A Cry in the Night

  Her throat closed. She was afraid she would gag. Please, God, please don’t let me get sick.

  Emily laughed. “Erich, you are so mean. Remember you used to bait Arden like that and have her in tears?”

  “Arden?” Jenny asked. She reached for her water glass. The knot in her throat started to dissolve.

  “Yes. What a nice kid she was. Talk about the all-American girl. Crazy about animals. At sixteen she wouldn’t touch meat or poultry. Said it was barbaric and that she was going to be a vet when she grew up. But I guess she changed her mind. I was in college when she ran away.”

  “Rooney’s never given up hope that she’ll come back,” Mark commented. “It’s incredible, the mother instinct. You see it from the first moment of birth. The dumbest animal knows its own calf and will protect it to the death.”

  “You’re not eating your meat, darling,” Erich commented.

  A flash of anger made it possible for her to square her shoulders and look across the table directly into his eyes. “And you’re not eating your vegetables, darling,” she told him.

  He winked at her. He was just teasing. “Touché,” he smiled.

  The peal of the door chimes startled all of them. Erich frowned. “Now, who could that . . .” His voice trailed off as he stared at Jenny. She knew what he was thinking. Don’t let it be Kevin, she prayed, and realized as she pushed back her chair that all evening she’d been sending frantic prayers for divine intervention.

  A heavily built man of about sixty, with massive shoulders, a bulging leather jacket and narrow, heavy-lidded eyes, was there. His car was parked directly in front of the house, an official car with a red dome top.

  “Mrs. Krueger?”

  “Yes.” Relief made her weak. No matter what this man wanted, at least Kevin hadn’t come.

  “I’m Wendell Gunderson, sheriff of Granite County. May I come in?”

  “Of course. I’ll get my husband.”

  Erich was hurrying down the hall, into the foyer. Jenny noticed the instant respect that came into the sheriff’s face. “Sorry to bother you, Erich. Just have to ask your wife a few questions.”

  “Ask me a few questions?” But even as she spoke, Jenny knew that this visit had to do with Kevin.

  “Yes, ma’am.” From the dining room they could hear the sound of Mark’s voice. “Could we speak quietly for a few minutes?”

  “Why don’t you come and join us for coffee?” Erich suggested.

  “Perhaps your wife would rather answer my questions privately, Erich.”

  Jenny felt clammy perspiration on her forehead. She realized her palms were damp. The queasiness was so strong, she had to clamp her lips together. “There’s certainly no reason we can’t talk at the table,” she murmured helplessly.

  She led the way into the dining room, listened as Emily greeted the sheriff with quickly concealed surprise, watched as Mark leaned back in his chair, an attitude she had begun to realize meant he was diagnosing a situation. As Erich offered the sheriff a drink which was refused “because of being on official business,” she set out the coffee cups.

  “Mrs. Krueger, do you know a Kevin MacPartland?”

  “Yes.” She knew her voice was trembling. “Has Kevin been in an accident?”

  “When and where did you last see him?”

  She put her hands in her pockets, clenched them into fists. Of course it had had to come out. But why this way? Oh, Erich, I’m so sorry, she thought. She could not look at Erich. “On February twenty-fourth at the shopping center in Raleigh.”

  “Kevin MacPartland is the father of your children?”

  “He is my former husband and the father of my children.” She heard Emily gasp.

  “When did you last speak with him?”

  “He phoned on the evening of March seventh about nine o’clock. Please tell me. Has anything happened to him?”

  The sheriff’s eyes narrowed into slits. “On Monday afternoon, March ninth, Kevin MacPartland received a telephone call during a rehearsal at the Guthrie Theater. He said his former wife had to see him about the children. He borrowed a car from one of the other actors and left half an hour later, about four-thirty P.M., promising to return in the morning. That was four days ago and he hasn’t been heard from since. The car he borrowed was only six weeks old and the actor who lent it had just met MacPartland so you can understand that he’s pretty concerned. Are you saying that you did not ask him to meet you?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “May I ask why you’ve been in touch with your former husband? We understood around here that you were a widow.”

  “Kevin wanted to see the girls,” Jenny said. “He was talking about stopping the adoption.” It surprised her how lifeless her voice sounded. She could see Kevin as though he were in the room: the expensive ski sweater, the long scarf draped over his left shoulder, the dark red hair so carefully barbered, the poses and posturing. Had he deliberately staged a disappearance to embarrass her? She had warned him that Erich was upset. Did Kevin hope to destroy their marriage before it had a chance?

  “And what did you tell him?”

  “When I saw him, and when he called, I told him to leave us alone.” Her voice was getting higher.

  “Erich, were you aware of this meeting, of the phone call on March seventh?”

  “I was aware of the phone call on March seventh. I was here when it came. I was not aware of the meeting. But I can understand it. Jenny knew my feelings about Kevin MacPartland.”

  “You were home with your wife on the evening of March ninth?”

  “No, as a matter of fact, I stayed in the cabin that night. I was just completing a new canvas.”

  “Did your wife know you were planning to be away?”

  There was a long silence. Jenny broke it. “Of course I knew.”

  “What did you do that evening, Mrs. Krueger?”

  “I was very tired and went to bed shortly after I had settled my little girls in their room.”

  “Did you speak to anyone on the phone?”

  “No one. I went to sleep almost immediately.”

  “I see. And you are very sure you did not invite your former husband to visit you during Erich’s absence?”

  “No, I did not . . . I would never ask him to come here.” It was as though she could read their minds. Of course they didn’t believe her.

  Her untouched plate was on the serving buffet. Congealed fat was forming a narrow rim around the beef. The beef had a crimson center. She thought of Randy’s body turning crimson with blood as he collapsed among the roses; she thought of Kevin’s dark red hair.

  Now the plate was going around and around. She had to get fresh air. She was spinning too. Pushing back her chair, she tried to struggle to her feet. Her last conscious recollection was Erich’s expression— was it concern or annoyance?—as her chair slammed against the buffet behind her.

  When she woke up she was lying on the couch in the parlor. Someone was holding a cold cloth on her head. It felt so good. Her head hurt so much. There was something she didn’t want to think about.

  Kevin.

  She opened her eyes. “I’m all right. I’m so sorry.”

  Mark was bending over her. There was so much concern in his face. It was oddly comforting. “Take it easy,” he said.

  “Can I get something for you, Jenny?” There was an undercurrent of excitement in Emily’s voice. She’s enjoying this, Jenny thought. She’s the kind of person who wants to be in on everything.

  “Darling!” Erich’s tone was solicitous. He came over and took both her hands.

  “Not too close,” Mark warned. “Give her air.”

  Her head started to clear. Slowly she sat up, the taffeta skirt rustling as she moved. She felt Mark slip pillows behind her head and back.

  “Sheriff, I can answer any questions you have. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’ve not felt quite well these past few days.”

  His eyes seemed wider and shinier now, as t
hough they’d locked into an intense focus on her. “Mrs. Krueger, I’ll make this brief. You did not phone your former husband on the ninth of March to request a meeting, nor did he arrive here that night?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Why would he have told his colleagues that you had called him? What purpose would he have in lying?”

  “The only thought I have is that sometimes Kevin used to say he was visiting me and the children when he wanted to get out of other plans. If he was in the process of dropping one girlfriend for another, he’d often use us as an excuse.”

  “Then may I ask why you’re so upset at his disappearance if you think he might be off with some woman?”

  Her lips were so stiff it was hard to form words. She spoke slowly, like a teacher enunciating for a first-year language class. “You must understand there is something terribly wrong. Kevin had been accepted by the Guthrie Theater for the repertory company. That is true, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “You must look for him,” she said. “He would never jeopardize that opportunity. Kevin’s acting is the most important thing in his life.”

  They all left a few minutes later. She insisted on walking with them to the front door. Jenny could imagine the conversation that would take place when Emily reported back to her mother: “She’s not a widow . . . that was her ex-husband she was kissing in the restaurant . . . and now he’s missing . . . the sheriff obviously thinks she’s lying . . . poor Erich . . .”

  “I’ll treat this as a missing person. . . . Get out some flyers. . . . We’ll be back to you, Mrs. Krueger.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff.”

  He was gone. Mark pulled on his coat. “Jenny, you ought to go right to bed. You still look mighty rocky.”

  “Thanks for coming you two,” Erich said. “Sorry our evening ended so badly.” His arm was around Jenny. He kissed her cheek. “Shows what happens when you marry a woman with a past, doesn’t it?”

  His tone was amused. Emily laughed. Mark’s face showed no emotion. When the door closed behind him, Jenny wordlessly started up the staircase. All she wanted to do was to go to bed.

  Erich’s astonished voice stopped her. “Jenny, surely you’re not planning to leave the house in this condition overnight?”

  20

  Rooney let herself in as Jenny was sipping a second cup of tea after breakfast. Jenny spun around at the faint click of the door. “Oh!”

  “Did I scare you?” Rooney sounded pleased. Her eyes were vague; her thin hair, scattered by the wind, blew around her birdlike face.

  “Rooney, that door was locked. I thought you said you’re not supposed to have a key.”

  “I must have found one.”

  “Where? Mine is missing.”

  “Did I find yours?”

  Of course, Jenny thought. The coat I gave her. It was in the pocket. Thank God I didn’t admit to Erich that I lost it. “May I have my key, please?” She held out her hand.

  Rooney looked puzzled. “I didn’t know there was a key in your coat. We gave you back your coat.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Yes. Clyde made me. He put it back himself. I saw you wear it.”

  “It’s not in the closet,” Jenny said. What difference? she thought. She tried a new approach. “Let me see your key, Rooney, please.”

  Rooney pulled a heavy key ring out of her pocket. The large bunch of keys were all individually tagged: house, barn, office, grainery . . .

  “Rooney, aren’t these Clyde’s keys?”

  “I guess so.”

  “You must put them back. Clyde will be angry if you take his keys.”

  “He says I shouldn’t take them.”

  So that was how Rooney got into the house. I’ll have to tell Clyde to hide his keys, Jenny thought. Erich would have a fit if he knew she could get at them.

  Jenny looked at Rooney with pity. In the three weeks since the sheriff had come, she hadn’t visited Rooney and in fact had tried to avoid running into her. “Sit down and let me pour you a cup of tea,” she urged. For the first time she noticed that Rooney had a package tucked under her arm. “What have you got there?”

  “You said I could make the girls jumpers. You promised.”

  “Yes, I did. Let me see.”

  Hesitantly Rooney opened the brown paper and shook two violet-blue corduroy jumpers from tissue wrapping. The stitching was fine; the strawberry-shaped pockets were embroidered in red and green. Jenny could see that the sizes would be perfect.

  “Rooney, these are lovely,” she said sincerely. “You sew beautifully.”

  “I’m glad you like them. I made Arden a skirt with this material and had some left over. I was going to make her a jacket too but then she ran away. Don’t you think this is a pretty shade of blue?”

  “Yes, I do. It will be wonderful with their hair.”

  “I wanted you to see the material before I started, but when I came that night you were on your way out and I didn’t want to interfere.”

  On the way out at night? Not likely, Jenny thought but let it go. She found herself glad for Rooney’s company. These weeks had dragged so. Ceaselessly she thought about Kevin. What had happened to him? He was a fast driver. He’d been driving a strange car. The roads were icy that day. Could he have been in an accident, maybe not hurt himself but have wrecked the borrowed car? Would that have panicked him into leaving Minnesota? Always she got back to one irrefutable fact. Kevin would never walk away from the Guthrie Theater.

  She felt so rotten. She should tell Erich she was pregnant. She should see a doctor.

  But not yet. Not until something was resolved about Kevin. The news of the baby should be joyful. It shouldn’t be told in this tense, hostile atmosphere.

  The night of the dinner party Erich had insisted that every piece of china and crystal be handwashed, every pot scrubbed before they went upstairs.

  As they got into bed, he’d commented, “I must say you look pretty upset, Jenny. I didn’t realize that MacPartland meant that much to you. No, I’ll correct myself. Maybe I’ve sensed it; maybe that’s why I’m not even surprised that you had a clandestine meeting with him.”

  She’d tried to explain but to her own ears the justification seemed feeble and halting. Finally she’d been too tired, too upset, to discuss it any further. As she’d drifted off to sleep, he’d put his arm around her. “I’m your husband, Jenny,” he said. “No matter what, I’ll stand by you as long as you tell me the truth.”

  “. . . Like I said, I didn’t want to interfere with your visit,” Rooney was saying.

  “What . . . Oh, I’m sorry.” Jenny realized she had not been listening to Rooney. She looked across the table. Rooney’s eyes were clearer. How much of her problem was her absolute obsession with Arden? How much was the loneliness of no outside contacts? “Rooney, I’ve always wanted to learn to sew. Do you think you could teach me?”

  Rooney brightened. “Oh, I’d love that. I can teach you to sew and knit and crochet if you want.”

  She left a few minutes later. “I’ll get everything together and come back tomorrow afternoon,” she promised. “It will be like old times. Caroline didn’t know how to do none of those things neither. I was the one who taught her. Maybe you can make a nice quilt before something happens to you.”

  “Hal-lo, Jenny,” Joe called cheerfully.

  Oh, God, Jenny thought. Erich was just a few steps behind her with the girls but had not turned the corner into the stable.

  “How are you, Joe?” she asked nervously. Something in her voice made him look up quickly. He saw Erich and reddened. “Oh, good morning, Mr. Krueger. Didn’t expect you, I guess.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t.” Erich’s icy tone made Joe blush several shades deeper. “I want to see how my girls are doing with their lessons.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll tack up the ponies right away.” He scurried into the tack room.

  “Is he in the habit of addressing you as Jenny?”
Erich asked quietly.

  “It’s my fault,” Jenny said, then wondered how many times in the last weeks she’d used those words.

  Joe came back with the tack. As the girls squealed impatiently, he put the saddles on. “We’ll each lead one of the ponies,” Erich told him.

  “How about you, Mrs. Krueger?” Joe asked. “You up to riding today?”

  “Not yet, Joe.”

  “Haven’t you been riding?” Erich asked.

  “No. My back has been hurting quite a bit.”

  “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “It will be fine.”

  She still couldn’t tell him about the baby. Nearly four weeks had passed since Sheriff Gunderson had come and there hadn’t been a single word more.

  Spring was about to break. The trees all had a red haze around them. Joe told her that that happened just before the budding started. There were shoots of green coming through the mud in the fields. The chickens were wandering out of the chicken house and exploring the territory around them. The boastful crowing of the roosters could be heard from behind the grainery and polebarn and stable. One of the hens had selected a corner of the stable for her own nest and was brooding her unhatched eggs.

  “Since when have you had a backache, Jenny? Do you want to see a doctor?” Erich’s tone was loving and concerned.

  “No. Let’s see if it doesn’t just go away. I’ve had them before.” She had had mild backaches during her other pregnancies.

  Someone fell into step with them. It was Mark. She hadn’t run into Mark since the night of the dinner.

  “Hello, you two,” Mark said. His manner was easy. There was nothing to indicate he was thinking of what had happened at the dinner party.

  “Stay a minute and watch the way my girls sit their ponies,” Erich invited.

  In the past weeks Tina and Beth had made rapid progress on the ponies. Jenny smiled unconsciously at their delighted faces as they sat straight up, holding the reins with rapt concentration.