Pawns

  Gradually, though, Teddi got better. And as she grew slightly in self-confidence, she realized something: The spectators were mainly teenage girls, and they were watching Jason more than they were watching her.

  Once, three girls from that group met her in the grocery store and stopped in front of her. “Are you going with that new boy, Jason?” one of them asked.

  Teddi knew the girls by name; they lived in the neighborhood. They were all juniors in high school.

  “No,” Teddi said. “He lives next door, is all, and he offered to teach me to play.”

  One of the other girls rolled her eyes appreciatively. “I wish he’d offer to give me lessons,” she said.

  Other than during the tennis lessons, however, Teddi didn’t see much of Jason, except when they called across to each other before they went to bed at night. Even so, she felt an odd sort of comfort knowing he was there, not very far away, in the room that had been her mother’s. And every time she saw the cartoonlike character he’d sketched in colored markers, grinning at her from the new/used shade on his window, she had to laugh. It was good to laugh again.

  The tennis lessons and Jason’s presence were welcome diversions. There were other changes at home that were less gratifying, though some were pleasant.

  Teddi sometimes heard Danny crying at night, but it didn’t usually bother her much. Dora was generally good with him, so they didn’t have to listen to the baby for long before he was fed. And in the daytime Teddi enjoyed hanging over the bassinet when Dora moved it out of the bedroom. He was so tiny, yet so perfect, with fingers that would already curl around a larger finger offered to him. He didn’t do much but sleep, stretch, yawn, and eat; yet in his own way he was fascinating.

  Teddi wasn’t alone in being enthralled by the baby. Mamie was only too eager to hold him, to rock him, to carry him around on her shoulder, singing or talking to him. There was no question that Mamie’s spirit had been revived by having a grandson in the house. Teddi was glad to see it; she had felt so helpless, after Ricky’s death, at her inability to comfort Mamie.

  Along with the good changes, there were, of course, those other changes in the household routine that were a source of discomfort to Teddi.

  She didn’t mind that there were more dishes to do and added cooking chores. It wasn’t much more work to prepare food for three rather than for two people. But a thin layer of resentment had begun to build within her about some of Dora’s habits. Dora did have to awaken early to feed the baby, after which she went back to bed, not to arise until midmorning. Then she shuffled into the kitchen in her housecoat and slippers, hours after Mamie and Teddi had cleared away their breakfast dishes.

  More often than not, Mamie fixed eggs or hot cereal or pancakes for Dora. If left to her own devices, Dora usually settled for coffee and toast, or cold cereal.

  “A baby needs more nutrition than that,” Mamie would say. “Why don’t I scramble you some eggs?” Teddi had the feeling that if she hadn’t been having a tennis lesson, she might have been pressed into that cooking chore when Mamie was busy elsewhere. And not only the cooking, but the washing up, because Dora just left her dishes in the sink, not even rinsing them.

  And there was the matter of Dora’s tastes. Dora didn’t like salads much, though Mamie loved them. She preferred cooked peas or carrots. So cooked vegetables appeared more often on the menu. She didn’t care for brown bread, either, and though Mamie urged her to try it because it would be healthier for the baby, both white and brown bread eventually appeared on the table. Dora liked a brand of peanut butter that had sweetening in it, though Mamie had always purchased one made only of peanuts and salt. Dora didn’t like any kind of jam except for strawberry. Dora drank soft drinks, can after can, ignoring Mamie’s gentle urgings to drink more milk.

  “Never could stand milk,” Dora said, shaking her head. “The taste of it gags me.”

  So Mamie got a bottle of calcium capsules and left them on the kitchen table, reminding her daughter-in-law daily that both she and the baby needed calcium if Dora was not going to drink milk.

  Where Mamie and Teddi liked fresh vegetables either raw or cooked in the steamer, Dora found them too firm. Left to her own devices, she would have cooked everything from green beans to broccoli until it disintegrated into mush.

  Mamie tried hard not to nag about anything. She made it a point to cook what Dora said she liked, even when it often meant cooking it longer or differently from what she and Teddi were used to. Occasionally, as when they had a mess of fresh fried fish, brought over by a friend from church, she cooked something altogether separate for Dora, who objected to picking out bones.

  “I seem to be getting my strength back very slowly,” Dora remarked at one point. “But I suppose it’s normal. In the old days women used to stay in bed for a couple of weeks after giving birth, before they moved around at all.” This from a woman who had insisted on having her baby alone at home because women once gave birth anywhere they were—even in the fields.

  Some days Teddi thought Dora might as well have stayed in bed. She took frequent naps and spent a lot of time stretched out on her bed or the couch, reading magazines or watching TV.

  The TV was another sore point. Because it was always Teddi and Mamie who cleaned up in the kitchen at night, Dora would already be arranged on the couch watching TV whenever they reached the living room.

  Mamie only had a couple of programs that she watched regularly. Teddi enjoyed those, plus a few more that she watched when there was nothing else to do. But with Dora already propped on pillows on the sofa, remote control in hand, nobody else got a chance to choose programs.

  “Mamie usually watches that news show,” Teddi said once, only to be told, “Oh, really? Would you mind, just this once, if I finished watching this? It’s really interesting.”

  And Mamie smiled and said, certainly, she’d get the news out of the paper tomorrow.

  Teddi seethed, unable to turn the situation around.

  She might have gotten downright resentful if Dora had been disagreeable to her. But except for lapses like eating the last piece of pie that Teddi had been saving for her snack, for which Dora apologized, and monopolizing the couch and the TV, it was hard to blame Dora. She was a newcomer to the household and did not yet know the customs here. Teddi had been the same only a few months before when she moved in.

  “She’ll get used to things, and fit in,” Mamie said soothingly, “when she’s feeling fully recovered.”

  It made Teddi only too aware that she, too, had had to adjust to a new life. So how could she begrudge Dora a similar period?

  “I nearly talked you to death when I first came,” Teddi remarked to Mamie as they stood together, folding clothes from the dryer one afternoon. “I just had to talk about my mom and dad, even when I knew it was hard on you, Mamie. But Dora hardly ever mentions Ricky.”

  Mamie nodded, folding a tiny undershirt to add to the stack already on the table. “People react in different ways to grief. When my husband died, and then Ricky, I needed to talk about them, too. But Dora is a different kind of person. She keeps things in. Maybe, in time, it will be easier for her to talk, to ventilate her sorrow. When that time comes, we’ll listen. Until then, we’ll let her grieve silently.”

  Teddi was glad that her friend Callie was home again. They spent hours together, at either Mamie’s house or Callie’s, talking, listening to music, or watching videos. Sometimes they simply sat together in the same room, reading and eating apples or cookies. When Teddi wanted to talk, Callie was there. When Teddi felt like being quiet, Callie was willing to share the silence.

  One evening at supper Dora asked, “How long do you think it will take to get the insurance money?”

  “I don’t know. I filled out the forms they sent me. Ordinarily insurance isn’t payable unless there is proof of death. But in this case there were forty-two people whose bodies were never recovered, and never will be. Yet the computer records show that they were all on that plan
e that went down. The woman I talked to seemed to think it wouldn’t be very long before the claims were paid. There’s no real hurry. We know that it will be paid. We’ll set up a trust fund for Danny, for his education. That would be one of the first things Ricky would want for his son.”

  “A trust fund. That will mean the money can’t be used for anything else, won’t it?”

  “Yes. I’ve talked to a lawyer, and that’s what he recommended. There will still be plenty left to ensure that you’re both taken care of while Danny’s growing up.”

  “And maybe put a new roof on the house?” Teddi asked suddenly. “Didn’t you say you were worried about the roof lasting another winter?”

  “Yes. It leaked a little bit during that last heavy rain in the spring. I had that fixed, but the man said the whole roof would need replacing before long.”

  Dora wasn’t interested in leaky roofs. “Do you have a will, Mamie? Ricky didn’t have one; he didn’t think he needed one because he was only twenty-six and he didn’t expect to die so soon. But I guess everybody needs to think about such things, no matter how young they are.”

  “Yes. The lawyer mentioned that, too. I’ll be going in next week to talk about a will. I don’t have all that much, except for the insurance, but even this house will have to be disposed of. I’d always thought it would be sold, and the profits divided between my sons. It’s only fair, now, that Danny should have Ricky’s share.”

  “Well, his daddy won’t be around to look after him. I’m glad that at least he won’t grow up in poverty,” Dora said.

  My dad didn’t worry about me living in poverty, Teddi thought. He didn’t think about me at all. Only himself, that he missed Mom so much.

  It had hurt badly when her mother died. And it had hurt almost as much when she lost her father. But most of all it hurt to know that Stan Stuart hadn’t cared enough about his daughter to make any arrangements for her care and her life after both her parents were gone. Would she ever get over resenting that? Or would she carry the burden of it forever?

  That night, after she’d put on her pajamas and turned out the light, Teddi raised the shade and looked out on the house where she had once been part of a happy family.

  The opposite window was dark. Either Jason wasn’t home or had not yet decided to go to bed. Teddi left her own window open, with the shade up enough to let the air flow through beneath it.

  It was a very warm night, and the attic room was stifling. Teddi turned and walked across the room to open the second window as well, hoping for a cross breeze.

  This window looked out on the street, which at this time of night was deserted. The streetlight provided illumination to the immediate area, except where trees and shrubs cast heavy shadows.

  As soon as she’d opened the window, a cooler draft promised relief from the heat. She stood there for a moment, welcoming the change in temperature.

  The click of a latch below held her a little longer. Curious, Teddi waited for enlightenment.

  There were soft footsteps on the porch, and then a dark-clothed figure went down the steps and out toward the sidewalk.

  Dora? Where was she going at this time of night?

  Yes, as the woman passed beneath the streetlight, it was unmistakably Dora. Hurrying, as if time were important.

  Going for a walk? Heaven knew Dora didn’t get any exercise during the day, but this seemed an odd time for a stroll, even a hurried one.

  Well, it wasn’t any of her business, Teddi told herself. There had been a few times when she’d wanted a walk at night herself, just to think and sort things out. Probably Dora had plenty of things to want to sort out.

  Teddi was tired, but for some reason she didn’t go to sleep the way she usually did. After a period of twisting and turning, trying to get comfortable, she decided she was hungry. Since she wasn’t sleeping anyway, she thought she might as well go down to get a sandwich or something.

  She didn’t bother with a robe or slippers. In her bare feet, she padded downstairs and felt her way toward the kitchen. There she turned on a light, knowing it wouldn’t bother anyone even if Dora or Mamie had a bedroom door open.

  She found baloney and mustard and constructed a sandwich, adding to it a can of cold pop from Dora’s supply. She had turned out the light and reached the foot of the stairs when she heard the front door opening.

  Teddi hesitated, expecting Dora to turn on a light, but nothing happened. The door latched with a barely audible sound. She couldn’t even hear the girl walking toward her, though she sensed it.

  Dora’s bedroom door opened almost—but not quite—soundlessly, then was relatched behind her.

  No thread of light appeared under the door. After a few moments, Teddi turned and made her way upstairs with her snack, wondering uneasily what that had all been about.

  Chapter 9

  When Jason had not arrived by a little after ten the next morning, Teddi decided to save a few minutes by walking over to meet him. Heidi and Annie were sitting on the front steps, reading.

  Annie looked up reluctantly. “Jason’s in the garage, fixing a tire on my bike,” she announced. “Just go find him, why don’t you.”

  For a moment Teddi hesitated. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry. Slowly, her knuckles turning white on the handle of the racket Jason had lent her for the duration of the tennis lessons, she forced herself to move.

  She got as far as the open garage door and felt totally unable to proceed any further. She stood there, staring into the dim interior, heart hammering.

  Jason was kneeling, doing something with a tire on the floor. When her shadow fell across him, he looked up.

  “Hi. I’ll only be another minute or two. Come on in.”

  Teddi scarcely recognized her own voice. “I . . . I can’t.”

  “Can’t?” Jason’s hands went still. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

  Feeling suffocated, Teddi stepped backward. “I’m sorry. I . . . can’t go in there.”

  For a matter of seconds, Jason registered only confusion. And then his eyes narrowed. “Is this where it happened? Where your dad committed suicide? Here in the garage?”

  Teddi gulped audibly, beyond speaking.

  Jason came swiftly to his feet, abandoning the bike. He emerged into the sunshine, one hand with a firm grip on her arm, propelling her away from the house. Behind him, the opening to the garage was a yawning black hole.

  He swore softly, inoffensively. “Breathe deep. Sit down on the bench for a minute.”

  Knees close to buckling, Teddi obeyed. Jason sank onto the seat, too, keeping his hand on her arm. “Did you find him?”

  Teddi nodded, closing her eyes against the sight of the open garage, yet continuing to see it behind her closed lids. She heard her own voice, as if coming from a long way off. “Sorry. This was the first time . . . since they took him away.”

  “I should have asked you before, but I thought Charlie was just shooting off his mouth when he told me he was surprised we bought the house after your dad died here. He’s kind of an irritating slob. I think he likes to say things that upset people. You feeling better now?”

  Teddi opened her eyes. “Yes. Except for Mamie and Callie, I . . . I haven’t talked to anybody about it. He . . . closed up the garage and piped the exhaust fumes into the car. . . .

  Jason’s hands gripped her upper arms as he swore again. “And he left it to you to find him and deal with the mess. Look, Teddi, we don’t have to have a tennis lesson this morning. You want to skip it for today?”

  Teddi made an effort to pull herself together. “No. No, I feel like I need to move, to do something physical.”

  Jason’s hand slid down one arm and clasped her hand, drawing her up with him.

  “Come on. Let me get my racket and we’ll go. Annie,” he called out to his sister, “I’ll finish with the bike when I get back, okay?”

  They walked slowly and, at first, silently toward the park. Finally Teddi cleared her throat. “Would your folks h
ave . . . bought the house, if they’d known?”

  “Oh, sure, they love the house. And they’re not superstitious or anything like that. If nobody ever bought a place where somebody had died, three quarters of the houses in the whole country would be vacant, wouldn’t they? It must hurt a lot, knowing your dad did that without thinking you’d be the one to find him.”

  Her throat was tight and painful. “It does. There was a suicide clause in his insurance, which meant there wasn’t even anything to take care of me. If it hadn’t been for Mamie, who came in and fought for me to get to take me as a foster child, I don’t know what would have happened to me.”

  “Mamie seems like a real nice lady. She’s had her own troubles; she knows what they feel like. I’m glad she took you in. And now Dora and her baby.”

  Teddi stirred a little, inwardly, thinking about Dora. “It was a real shock when Dora showed up on the front steps, looking ready to deliver that baby. I wondered if that would mean I’d have to . . . go somewhere else, find a different foster home. It’s different, with Dora and the baby there. Sometimes I feel really uncomfortable about them, for some reason, but Mamie’s so happy with a grandson. How can I begrudge her that, without being a . . . a selfish pig?”

  “It’s only natural to think about your own predicament. I guess anybody would. But you’re getting a little bit used to Dora, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” Teddi remembered a few of the oddities, though. “I don’t know what to think about her walking a few blocks to make a call, when there’s a phone right there in the house. And last night, after everybody’d gone to bed . . . Dora went out for a while. I’ve never seen her walk for exercise or anything like that, not in the daytime. Of course Danny’s there, but we’d watch Danny while she was gone if she wanted to walk. She didn’t ask either of us last night. . . . Mamie had gone to bed and was reading with the radio on when Dora left, but she wouldn’t have turned off her light and gone to sleep if she’d known the baby was alone across the hall . . . and I thought it was . . . strange.”