Stranger in the House (20 page)

A
nna pulled the car up into the line of cars beside the traffic island outside the Boston Shuttle terminal. She glanced over at Paul, who seemed mesmerized by the rush of airport activity.

“It’s a good thing you were with me,” she said. “I don’t know how a person is supposed to drive and read all those signs at the same time. I could have ended up on the runway, for heaven’s sake.”

Paul shrugged. He had sulked on the way down at her insistence that he accompany her and not stay in the house, or go with Tracy. “You could have found it,” he said.

“Well, maybe so. But it helps to have a copilot.” She didn’t want him to feel smothered and overprotected. But the thought of that open window in the basement plagued her. She kept thinking of Rambo’s threatening predictions, although she would not have admitted it to anyone. He’s safe, she thought, chiding herself. He’s perfectly safe. But the sight of that window last night had reminded her that you could never be sure.

Anna realized guiltily that Thomas would never approve of this precaution. But today she needed the assurance of the boy beside her. Once Thomas was home again…

She reached into her purse and extracted a tube of lipstick. She carefully applied it, checking it in the rearview mirror. Then she snapped the tube shut and turned to her son. “Will you come in with me?” she asked.

The boy shook his head. Anna looked over at the busy entrance to the terminal. There were police and skycaps swarming all around the entrance to the building. “I guess you’ll be pretty safe here,” she said. “Just keep the doors locked. I’ll tell that cop over there to keep an eye on the car while I run in.”

“What for?” Paul asked.

“This is New York, darling. There is a lot of crime around here. You have to be careful around here. You sure you don’t want to get out and have a look in the terminal? It might be boring sitting in the car.”

“No,” said the boy dispiritedly.

Anna frowned at him. “Do you feel all right?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice rising in annoyance.

“All right,” she said briskly. “I’ll be back shortly.” She slid out her side and locked the car door behind her. Then, giving him a wave, she looked both ways and hurried across the road to the doors of the terminal.

Paul leaned over and turned on the car radio. The announcer was talking loudly about back-to-school specials, and Paul’s spirits sank as he listened. He was not looking forward to starting school. He had a feeling that everyone would be staring at him. He had no friends here, and while that wasn’t so bad in classes, it was going to be creepy during lunch and free periods and stuff like that. He had a sneaking, newfound hope that Tracy might take him around a little. She had wanted him to go sailing with her today after all. It wasn’t the best to be led around by your little sister, but it would be better than nothing.

A sudden rap on the window made him start, and he looked up, expecting at once to see Anna or some sinister-looking character with a gun trained on him. “New York,” she had said. “Crime.” Paul jerked his head around and saw the worried face of Edward Stewart peering in the window.

Paul gave him a bewildered look as Edward motioned for him to lower the window. Paul turned off the radio and pressed the button to lower the window.

“Paul,” Edward began abruptly, “where’s your mother?”

Paul nodded toward the airline terminal. “She went in,” he said, “to see my father’s plane off. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, no,” Edward groaned, straightening up and grimacing at the terminal.

“What’s the matter?” asked the boy.

“Oh, dear,” said Edward. “Paul, your father’s not in there. There was…Well, he had an accident this morning in the city. He was stabbed by a mugger. He’s in the hospital.”

“Uh-oh,” the boy breathed.

“When they couldn’t reach anyone at your house, they called ours. Oh, she’s going to be frantic, looking all over for him.”

“I can probably find her,” Paul offered.

Edward seemed to consider the idea and then brushed it away. “Never mind. I’ll find her. I’ve come to take you both to the hospital. My car is in that parking garage way over there.” He indicated a building quite a distance down the road across from the main terminal. “It’s in space H-thirteen. Can you find that?”

“Sure,” said Paul.

“You go wait for me there. I’ll find your mother inside.”

“What about our car?” Paul asked, getting out of the Volvo and shutting the door.

“Leave it,” Edward said. “I’ll explain it to the policeman. You just get in my car and wait for us. The door’s open.”

“H-thirteen?”

“That’s right.”

Paul loped across the street and walked along the road until he finally reached the parking garage. It was dark inside, despite the brightness of the day, and very quiet. A couple of people were exiting as he came in, but mostly it was empty and looked like a graveyard for automobiles.

He noted that the letters marking the lot were low on the first floor, meaning he had to go up. He climbed the ramp into the second crowded level, but the letters only went up to F. With a sigh he walked up to the third level, where the cars had thinned out and it was as silent as a tomb. He thought about Thomas as he walked, bleeding on some sidewalk while a guy ran off with his wallet. The thought made him feel sick and a little apprehensive. The gloom of the garage suddenly felt very unfriendly, and he hurried to find the car and get into it. He would lock the door and just wait for Mr. Stewart. He began to scan the letters and numbers, making his way down the row of cars. He passed the parking lot elevator. The light above it indicated that the elevator was on its way up.

The space next to the elevator was H-7. Almost there. He counted the spaces as he walked and noted that he was coming up to a black car. As he approached it, he saw that it was a Cadillac, long and gleaming. He walked up to it and put his hand on the door handle. Then he stopped short and stared. The long hood of the car sloped down like a shining black mirror to the grillwork on the end. Perched on top of the grille was a hood ornament the likes of which he had never seen before. It was golden and in the shape of an eagle, its wings expanded, talons extended, its golden beak open, its eyes narrowed into angry slits.

Paul felt a pain shoot through his head, and he started to wince. His hand rested on the door handle; but all the muscles in his body felt limp, and nausea began to overwhelm him. His eyes riveted to the eagle, he began to back away from the car.

Suddenly he felt a thud on his back, and an arm reached around him and jerked the car door open. Paul toppled forward, through the open door, and fell into the front seat, his chin smacking hard against the dash. He was momentarily stunned, and then he scrambled backward with a cry as he faced his assailant.

Edward Stewart’s cold eyes floated above him in the gloom of the black car in the empty lot. Paul raised a fist, but Edward grabbed it and pushed it down, pinning him with his weight under one bent knee. Paul had started to cry out when a damp rag descended on his face and a suffocating smell assaulted him.

In the few seconds before he passed out, he was a child again, lying limp on a grassy edge of the exit ramp, unable to move, as those cold eyes inspected him. He was pleading for help, but as those huge hands reached for him, he knew now, as he had known then, that they would only carry him deeper into danger.

Anna scanned the line of passengers waiting to have their bags inspected before boarding the plane. Her eye was caught by the dejected slope of his shoulders—a posture, she realized, that she recognized from Paul, who had stood just that way in the kitchen door this morning. Father and son, alike even in their stance. Thomas moved forward in the line, unaware of her scrutiny.

For a moment she wondered if she had the courage to proceed with her plan. The resolve which had propelled her from home to the airport now wavered as she looked at him moving toward the guards and the conveyor belt. Maybe she had misunderstood his intentions. Perhaps he intended to stay with the other woman after all. Anna felt her voice sticking in her throat.

It’s Thomas, she reminded herself. Not some stranger. Even though she did not understand what he had done, she did know him. She could not be that wrong about his feelings. You’re afraid, she told herself. That’s all. Fight for him. You have to.

Forcing herself to move forward, Anna called out his name. Thomas turned and looked around with a puzzled glance. Then he saw her, and his troubled face was transformed by a smile. “Anna!” he exclaimed.

He broke from the line and rushed toward her. It’s going to be all right, she thought.

“What are you doing here?”

Suddenly she felt shy under the warmth of his smile. “I…I wanted to see you off,” she said.

He gazed at her, his tired eyes cautious but hopeful. He set his bags down on the ground and then rubbed his hands on his trouser legs.

Anna realized that he did not know how to reply. She had always smoothed the way for him. He needed her to do it now. “I hardly slept at all last night,” she said. “I was thinking about what you said. It hit me pretty hard at first.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I was an idiot.”

“But I didn’t want you to go off today with this misunderstanding between us.”

Thomas nodded miserably.

“I know we can’t talk about this whole thing now,” she said. “But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that there was blame on both sides. I was so busy thinking about Paul that I guess I didn’t give much thought to what you were going through. Anyway, you asked me to forgive you, and I want you to know that I will. I do.”

They stood awkwardly, facing each other. Anna’s hands hung at her side. Thomas reached down and picked up her right hand. He placed it between his own hands, his eyes filling as he stroked it and then, hesitantly, squeezed it in his palm. She watched his face as he clutched her hand, the determined set of his mouth an indication that he was forcing back some insistent tears.

Anna felt herself swallowing her own. She was suffused by the peaceful sense that she had done the right thing by coming. Whatever needed to be unraveled could be done in time. They were joined again, she thought, looking down at their intertwined hands.

An amplified voice cut through the corridor. “All passengers for the 10
A.M
. shuttle flight to Boston must have their baggage checked and be ready for boarding.”

Thomas sighed. “That’s me,” he said.

“You’d better go.” She smiled.

“I’ll call you tonight,” he said, but it was a question.

Anna nodded. “Where are you staying?”

“The Copley Plaza.”

“Yes. Do call. I want to talk to you.”

He picked up his suitcase and his briefcase. “How is everything at home?” he asked. “All right?”

Anna hesitated, thinking of the opened window in the basement. But he was poised to go, looking for reassurance. Besides, it would be all right soon, when he came home for good. She smiled at him. “Fine.”

“Where are the kids?”

“Tracy went sailing with Mary Ellen. Paul’s out in the car.”

Anna saw a shadow pass over his face and knew that he felt hurt that the boy had not come in to see him. “He wanted to come in,” she said, “but I asked him to stay with the car. I’m parked right out front.”

Thomas glanced over at the dwindling line of check-in passengers. “Give them my love, will you?”

Anna nodded and smiled.

Impulsively he dropped his bags on the ground again and leaned toward her. She met his embrace, and they held each other tightly, his face buried in her hair. She could feel him shaking. Her own knees felt weak.

“You feel so good,” he said softly.

She smiled and gave him a pat on the rear end. “You’d better get going.”

He kissed her hard on the mouth and reluctantly released her. Then he was gone, turning to wave at her as he passed through the electric eye doorframe and sprinting toward the gate.

Anna waved back vigorously, forlorn and happy at once. He would be gone only overnight, she reminded herself. Tomorrow he would be back. Back in their home, to start over again. She waited until he had disappeared from sight and then she turned and started back. Men in suits streamed by, heading for the shuttles.

At the ticket counters, people in a variety of costumes waited and looked around. One young man wore dark glasses and running shoes and looked glamorous and insouciant. A woman in a neat, tailored summer suit rummaged in her purse, while a couple in leisure suits examined their tickets and tugged on the handles of their large wheeled suitcases.

People traveling, she thought. Going on vacations and trips and important business junkets. But she didn’t envy them their travel plans. She was delighted to be going home, getting her house ready for her husband’s return, and looking out for the children. She thought of the house on Hidden Woods Lane with a longing she could not muster for any strange city. Tomorrow they all would be home together, safe under that familiar roof. Again her thoughts flashed to the open window in the cellar, but she pushed them away. Thomas would be there, to make sure everything was all right.

Anna crossed through the modern vault of a lobby, past hustling employees dressed in blue and hurrying passengers. She opened the sliding doors with her step and left the air-conditioned hum of the terminal for the warm, racket-filled roads out in front. The car was parked beside the island where she had left it, and she was relieved that there was not a policeman standing beside it, issuing a parking violation.

Dodging the skycaps and the taxis that hovered in front of the terminal, Anna hurried across the street, craning her neck to see the top of Paul’s head, which was not visible inside the car.

He’s probably taking a nap, she thought. Teenagers. They eat and sleep with such a vengeance. She approached the door of the car, ready to tease him about his ability as a sentry, but she realized, when she arrived at the vehicle, that her son was no longer inside. For a moment she stood on the curb, staring into the car. Then she pulled the door open and got into the front seat.