And Then There Were Four

  We have become thieves and this particular theft of the prescription paper was for my sake. I am grateful and sickened and relieved and terrified and I think queasily about everything Caleb said about his father. And about himself. His face at Johanna’s when he told us what he thinks about himself.

  I want I yearn I ache to make it better.

  Almost 100 percent I believe what I said at Johanna’s to him. He is good.

  When Caleb returned with the prescription paper his eyes locked with mine and I felt for a moment like his eyes were a mirror in which I saw myself as well as him.

  I don’t know anything anymore, I never did know, only I didn’t know I didn’t know.

  Also while I waited for Caleb at Chatime I talked to Evangeline, who insisted she needs to meet Gabrielle Dubois and that she will be careful and it’s her risk to take and Kenyon supports her and therefore Caleb and I ought to trust her to know what she’s doing. I don’t actually trust her on this, not completely. Evangeline is confused about Mrs. Dubois, that is what I think.

  I had some dark thoughts while I sat in the café and drank jasmine tea (an acquired taste which I have not acquired), including obsessing over how little money we have and whether we can afford my insulin anyway. I tested my blood sugar: 215 which is high but not desperate. If I eat it will go higher, so I can’t eat until I have insulin to balance things and bring my number down. This is what it is to have a broken pancreas. Scientists are working on cures and interventions (some already exist), which makes me think of Antoine, there might have been a cure for him in time.

  Bottom line I am a burden on my friends in this desperate hour. Caleb should not have to be doing this for me. If we were together as a couple he would get tired of it, like my mom is tired apparently.

  Caleb and I reach Bryant Park at 11:08 a.m. Hurry hurry hurry we are late.

  The park has a big central grassy area and chairs and tables and a fountain and random kiosks and lots of people and a carousel which is operating on this fine day. I check out every woman who has a baby carriage even those who are obviously not Kenyon. I also look for enemies who could be anyone and anywhere. I am not well disguised. As to Caleb’s disguise I can’t tell, when I look all I see is him.

  Will Mrs. Dubois truly be alone with apologies and money and information like Evangeline claims is possible?

  Finally I spot Kenyon, blond and flamboyantly pregnant. She pushes her baby carriage along on the far side of the carousel.

  “Evangeline,” Caleb says into my ear. “With Mrs. Dubois.” He points his chin.

  They’re sitting on a bench by the carousel fence. Mrs. Dubois clutches a big leather satchel under one arm and holds a plastic cup in one hand, and talks rapidly with her gaze locked on Evangeline. Every now and again she drinks from her cup.

  My heart thuds madly.

  “Do you see anybody else?” I whisper. “Your father? Kenyon’s grandfather? Police?”

  “No.”

  This doesn’t mean they’re not here. We move clockwise around the carousel which as it revolves is playing the Sleeping Beauty waltz.

  We come alongside Kenyon. I take a selfish moment to glance in her baby carriage and yes, Georgia is in there swaddled in a blanket next to a baby doll.

  Mrs. Dubois pours more liquid from a thermos into her cup, drains it, and sets the cup aside. Then she takes a plastic bag from her satchel and gives it to Evangeline, who glances inside and tucks it away. Evangeline says something and rises. Mrs. Dubois gets up too and reaches as if to embrace Evangeline but Evangeline steps back. Mrs. Dubois moves her hands in a pleading motion and holds the thermos out to Evangeline. After a moment, Evangeline nods and takes it. Mrs. Dubois turns away then and there is something very sad about her figure. She starts to walk slowly north across the park toward Forty-second Street.

  “Following her,” Caleb says in my ear. “See you soon.”

  My heart thuds faster than ever in my throat now but is this going to be safe after all? Was Evangeline right?

  Evangeline walks straight past me and Kenyon. We trail after her.

  Nobody calls to us or stops us, and we exit the park and continue south one block to the Cordette Pharmacy exactly like Caleb and I planned. Kenyon and I duck inside together, maneuvering her baby carriage with care because it is almost too big for the aisles, and walk into the back where Evangeline is waiting.

  “Gabrielle gave me five thousand dollars in cash,” she whispers. “This could make all the difference for us.”

  Chapter 45. Caleb

  You follow Mrs. Dubois.

  Your father wants a divorce, so he can start a new life? You are incredulous, and suspicious.

  Your mother’s hopeful happiness hurts to remember. She’s like a caged mouse being tortured with a glimpse of garden. She ought to know better!

  For a moment you wish you had had time to talk to her, to tell her that you’re beginning to understand now, to see the past differently. However, your priority at this moment is Saralinda’s insulin.

  Your father’s game. You can’t play if you don’t know the game or the rules . . . your thoughts go round and round and round like the carousel . . .

  In front of you, Mrs. Dubois goes down into the subway. She gets on a train heading across town. As soon as the train pulls out, you retreat.

  You arrive at Cordette Pharmacy. The girls are there. Saralinda has written out her prescription, but in your name. Even if all the Duane Reade pharmacies are alert for Saralinda de la Flor, there’s a chance that the Cordette Pharmacy will not question a prescription for Caleb Colchester Jr. A chance your father wouldn’t have thought of this. A chance the AMBER Alert doesn’t go to pharmacies and your name (his name) won’t trigger anything.

  After all, his name isn’t that famous. Most people don’t care about writers or therapists.

  (You hate your name, your name which is his, you hate it.)

  You take off your coat and scarf again. You approach the pharmacy clerk. She looks at the prescription, and at your ID. “About ten minutes,” she says pleasantly.

  You don’t believe in God, but still you pray as you nod and retreat.

  Two minutes later there is an announcement. “Caleb Colchester, come to the pharmacy window for a consultation. Caleb Colchester.”

  This is soon. Too soon? You don’t know. You look at Saralinda. She seems nervous and jerks her chin sideways, toward the door. Without a word the four of you file down the diaper aisle and out onto the street, where Saralinda takes the lead on her scooter, weaving in and out of sidewalk traffic. You stride along behind Kenyon and Evangeline. Your heart pummels inside your chest.

  Failure.

  South on Sixth.

  West on Thirty-seventh.

  South on Broadway.

  At last Saralinda plunges into Penn Station. On the underground concourse, which is thick with people, she pauses and Evangeline takes over the lead. Finally the four of you cram into a booth in a busy, noisy restaurant, Evangeline and Kenyon on one side, you and Saralinda on the other. The waitress arrives to offer water and menus. Saralinda drains her small water glass instantly and the waitress pours her more. The waitress disappears. You catch Saralinda glancing at your water and push it over to her. In a minute, she has drained your glass, Evangeline’s, and Kenyon’s.

  “Sorry,” she says. “Thirsty. It’s a side effect.”

  You and Evangeline and Kenyon make eye contact.

  Evangeline signals for the waitress, who pours more water and takes orders. Saralinda gets one scrambled egg. When the waitress asks her about toast and potatoes, Saralinda nearly barks her head off saying no.

  When the waitress leaves, you say, “It might have been fine at the pharmacy. I panicked. We could try again at another place.”

  Saralinda pulls out her test kit. She uses it discreetly on her lap but the three of
you watch her anyway. Finally she says, “250.” She drains her water glass again. “I’ve been worse.”

  You push the other water glasses in her direction.

  Kenyon leans in. “What do you mean by worse, Saralinda?”

  “Once I was 653. So, I need insulin, but not urgently. Let’s not worry about me. Evan, what did Mrs. Dubois—”

  “What was your blood sugar before?” you ask. “When we were uptown.”

  She shrugs. “215.”

  “So it’s climbing.”

  “But slowly. Look, food raises it. Insulin lowers it. But sometimes it does what it pleases.” She drinks more slowly now, but she drains the other glasses.

  “What happens to you when it’s high?” asks Evangeline.

  “Bad things,” Saralinda says evasively. Then: “It probably will get higher. Stress makes it worse.”

  “We’ll try another pharmacy,” you say. You are glad you took several pieces of the prescription paper.

  “Evangeline, tell us—” Saralinda starts to say, but Evangeline holds up her hand as the waitress arrives with food. Saralinda’s eggs comes with the toast and potatoes that she did not order. The waitress disappears just as you open your mouth to ask for more water.

  “Eat,” Saralinda says. “There’s no sense in everybody starving.”

  You wish you could say you’re not hungry. But you are. The cookie Saralinda got you uptown was nowhere near enough. You begin working your way through your club sandwich.

  Saralinda takes one bite of her eggs and then stops eating. “Evan?” she says. “Tell us about Mrs. Dubois.”

  “Well, you know about the money.”

  “I don’t,” you say.

  “Five thousand dollars. More than enough to get a hotel and make our videos—except for the credit card thing, but I think we can buy a prepaid card and use that.” Evangeline looks at you, one by one. “They’re all in this together. I mean, we knew, but Gabrielle confirmed it. And yeah, that means Spencer too. Hahaha on me.”

  You look at Saralinda.

  “Saralinda’s mother as well,” says Evangeline.

  Saralinda braces her hands on the table. “But—I still can’t understand how it would have happened. How the conversation even began.”

  “Well, she didn’t say exactly and I forgot to ask for that detail, I’m sorry, she was already telling me so much. They met at school, I guess? They decided to help each other out. The carriage house—all five of us were supposed to die that day. What happened was, Gabrielle directed operations for the explosives, but the others helped her.”

  “My mother too?” Saralinda says, still processing the truth.

  “Yes, your mother too, Saralinda. Gabrielle said so, and I don’t believe she’s lying. Remember, I know her well.”

  You watch Saralinda struggle not to believe Gabrielle’s story. “But she’s crazy,” Saralinda says.

  “I know. But I still believe her.” Evangeline shrugs. She looks at her empty water glass, sighs, takes out the thermos, pours from it, and drinks.

  “What—” Kenyon starts.

  “Oh, it’s just my green smoothie. Gabrielle’s peace gift. Along with the money.”

  Kenyon grabs the thermos. “Evangeline—”

  Evangeline makes a face. “Oh, don’t worry. Gabrielle drank it herself, in front of me. And it tastes fine.” She laughs sharply. “Gabrielle loves me. Maybe she’s the only adult woman who ever has, you know? I guess I should have been nicer to Spencer, huh?”

  Firmly, Kenyon takes the thermos away from Evangeline, who tries to hold on to it, but eventually gives in with a shrug.

  “Anyway, Gabrielle told me everything,” Evangeline says. “Like I said, she’s not herself but she still makes sense. She’s glad Antoine is dead. She said she knows he’s in heaven and now he won’t suffer on earth, and for that she is prepared to go to hell herself. But now that she has what she wants, she doesn’t see why the rest of us should die too. I asked her to go to the police. But she said no, she doesn’t want to turn in the others, since they did her such a favor.” Evangeline’s mouth twists. “But she is okay with us defending ourselves.”

  Evangeline looks again at Saralinda. “So I think we’re back to Saralinda’s video plan. Now we have money for a hideout.”

  “We still need insulin,” you say.

  Chapter 46. Saralinda

  I feel Caleb’s gaze on me and also his leg against mine and it could be anyone’s leg at that moment, that’s how shocked I am.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “About your mother. I know you . . . well, hoped.”

  “It’s okay,” I say.

  Kenyon reaches across the table and puts both her hands over mine.

  “You already knew, SL.” Kenyon’s eyes hold infinite compassion. “That day in the carriage house. You told me about your mom. You knew she was done with you. Just not—not this done.”

  Yes I knew only also I didn’t.

  I take my hands from Kenyon’s.

  Some minutes go by.

  My scrambled egg is sitting there and ordinarily it would do me no real harm to eat it, it would not elevate my blood sugar that much. Toast isn’t tempting but as for the potatoes they are hot and grilled and salted and buttered and what I really want is to stuff myself with them until I can’t think or feel anymore. My mother is not here to stop me. Then I realize that maybe—no, certainly—she will never again be present to stop me because she doesn’t want to be.

  She wanted my neck broken in a pile of rubble.

  Evangeline and Kenyon and Caleb eat. They sneak looks at me. I drink more water. “Videos,” I say finally because I refuse to be sorry for myself and also frankly throwing a personal pity party is not a good survival strategy and there are other people involved here besides me and they are just as devastated in their own ways (even Evangeline about her stepmother which is weird, right?).

  Crying is for when I am alone.

  I say, “We need to figure out that safe place for making our videos.” I think of Johanna’s and wonder if we could go back there, only it’s not like we know Johanna herself and as for Marcial and Troy it is crazy to think they could help us any more than they already have. We are on our own. “All we need is to make and upload one video.”

  “First we need your insulin,” Caleb says.

  I shrug. I don’t believe we’re going to get insulin.

  He touches me. He puts his hand on my arm. “Saralinda? Do you think your mother is home now?”

  “Unless she’s off plotting.” This comes out all bitter.

  “If she’s not home,” Caleb says, “could you get in?”

  I blink. I swivel to face him. I say, “Yes. I could.”

  Home, where there is insulin. Plenty of insulin. My insulin.

  Because Caleb’s brilliance is catchy I have a brilliant idea of my own. “I bet my mother is there, but I know how to get her to leave. Not just for ten minutes, for long enough to let us make a video and get it out in the world.”

  Hope hope hope, I suddenly have it.

  “Give me the phone,” I say to Caleb and I take it and pray that the photo backup worked like it should have so that everything from my own phone is up there in the cloud. My fingers tremble and I enter the wrong password twice, then I get it right.

  Everything is there.

  My stomach compresses with something like panic so it’s good there is no food in it. I am going to do this. We are going to do this.

  I tap the photo of Tori, and Caleb leans over my shoulder to look, she is as adorable as ever. I still want her or maybe I mean I want the universe I used to think I lived in—however in this new universe at least I have friends.

  I show the phone to Evangeline and Kenyon, who sit with their shoulders actively pressed into each other and one of each of their arms out of sigh
t under the table (I’m sure they are holding hands). I am happy for them truly but the way they look at each other gives me a lump in my throat.

  “The little girl,” Kenyon murmurs to Evangeline. She gives me my phone back.

  Evangeline looks all sad for me.

  I advance to the next photo and expand the text. “This is the adoption agency’s letter,” I explain. “See, there’s the name of the agency and their address and phone number. So, my plan is that I call my mother and pretend to be them and ask her to come sign something. Then when she leaves we go into my apartment.”

  “Could work,” says Kenyon.

  “She’ll know Saralinda’s voice,” Caleb says.

  “I’ll be the one to call,” Evangeline says. “Where’s the adoption agency located?”

  “Fifth Avenue at East Ninety-second,” I say.

  Caleb says, “Great, she can’t get back from there very fast. Once we know she’s gone, we enter and grab the insulin. But then I think we should find some other place to make our video. I don’t want to stay there that long, Saralinda.”

  “A hotel in Brooklyn, maybe,” Evangeline says.

  I think my apartment is probably the safest possible place, and also the place nobody will expect us to be. I say so.

  “Fine,” says Evangeline. “Compromise. We get started there, get one thing up online, and then move on.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  We grin at one another.

  We decide that we should call from near my apartment so we can watch my mother leave, so we pay and I take my food in a to-go container which Kenyon puts in the carriage with Georgia.

  Once I have insulin I will eat all the potatoes.

  Out again into the city we separate for the rest of the trip. It is a short walk to West Twenty-fourth. Caleb walks with me and I go slowly on the scooter. Nobody in the streaming crowd looks at us for more than a second in passing.

  “What do you think your mother is doing today?” Caleb asks.