The Common Thread (6 page)

“I think Billy’s been shot…I don’t know for sure…I heard two shots, then Simon came after me…I had to run…I didn’t even have any clothes on…I don’t know about the kids, they were asleep in their room…I tried to go back, but the police came…I have to find out if they’re okay…” It all poured out of Katie as one pressured, run-on sentence. She swallowed and tried to slow the breaths that were coming too fast again.

Walking to her cupboard, Nan turned and looked at Katie. The whites of her eyes jumped off her dark skin, even in the dim light of the kitchen, and they seemed to penetrate Katie. “You can’t go back there,” she said simply. She retrieved a cup and filled it with water, then handed it to Katie.

Nan was an old woman, losing her vision and her mobility, but not her senses. Nan knew how things worked. If Katie went back, the police would question her, and even if she told them nothing, Simon would think the worst and come after her. Even though she’d been living and honest life for nearly a decade, she had a criminal record. A convicted drug dealer, who happened to be the father of her children, was dead or wounded in her house. If they didn’t have cause to arrest her for assault or murder or possession, they at least had enough suspicion to haul her in for questioning. It might take days, or weeks, to sort out all the evidence. She’d go to jail, and her children would go into foster care. It wasn’t just or fair, but it was reality, and Nan understood.

“What do I do, Nan? I can’t just leave the kids there. But you’re right. If I go over there now, I’ll end up in jail.”

The trauma didn’t faze Nan. “You stay right here. You can watch from the window if you like, but don’t you leave the house. If anybody comes around, don’t answer the door.”

“Where are you going?”

“Over to your house, to gawk, just like all the other busybodies. And I’m going to get you some answers.”

Katie bit her lip as she contemplated Nan’s idea. It was risky, but even if she didn’t learn anything, it was worth a try. Katie needed to know what had happened, and she needed to know that her children were safe.

“You would do that for me?” Katie was bewildered.

“Young lady,” she said, “you’ve never been anything but good to me since you moved in over there. You do for me, and you never ask for a dime in return, although the Good Lord knows you could use one. If I can’t help you when you need it, what kind of a Christian woman am I?”

Katie chewed her fifth fingernail, suddenly afraid. Nan’s intentions were good, but what if she inadvertently let it slip to the police that Katie was hiding in her kitchen? What if she told them on purpose? “You won’t tell them I’m here?”

“I believe in a little fib here and there. Like telling Gerald Senior he was good looking. Never hurt Gerald none. Made him feel good, I think. God didn’t make a man homelier than Gerald, but he felt like a movie star when I told him that. So, sometimes you can use a little stretcher for a good purpose, and the Lord wants us to do good. If I have to tell those police officers a little fib, I think He’ll forgive me.”

Katie couldn’t help but smile. Nan’s husband Gerald had passed away many years before Katie and her children moved into the neighborhood, but Katie had seen the pictures throughout the house and he
was
homely. In every picture, though, he wore a big smile and looked happy.

Nan removed the Crocs from Katie’s feet and placed them on her own, then gave her arm a squeeze of support before opening the back door. Wearing a pair of shorts pulled up to her sagging boobs, her shirt tucked in, and the bright-yellow shoes on her feet, she was quite a sight.

Off she went into the darkness, carrying her flashlight. From the kitchen door, Katie followed the light marking her neighbor’s journey down the porch stairs and through the yard and into the alley. It moved along at a brutally slow pace, and each second seemed to push Katie closer to the edge of the cliff on which she was standing.

Fear squeezed the breath from her lungs and rattled the cup in her hand. Would Nan betray her? What would she find? Katie hardly had time to ponder the answers to her questions when the light reappeared in its full brightness at the end of the shrubs, and then, to Katie’s surprise, Nan emerged and walked directly into the yard. Katie had assumed Nan was going to learn the gossip on the street, but apparently she had other plans. Nan held the rail as she navigated the stairs, and then she reached the porch and disappeared through Katie’s kitchen door.

Leaning against the doorframe, Katie held her breath, her eyes glued to the door at the back of her house. Time seemed to stand still as she waited, and the blackness that filled the space between the porch lights seemed to grow. It was only fifty yards away, but to Katie it seemed like miles. Not knowing what Nan would find was hard, but not being with her children, to protect or comfort them, was killing her. In her mind’s eye, she saw the path Nan was following across the kitchen and through a doorway into the living room. It was a small house, and even at Nan’s pace, it wouldn’t take long to get where she needed to go.

Before Katie finished her thought, the back door opened and Nan reappeared, flanked by two police officers, who escorted her to the bottom of the stairs and watched as she retraced her steps back home.

What had she seen? What had she learned? Katie couldn’t swallow the lump in her throat, and tears were stinging her cheeks as she followed Nan with her eyes, spying through the window. When Nan finally opened the door and came into the kitchen, Katie was weeping uncontrollably. The entire adventure had taken only ten minutes—eight of which was the walk itself—yet to Katie, it had seemed an eternity.

“First of all, Katie, keep still. The police are looking for you, and I wouldn’t put it past them to come and see for themselves that I’m not harboring a fugitive.”

Katie didn’t care. She was out of her mind with worry and no longer thinking straight. “What’s going on? What happened?”

Nan was clearheaded, though. Taking her by the elbow, she guided her toward the front of her house. “Come, dear. We have to go into the living room and sit down.”

“No!” Katie sobbed, bringing her hands to her face to wipe away tears, then to her side, to steady herself against the table. Bad news wouldn’t be any easier to bear in the living room. “Tell me,” she commanded through her sobs.

“He’s dead. Billy’s dead.”

Another sob wracked her body and she sucked in a breath. “Chloe? Andre?” she whispered, barely able to get their names past her lips.

“Slept through the whole thing.”

Nan shuffled toward the living room and Katie somehow managed to follow. Collapsing into a chair, she suddenly appreciated the wisdom of Nan’s advice to sit down. Relief and grief, both in large doses, overwhelmed her. Nan sat on the couch beside her and stroked her arm.

She cried and cried, the tears springing from wells of grief over Billy, relief about her children, and a bit of fear that Simon was still out there in the darkness, looking for her. “Thank you,” Katie managed after a few minutes.

All the while Katie cried, Nan remained silent. Finally, when Katie seemed calmed, she spoke. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear—and Lord forgive me for speakin’ ill of the dead—but he was trouble. You’re much too good a woman to be with a man like him. You’ll get through this. You take those kids and find a decent place to raise them, and you find a decent man to love you, and you’ll be fine.”

Whether Nan’s words were true didn’t matter to Katie at the moment. Chloe and Andre did.

“My kids? What will they do with them?”

“I asked if I could bring them over here, told the police I’m the babysitter, but they wouldn’t let me have ’em. They told me they’re taking them to the ER for an evaluation, and then the social worker’s going to find a place for them.”

Katie jumped to her feet. “No! I can’t believe this! We have to get to them, Nan! They’ll be scared without me. And what if Simon finds them? He’s already killed once. What would stop him from murdering them to hurt me? Or kidnapping them to flush me out?”

“Calm down, now. A fit of hysterics won’t solve nothin’.”

“Where are they? Did they see Billy’s body?” The thought horrified Katie. She paced Nan’s living room, massaging away the pain that had taken root between her eyes.

“That carpet is very expensive, Katie, and I’m going to hold you accountable if you wear a hole in it.” Nan stared at her until she stopped, then continued speaking. “They’re fine. They’re right there in the kitchen, having juice and cookies with the police. They seemed happy as could be, so I think—no—they didn’t see him.”

“Did they ask for me?”

“Yep. I told them you got called into the clinic to work and you’d see them soon.”

Katie nodded. That was good. She sometimes did get called in—though never in the middle of the night—and her kids would believe that story. They’d stay calm for a while, at least, placated with cookies and the hope she’d soon be with them.

“You didn’t happen to find out which ER they’re going to, did you?”

Nan’s eyes were twinkling. “Well, of course I did!”

Katie marveled at this grandmother who, despite the half-century age gap, really was her friend. They came from different backgrounds, different generations, were of different races, and had lived vastly different lives, but somehow they’d found each other and connected in a wonderful way. They needed each other. Nan helped Katie care for her kids, and Katie did things Nan could no longer manage, like change storm windows and run the lawnmower in the warm months, and shovel snow in the winter.

A smile formed as she remembered how much Nan had annoyed her when she first moved into her apartment. Somehow, she’d come to enjoy Nan’s stories and her company, and it felt good to spend time with her. Katie knew that what Nan had told her about Billy were the tough words of a true friend. While Billy’s death would make them all a bit sad, it wouldn’t change their lives much.

“I have to get them, Nan.”

“Well, then, let’s get going.”

They needed a plan, and while Katie showered away the sweat from her body and dirt from her feet, one came to her. She could find everything she needed at the clinic, with the exception of something to wear. Maybe Nan could help with that.

“Of course,” Nan said, a twinkle in her eye. “I’ve saved some nice things for special occasions.”

The stairs at the center of Nan’s front hall marked a century of footsteps, the finish worn down to the bare wood. Like everything in Nan’s home, and the neighborhood for that matter, the appointments were well done. The ends of each plank still hinted at an oak varnish that must have made them a beautiful sight. Each groaned as it bore their weight. Babbling as she slowly made her way to the top, Nan was winded when they reached the landing. Katie tried to hide her impatience. She took some deep breaths and closed her eyes, letting calmness seep into her pores. She’d need it if this octogenarian was going to serve as her partner in crime. She’d need it no matter what.

The closet in the front spare bedroom (which would be known as Gerald’s room as long as his mother lived in the house) proved to be a proverbial pot of gold. Nan had worn a petite size six in the days she’d amassed her wardrobe, which by the styles on display seemed to be the 1950s. Katie could fit easily into that size with a little room to spare. She pushed hanger after hanger, discarding bold flowery prints and pulling out a few more somber suits and dresses.

“This is unbelievable,” Katie said as she looked at all the clothing Nan had stored in clear plastic garment bags. She chose a conservative black funeral dress.

“And I have hats to match.” Nan indicated neatly stacked hatboxes on the upper shelf of the closet.

“I think I’ll pass on the hats.”

“I’d think again,” Nan said, and Katie searched her face, confused.

She sat on the edge of her son’s bed, looking quite sure of herself, and Katie wished she could borrow some of Nan’s confidence. How brave she’d been to go out onto that porch and ward off Katie’s would-be assassin, to confront the police. How brave she was to embark on this mission. Katie realized she might do well to listen to her.

“Tell me your idea,” Katie suggested. Nan did, and Katie smiled as she listened. Suddenly another piece fit into the puzzle. “That just might work.” And with Nan’s suggestion in mind, Katie returned the wardrobe selections to the closet, including the dress she’d chosen, and pulled out a totally different style. It was something she’d never wear under normal circumstances, and that made it a perfect costume for the scheme they’d concocted.

Turning her attention to the hat boxes, she climbed onto a bench and handed them down to Nan. With so many options, choosing the perfect one proved to be a bigger challenge than the dress had, but after she tried them all, Katie selected the smallest of the lot. She chose it not because it was her favorite but because it would be easiest to pack in the small, light-blue suitcase Nan had pulled out of Georgia’s room. Like her brother Gerald, Georgia had left home fifty years earlier, but her childhood bedroom was still waiting for her in case she decided to move back in with her mother.

With the suitcase in hand, Katie descended the stairs just behind Nan. At the bottom, Nan turned and offered her a smile. “Are you ready?”

Katie was terrified. If this mission failed she’d end in a cold jail cell and her kids in a foster home. After not having slept for several nights, she was exhausted, her body burning adrenaline to keep the engine running. And she had a headache, a migraine that had started sometime after she was shot at earlier in the evening. But she was as ready as she was going to get, and the more time she wasted, the more likely her plan would fail. They had to move quickly. As quickly as Nan could move, anyway. “I am. Are you sure you want to do this? You might get arrested, you know.”

“As far as I know, Katie, you’re just a law-abiding citizen who’s picking up her kids from the hospital. What are the police going to charge me with? Aiding and abetting a mother?”

“Okay, then. Let’s do this.”