Josie pushed the buzzer once more.
“Come in. Come on in, Josie.” LauraLee yanked the door open, her face flushed from exertion or the sun. In a flowing beach cover-up, she resembled a colorful tent. “We’re out back by the pool.”
She led the way through the kitchen past the butcher-block island, and Josie took in the mismatched clutter of items LauraLee Allen had either made or collected. On one counter sat a rice bucket and wedding basket from China. When the Jaffres moved in a few months ago, LauraLee gave Josie a tour. “The objects’ wear and usage denote their age and authenticity,” Mrs. Allen had explained. She’d arranged the silk flowers. She had also prepared the mix of flowering cacti that centered the kitchen table.
The kitchen opened into a breakfast room that held a tiny table and two stools near the bay window. The wall held sconces and shelves with a bevy of reproductions by famous sculptors. Josie didn’t know art but did like the sculpture of an African-American girl with her hands clenched, her head leaning back as though she were enjoying the sunshine. Josie recognized
The Thinker
. LauraLee had made him in a ceramics class, and now had the man pondering on a weathered column pedestal. A matching pedestal held a Grecian urn.
The breakfast room’s long couches seemed to have no ancestry, for LauraLee had not pointed them out. Josie especially did not like the velvet-topped footstool shaped like a bulldog that was set in front of a stuffed armchair.
Annie’s shrill laughter came as LauraLee slid open the rear glass door.
Colin and Annie were giggling. They squatted across an expanse of clear water in the kidney-shaped pool. Annie wore a bikini swimsuit and Colin had on denim cutoffs and a T-shirt.
“Colin, we need to go,” Josie called.
He stuck out a hand. “Wait!” he yelled, resuming whatever absorbed their attention.
“Oh, let them have fun,” LauraLee said. “We haven’t gotten to chat lately.”
“He needs to come home. Fred’s waiting.”
“That machine can wait a little while longer. Come and sit down a minute.” LauraLee dropped to a lawn chair with sunken webbing.
The plastic table beside her held a bowl of melted ice cream and thread, scissors, and the bodice of a small dress. “I’m smocking this for Annie.” The child’s mother held up the dress.
Josie admired her stitches. She also noted the stack of magazines with pages fluffed from dog-ears lying beside LauraLee’s chair.
Annie screamed.
Josie shot up to her feet, ready to drop her sandals, dive in the water, and save her. But the child remained beside Colin, whose yelling began to match hers.
“Do you know what they’re doing?” Josie asked.
Her hostess grinned and motioned Josie to sit. “Watch them.”
The kids huddled near a portable TV. Annie was holding something. A yell resounded, but not from the children. Then one after the other, the kids shrieked in imitation.
“Annie’s new tape recorder,” LauraLee explained. “They’ve been having so much fun watching cartoons and taping themselves trying to sound like the characters.” She touched Josie’s arm. “How about some ice cream, hon?”
“No thanks.”
Colin’s voice rose. “Help. I’m being attacked by long-eared monsters.” He and Annie giggled louder than the noises on TV.
Cartoon characters and Annie shouted, and she and Colin doubled over with laughter.
“I love to see him happy,” Josie said, watching. “I hate to make him leave anything he enjoys.”
“Then let them play. Colin can stay awhile. I’ll only be smocking.”
“Maybe this afternoon, if you’ll be home.”
LauraLee nodded. “Certainly.”
“Colin chose Saturday mornings for dialysis because he wants to watch television then anyway. If we wait until later in the day, he finds excuses to put off treatment. He’s just a child, you know.” Josie saddened. With his adult-sized problems, even she sometimes forgot how young he was.
LauraLee’s eyes squeezed tighter with compassion.
“And I’d like to grocery shop this afternoon,” Josie said. “I’ve been going after work or late at night after his treatment. I need to start a new schedule.”
“Colin could come back when you leave.”
“Thank you.” Josie peered across the swimming pool. “Colin, let’s go.”
“Not yet.”
Josie found herself growing antsy as always, when he wasn’t cooperative.
LauraLee’s hand touched hers. “Did you notice my flowers?” Her question was an obvious attempt to get Josie to leave Colin alone. Josie stared at the corner inside the fence opposite the children. Elephant ears created a wide green background, and before them sprouted an assortment of flowers. Dahlias grew sprinkled in-between wildflowers already choked by pink groundcover roses.
“You do have a certain touch,” Josie said. She started to rise, but LauraLee’s query stopped her.
“Do you think that new storm will come up this way?”
Josie sat back, the idea making hairs rise on her forearms. “God, I hope not.”
“Really?”
Josie considered explaining but decided not to.
LauraLee’s florid cheeks puffed like small balls and her bright smile again revealed how beautiful she had once been. “What about that killer? They haven’t caught him, you know.”
“I know.” Josie envisioned Libby’s eyes, the gathered fruit.
She turned to call Colin, but LauraLee tugged her wrist. “Look at this.” She shoved a marked magazine page near Josie’s face and read, “‘How to Lose Twenty Pounds in Two Months.’ Ha, they all make it sound so easy.” Her assuredness dissipated. “But it’s impossible, you know. I tried all the diets.”
She pinched her waist. “I kept all this on after Annie was born. And it won’t budge.”
“You’re not too large.” Josie meant it. “And you’re very pretty.” She tried to imagine her neighbor thinner but couldn’t. “Whatever weight you have looks fine on you.”
The compliment brought a new flush to LauraLee’s cheeks. She leaned back in the lounge chair. “Are you sure you won’t have some ice cream?”
“No thanks. Colin and I really need to go.”
“But did you see this article?” LauraLee shoved out a different magazine. The page she’d folded down bore the title “What Really Turns Men On.”
LauraLee let out a huff. “Can you believe it? Why have a story on something like this? As if we women don’t know what they like.” Her wink indicated she and Josie shared bedroom knowledge.
Josie didn’t want to chat about sexual turn-ons. She rose, saying she had to get Colin home, and turned to see him darting behind Annie toward the house. Annie’s cat Misty scurried from them in the opposite direction.
“Colin!” Josie called.
Her little brother dashed inside. The door slid open and shut.
“Children will be children,” LauraLee said, but Josie didn’t find the words a comfort.
She headed for the house. Beside sheer curtains on the door, a male figure was watching.
The figure withdrew.
Josie hadn’t realized she had stopped walking until LauraLee nudged her, saying, “Let’s see if we can catch the young ones before they start playing in Annie’s room.”
Following LauraLee inside, Josie spied feet wearing polished black shoes crossed on the ugly footstool.
“Hello, Mr. Allen,” she said, moving in front of the man seated now on the stuffed wingback chair.
This was not Randall Allen. She had never before seen this man’s face.
“I’m Randall’s partner,” he said.
“Yes, that’s Otis Babineaux.” LauraLee turned to him and then Josie. “Otis, this is our sweet neighbor, Josie Aspen.”
Babineaux stood and extended a hand. Josie recalled seeing him leave the Allen’s SUV. Dressed in a fine gray suit, he was about the same size as LauraLee Allen’s husband. “I know who she is,” Babineaux said. His thin lips pressed together above his thin beard. Deep-set eyes peered through dark-rimmed glasses. A firm grip took Josie’s hand and then let it go.
“Otis’s car is in the shop, and he and Randall have all that business to discuss.” LauraLee peered down the hall. “Here they are.”
Josie followed her to Annie’s bedroom.
Candy-striped walls enclosed a room brimming with porcelain dolls and small rockers. Toys filled colorful plastic tubs in every corner. Colin was painting a feminine face orange on a computer monitor. He’d given the face square lips and horse teeth. From a row of various ears, he selected what looked like cabbages.
When the green ears sprouted near the face, Annie clapped and Colin snickered.
Josie smiled at his creation. She clasped his shoulder.
His dimples faded. “Aw, give us a little while, Josie.”
“Sorry, friend. We’re late now. Bye, Annie.”
The girl’s eyes glistened. “Bye bye, Josie.”
“Colin might see you later, okay?”
Annie’s ponytail bobbed as she nodded. Josie told LauraLee goodbye and trailed Colin out, finding no evidence of Mr. Allen’s partner in the discomforting breakfast room.
* * *
Josie had no idea that a man watched her stride across the lawn to her house.
The man smirked, assured she would not grin as she did if she knew his plans.
In his mind’s eye, she was entangled with him, making him silently sing a snippet of a song he recalled an elderly female singing about you and me against the world.
His mental song halted. The older woman in his thoughts turned toward him. The smile she had worn left her face, replaced by an expression of scorn.
His mirth left. He was so small, she so large. She raised the big wide hand of hers that always found something.
As her hand rose up above him, he knew his eyes turned to tiny balls. Balls of fear.
This time her hand gripped a heavy black pot. The pot headed down for his shoulder.
No
, he inwardly cried.
He again felt the pot pounding on his center back, where no one could see the places it marked.
While the woman smiled, he whimpered in fear. Like the fear he had discovered Josie could best reveal.
He shoved the woman’s image away. In its place came the scene with him and Josie.
Now that he had become an adult, he was the victor.
The child he had been, the helpless creature with no means of escaping, was no longer vulnerable.
The elderly woman was gone.
Now it was other females who received the reverse order of cruelty. Now when he stared in a mirror, the eyes he saw no longer showed anguish.
The eyes of women did.
And the eyes that best revealed horror guided Josie now toward her back door.
Soon, Josie. Be waiting for me because very shortly, you will show me the most exquisite picture of pure terror.
Chapter 6
Colin dozed in his recliner while his machine, Fred, hummed.
Josie sat near the opposite wall at the small table she’d almost had to beg Sylvie to allow in the room. But she needed to do something during the three-hour sessions Colin remained on dialysis besides checking his blood pressure. He had grown so accustomed to having the cuff pumped on his arm every few minutes that he seldom woke while she did it.
His lips pursed, allowing a small sputter as Josie got up and checked his pressure.
She smiled, enjoying his company, even while he slept. A familiar strain of the classical music he liked played from the stereo. Returning to the table she often used for sewing, Josie sketched on a gown she’d begun to design.
“Wait,” Colin said.
“Wait for what?” Josie glanced at him.
He remained in deep slumber, chin tucked down to his neck like a turtle.
Josie was reminded of how she, too, used to sleep like that when she was about his size. She always drifted into the best sleep in church right after their priest started his homily. Josie happily recalled how Sylvie would bring little books and pencils and a notepad in her purse. Then whenever Josie was awake and got fidgety, her mother pulled out one or the other, but soon all Josie wanted was the pencil and paper.
She wished she would have realized her passion back then.
Even at that youthful age, Josie had sketched the priest in his robes. Her interest hadn’t been on the clergy. She redesigned the flowing garment he wore.
Weddings, she reminisced, were what she liked best in those churches. Even if she didn’t have a sketchpad with her, she’d analyze the bridesmaids’ dresses. Eventually her sole interest lay in the brides.
Josie left the gown she’d been sketching and turned to a clean page. She smirked, drawing like she had as a girl, making stick figures with wedding gowns fuller or with fewer flounces. She jotted beside her bridal figure.
Use a finer fabric
.
Quickly she drew a new stick bride, one with off-the-shoulder sleeves. It was the one she used to like best, she recalled. And the brides always turned out the same.
Every one became her.
The only difference was that no matter how the brides wore their hair,
her
bride always had hair like Josie drew, long and straight and flowing.
Josie stuck her finger into her own unruly curls and knew why the bride of her dreams had silken hair. She hadn’t known she had talent with fashion design but had always hoped one day she would become that bride.
A knock jarred her reverie. It seemed to come from a window.
She crossed the room and pulled back the curtains above the sofa.
The sun shone, but shadows spotted the grass. A glance at the sky told Josie gray-edged clouds trickled across the sun. On her driveway and the lawn between her house and the Allens’, she saw no one. The Allens’ garage remained shut, like it had been when she crossed over.
“No, stop it,” a voice ordered.
Releasing the curtains, Josie grinned at Colin, who woke himself with his words.
“Stop what?” She moved to him.
His expression looked like someone who found himself in a strange place. Colin glanced around, peered at Josie wide eyed, and watched her pump the cuff circling his arm. Again his eyelids pressed together. His lips pursed, then he snored and once more woke himself.
Josie recorded his blood pressure. “Hey, sleepyhead.”
“I wasn’t sleeping.”
She smiled. His pressure remained good. Seldom did she have to adjust the machine to draw off more or less fluid.