“He
fired
her, Teddy,” Maggie said, not even hearing the question. “He told me to go set up the checkerboard, and when he came in to play, he said he’d ‘let her go.’ That’s how he put it, but that means
fired
, right?”
“Right,” Teddy said, looking at his father’s closed door. He wanted to go in and reason with his father, tell him that Kate was good. She understood him—Teddy had known that after ten minutes in her presence. He hated to think of some of the other baby-sitters they had had—some nice, some mean, but not one of them able to understand him. Kate had gotten Maggie
and
Brainer—right away.
“Where do you think she went?” Teddy asked.
“Probably off to the next family,” Maggie said miserably. “I tried to tell Dad he had to keep her, but he wouldn’t listen. He said she showed poor judgment, and that was the end of it.”
“What did she
do
?” Teddy asked, looking at his sister. For the first time, he noticed that her skin looked pink and scrubbed. Her hair was shining in the chandelier light.
Outside, Brainer started barking. He must have finished his afternoon circuit of checking out the beach and marsh. But when Teddy opened the door, he couldn’t believe it was really their dog: Although Brainer had a few new brambles stuck to his fur, he glistened and gleamed. Bending down to pet him, Teddy felt that his coat had been brushed through, all the ticks and tangles gotten rid of.
“How’d she do it?” he asked, feeling the world tilt, turning his head to look at Maggie.
“We took him to one of those do-it-yourself car washes,” Maggie said. “She put on a raincoat and sprayed him with water, and then we dried him off with about a hundred towels. It was fun.”
“Who brushed him?”
“She did. And Brainer let her.”
Teddy closed his eyes, feeling the dog’s soft fur against his cheek. He had lost in soccer that day. Distracted by something—someone in the stands calling out “Merrill-lover”—he’d let his opponent blow by him, to score a goal. He hadn’t let himself think about it till now, but suddenly the overwhelming sense of loss surrounded and filled him.
“I couldn’t believe it,” Maggie said, kneeling down, her whisper hissing in Teddy’s ear. “Brainer just let her do it! He hasn’t let anyone brush him since…”
“Mom,” Teddy said.
“Yeah.”
“How about you?” Teddy asked, looking at his sister’s hair. “You look like you had a shampoo, too.”
“I took a bath myself,” Maggie said proudly. “I just felt like it.”
“Good job,” Teddy said.
“She bought us a pumpkin, too.”
“Where is it?”
“Right on the front steps. Didn’t you see it when you came in?”
“No,” Teddy said, his heart tightening. “Because there weren’t any lights on. Not even the porch light.” That was the worst part. Seeing their formerly bright and happy house so dark and morguelike was kind of embarrassing—being driven home by other kids’ moms, getting dropped off at the grimmest house on the block. But the worst part was not being welcomed: His mother used to leave the outside lantern on until everyone in the family got home.
Now, rising, flipping on the porch light, Teddy peered through the side window and saw the pumpkin. It was squat, fat, and pale orange, with a spooky, curly stem.
“Good for carving,” he said.
“Yeah,” Maggie said. “That’s what she said.”
“Maybe if I talked to Dad…” Teddy said, looking over at their father’s closed door.
“Do it, Teddy,” Maggie said excitedly, grabbing his wrist. “Make him get her back!”
Nodding, Teddy rose. He petted Brainer for luck. He and Maggie touched knuckles, like teammates always did, and then Teddy walked toward the door.
The family den became John’s office on days like this. He had cleared his grandfather’s desk of the framed photos and bird sculptures placed there by Theresa, replaced the collected works of Hawthorne and Melville with a stack of case law, and installed two extra phone lines.
But even the computer, fax machine, and high-speed printer couldn’t change the room’s basic warmth—rug on the polished wood floor, leather chairs, a Windsor desk chair with the seal of Georgetown—his law school—emblazoned on the back, marble fireplace, a sunrise painting by Hugh Renwick, an undersea watercolor by Dana Underbill, and landscape paintings by other Connecticut Impressionists—Theresa had really known how to put a room together.
John was hunched over his desk, reading doctors’ reports. Gregory Merrill had a paraphiliac mental disorder, resulting—according to Dr. Philip Beckwith, the psychiatrist John had hired for his defense—in a compulsion “to perpetrate violent sexual activity in a repetitive way.”
The State’s own expert psychiatrist had called him a sexual sadist. He had described the obsession of Greg’s mind, how he was constantly filled with repetitive thoughts, urges, and fantasies of the degradation, rape, and murder of women. The harder he tried to stop the thoughts, the more compelling they became. The feelings would build, until he felt there was no choice but to act upon them.
John’s challenge, with Beckwith’s help, was to convince the court that this mental illness should be considered a mitigating factor in overturning the death penalty.
Hearing a knock on the door, John shuffled the papers to hide them and called, “Come in.”
“Dad?”
It was Teddy, and John waved him in. Seeing his son standing there in his grass-stained soccer clothes, John let out a big breath. He had missed another of his son’s games.
“Whoa, Dad—your face. It’s all cut and bruised.”
“I know,” John said, laughing. “Looks worse than it is. But I’m going to rule at court—even the judges will be giving me wide berth. What’s going on?”
“I just wondered about the baby-sitter,” Teddy said. “Kate.”
“Ah, Kate,” John said, leaning back in his chair, arms behind his head.
Teddy didn’t reply. Eyes hopeful, he waited for his father to explain.
“She seemed like a smart, competent person,” John said. “Unfortunately, only in matters having nothing to do with taking care of my kids. She took your sister out on an errand without my permission, without leaving a note—”
“That was my fault,” Teddy said.
“Your fault?”
“That she took Brainer to give him a bath. It was because I said he had tangles. She said her sister had a dog, and—well, never mind. You had to be there. But trust me, Dad, she’s good. She’s the best so far. Both Maggie and I liked her.”
“You hardly knew her, Teddy. She was in your presence for a total of—what? Fifteen minutes?”
Teddy didn’t flinch. He was tall and lean, with a serious, dark expression deep in his eyes. He’d lost his little-boyness so long ago, John hardly remembered. Teddy stood before him now, like an adversary at the bar.
“We want her back, Dad.”
“Ted, that’s not going to happen. She used—”
“I know, I know—you’re going to say she used bad judgment. And maybe, if you didn’t know the facts, you’d be right to think that. But actually, she used good judgment, Dad. Think about it: Maggie was upset, worried about you. Brainer was totally tick-and-flea infested—what if one of those ticks bit Maggie and gave her Lyme disease? Instead, Kate gave him a bath. You shouldn’t have fired her, Dad.”
“The prosecution rests,” John said, chuckling.
“Get her back, Dad,” Teddy said. “Before the agency sends one of those bored ladies who does everything right—they use such good judgment it’s ridiculous. But they don’t laugh at Maggie’s jokes, or give Brainer a bath, or buy us pumpkins.”
“She bought us a pumpkin?”
“Didn’t you see it on the steps?”
“Yeah,” John said, picturing it now. “I guess I figured Mrs. Wilcox dropped it off.”
“No, it was Kate. Something else, Dad: Those other ladies don’t last.”
“I know,” John said, feeling the twist in his guts. They didn’t last because he was a slave driver. “What makes you think Kate will?”
“I can’t explain it,” Teddy said. “I just know.”
John sat back, thinking it over. Tempers had been running high, that was for sure. Perhaps he
had
overreacted. The Harris woman hadn’t meant any harm; in fact, her bathing Brainer had inspired Maggie to give herself a long bubble bath. Two problems solved in one day.
Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was four-fifty-eight. That left him two minutes to call the employment agency. He supposed it would do no harm to at least check Kate Harris’s references; besides, he had to make arrangements about sending her check….
“Let me call and ask about her, Dad,” Teddy said eagerly. “Come on, okay?”
“Go ahead.” John pushed the phone across the desk, proud of his son’s sense of responsibility.
Relating the number he by now knew by heart, John watched Teddy call the Sea and Shore Employment Agency.
“Hello?” Teddy said. “This is Thaddeus O’Rourke. We have an account with you. We live at…oh, you know us? Good. Well, it’s about the lady you sent over here today. Kate…um, maybe it’s Katherine, or maybe Kathleen…”
John fished her card out of his shirt pocket and read the name: “Katherine,” he told Teddy.
“Katherine Harris,” Teddy said, nodding silent and solemn thanks. “She came to our house today…”
Listening to his son take care of business, John was filled with pride. Teddy had a knack for talking to others. He was direct and efficient, yet respectful and kind. He would make a great lawyer someday—or anything else he decided to do.
“No, she did,” Teddy said now, into the receiver. “She arrived first thing this morning. Tall, brown hair, drives a blue car…”
John’s ears perked up. He sat forward, leaning over his documents, watching the expression on Teddy’s face turn to worry. Teddy listened for a while, growing paler by the second. His face drained of color, but his eyes filled with tears. By the time he hung up the phone, he’d gotten every bit of his childishness back from wherever it had gone—and John knew what he was going to say before he said it.
“She doesn’t work for them,” John said.
“How did you know?” Teddy asked.
“Because,” John said quietly, wishing he could pull his son into a hug the way he used to—the way Theresa would have done. He shivered inside, thinking of what might have happened. Whoever the woman was, she had been alone with Maggie for several hours. “I just know.”
“She seemed…” Teddy said, helplessly.
“So nice,” John said, knowing they had somehow just dodged a bullet. “They all do.”
Kate Harris stood in the shower that evening, water streaming down her body. It was as hot as her skin could stand, and great clouds of vapor billowed around her, misting the glass. Her sister was a great believer in the healing powers of showers—of any water, really. Even as a little girl, she’d always want to go swimming or take a shower whenever she got upset.
“Water washes troubles away,” Willa would say, towel pulled around her body, fresh out of the billowing surf. Her eyes would be shining—they always did, with a light from within, her beautiful spirit bursting forth. “Can’t you feel it, Katy? No matter how mad or hurt or terrible you feel, water cleanses everything….”
“You’re too young to be so wise,” Kate would say, pretending to frown. In fact, she was incredibly proud of her younger sister. Willa was an artist, a spiritual child, her personality the opposite of Kate’s type A overdrive. Born and raised in the sea-and-pony territory of Chincoteague, Virginia, the two girls had gone in totally different directions.
“Just try it, Katy—don’t hold onto everything so tight. Just let things gently flow away, breathe in and out, let all the bad stuff go. Be like the ponies! Even they go swimming…and don’t you love the way they just stare out to sea so steadily, breathing in the wind?”
Kate tried it now. Leaning against the inn’s tile shower, she thought of Willa’s words and wished for it all to wash away. She tried to sing—remembering that Willa had always sung in the shower, from when she was a tiny girl, that exuberant voice drifting through their house on the tidal channel between the island and the mainland—but she couldn’t quite manage that.