The Book of Joby (67 page)

“Mrs. Lindsay?”

“Yes?”

“My name is Solomon. Joby invited me to stop by sometime, and though I realize it’s rather late, I happened to be passing and thought I’d see if he was here.”

“I’m sorry. He’s not,” she said, looking startled. “But I’ve been expecting him. Won’t you come in? He really should be back at any minute.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Merlin stepped inside, and followed Mrs. Lindsay to her parlor. “Have you many guests at present?”

She shook her head. “It’s the slowest time of year, Mr. . . .?”

“Rand,” Merlin said. “But I prefer just Solomon.”

“Well, I’m very pleased to meet you, Solomon, and I hope you’ll call me Gladys. Can I get you anything? A drink?”

“No, thank you. I’m quite content.”

“You must be new to Taubolt?”

“Yes, actually. I arrived shortly before Christmas.”

“Ah,” Mrs. Lindsay said uncertainly. “I hadn’t heard. Where are you living?”

“Quite a ways from town, actually. Up on Avalon Ridge. The place was in considerable disrepair. Restoring it has been a great deal of work; one reason I’ve been so scarce.”

“I’m fairly familiar with the Ridge,” Mrs. Lindsay frowned, “and I can’t think what place you mean.”

“It’s quite isolated.” He shrugged. “I doubt you’d know it. An abandoned fixer-upper near the top of the hill.”

Mrs. Lindsay’s eyes widened. “Not the old Emerson place!”

“Why . . . yes. I believe so.” Solomon smiled to cover his surprise. “You have quite a knowledge of the past, I see.”

“But that place is such a wreck!” she said. “I’d have thought it long past saving.”

“So it seemed,” he conceded. “But I assure you, it’s quite lovely now.”

Confusion warred with suspicion on Mrs. Lindsay’s face, while Merlin quickly revised his strategy. He knew very well that Mrs. Lindsay was more aware of Taubolt’s deeper secrets than most in town, and he decided that this turn of events might actually advance his plans some.

“Well, you’re to be congratulated,” she said skeptically. “That must have been a huge undertaking. I’m even more amazed that you could have accomplished such a project without everyone here knowing. Who did all that work for you?”

Merlin grinned sheepishly, allowing himself to look caught out. “Gladys, I am led to believe that you are acquainted with those in Taubolt who are ‘of the blood.’ ”

Mrs. Lindsay grew very still.

“Please, don’t be alarmed,” Merlin urged. “I am one of these myself, returning to Taubolt after a very long absence. You are welcome to check my references with Jake.” He suppressed a smile, imagining how Michael might answer that inquiry.

Visibly relieved, Mrs. Lindsay asked, “How long have you known Jake?”

“Oh, we go back a
very long
way, if you take my meaning.”

“You’re an ancient, then?” she said, eyes gone wide.

“Yes. I am. Now I’m sure you see how I was able to restore the house, and perhaps why I’ve been somewhat shy of company while learning how things have changed here since my departure.”

“Well . . . this is marvelous!” Mrs. Lindsay said. “I’ve often wondered if Jake wasn’t the only one left. Everyone will be so excited . . . that is, if it’s all right to tell them,” she added quickly.

“Oh, you’re welcome to tell those who’ve any business knowing,” he said. “Your discretion in these matters is well known to me, and Jake will doubtless have told many of them soon, in any case. Joby, however, must know nothing.”

“Of course. I meant only the Council, really. Isn’t he a wonderful boy, though?”

“As fine as any I’ve met,” Merlin concurred. “You’ve been very kind to him.”

“He’s been a blessing to me,” she said, then looked up at the mantel clock in concern. “I don’t know where he is though. He should have been back hours ago.”

“He came by my place with a young friend this afternoon,” Solomon said. “They’d made a very long hike. Perhaps it took more time to get back than expected. Or perhaps they went somewhere afterward.”

“I can’t believe you’re as old as my mom,” Hawk announced when they’d been eating for a while.

“He’s a charmer.” Joby grinned awkwardly at Laura.

“It’s true, though,” Laura said. “You’ve hardly changed.”

“Neither have you,” Joby answered, reaching for more carrots.

“So did you guys ever date each other?” Hawk asked.

Joby concentrated intently on acquiring another slice of lasagna.

“Yes, Arthur. We did,” Laura said, a tight smile brushing her lips.

“I knew it!” Hawk enthused. “That’s so cool! I wish you’d married
him.
”

Joby felt his stomach tighten, as Laura’s smile vanished. “But then you wouldn’t be here, Hawk,” he said levelly. “This is all really delicious, Laura.”

“I might be,” Hawk replied. “I’d just be someone else.”

“I don’t want someone else,” Laura said, reaching out to brush Hawk’s hair back with her hand.

Hawk leaned away to stop her, but smiled nonetheless.

When they’d all finished their ice cream, Laura sent Hawk off, under protest, to do his schoolwork. Then, over her objections, Joby insisted on helping her clean up.

“You’re driving me to town,” he said. “It’s the least I can do.”

“I owe you more than a drive to town, I think,” she replied.

“For what?”

“Taking such an interest in Arthur. I hear he’s even going to school lately.” She gave Joby a frank smile.

“He doesn’t think you know.”

“Of course I knew.” She shook her head. “Things have been rough around here. I’ve had to deal with one thing at a time, that’s all. I’d have gotten to Arthur’s trouble at school soon, but this is a much better way. I really do appreciate it.”

“Well, it’s no charitable sacrifice or anything,” Joby said. “Hawk’s a lot of fun.”

“I know,” she smiled, “but it’s nice to know I’m not the only one who sees that.”

“You’re not,” Joby assured her. “He’s got lots of friends.”

“I know that too, but he needs a man to talk to, someone he knows can see what he is, what he’s becoming. . . . Children need witnesses to make them real, I think, and with boys, I guess it’s got to be a man.”

Joby remembered the look Hawk had given him after charming the deer, and knew that she was right. Laura was a wise woman. The thought that some idiot had left either her, or Hawk, roused his anger once again.

“What’s that look?” Laura asked, setting down the cup she was drying. When Joby didn’t answer, she said, “You can tell me. There isn’t much around here that’s not already broken.” She gave him a smile that clearly had nothing to do with funny.

“I don’t see how he could leave either of you,” Joby said. “I don’t know how I’d live with myself if I’d left a boy like Hawk.” He was dismayed at the look of pain that swept her features. “It’s none of my business, of course.”

“No, it is,” she said. “If you’re going to be Arthur’s friend. . . . I don’t know how much he’s told you.”

“Only that his father was . . . not too supportive,” Joby said. “Of either of you. . . . Hawk’s pretty angry.”

“He’s got good reason,” she said, dried her hands, and went into the living room to settle on the couch.

Joby took a chair across from her.

“I did love Sandy,” she began without preamble. “He loved me too, in the beginning, just the way I was, with all my flaws.” She paused reflectively. “I really needed that.” She looked down at her hands, and shrugged softly. “I didn’t think to wonder if he loved himself as well as he loved me.” She stared out the window at the darkness. “I could see it some even then, the way he talked about himself, as if he weren’t worthy of . . . of anything. But I was young and . . . I thought . . . I probably loved the idea of helping him; of being there to bandage his little wounds.” She laughed, softly, derisively, at herself.

It had been impossible not to think of their past together, but Joby had managed, until now, to keep it all fairly out of focus. Now, there was no way not to wonder how different her life might have been if he’d had the courage to . . . to . . . “Are you sure you want—” he began. “I didn’t mean to open old wounds.”

“Too late,” she said gently. “They were all wide open before you got here. It’s nice to have someone who’ll listen, really. Someone who . . . who knew me.”

He saw the tears in her eyes and was silent for fear of what any sound or gesture might do to either of them.

She took a few deep breaths and went on. “By the time Arthur was eight, Sandy was miserable all the time. He wouldn’t talk about it, but he couldn’t just leave it there in plain sight unexplained, so he began to invent reasons. First it was the world in general; the government, the media, all the assholes at the top. Then it was his job. Then it was Phoenix; the smog, the traffic, the crowds, the house we lived in. Finally, Arthur and I became the cause of all his misery, every little thing we did or didn’t do. He knew he was wrong, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He’d always liked to drink, but it hadn’t been a problem before that. One night, he was very sloshed, and he got angry at Arthur for something—I don’t even remember what—but he hit him, way too hard. I told him then to get help or we’d leave.

“For a while after that he tried. He really did. I wanted it to work, for all of us, Joby. I don’t know if that just sounds stupid now, but I thought there had to be a way. When things started to slip again, I thought maybe, if we left everything behind, everything that kept reflecting who we’d been, and what had happened, maybe he’d be able to leave it all behind too. That’s when I remembered the things you always said about this place. I thought it would be perfect, so I convinced Sandy to try it.

“It was so beautiful here. You were right about that, Joby. And for a while things really did seem better. But . . .” She looked away and gave her head a quick, frustrated shake. “You never leave yourself behind. I knew that.” She shrugged it off. “He started drinking again. Just a little at first, then more. Pretty soon, he was taking it out on us again. Physically. I told him then that he could have his anger and his beer, or he could have us, but not both.” She gave a helpless gesture. “You know what he chose.”

“When did he leave?” Joby asked.

“A little over a year ago. . . . Took nothing but the car. Didn’t even say good-bye.”

“Have you heard from him?”

She shook her head. “I’ve finally decided he isn’t coming back, but it’s been hard not really knowing.”

Joby sat and stared, struggling for some way to fill the silence without
sounding utterly inane. Taking pity on him perhaps, Laura smiled and said, “You’re a very good listener, Joby. You always were. And I know this wasn’t easy listening. Thank you.”

Joby’s eyes were drawn again to the pastel landscape above her head.

She saw him looking and smiled. “Do you like it?”

“Very much,” he said. “That’s the original?”

She nodded, looking pleased.

“Must have cost a pretty penny.”

She laughed and shook her head. “The artist gets a discount.”

It took him a second to get it, then he gaped and said, “You did that?”

She nodded with the first truly happy smile since their conversation had started.

“It’s spectacular!” Joby exclaimed. “You should be rich!”

“I used to show in a few galleries down south.” She shrugged. “Did all right, but I haven’t done much work since we left Arizona.”

“Well, when you start again, put me on your mailing list. I’m sure I can’t afford you, but I’d love to come gawk at your openings.”

Hawk appeared in the doorway that led to the rest of the house.

“Hey, Joby! I got this computer game called Smart Bomb. Awesome graphics! You wanna play?”

“Is your homework done?” Laura asked.

“Yeeees,” he sighed with a pained expression.

Joby doubted it, but Laura didn’t seem inclined to push.

“I’m not very good at computer games,” Joby told him.

“You can watch
me
play,” Hawk said.

“Okay.” Joby gave Laura a knowing smile as Hawk went back toward his room.