Under Cover (5 page)

On weekdays Ben didn’t get off work till nine
or later. Then he went home and studied physics and solid geometry.
I worried that all the pressure would give him a heart attack and
he’d miss graduation.

After a day like today, I figured at the very
least he would go home and crash. It had to be exhausting, working
long hours on his feet. Dealing with people and making chit-chat.
To an Aspie like Ben, that alone could be stressful. So it was a
big surprise when I saw his blue truck coming down the hill from
Maple Street, right into our driveway.

Grandma called, “The hunk’s here! But don’t
stay up too late.”

I went down to meet him. His first words
were, “Are you running?”

He meant my computer. I dashed back up and
turned it on. While it loaded, I went to the kitchen for Pepsi and
chips. He accepted a Pepsi and sat down at my desk.

“Ben,” I said, “what are you doing? What
about physics and solid geometry?”

“It’s Friday.”

Since usually he preferred his own computer,
I assumed he meant to help me with Hudson Hills.

“Don’t you need special software?” I
asked.

“For what?”

Okay, he knew a lot more than I did, so I
shut up. He took a swig of soda and began clicking keys.

“Seventy-nine Salt Street,” I reminded him.
It wasn’t necessary. Ben had a phenomenal memory for that kind of
detail.

I couldn’t help watching. He twitched his
shoulder as if to knock away a fly. I backed off and waited.

“Salt Street, huh?” He wasn’t asking, only
making conversation. I resisted the urge to say “Seventy-nine.” Or
mention the dark green trim. Since the house was already dark
brown, why didn’t they trim it in a lighter shade? It wouldn’t have
looked so dismal.

“Hmm.” He scowled at the screen. “Mulvaney.
Do you know any Mulvaneys?”

“Not a single one.” I tried to think and came
up empty.

“It’s U Mulvaney. What would U stand
for?”

“Ulysses? Ugo? That’s Italian for Hugo.
Umbert? Ulrich?”

“It could be female,” he said. “A lot of
women list only their initial to keep the creeps away.”

“Why are there so many creeps in the
world?”

“Don’t ask me. Ask God.”

“Do you think God made creeps? Why would He
do that?”

“It’s one of those mysteries. Do you want a
phone number?”

I cringed at the thought of calling
strangers. What would I say to them? I went back to the name. “Una,
maybe? Or Uma?”

“What’s the point in guessing? If you’re
really interested, you can call them and ask.” He gave me the
number that I didn’t want. I wrote it down.

“How about Uta?” I couldn’t stop. “Undine? I
read a story once about somebody named Undine. I think she was a
mermaid.”

“What did we say about guessing?”

“I didn’t say it. You did. I know there’s no
point. I’m only trying to figure out what makes sense.”

He shook his head. I wished he would kiss me
instead. He turned off the computer and we finished the bag of
chips.

“Now that you have that information,” he
said, “what are you going to do with it?”

“Nothing, maybe. All I want is to know. I
still don’t know much, like who those Mulvaneys are.”

“You could drive by the house and stare.”

“Which would tell me what? Anyway, I’m not
that desperate.”

Maybe I was. Or at least curious. But driving
by wouldn’t answer my questions.

I might catch a glimpse of Dad. It would give
me an excuse to stop and talk to him.
If
I caught a glimpse,
which I doubted.

Anyway, it was Ben I cared about. I wanted
him to kiss me and stop being so businesslike.

He left without even a snuggle. I could
understand what people meant about a hole in the heart. It was
there, I could almost see it, a red pit that went on forever. I
tried to ignore it, and busied myself instead with the phone
book.

No Mulvaneys were listed in Hudson Hills. And
none anywhere with the initial U. I stared at it, hoping one would
appear. When it didn’t, I booted up my computer and tried to follow
Ben’s viewing history. It took a lot of fiddling but eventually I
came up with exactly what he had found. It didn’t tell me anything
new.

I thought of calling the number, but what
would I say? “Hello, I saw my dad go into your house and I’m
wondering who you are?”

Hey, I could ask to speak to Dad. They would
demand to know who I was. Didn’t I have a legitimate reason?

What would I say to him? I was suddenly
bashful. He’d made it so clear he didn’t want to bother with me. I
should give up the whole thing.

Or start with what Ben said, drive by the
house and stare. It wouldn’t give me any answers, but I’d feel I
was doing something.

First I would have to get hold of Grandma’s
car. She’d never turn over the keys without a lot of questions.
Probing ones that I’d feel silly answering. Everyone seemed to
think it was odd that I’d want to know the dad who made up half my
genes.

I thought of calling Maddie. She would say
she couldn’t talk, with that Very Important Work for her dad. Or
else she’d be sleeping. If not that, she’d be busy with her cop
friend, Rick Falco. They got to know each other last winter when
she was having problems. Much worse ones than I had.

Maddie claimed she wasn’t really involved
with Rick; they’d only kissed a couple of times. To me, that seemed
involved. After all, she was a high school junior while he was a
great, big, twenty-something cop. Still, he was a huge improvement
over the obsessive, ex-boyfriend maniac she couldn’t get rid of.
Having a cop in her life must have made her feel safe.

Plus, he was cute. Her parents liked him but
they thought Maddie was too young to get serious about an older
man. They made that clear, but so far let it go. Possibly because
he’d saved her life once and could do it again.

Okay, that was Maddie’s problem. I had a few
of my own. After much debate, I got up the nerve to ask Grandma if
I could borrow Archie.

I found her half asleep on the sofa with the
TV on. My question made her pop straight up. As expected, she
narrowed her eyes and asked, “What do you want him for?”

I told you she considered the car a
person.

“I just want to check a few things,” was all
I could think of.

“Like what?”

I knew this wouldn’t be easy. I had to keep
reminding myself it was her car.

“Maybe I should get a new bike,” I said.

“You’d bike all the way to Hudson Hills?”

“I wouldn’t even consider it. That’s what I
need Archie for. How did you know I want to go to Hudson
Hills?”

“’
Cause I’ve got insight. Plus all
those questions you keep asking.”

I could feel myself losing it. “If somebody
would just give me some answers, I wouldn’t have to keep asking. I
wouldn’t need to ride all the way to Hudson Hills on a bike I don’t
have.”

“Honey, if I had the answers, I’d give them
to you. I got no idea who lives in that house.”

“Somebody named Mulvaney,” I told her. “First
initial is U. Gender unknown.”

“Where’d you get all that?”

“Ben looked it up on the Internet.”

She turned off the TV so she could question
me better.

“Next thing.” She poked the air as if making
a list with bullet points. “Did you happen to notice it’s dark out
there? It seems to me the law says at your age you’re not supposed
to drive after dark.”

“I know it’s dark. I wasn’t going right now.
Could I borrow him tomorrow?”

“I guess maybe. Unless something comes
up.”

Arghh.

Still, I tried one last time to save myself
the trip. “Didn’t Dad tell you anything on the way home? You guys
were talking nonstop.”

“He had a lot to say about Borneo,” she
answered. “And he asked about your mom.”

“Like he cares about Mom.”

“He really does.” Grandma was probably
kidding herself. “It’s just that he got this itch. The thing they
call wanderlust.”

“A lot of times people don’t do what they’d
rather do, because they have responsibilities. He never heard of
growing up and facing responsibilities?”

“Guess not. But your mom did okay without
him.”

Grandma turned the TV back on. I was
dismissed.

Chapter
Five

Not knowing the Mulvaneys’ Saturday schedule,
like if they went to work, or shopping, or slept in, I thought I
should wait awhile. Maybe till about noon, and hoped I wouldn’t be
interrupting lunch.

Grandma gave me her keys and warned me to
drive carefully. As if I wouldn’t. She was more concerned about
Archie than about me.

Slowly I backed out of the driveway, still
with no clear idea of what I would do there. Probably ring the
doorbell and ask for my dad. Would it be enough that I just wanted
to see him before he left the country?

What if he didn’t want to see me? What did I
ever do to make him not want me, besides get born? That was his
fault more than mine.

By the time I reached the highway, I had
worked myself into a snit. He was my father and he’d barely said
two words to me. I’d counted them—five words, aside from a couple
of sentences at the airport and one in the car when he said “We’ll
talk later.” I was still waiting for that to happen.

That’s what I would do. I would go up to the
door and ask for Jules Penny. If he refused to see me, then I’d
know for sure where I stood.

This time an old gray Mazda sat in their
driveway. I found a parking space a little way up the street, not
too close, and walked back to the house. When I rang the doorbell,
nothing happened.

I rang again. A female voice said, “Coming.”
Or maybe it was “Come in,” I couldn’t be sure. It didn’t sound like
Mei.

The woman who opened the door was tall, with
short dark hair turning gray. She wore jeans and a lavender plaid
shirt. Without opening the screen, she said, “Yes?”

“Is Mr. Penny here?” I asked.

“Who?”

I did have the right house, didn’t I?

“Jules Penny. He came yesterday from Borneo.
I saw him go in here. I’m his daughter.”

Her mouth opened slightly and she took a
sharp breath. “You’re who?”

“His daughter. Lucretia Penny. I live in
Southbridge. We picked him up at the airport yesterday and brought
him here.”

Still she didn’t open the door. She looked at
me hard and said, “Lucretia?” as if it was some weird language.

“Lucretia Penny,” I said again. “Jules Penny
is my father. Is he here?”

She collected herself enough to say, “No, he
went out,” and stepped back, ready for me to leave.

I wasn’t about to give up. “Is Mei here? His
friend, who came with him.”

The woman hesitated then called over her
shoulder, “Mei? Somebody to see you.”

I heard a soft padding. The stiletto heels
had given way to slip-on sneakers. They made her a couple of inches
shorter. She had on a white blouse, cuffed blue slacks, and the
shoes were also blue. On seeing me, she broke into a smile. “Aah!
C-lee!” The r gave her trouble. That was okay. I knew I wouldn’t do
very well in Chinese.

The older woman kept the screen door shut.
Did my dad give orders not to let me in? I told Mei, “I was hoping
to see my father but they said he went out.”

“Yes,” Mei confirmed. “He is go out. With
Leem.”

“With—oh, Liam.”

Mei seemed embarrassed that she couldn’t do
it right.

“My son,” said the woman.

I had pictured Liam as an older man. “Oh. I
see. My dad didn’t say anything about—anything. Would you tell
him—”

I had another idea. I asked Mei, “Would you
like to go out with me for a little while? Just a short car
ride.”

She looked out at the street for the orange
car we came in yesterday. “You d-ive?”

“That’s how I got here,” I said. “It’s my
grandmother’s car. It’s just down the street. We could have coffee
or something. Or lunch, if you haven’t had lunch.” I tried to open
the screen for her. It was locked.

Mrs. Mulvaney, if that’s who she was,
unlocked it, mumbling something about, “We’ve been having a little
trouble.” Even then, she didn’t actually open it. “Are you sure
this is a good idea, Mei?”

What was she trying to pull? I said, “I’ll
bring her back soon. Could you tell my dad I came looking for him?
It’s Cree Penny.”

“I thought you gave a different name,” said
the woman.

“I gave my formal one, Lucretia. Everyone
calls me Cree. Including my dad. He’ll know.”

That seemed to satisfy her. Mei and I escaped
and hiked down the sidewalk to Grandma’s car. I asked, “Did you
have lunch?”

“Yes. Lunch. I have sandwich.”

“How about some ice cream? Do you like ice
cream?”

She had a pretty smile. “Ice keem. Yes. I
like.”

She seemed nervous as I started the car and
set off for Southbridge, a few miles away.

Especially when we got to the highway. She
clutched the edge of her seat and asked “Where we going?”

She must have thought I was kidnapping her.
“We’re going to an ice cream shop. It’s near my home, in
Southbridge. It’s a nice place. My boyfriend works there.”

“You have boyfen?”

“His name is Ben. That’s short for Bennett.
Canfield. He’s just finishing high school. Next year he’ll be going
to MIT. Or rather, this year.”

Only two months. By the end of August, he
would be gone.

“MIT? What is?”

“It’s the Massachusetts Institute of
Technology.”

“He is engineer?”

Hey, this girl was no dummy, even with the
language hurdle. I would never have known “technology” in Chinese.
Or anything in Chinese. I explained that Ben was very smart and
could study anything but he was especially interested in science.
By the time we got to the strip mall, Mei had relaxed.