Banshee Cries

CHAPTER 9

“I swear on my wife’s grave.” Gary herded me up the stairs to Billy’s front door, maneuvering Billy into line behind me. Mel stood in the open doorway, looking bemused. Gary spoke to her, not to me or Billy, which was just as well, because we’d gone well past punch-drunk sometime in the past hour of work and were howling with laughter every time anybody moved. “I swear on Annie’s grave,” Gary repeated to Mel, “this ain’t my fault. They were like this when I picked ’em up at the station.”

“I’d ask why Billy wasn’t driving,” Melinda said, getting out of her husband’s way as he snickered and staggered through the door, “but I think I see why. I’m Melinda Holliday.” She threaded a hand between me and Billy to shake Gary’s, then fixed me with a gimlet eye. “Have you two been out drinking, Joanie?”

An eruption of giggles escaped through my nose and squirted tears from my eyes. I clapped both hands over my mouth and tried to wiggle a finger up to clear my eyes. “No. Swear to God. Hi, Mel.” I bent to give her a hug, hoping I wouldn’t lose my balance in doing so. She was nearly an entire foot shorter than I was and better dressed than anybody I’d ever met, including Billy. “This’s my friend Gary. Gary Muldoon. He,” I said extravagantly, “is a hero.”

“Where ‘hero’ equates to ‘designated driver’?” Melinda asked archly. “Get in here, all of you.” She sounded like she was herding cats, or her four children. We all straightened up and scurried inside to the best of our ability, more obediently than either cats or her kids would have done.

“Jooooooaaaaanne!”

That was the last thing I heard before I went down in a pile of elbows and knees and squirming bodies. “Oh, sure,” I heard Billy say, somewhere above my head. “Joanie gets all the hugs, but your old man gets nothing?”

“We see you all the time, Dad,” a voice from the pile of squirmy people on top of me pointed out. The oldest kid—Robert-who-didn’t-like-to-be-called-Bobby, that-was-a-little-boy’s-name—extracted himself from the pile to give Billy a proper hug. He was eleven, not quite old enough to have too much dignity to show such blatant affection.

That left two kids squishing me, and one toddler slapping his barefoot way down the hall with the clear intention of finishing off the dog pile. Melinda scooped that one up, eliciting a howl of dismay while the girls, Jacquie and Clara, clambered off me, pulled me to my feet, and attached themselves to my sides like leeches. “Joanne, we haven’t seen you since forever…how come you don’t come over more often…did I show you my friendship pins…no I want to show her my Xbox it’s cooler than the dumb pins—”

I didn’t even know which of them wanted to show me what, but I promised, as loudly as I could, that I wanted to see both the pins and the Xbox and anything else they had to show me, which satisfied Clara, who released me and went tearing off down the hall shouting about the computer games. I grinned after her and gave Jacquie an extra hug. She beamed and clung to my side even more enthusiastically. I had no idea why they liked me so much, but I adored them and it made me feel I’d done something right in a prior life.

Except, the annoying little voice in my head said, brightly, you haven’t had any. That’s what Coyote told you, remember?

I told the annoying voice to shut up and tried to get my boots off without letting go of Jacquie. It was partly self-preservation; I still wasn’t doing so well at the whole standing-on-my-own thing, and neither, it seemed, was Billy, who leaned against the now-closed door and smiled wearily. This was what he needed more than any power I could have jumped his battery with: the rambunctious noise and love of his family.

Erik, the toddler, yowled, “Dooowwn!” and then added, in a snuffle, “Pease?” Melinda laughed and put him down. He crawled over to my feet through the snow we’d tracked in and helpfully began yanking on my shoelaces.

I’d been ushered out of the hall and into the kitchen, and had a glass of wine in my hand before I was entirely sure I’d gotten my boots off. Erik came trundling after us with one of the boots wrapped in his arms, which I took as more or less a good sign. Mel was exchanging pleasantries about it being nice to meet you with Gary, who scooped Jacquie—she was only five—off the floor and turned her upside down. Jacquie shrieked with unholy glee, narrowly missing kicking Gary in the nose. For an old guy with no kids of his own, he ducked well.

The first sip of wine hit me behind the eyes like a bowling ball. I let slip a startled giggle and lifted the glass to peer at it, as if I might see a miniature bottle of whiskey hidden in the rich dark liquid.

“Are you all right, Joanne?” Mel somehow heard my giggle through the general noise and turned to look at me, her eyebrows lifted and a teasing smile in place. “What have you and Bill been up to?”

“All kinds of weird sh—tuff.” I caught myself just in time, but Robert, sitting on the counter where he wasn’t supposed to be, smirked and rolled his eyes as if to say, grown-ups. Mel, without having to look his way, said, “Off the counter, Rob. Go set the table,” which was apparently his punishment for thinking himself superior to adults. He thumped down with another eye-roll and I winked at him in sympathy as he skulked into the dining room.

“We’ve been misbehaving horribly,” I assured Mel. “I’ll tell you about it after dinner.”

“You’d better. I get huffy when strange women bring my husband home acting drunk on holidays.”

“I’m not that strange,” I protested. She laughed and went to open the kitchen window, sending a blast of cooler air into the hot room. I stepped closer to it, taking a deep breath as I leaned over the sink and peered at their backyard. It looked like a Thomas Kincaid painting, down to giant snowmen and half-buried swing sets. Moonlight turned it all purpley-blue. I lifted a toast to the man in the moon, the hard edges of his full disc reddened and mellowed by the wine in my glass.

“You’re pretty strange, Jo,” Gary said.

I looked back over my shoulder. “You’re not helping.”

He shrugged, grinning, and turned to Melinda. “Anything I can do to help, ma’am?”

“You could start by not calling me ‘ma’am,’” Melinda suggested. I shook my head.

“Don’t say that. He’ll start calling you ‘dame’ and ‘lady’ and ‘broad’ if you’re not careful.”

“It’s parta my charm,” Gary said. I laughed.

“You keep saying that.”

“And you keep hangin’ around. I figure I must be right.”

Melinda arched a curious eyebrow at me. I put my nose in my wineglass, suddenly aware that my cheeks were staining pink from something other than the warmth of the kitchen. I heard her under-the-breath, “Mmm-hmm,” before she clapped her hands together, making herself the picture of efficiency. “All right. Joanne, you get the roast beef, Gary, you can get the potatoes. Jacquie, get in here, thank you dear, would you get the corn and where’s your sister? Erik, not under the table, sweetheart. Erik, not under the—Erik! Get out from under the table!” She went to pull her errant child from beneath the dining room table while Gary and I followed Jacquie around, all of us picking up our charged items.

“I don’t know how she does it,” I whispered to Gary. “Four of them. I can’t even find my own shoes some mornings.”

“That’s ’cause you leave ’em in the bathroom.”

“Gary, how do you know that?”

He gave me an unrepentant grin and put the potatoes down on the table as he headed back into the kitchen. I put the roast beef down and smacked a hand against my forehead. Robert appeared at my elbow, looking curious. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“No!”

Robert got a grin that looked suspiciously like his mother’s, said, “Uh-huh,” and sauntered off. I had the distinct feeling I’d been had.

“You can sit next to me,” Jacquie announced from behind me. I spun around, blinking down at her. At least she probably wouldn’t tease me about Gary.

“Okay. Where are we sitting?”

“Here and here.” She dragged two chairs out and looked at me expectantly. I sat and she scrambled into her own chair, looking smug. A moment later Mel appeared in the doorway, carrying Erik on one hip and an enormous bowl of gravy in the other hand.

“Jacquie, you’re supposed to be helping set the table.”

“I’m keeping Joanne company,” Jacquie said virtuously. I gaped at her and Mel laughed out loud.

“I see how it is. All right. You keep Joanne company.” She put the gravy down and disappeared back into the kitchen as I yelled, “I’m being used!” after her. Jacquie giggled, pleased with herself, and tilted her chair precariously so she could lean on me. By the time I got her straightened up, the table was set and everyone had gathered around. I lifted my wineglass and my eyebrows, looking to Billy for permission to make a toast.

“To Mel,” I said cheerfully. “A miracle of modern efficiency. Thank you for inviting us to dinner.” I lifted my glass a little higher, watching the wine catch the bright white of one of the chandelier lightbulbs and turn it red as the full moon. “Oh, shit!”

I dropped the wineglass and ran for the door.