids probably had things like potato chips and bologna sandwiches, her favorites. Mrs. Schmidt thought bologna was contaminated and potato chips were too greasy. She said Leslie needed iron, and liverwurst on whole wheat bread was the best way to get it. Instead of Kool-Aid or soda pop, she had buttermilk in her Thermos. Leslie had asked for Twinkies or at least a cookie for dessert, but Mrs. Schmidt said white sugar was bad for the digestion. There were dried prunes and apricots in the bottom of her lunch sack.

As Leslie walked along, an occasional student would turn to stare at her. There would be giggles and whispering and then it would happen all over again; the stare, the whisper, and the giggle. It was obvious everyone was talking about her, and she couldn’t understand why. She tried hard not to notice, but she felt like turning around and running back home. That was impossible, though. She’d just have to get through the day somehow. Perhaps she should try talking to Mary Ellen. At least she wasn’t staring and whispering.

“Mrs. Ogilvie seems very nice. Was she your teacher last year?”

“Uh-huh.” Mary Ellen kept her eyes straight ahead and her brown ponytail swung from side to side as she walked. Leslie waited a moment, but Mary Ellen didn’t say anything else.

“Does this picnic last the whole day?”

“Uh-huh,” Mary Ellen replied quickly, and clamped her lips shut without even glancing in Leslie’s direction. Leslie felt her face flush with embarrassment. It was clear that Mary Ellen didn’t want to talk to her.

“Do you think the picnic will be fun?” It was difficult trying to start a conversation when Mary Ellen just grunted out one-word answers.

“It’ll be fun if you stay away from me!” This time Mary Ellen turned to look at her directly and Leslie read the coldness in her eyes. Why did these kids all hate her so much? She hadn’t done a thing to them. Mike said it was just being the new kid in the neighborhood, but she’d been here for months now and nothing had changed. Maybe they were really as mean as she thought they were.

For the rest of the walk Leslie trudged along with her eyes fixed on the ground in front of her. She had tried her hardest to be friendly, but Mary Ellen had snubbed her. None of the kids so much as gave her a friendly glance.

An hour later Leslie was sure that she was the most unpopular girl in the history of Cold Spring Elementary. No one would talk to her at all unless Mrs. Ogilvie was right by her side. Her face felt stiff from trying to smile and she wished she were anywhere but here at the river with these horrible kids. She stood by herself on the riverbank, squinting through her viewfinder at a log in the water. They were all expecting her to cry, but she wouldn’t. She’d smile even if it killed her.

“I don’t think it’s working.” Bud nudged Taffy and pointed toward the shore where Leslie stood alone as they saw a smile on her face. “It doesn’t seem to bother her at all that nobody’s talked to her all day.”

“If she’d just start crying, Mrs. Ogilvie would send her home.” Taffy’s voice mirrored her frustration. “What can we do, Bud?”

“Hey! That’s easy!” Bud began to grin as he got an idea. “We’ll scare her. She’ll start crying if she’s scared.”

“Super!” Taffy looked up at him in admiration. Sometimes Bud had really great ideas. It would be fun to scare Leslie and show the rest of the kids what a baby she was. Taffy was still mad at Leslie for having had straight A’s. She was used to being the smartest girl in the class.

“What are girls scared of, Taffy?” Bud was thinking out loud. “You ought to know.”

Taffy thought for a moment and then her eyes began to sparkle. “Snakes!” She grinned triumphantly. “Chase her with a snake, Bud. She’ll be scared to death. Are there any snakes around here?”

“Sure. Come on and help me look.”

Taffy followed his lead gingerly, poking through the long grass with a stick. “Oh!” She jumped back quickly as a garter snake slithered across the toe of her sneakers. “Bud? I found one!”

“Great.” He grabbed the snake, head in one hand and tail in the other. “Just look at that! It’s a beauty!”

Taffy shuddered slightly, watching the snake writhe in Bud’s hands. “Leslie’s still over there by the bank,” she said, pointing urgently. “Go on, Bud. I’ll be right behind you. I’ll keep an eye out for Mrs. Ogilvie, and you chase her.”

Leslie was adjusting the focus on her camera when Bud came stealthily out of the bushes in back of her. He gave a loud laugh and she whirled around to face him. Then she stepped back in horror as she saw the wiggling, squirming reptile in his hands.

“Here’s a little present from Taffy and me!” Seeing Leslie cringe, he laughed even harder. He moved closer and extended his arms, waving the snake and grinning. “Why don’t you take a close-up of this beautiful snake with your fancy camera? This snake would just love to have its picture taken!”

For a timeless moment all Leslie could do was stare at the snake twining and slithering over Bud’s arm. Then she gave a shrill scream and ran for the safety of the clearing. She could hear Bud’s footsteps thudding behind her, but she didn’t dare turn back and look. He was chasing her with that awful, slimy thing! It had looked straight at her with its beady black eyes!

Leslie was gasping by the time she reached the clearing. She was sure that Mrs. Ogilvie would save her, but the teacher was nowhere in sight. Leslie gave a cry of pure terror as she realized that she had run the wrong way. In her fright she had gotten her directions confused.

She caught her foot in a clump of roots and twisted her ankle. In a panic Leslie wrenched her foot free and kept on running. Her ankle was throbbing painfully, but Bud was right behind her. She could hear him laughing as he ran through the trees after her.

The ground was wet and Leslie felt her feet go out from under her. She fell heavily, stumbling on both knees, her camera swinging out to hit her painfully in the chest. It felt as if she couldn’t breathe, she was so terrified. Then Bud was on top of her, waving that horrid, squirming snake in her face, laughing like a maniac!

Leslie opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. The snake’s slick green body was next to her face now, its flickering tongue almost touching her cheek. Her eyes rolled up and then she was hurtling down a narrow tunnel into blackness with the sound of Bud and Taffy’s laughter ringing in her ears.

Someone was whistling, sharp and strident. Voices were calling out her name. For a moment Leslie didn’t know where she was. Then reality came rushing back. Mrs. Ogilvie was blowing her whistle and they were calling for her.

Leslie jumped to her feet and whirled around. The snake was nowhere in sight. Her ankle throbbed and she reached down to touch it. She didn’t want to go back and face Bud and Taffy and the rest of the class. She wanted to go straight home and never see any of them again.

Tears stung her eyes and she reached up for the key. She needed Christopher. Christopher would stop Bud from being mean to her.

It was much brighter now. Her eyes were opening wide and she leaned against a tree as the pleasant dizziness came. Christopher was right there inside her.

I’ll help you, Leslie. Just go back to your class now and pretend nothing happened. I’ll fix Bud for you. I promise he won’t ever chase you again.

Leslie took a deep breath and steadied herself. She waited until the dizzy feeling had passed, then shuddered slightly. It had been awful when Bud was chasing her with the snake, but it was all over now. She didn’t have to be afraid any longer. Now Christopher was here to help her.

The whistle blew again, three sharp blasts. “Leslie? Leslie Houston! It’s time to come back now!”

Leslie straightened her dress and squared her thin shoulders. She hoped that Mrs. Ogilvie wouldn’t be angry with her for coming back late. She’d tell the teacher that she had fallen, taking some nature pictures. Then she’d do exactly as Christopher had said and act as if nothing had happened. There was a faint hint of a smile on Leslie’s face as she started off through the trees to join her class.