The Last Family

11

Laura found a stopping place around six as the shadows OF the foliage outside were softening. Her eyes were tired of looking at paint strokes, her arm was tired from holding a brush, and her mind was tired from thinking about what her arm was tired of executing. She put the brush in the cleaner, and because she never abandoned a dirty brush, she cleared it of color and then went out to the kitchen. Her children were there waiting; Erin in the glassed-in miniden, lying across the couch with the phone receiver against her ear, and Reb reading a book. They reminded her of cows responding to the inner voice that whispers to them to stand at the gate until the farmer comes.

Reb lost interest in the book when his mother entered the room. He went over to sit at the counter on a director’s stool, watching as she removed the skins of spicy Italian sausage and began to brown them in a skillet. Then she added a can of spaghetti sauce, sprinkled in a few spices, and started the flame under the stainless steel pot of water at the rear of the stove. Erin was still talking on the telephone with her hand cupped around the mouthpiece for privacy. She giggled and rolled her eyes. Laura was warmed by having her well-growing children in sight. She thought about how Erin would be going to college in three years and how Reb would be joining her in nine more. It made her feel a twang of guilt that she was painting while they were growing. What had she missed while she was locked in her studio and they were fresh from a day at school? They had grown to the point where they usually didn’t disturb her. Once they had come to her with questions whenever the telephone rang, but they had stopped that after a thousand discussions. They had just wanted attention, and it bothered them that they couldn’t get her attention when she was working, while anyone who had use of a telephone could.

“Talking to a new boy at school-Eric something,” Reb said, explaining Erin’s behavior. “Doesn’t know what a jerk she is yet.” He leaned on the counter with his chin in his hands, watching his mother. The bird perched on Reb’s shoulder whistled.

“Time twelve minutes, Reb,” she said as she snapped a bundle of pasta in half and dropped it into the now boiling water. “Put Biscuit in his cage before you eat. That bird’s unsanitary.”

Reb set his Casio for twelve minutes and pressed the button. He watched the numbers fly in reverse for a couple of seconds and then turned his attention to his mother, who was adjusting the tomato sauce with creole seasoning.

“This is going to be grrrreat,” she said, pulling the last word through time like taffy.

“Mama,” he said. “Know what?”

“No, what?”

“Why do people follow me around?”

“Because you’re cute. You having young female admirer trouble?”

“There was this plumber van out there across the street when I got on the bus Monday, and when I got out of school, he followed the bus home.” Reb reached up, and the cockatiel stepped onto his finger. He brought the bird to his face, and the small beak nibbled at his lip. “Kiss the bird,” he said.

“That’s nice,” she said absently as she worked.

“And he stayed outside in front of Mrs. Walters’s house for a long time.”

“Who?”

“The plumber in the van with pipes on top.”

“It was probably a different van, Reb. Some companies have lots of trucks. Erin, get off the phone and set the table.”

“Yesterday it was a plumber van in the morning on the way, and in the afternoon all the way back, but then today it was a plumber van on the way and a red car back home. Do plumbers drive red cars sometimes?”

What Reb had said finally began to filter through her thoughts. “What are you talking about?” She stopped and looked at him.

“A car with two men in it at the school. And when I got off the bus, it stopped in front of Alice’s house. Isn’t that weird?”

Weird? “What did the men look like?”

“I dunno. Just one was kinda white-headed. Sunglasses and a cap. The other was older, I think.”

“Was it the same man? The plumber and the man in the red car?”

“I don’t know. Couldn’t see inside the van on account of the dark windows.”

“Would you know the man if you saw him again?”

“If he was in that car. I didn’t really see him face-to-face.”

Laura stared at Reb. Reb stared back. It had been years since she had considered her family vulnerable to danger from the sort of people… What sort of people? “Erin, watch the spaghetti for a minute,” Laura said. “Off the phone. Now.” The sudden authority in her mother’s voice shocked Erin and she sat up.

Erin said good-bye to the person on the line and crossed to the counter. “What?” she said, obviously irritated.

“When Reb’s watch goes off, remove the pasta from the heat and pour it into the colander. Then turn the stove off and serve your plates, okay?”

“Sure, why?”

“Because I have to take Wolf out for a few minutes.”

Erin frowned and tilted her head. “How about I do that and you drain the noodles and stuff?” Erin leaned on the counter beside Reb. “I mean, it’s just so Little Betty Homemaker, I could hurl.”

“Women have to know how to cook, Erin,” Reb said. He stepped to the cage in the corner of the nook and put the bird inside. Then he washed his hands in the sink.

“Women lawyers don’t. I’m going to eat every meal at really fine restaurants. Except when I’m in court dazzling the jury.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Laura said. She picked up Wolf’s red nylon lead from the sideboard. Seeing his leash, Wolf started spinning in place and stopped only so she could clip it onto his collar. “Erin, have you noticed any strange men around lately?”

“What man isn’t strange?”

“No, like strangers. Hanging around. Following you.” Laura tried to seem casual, but the question registered some concern in Erin’s eyes.

“You mean like winos? Sure, they’re everywhere.”

“She means like plumbers,” Reb said. “And men in cars watching buses.”

“Plumbers!” Erin said, laughing away the seriousness that had existed a split second before. “Oh, like I run around watching for plumbers.”

Laura went out the front door, followed the dog down the walkway, and paused at the front gate. She looked through the wrought-iron bars toward Alice Walters’s house, which was across the street at an angle. Alice was in the Bahamas for two months. There was no red car on the street and no plumbing van. Not that she had expected there would be. But, still, Reb wasn’t given to an overactive imagination. Laura opened the gate and followed Wolf down the street. As she passed the house, she cut her eyes toward the bedroom on the second floor and thought she saw-no, “saw” was the wrong word, for she didn’t see anything-she felt as though eyes were following her. She stopped and looked up. Then she stared at Alice’s front door where the blinking red light showed that the alarm system was armed. While she watched the house, Wolf saluted the wisteria bush at the edge of Laura’s wall.

Alice Walters, although she was sixty, was a friend of Laura’s and visited once a week or so. She was the possessor of strong opinions on everything, but these opinions were carefully thought out and then mixed with emotion and served piping hot. Laura got a kick out of her. She hadn’t asked Laura to keep an eye on her house, but Laura was afraid that Alice’s art, furniture, and other valuables might draw burglars. Alice had never married and was fond of Reb and Erin, giving them presents on Christmas and allowing them to stay at her house when Laura had to go out of town.

Laura stared up at the second-floor windows and then followed Wolf back to the house. As she was about to open her gate, a red Volvo sedan with two men in the front seat turned the corner and slowed as if they planned to pull over. But the driver didn’t stop. In fact, the car gathered speed, and as it passed Laura, she thought the passenger turned his head to avoid her stare. The car kept going and turned a few blocks away without using the blinker.

Laura thought about Allen White, a police homicide detective, who lived down the street. He was Reb’s little-league baseball coach. He had said, “If there’s ever anything I can do, call me.” Maybe there was and maybe she would.