Francie pushed the door open, shaking her head.
Beth bent down and picked up the two newspapers, still in their plastic sleeves, on the front steps. “Well, it seems there was this little boy who liked nothing better than to stow away on airplanes—”
“Is this true?” asked Francie, reaching for the mail in the mailbox and then snapping on the inside lights in the house.
“Yes, I heard it on the news one time,” said Beth. “So they finally catch him after he has done this about a dozen times. And before they take him home, they say to him, ‘Why do you keep on doing this all the time? Stowing away on airplanes?’ and the kid says, ‘Because flying is fun when you’re young.’”
Francie smiled. “That’s great.”
“Isn’t it?” said Beth. “I love that story.” She tossed the newspapers onto the kitchen table and looked in the refrigerator for something to drink. “Want some juice?” she called out.
“No, thanks.”
Beth put a hand on her hip and looked around. “This place is a shambles,” she said aloud. “Oh, well.”
Francie joined her in the kitchen. “It does look bad.”
“Well,” said Beth, “let’s get on with this. We need a plan of attack if we’re going to get this all done and be on our way home by Sunday.”
Francie nodded.
“Now first, I’ve got to call the real estate agent and arrange to give them the keys. Then the gas and electric company. Also, we’ve got to see if we can get somebody with a truck to come over here and load up all this stuff and take it to the dump.”
“There’s a guy, Richie Ferris, who has a truck. Dad used to have to call him sometimes.”
“Perfect,” said Beth, writing it down on the list she was making. “We need to arrange for a headstone. I’ll ask Sullivan’s about that. We are going to have a lot of chores tomorrow. We can divide them up. What about you? This is a kind of fast move for you. You think you can manage?”
Francie nodded. “But I don’t know what to do about school.”
“That’s no problem. I’ll call Cindy. She can arrange things for you here. We’ll get you transferred to a school down in Philly.”
“Maybe I can go to school where Gina goes.”
“I think we can arrange that,” said Beth. “Do you have to get anything from school, notebooks or anything?”
“Yeah. I have to clean out my locker. I’d better do that this afternoon. It won’t be open tomorrow.”
“That’s a good idea. You’d better get over there.” Beth picked up the phone and started thumbing through the phone book.
Francie pulled the sleeve off the newspaper and began to unroll it.
“That’s another thing,” said Beth. “I’ve got to stop the newspaper. I’ll do that right now. We don’t want to advertise that the house is empty once we’re gone.”
Beth called the newspaper delivery number and the real estate office in rapid succession. She was just finishing with the electric company when she noticed that Francie was staring dumbly at the newspaper, her face pale, her hands gripping the paper as if for support.
“What’s the matter? You look sick.”
“Andrew’s mother,” said Francie, “while we were gone.”
Beth looked where Francie’s finger was pointing. The crumpled, smoldering wreck of the car was pictured on the front page.
Beth sat down heavily in the chair and scanned the article. “Wow,” she said, “I can’t believe it.” She looked up at Francie and saw that there were tears in the girl’s eyes as she gazed miserably at the paper.
“Poor Andrew,” Francie murmured.
Beth felt a queasy sensation in her stomach as she watched her sister’s shoulders start to shake. “That’s too bad.”
“He must feel so awful,” Francie said in a teary voice.
Beth thought of her encounter with Leonora Vincent and wondered how bad Andrew really would feel. Then she chastised herself for the uncharitable thought.
“It’s such a horrible way to die.” Francie groaned, clutching the paper to her narrow chest. Beth recalled their mother’s death—the lonely car wreck out on the highway and a terrified child sitting helplessly by. Gently but firmly she pried the paper from Francie’s grasp and put it aside.
“Come on now,” she said. “Don’t get yourself all worked up. You’ve been through too much yourself lately. This is bound to hit you very hard. Come on.” Awkwardly she stroked Francie’s arm.
Francie took a few deep breaths, but she continued to stare down at the crumpled paper. “Maybe I should call him up,” she whispered.
“Well, maybe.” But Beth felt her stomach knot up at the suggestion. She scolded herself silently for her reaction. Don’t be a monster. The boy’s mother is dead. Have a little pity, however much you dislike him. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to call him,” she added.
Francie shook her head, her eyes sad and faraway. “And I just wrote him that letter too. On top of this. It isn’t fair.”
“Well, you had no way of knowing this would happen.”
Francie started to sob. “I know. But now he’s all alone. Just when the worst thing in the world happens to him.”
Beth pressed her lips together and continued to pat her sister’s arm. It made her ashamed to see Francie’s obvious grief and to realize what it must have cost the girl to maintain her stoic front at their father’s death. She had not even questioned it. She had just accepted Francie’s impassive exterior and never bothered to look beneath it. Now as Francie keened for poor Andrew, alone in the worst of situations, it was so clear that the girl was describing herself as well. “I know,” Beth murmured. “I know.”
“He probably got the letter today. Oh, God.”
“The timing is pretty bad,” said Beth. “But you didn’t do it on purpose. It just turned out that way.”
“I can’t just turn my back on him when this happens.”
Beth felt the queasiness in her stomach again. “Well, I thought you had decided. I mean, you’re going to be leaving town.”
“I know,” said Francie.
“So I don’t see how you can get back with Andrew now.”
“I don’t want to get back with him. It’s just that I feel guilty. Like I should try to be a friend to him now, you know?”
Beth nodded. “Sure.” They were silent for a moment. “But I’m just saying that you don’t want to lead him on or give him any false hope. If you’ve really made up your mind to leave, that is.”
Francie wiped her eyes and sat up straighter. “No, I’m leaving all right. I want to go. But maybe—well, that letter was pretty mean. Maybe we can part friends. I think I should at least try to be friends, after hearing about this.” She pointed to the newspaper.
Beth nodded, although she felt like protesting. She knew that Andrew would see that Francie was vulnerable and would do everything he could to convince her to stay with him. It hit her, in that instant, that she did not want Francie to change her mind. She wanted the girl to come live with her. It was as if all the doubts she had had vanished once the commitment had been made. She watched worriedly as Francie got up and dialed the phone.
Francie let the phone ring about ten times, but there was no answer. “He’s not there,” she said.
“Oh,” said Beth, feeling a temporary relief. “Well, you can try him later.”
“Maybe he’s over at the garage with Noah.”
“I thought you said they had a falling-out.”
“They always have fights. They make up, though.”
“He could be anywhere.”
“Yeah. I guess so.” Francie sat dejectedly at the table for a minute.
Then she stood up. “Well, I have to go over to school anyway, so maybe I’ll do that and then stop at the garage on my way back.”
Beth looked at the clock. “It’s kind of late. Do you want a ride over there?”
“No, they have after-school activities until six or so. I’ll be able to get in. And I might see a couple of people I want to say good-bye to.” Francie zippered up her jacket and started for the door. “I want to show off my coat,” she said, a strained smile on her face.
Beth waved her off and sat at the table, contemplating the crumpled newspaper. There was no point in worrying about it. In a few days they’d be gone. Andrew would just have to accept that. She tossed the paper into the trash and resumed making her phone calls. She talked for a long while to Cindy, who greeted the news with delight and approval and promised to facilitate the transfer for Francie. Then she called her aunt and uncle, who had more mixed feelings.
“We really wanted her to be with us,” said Aunt May.
“I know you did.”
“But you’re sisters. You should be together.”
Beth smiled. “I guess so.”
“I think your father would be very pleased.”
Beth frowned at the phone but didn’t reply.
“You heard about Andrew’s mother?” her aunt added in a whisper.
“We saw it in the paper,” said Beth.
“He’ll really run wild now,” said May. “He was here to see James and acted very peculiar about the whole thing.”
“Well, it’s a shame,” said Beth in a noncommittal tone.
“That’s the one thing I’m glad about,” said May, “is that Francie will be getting away from that Andrew.”
“I think it’s for the best.”
“Will you come see us before you leave?”
“Tomorrow,” said Beth. “I have a carload of stuff to drop off for the church.”
“Good,” said May. “I’ll see you then. Bye, dear.”
“Bye,” said Beth. She hung up and looked down at her list. She still had to clean the bathroom linen closet and the medicine chest, and the house would be done. “Might as well do that now,” she said aloud. As she started up the stairs, she thought about what her aunt had said about Andrew. He had acted peculiar about the whole thing. /’// bet he did, she thought. This is a peculiar young man. And no wonder. With that mother.
Beth grabbed a box from a pile still in the hallway and opened the door to the linen closet. The shelves were piled with towels, washcloths, and sheets, the nub faded on the terry cloth and the sheets soft and threadbare from repeated washing. Beth had the urge to throw the whole lot out, but she knew they were still useful. Uncle James, scavenger for the needy, would delight in them. There was a shelf full of soaps, creams, and various cough and muscle ache remedies that she put into another small box for the church.
She packed until her back ached, but finally she had the shelves cleaned out. Looking outside, she saw that the sky was dark and a round moon was up. She figured that it was after six, and she wished that Francie would get back. Almost as soon as she thought that, she heard a soft thudding sound from downstairs.
“Francie?” she called out.
There was no answer. She went to the top of the stairs and looked down the stairwell. The dim hall light and the faint light from the kitchen were the only lights visible in the dark house. “Francie?” she called again.
The house was silent. Wishful thinking, she thought. She returned to the bathroom and decided to begin on the medicine chest. She opened the mirrored door and looked inside. On the top shelf there were a number of orange plastic bottles, most of them expired prescriptions, some of them with her mother’s name on them. With a sigh she tossed them into the trash. There were medications for angina and high blood pressure for her father, and she felt a little guilty looking at them. She hadn’t even known he had a heart condition. She tossed the rest of them into the trash, along with shavers and shaving cream. She saved only some nail clippers and aspirin that she found there.
Picking up a sponge by the sink, she wiped off the empty shelves. Then she ran water over the sponge and squeezed it out. That’s done, she thought. With a sigh she closed the door of the medicine chest and glanced up into the mirror.
A pair of glittering red-rimmed eyes bored into hers in the mirror.
Beth shrieked and whirled around, clutching the sink.
Andrew blocked the door of the narrow bathroom, staring at her.
“What the hell are you doing?” Beth demanded, her heart hammering wildly, despite her belligerent tone. “You scared me.”
Andrew’s face did not register her question. “Where is Francie?” he said.
Beth stared at him, still gripping the sink for support. He was gaunt and disheveled, as if he had been wandering for days without shelter. His eyes burned in his head but were strangely lifeless. He took a step closer to her, and Beth stifled a yelp. “She’s not here,” she said quickly. “She’s out.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know. She was looking for you, as a matter of fact.”
Beth felt as if his presence were sucking the air out of the narrow bathroom, making it hard for her to breathe. She wanted to get out, but he was planted in the doorway, and she was wary of antagonizing him. An aura of instability shimmered around him, like some volatile chemical that might explode if you jostled it.
“Where did she go to look for me?”
“I’m not sure,” Beth said cautiously. “Noah’s, I guess. She read about your mother in the paper. That was a terrible thing.” Beth edged toward the door. “Excuse me,” she said politely.
“She’s sorry,” Andrew said.
“We’re both sorry about your mother,” said Beth. She was right beside him now. He smelled of soap, mixed with something foul and decaying. “I need to get by,” she said.
“About the letter,” said Andrew. “She’s sorry about the letter.”
His tone demanded that she confirm what he said. Beth tried not to inhale the smell from him, which seemed to surround her. “That may be, Andrew. I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Francie about that.” She pressed herself against the doorframe and slipped by him, her body brushing his as she passed. He turned on her but did not stop her. She hurried to the stairs and started down. He followed behind her, practically stepping on the backs of her shoes.
“She said that she wanted to break up with me in the letter, that she didn’t want to see me anymore.”
Beth could hear his voice rise and feel him bear down on her. She tried to keep her own voice calm, although her stomach was in a knot. “I don’t know what she said in the letter, Andrew. She didn’t tell me.”
“She said that it was over with us and that she didn’t want to see me anymore.”
Beth hurried down the hallway toward the light of the kitchen. But before she could reach the doorway, Andrew barred her way.