Little Sister (32 page)

“I don’t have any of my stuff,” she whispered, hoping against hope that he might relent and turn back.

“What?”

“My clothes and all that stuff.”

“We’ll buy some when we get to California.”

“But it’s expensive to buy all that stuff. Why don’t we go back and get it? I can just run in the house. My sister isn’t home anyway.” She tried to keep the desperate edge out of her voice.

A Budget rental truck which had been coming up on them from the distance now pulled out alongside them and started to pass. A spray of gray slush shot up from the truck’s tires and pelted the windshield.

“You fucking asshole,” Andrew cried. He sped up and pulled out into the left lane, trying to pull out ahead of the truck. As he pulled out, he saw a small foreign car coming toward them, its fog lights cutting through the curtain of sleet. Andrew clenched his jaw and dropped back behind the truck to let the car pass.

“I could get my camera,” Francie pleaded, “so we could take pictures of our trip.” ^4* if this were a regular vacation, she thought, swallowing the lump in her throat. Oh, please turn this car around, she prayed silently.

“We don’t need any goddamned pictures,” he yelled. He pulled back out into the left lane and pushed down the accelerator. Francie watched the speedometer climb as the car churned along. The truck did not slow down to let them pass. Instead, it put on some speed and pulled smoothly away from them.

“Slow down,” Francie whispered in a hoarse, frightened voice. “We don’t need to catch him.”

“I’ll show that son of a bitch,” Andrew said through gritted teeth. He seemed to forget that Francie was there. He pushed the car to a faster speed and then began to slip from left to right on the road.

Andrew held tightly to the vibrating wheel, his eyes burning into the rear of the truck.

“I’m gonna be sick,” said Francie. She breathed hard through her mouth, trying to quell the nausea and calm her pounding heart.

“Shut up,” Andrew cried. “We’ve got him!” They had come to a steep grade in the road, and the truck lost considerable speed because of the load it was carrying. Andrew gunned the engine, sweat breaking out on his forehead, and pulled out to the left again, inching up ever closer, despite the double yellow lines in the road that indicated no passing. As he pulled up to the side of the cab, he rolled down his window and began screaming obscenities at the driver as he honked his horn wildly.

Francie looked up and saw the driver glaring down at her and mouthing words she could not hear.

Andrew let out a howl of glee as he pulled out in front of the truck. He turned to Francie, a jubilant expression in his eyes. “Did you see that?” he cried. “I got him.”

Francie realized, looking in his eyes, that there would be no conning him into turning back. It was no good pretending that she was willing to run with him. She spoke out in a quavering voice. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you, Andrew. I don’t want anything to do with you. Take me home.”

The manic joy in Andrew’s eyes vanished, like a doused flame, and his face turned ashen. “What?”

“I don’t want to go with you. I don’t want to marry you. I’m only fourteen. I just want to go back right now.”

Andrew began to breathe hard as if there were a clamp on his chest. “Shut up,” he said. “Shut your—you think you can just leave me? Do you know what I did for you? Do you know what I’ve done for you?”

For an instant it was as if he had forgotten he was even at the wheel. The car lost speed as he turned to her and tried to grab at her throat with a free hand. The truck, which was still behind them, seized the opportunity and surged out beside them. As he went to pass, the truck driver deliberately closed in and swiped the side of Andrew’s old car as hard as he could.

Andrew grabbed for the wheel with both hands as the car went into a skid, and the truck roared off in the distance. Francie, who was huddled in the corner of the seat, having tried to escape Andrew’s grasp, let out a scream as the car began to spin slowly around until it was no longer facing ahead. Andrew pitched forward and smacked his chin on the wheel as the car slid out across the highway.

It was as if it were happening in slow motion. Francie saw the car start to turn, and she flung herself down on the seat. This is it, she thought. Oh, no, oh, shit. The image of her mother at the wheel, that awful night on the highway sprang to her mind. The horrible splintering sounds would be next, she knew. She could see her mother’s horror-struck face so clearly in her mind. Now she was going to die. She wondered if she would see her mother in death. I’m too young, she thought. This can’t be all.

The car bounced, and Francie covered her head just in time as she felt herself hit the dashboard and then fall back against the seat. Twice more the car seemed to leap into the air, and then, with a scrape and a thud, it stopped.

Francie sat up in the seat and blinked. She checked her glasses to see if they were broken. She put them back on and looked around, amazed to be alive. She looked over at Andrew. He was groaning and holding his chin, but he was not bleeding. The car was resting on an angle in a gully beside the highway. For a second Francie felt like laughing for the joy of being alive and unhurt. Then she looked back at Andrew, and her heart froze with a newfound fear of him.

“That son of a bitch,” said Andrew. “Look what he did to us.”

Francie stared at him. / have got to get away from him, she thought. He was jamming the key into the ignition and turning it, but there was only a grinding noise in the engine.

“I’ll get this thing started,” he cried. “It’s slow to get started. That’s the only problem. I’ll have it going in a minute.”

“It’s stuck here,” said Francie. “We’d better go call a garage.”

Andrew turned on her in a fury. “What do you know about cars? Nothing.”

“We were almost killed,” said Francie in a trembling voice. “I know that.”

“Shut up,” said Andrew. “I can’t think with you talking.”

Francie saw her chance. She hesitated for a moment, and then she moved. Reaching out quickly, she unlocked her door. “I’ll go for help,” she said. In one swift motion she forced the door open and jumped out of the car. She landed on her ankle in the gully, turning it sideways, but she did not even feel it. She scrambled up the bank toward the road, just as she heard the car door slam on Andrew’s side.

“Get back here,” he shouted, starting after her.

“Help,” she cried as she reached the highway and began to run along the icy road. Behind her she could hear him gaining on her. A

car was coming in the distance. She waved her arms wildly as she ran. The fog lights of the oncoming car were getting brighter. “Please,” she cried out. Then she felt his arm reach out and grab her from behind.

DESPITE THE SPEED
with which she made it back to town, there was no one at the cemetery when she arrived. Beth got back into the car and drove to the parsonage. Uncle James’s car was in the driveway. Beth exhaled with a slight sense of relief. They were back.

Beth parked the car and ran up to the front door through the icy rain. She knocked on the door as she opened it. “Anybody home?” she called out.

Uncle James met her in the hallway. He reached for her wet jacket, which she shrugged off. “You’d better catch your breath,” he advised. “What’s the hurry?”

“That funeral didn’t take long,” said Beth. “I was just up at the cemetery.”

“Oh, my, no,” he said, shaking his head and leading her into the living room. “It was a sorry sight, Beth. I’ll tell you that. Four or five people there, one little flower arrangement. That dentist she worked for all those years didn’t even come. And the weather was so miserable, we had to keep it short.”

Beth shivered at the mention of Dr. Ridberg. She decided not to bring up the murder. “It’s wet all right.” She looked over his shoulder through to the empty dining room.

“So you girls all packed up to leave us?”

“Just about,” said Beth.

Aunt May emerged from the kitchen and greeted Beth. “I’ve got some hot tea if you want it.”

“Where’s Francie?” Beth asked.

“I left her with young Andrew,” said Uncle James. “They seemed to want to talk to each other.”

“With Andrew?” Beth cried. “Why didn’t you bring her back?”

“He had a car,” said James. “He promised to bring her back.”

“I can’t believe you let him drive off with her,” Beth said in a shrill voice.

“I told him that when he got back,” said Aunt May. “She has no business driving around with that Andrew Vincent.”

“They are friends,” said Uncle James, a wounded expression in his round blue eyes. “She wanted to talk to him. To console him, I’m sure. It’s only natural at a time like this.”

“She wanted to,” said Beth curtly.

“They were talking together, and I’m sure now that she’s going away, they just wanted a little time to share this grief, say their goodbyes and so forth. I didn’t see any harm in that.”

“So she took off with him,” said Beth. “Goddammit.”

“I’m sorry, Beth,” said Uncle James. “I didn’t realize you felt so strongly about this.”

“She promised me she would come back with you.”

“These young ones have minds of their own,” said James.

“May I use your phone?” Beth asked.

Aunt May pointed to the kitchen.

Beth went in and dialed her father’s house. The phone rang and rang. She hung up and went back into her aunt and uncle’s living room. “She’s not home,” she said angrily.

“I’m sure they’ll be back soon,” said Uncle James. “Here. Sit down and visit with us for a while. Once we drop you at the airport tomorrow, who knows how long it will be before we see you again?”

Beth sank down into a chair and stared blankly ahead of her.

Uncle James and Aunt May exchanged a glance. Then James said, “I feel terrible about this, Beth. I had no idea you wanted me to bring her back.”

Beth shook her head. “No, never mind. It’s not your fault.”

“I’ll get you some tea,” said Aunt May. “James, why don’t you help me?”

Beth stared into the unlit fireplace as the old people headed for the kitchen. She had gone off with Andrew. Beth could hardly believe it. After that whole conversation this morning about how she was just going to put in an appearance so she wouldn’t feel guilty. She had deliberately lied about it. No, that wasn’t fair, Beth rebuked herself. It was probably just a romantic impulse of the moment. To go off with that lunatic. It was unbelievable.

“Beth, you’re a million miles away,” said Aunt May, handing her a teacup.

“I’m sorry. What is it?”

“I sent James out to get those boxes out of your car.”

“Good,” said Beth absently.

“You’re worried about Francie,” said her aunt.

“I’ll tell you, I’m more mad than worried. You should have seen the way he was acting yesterday. And she takes off with him anyway.”

“Thank goodness you’ll be getting her away from him. That’s all I can say.”

“Mmmm,” said Beth. / should call home again, she thought. Oh, the hell with her. If she wants to stay out all night with him, let her. But her aunt’s tea did little to soothe the angry, anxious knot that had formed in her stomach.

“Maybe I’d better just head home,” said Beth, putting down the cup on the table. “I’ve still got things to do.”

“I wish you’d stay,” said Aunt May.

Beth thanked her. “If Francie should show up here,” she said, “tell her I left—”

At that minute the phone rang. Beth jumped at the sound. Aunt May answered it and rushed back into the living room.

“It was for you,” she said to Beth. “It was Francie. She’s down at the police station. She wants you to pick her up.”

Beth’s heart leaped to her mouth. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. She hung up.”

Beth ran for the door, grabbing her coat in the hallway.

“I’m coming,” said Aunt May, following her into the hall.

“No, no, you stay here. I’ll call you. I promise.”

“Call me right away,” said May as Beth raced out the door. Uncle James, who was outside in his black brimmed hat, locking up the shed where he kept the church donations, waved as Beth jumped in the car.

She imagined every kind of disaster on the ride to the station house. Drugs, robberies, car wrecks, and rapes jumbled together in her mind in a breathtaking array of possibilities. At least it’s not the worst, she reminded herself. She’s alive. The news report about the dentist and his wife sprang again to mind, but she pushed the thought away. There was no point in thinking about that.

Noah’s tow truck was pulling into the parking lot at the police station at the same time that Beth arrived, the beam of its rooftop light flashing ghostly in the fog. Beth saw the stout ponytailed figure

get out and go into the station as she was parking her car. She got out hurriedly and followed him into the station house.

The first person she saw when she came through the door was Francie, huddled in the corner of a wooden, pewlike bench beside the main desk. She looked around and saw Noah and Andrew conferring across the room. The police officer at the main desk was opening the wrapper on a packet of peanut butter crackers. He looked up at Beth.

“Could you close that door?” he asked. “It’s a little chilly for air conditioning today.”

“Sorry,” said Beth. She went back and shut the door. At the policeman’s words Francie looked up and saw Beth.

“Hi,” she said, getting up from the bench. “Thanks for coming.”

“What the hell is going on here?” Beth asked coldly.

Francie glanced nervously over at Andrew and Noah. “Andrew ran his car off the road. Luckily this policeman saw us and stopped.”

At that moment Andrew spotted Beth and elbowed Noah aside. “What’s she doing here?” he demanded, striding across the cracked linoleum to where Beth stood.

“Get away from me,” said Beth.

The cop came out from behind the desk. “Are you the sister?” he asked.

Beth nodded as Andrew turned on Francie. “How did she know you were here?” he demanded.

“I called her,” said Francie wearily.

“What’s the matter with you?” Andrew demanded loudly. “You know she’s against us.”