U Is For Undertow

21

Deborah picked up Rain at preschool and dropped her off at a friend’s house for a playdate. She had a couple of hours to kill and thought she’d give the kitchen and bathrooms a good scrub. This was midweek and she wanted to get meals planned for the next few days so she wouldn’t have to think about it once Patrick got home. He reserved the weekends for the family, the three of them going off on outings of one sort or another. Deborah liked to have all the work done, leaving the time free to play.

She talked to Patrick three and four times a day, consulting about his business dealings and her household decisions, trading perspectives and advice. Rain stories charmed him, and Deborah tried to pass along the adorable moments as they occurred. Only another smitten parent would understand what constituted “cute” where a child was concerned. Rain was pretty and precocious, sweet-tempered, sunny. She wasn’t perfect only in their eyes. Everybody else agreed she was remarkable, especially after Deborah and Patrick browbeat them into it.

As she turned from Via Juliana onto Alita Lane, she caught sight of a vehicle parked in the drive. It was Greg’s yellow school bus, the paint job embellished by crude red, blue, and green peace symbols and antiwar slogans. She pulled the station wagon over to the side of the road and sat for a moment, engine running, thinking, Shit!

She tilted her forehead against the steering wheel, wondering if there was still time to escape. As long as they hadn’t spotted her, she could turn the car around, fetch Rain from her playdate, check into a motel, and then let Patrick know where they were. She and Annabelle had talked about this at length, the possibility that the three of them would make another appearance one day. She’d been a complete wuss where Shelly was concerned. Looking back, she couldn’t believe she’d allowed herself to be so mistreated. How had Shelly managed to intimidate her? Shelly was a pipsqueak, a twerp. She was half Deborah’s age. Deborah knew a hell of a lot more about how the world worked than Shelly had ever dreamed. If Deborah didn’t face the girl now, she was only postponing the inevitable.

She took a deep breath. She had to do this or she wouldn’t be able to live with herself. She certainly wouldn’t be able to face Annabelle, who’d given her strict instructions. Deborah put her foot on the accelerator and pulled away from the berm, then continued the few hundred feet to the house, where she eased into the garage. She entered the house through the door that opened into the kitchen. Of course, they’d let themselves in. Greg knew where the key was hidden, and even if she and Patrick had been clever enough to move it, he’d have found his way in.

The house had been spotless when she left, less than an hour before, but Greg and Shelly had made themselves at home, unloading backpacks, sleeping bags, and duffels by the door to the dining room. This was territorial marking, like a dog pissing in each corner of the yard. She wasn’t sure why they hadn’t left their stuff in the bus… unless they anticipated being houseguests. Oh lord, she thought.

She called, “Greg?”

“Yo!”

She crossed the kitchen and looked into the den where the three of them were sprawled, almost unrecognizable. They looked like ruffians, people who’d wandered in off the street. Greg had a scraggly beard and mustache. Patrick had never been able to grow convincing facial hair and usually ended up looking like someone on a Wanted poster. Greg had inherited the same sparse fuzz. He’d let his hair grow long, dark and frizzy and unkempt. She wondered if he knew how unattractive he looked. Or maybe that was the point.

Shelly was sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch with her bare feet out in front of her while she smoked a cigarette, using one of Deborah’s Limoges saucers for an ashtray. She wore the familiar black turtleneck, torn black tights, and a long skirt. She’d kicked off her Birkenstocks and those lay in the middle of the room. Her earrings were big silver hoops. In the tangled mass of dark hair, she now sported a series of small braids with beads woven into the ends. She was no longer the petite, thin creature she’d been. She had an earthy air about her, the residual weight of two pregnancies having caught up with her.

Most alarming was the boy, Shawn, who was ten years old now, according to Deborah’s calculations. His dark hair was shaggy, worn long enough to brush his shoulders. His cheeks were so gaunt he looked like a young Abraham Lincoln. He had Shelly’s huge hazel eyes set in darkly smudged sockets, which gave his face the solemnity of a lemur’s. He was tall for his age, and very thin. His flannel shirt was pale from wear or too many runs through the washing machine. The cuffs rode above his wrists. His hands were thin and his fingers were long and delicate. His pants hung on him.

He’d found a spot in one corner of the room and he had his nose buried in a copy of Frank Herbert’s Dune. Deborah had read it two years before, when it first came out, and she was surprised that his skills were so proficient. Maybe Shelly’s homeschooling hadn’t been so bad after all. It was possible he was only hiding in the pages, pretending to read so he could observe what was going on without having to participate. He glanced at her once and then went back to his book. She wondered how much he remembered of her hostility toward him when he was a child of six. She’d eventually seen him in a kinder light, but her early disapproval had been savage and must have wounded him. She was ashamed that she’d blamed him for his behavior when Shelly was the one who should have been held accountable.

Greg crossed the room and gave her a bear hug. “Good to see you,” he said. “We were on our way south and thought we’d stop by. I hope you don’t mind.” He was treating their arrival as a common occurrence, like they popped in every week.

When Deborah put her arms around him, tentatively returning his embrace, she could feel his rib cage through the fabric of his shirt. She held herself stiffly, unaccustomed to the display of affection. She didn’t reciprocate his feelings, or what he pretended to feel.

He stepped back. “Whoa. What’s this? Are you mad about something?”

“You took me by surprise. I would have appreciated a call,” she said. She could have kicked herself for the stupidity of the comment. This was like coming face-to-face with home invaders, making nice in hopes they wouldn’t slaughter you where you stood.

Shelly snorted. “Yeah, sorry about that. Like we have a phone on the bus.” She hadn’t said “a fucking phone,” but the expletive was buried in her tone.

Deborah ignored her, addressing her attentions to Greg. “When did you get in?”

“Fifteen, twenty minutes ago. Long enough to use the bathroom and take a look at what you’ve done. New paper and paint. The place looks great.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived.”

“We figured you were out running errands. Anyway, we needed time to cool it after being on the road.”

“Can I fix you something to eat?”

Shelly said, “Don’t bother. We already looked in the fridge. What a waste.”

“I’m sure I have something. I went to the store yesterday and stocked up for the weekend. What were you thinking of?”

“Nothing that involves cruelty to animals,” Shelly said.

Greg said, “We’re vegans. No meat, no dairy, no eggs, no animal products of any kind.”

“In that case, I guess you’ll have to have your meals somewhere else. I don’t know the first thing about vegan cooking.”

Shelly sounded put-upon. “We don’t have the money to eat out. We used all our cash to pay for the trip.”

Greg said, “We left San Francisco this morning and drove straight through.”

“Ah. Is that where you’ve been? We had no idea you were so close.”

Shelly said, “Something else while we’re on the subject.” She pointed at Greg, then Shawn, and then herself. “He’s Creed, he’s Sky Dancer, and I’m Destiny.”

Deborah lowered her gaze, keeping her expression neutral. She couldn’t wait to tell Annabelle, who’d howl with laughter. “I see. Since when?”

“Since we realized our birth names were completely meaningless. We each chose a name that represents the future, like a higher calling. Our vision of ourselves.”

“ ‘Destiny.’ I’ll make an effort to remember.”

Greg said, “Don’t worry if you forget. Everybody goofs at first.”

“I can well imagine,” Deborah said. “I’ll see if I can round up some towels for you. I assume you’ll be sleeping in the bus.”

Greg said, “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

From the way he’d phrased his reply, she knew he was waiting for her to offer them the guest rooms, with assurances they were welcome for as long as they liked. Their insistence on living like vagabonds must have lost its appeal. Nothing like clean sheets and flush toilets, especially when someone else is doing all the work. Shelly was giving her the hard stare she’d used so often before. Deborah felt a certain stubbornness take hold. She didn’t intend to let Shelly take advantage of her hospitality.

“We don’t want to put you to any trouble,” Greg added. “I mean, you might be using the guest rooms for something else these days.”

“No, not really. You probably saw for yourselves if you had a look around.”

“Yeah, that’s right. It’s just the way you said that about our sleeping in the bus-”

“Creed,” Shelly said. “It’s obvious she doesn’t care to play hostess, which is her prerogative.”

Greg looked at his mother. “Is that true? You don’t even want us in the house?”

“It’s entirely up to you,” she said. She knew full well they wouldn’t take her up on it. She and Shelly were in a power play. Shelly couldn’t ask for anything. She only won if she could outmaneuver Deborah, who was supposed to extend herself of her own accord, graciously bestowing favors on her guests to save them the discomfort of making their wishes known.

Now it was Greg’s turn to look pained. “Man, this is like a major bummer. We didn’t mean to intrude. We thought you’d be pleased to see us. I guess not, huh?”

“Creed, dear,” Deborah said carefully, nearly tripping on the name. “You and Destiny left four years ago without so much as a by-your-leave. We had no idea where you’d gone or what your intentions were. I don’t think you should expect to be welcomed back with open arms. That’s not how these things work.”

“Sorry we didn’t keep you informed about our busy lives,” Shelly said.

Deborah turned on her in a flash. “I’m not going to put up with any shit from you so you can knock that off.”

Shelly shut her mouth, but she made a comic face, eyes getting wide, mouth pulled down in mock surprise. Like, Lah-di-dah, the nerve. Did you hear what she just said?

Greg made a gesture, indicating that he’d take care of it.

At least he was starting to stand up to her, Deborah thought. Watching them, she felt like she’d developed X-ray vision. She could see all the little nuances in their communication, the ploys, the dodges, the way they tried using emotion to throw her off balance. This was like the children’s game of hot potato, where the object was to leave the other guy holding the bag.

Greg said, “So where’s Rain? Shawn’s been looking forward to seeing her.”

“I’m picking her up at three. How long did you plan to stay?”

“Couple of days. Depends. You know, we haven’t decided yet.”

Shelly cupped a hand to her mouth, like she was making an aside that no one else could hear. “Notice how she’s ducking the subject of Rain,” she said to Greg.

Deborah kept her voice in a singsong range, as though speaking to a child. “Well, Shelly-oh, excuse me. I meant Destiny. What is there to say? We didn’t think you were interested in Rain. There was never a letter or a phone call and not a penny of support for her. The child is ours now.”

“What, like you gave birth to her? News to me.”

Deborah didn’t think it was possible to loathe another human being more than she’d loathed Shelly in the past, but apparently, there were untapped reservoirs of hostility that Deborah could call upon at will. “We adopted her. We went through the court system. Your parental rights were terminated. That’s what they do when parents abandon a baby at the age of five days.”

Shelly said, “Fuck you, bitch. I’m not putting up with any shit from you either!” She got up, agitated, and snatched up her shawl. “Come on, Sky Dancer.” And to Greg, “We’ll be in the bus when you get done kissing butt. Jesus, what a mama’s boy.”

Greg made his excuses shortly afterward. There was no graceful way to exit the conversation. He went out to the bus, and Deborah went upstairs to the master bedroom and called Patrick, who said he’d drive up for the night, but he’d have to return to L.A. first thing the next morning. “Keep away from them if you can,” he said. “I’ll take care of it when I get home.”

“That might not be necessary. Now that Shelly-oh, excuse me, Destiny-has worked herself into such a state of righteous indignation, they may take off of their own volition.”

But such was not the case. Deborah picked up Rain from her playdate, half expecting the yellow school bus to be gone on her return. Instead it was parked where it had been, which seemed curious in itself. Flouncing off in a huff was a typical Shelly move, meant to alert you to her displeasure. Emotional one-upsmanship.

Shawn knocked on the back door soon after Deborah and Rain got home.

“Is Rain here?” he asked.

“Of course.” Deborah let him into the kitchen. He stood by the door, not quite sure what to do with himself. It was almost as though he held a hat in his hands, turning the rim while he waited for what came next. Deborah said, “Did your dad send you?”

“Greg’s not my dad.”

“Sorry.”

“He and my mom are asleep.”

“I see. Well, why don’t you have a seat? Rain went up to her room. I’ll tell her you’re here. She’ll enjoy the company.”

Shawn perched on the edge of a kitchen chair. His tennis shoes were ill-fitting and he wore no socks. Deborah wanted to weep at the sight of his ankles, which looked as frail as a fawn’s.

She said, “I’m happy to see you, Shawn. I mean that.”

She didn’t wait for a reply. She went upstairs to Rain’s room and told her she had company. “His name is Shawn. His mother calls him Sky Dancer and it would be polite if you did, too.”

She took Rain by the hand and the two went downstairs. Shawn was actually Rain’s half brother, but Deborah thought the concept would be confusing to a four-year-old.

Shawn got up from his chair when Rain entered the room. She stood there looking at him and he looked at her. There was an unmistakable resemblance between them. Both had Shelly’s dark hair and big hazel eyes. Rain’s hair fell into natural ringlets, and she was rosy with good health, where Shawn looked like a prisoner of war.

Shawn said, “You want to read stories?”

“I can’t read.”

“I couldn’t either when I was your age. What about the alphabet song? You know that?”

She nodded.

“You feel like singing it?”

“Okay.” Without any self-consciousness at all, Rain sang the alphabet song, bungling the order of the letters but otherwise presenting herself earnestly.

When she finished, Shawn said, “Wow. That was good. If you don’t know how to read yet, I could read to you.”

Deborah said, “Her books are in the chest under the window in the den. That’s sweet of you, Shawn. She loves having someone read to her.”

The two disappeared, and after a moment she could hear Shawn reading aloud to her. She peered at them through the crack in the open door, keeping herself out of sight. Rain had climbed up on his lap, leaning her head back against his chest in the same way she did with Patrick. Later she found them stretched out on the floor, with Shawn looking on while Rain formed her letters with a fat red pencil. “B goes the other way,” he was saying. “Here, let me show you.”

“I can do it!”

“Okay. Let me see you, then.”

When Patrick got home Deborah told him what had transpired since she’d spoken to him by phone. “Creed” and “Destiny” (whose names she always said as though surrounded by quotes) had spent the afternoon in the bus. Rain had talked Shawn into a game of Chutes and Ladders. His patience seemed infinite. Meanwhile, Deborah was at a loss. The dinner hour was coming up and Creed and Destiny had shown no signs of entering the house or moving on. She’d been tempted to make something for Shawn, but the idea of no meat, no dairy, and no eggs left precious little.

Patrick said, “What do you think they’re up to?”

“I’m sure we’ll find out. Maybe they’ve given up life on the road and they’re ready to move in with us.”

Rain came into the kitchen with Shawn close behind. “We’re hungry.”

“Well, we’ll have to take care of that,” Deborah said. “Shawn, this is Patrick. You remember him?”

Patrick reached over and shook Shawn’s hand. “Hey, Shawn. It’s been a while. Nice seeing you again. I understand you like to be called Sky Dancer.”

“Sometimes.”

“We’d be happy to have you join us for supper, but Deborah’s stumped about what to fix for the two of you.”

“Pasta with olive oil is good. Or tomato sauce,” Shawn said. “And salad. I eat lots of vegetables and fruit.”

“Well, I’m sure we can rustle up something. Thanks for the suggestions.”

Deborah made enough supper for Creed and Destiny as well. She knew she was allowing hospitality to take precedence over hostility, but she couldn’t help herself. People had to eat. This wasn’t a third-world country where starvation was the rule. She sent Shawn out to tell his parents there was food on the table if they were interested. Creed and Destiny appeared, looking as though they’d showered in the interim. Nothing was said about the earlier friction. The six of them sat down to eat, keeping the conversation superficial, which was easier than she’d expected. Aside from dogma, the pair knew little about the world and seemed to care even less.

Deborah noticed Greg making a covert study of his daughter, and once she saw him offer her a tentative smile. Shelly was chilly throughout the meal. She had no interest in Rain and made a point of giving Greg a warning look when she caught him starting to clown around with her. After that he avoided any show of warmth. Fortunately, by then Rain was so enamored of Shawn that she paid no attention to either one.

It was after supper, when Rain had been put to bed and Shawn relegated to the bus, that Creed and Destiny got down to business. Given their agenda, it wasn’t hard to understand why the two had been so patient to this point. Creed explained the project they had in mind. “We saved up a thousand dollars as a down payment on a farm. We’d been thinking about it for a long time before we heard about this place. The problem is, we need to have the rest of the money by the end of the month.”

Patrick said, “A farm. Well, I guess that’s one way to make a living. I didn’t know you were interested in farming. You know much about it?”

“Not right now, but I can learn. That’s the whole point, you know, working the land.”

“And where is this place?”

“Up the coast. Close to Salinas,” Greg said.

Deborah was sitting there wondering if there was a word of truth in anything he’d said.

“Actually, we’re setting up a commune,” Shelly said. “Anyone who joins us will share whatever money they have and we’ll divvy up the chores. We’ll share everything equally. Even child care.”

Patrick nodded. “How many acres are you buying?”

“Maybe a hundred?” Greg said.

“Mind if I take a look at the contract?” Patrick appeared to be taking them seriously, but Deborah knew it was his way of pointing out how ill prepared and ill informed they were.

“We don’t have a contract. This is like a gentlemen’s agreement. We did it on a handshake. We know the guy and he’s really supportive of our idea.”

“Good. I like the sound of it. What do you intend to grow?”

“Mostly vegetables. We’ll plant enough to live on and then put stuff by. We plan to do a lot of canning and we’ll sell or trade the produce we can’t use. We might put in wheat or corn or something like that if we want to turn a profit. I mean, we don’t want to turn a profit per se, but we want to be self-sustaining. We’ve visited a couple of communes in Big Sur and they’re keen. They even said they’d help.”

“Well,” Patrick said. “That’s a hell of an idea. You have my blessing if that’s what this is about. I wish I had advice to offer you, but farming’s not my bailiwick.”

Greg was grooming his facial hair. He’d taken to spinning strands of his scruffy beard between his fingers, making little upturns like the villain of the piece. “We were thinking about the money Granddad left me. Didn’t you talk about that once?”

“Sure. Forty thousand dollars, but it’s all in trust. The money won’t be available until you turn thirty. I thought I’d made that clear.”

Greg frowned, baffled by the very idea. “Why? That’s five years from now.”

Deborah got the impression they were getting to the heart of the matter. Greg had a point of view he was prepared to argue if he could work his way around to it.

Patiently, Patrick said, “Those were the terms of the will. If you’ll remember he gave you ten thousand dollars when you were eighteen.”

“And that was part of the forty?”

“No, no. He was curious what you’d do with it. If it’s any comfort, he did the same thing with me and I went through mine about as fast as you did.”

“What, that was like a test or something?”

“That’s precisely what it was. Your grandfather was a bit of a pissant. This was his method of teaching money management.”

“That’s not what he told me. He said the money was mine and I could do anything I wanted.”

“He didn’t want to influence your process. If you made a mistake or turned out to be a financial whiz, he wanted it to come from you. Do you remember what you did with it?”

“Some of it, sure. I went to Oregon to see my friend Rick, and ended up lending him a few hundred dollars because the transmission on his truck went out.”

“He pay you back?”

“Not so far, but he said he would. And I mean, you know, I trust the guy. He’s a good dude.”

“You also bought a Harley, if I remember correctly.”

“Well, yeah, a used one. And I paid off some credit cards.”

“That was smart. I remember the credit card companies were really on your case by then.”

“I don’t know what their deal was. If they were going to be such butts about it, why offer me a card in the first place?”

Destiny said, “Creed, would you wise up? Your dad’s a shit-ass. He has no intention of giving you forty thousand dollars. Don’t you get that?”

“I’m not asking him to give it to me. This would be like an advance.”

“Yeah, well he’s not going to do that either. God, you are so dense sometimes. This is all bullshit. He’s having a big laugh at your expense. He thinks you’re an idiot when it comes to money. He won’t give you a dime.”

“That’s not what he said. Anyway, this is between him and me, okay?”

Destiny got up, ignoring Patrick and Deborah. “You’re pathetic. You know that?”

She banged the back door as she left.

Patrick said, “You found a charmer in that one.”

“We could really use some help,” Greg said, not looking at his father.

“I don’t doubt it, but you’ll have to come up with something better than this business about a farm, Greg. I’m willing to listen, but you know me well enough to know that’s never going to fly. You don’t even have a business plan.”

“What? Like I’m supposed to petition my own dad for a break?”

Patrick said, “Do you have any idea how much farm equipment costs? You want to farm, you better know how much water you have available and what soil conditions are-”

“Would you quit with this shit? All I want is what’s mine. Granddad left me forty grand and you know he did so what’s the big deal? It’s not coming out of your pocket.”

“You’ll get the money when you turn thirty, at which point you can piss it all away.”

“You just can’t let go, can you? It’s all rules and regulations and shit-ass stuff that nobody cares about.”

“Say anything you like, son. The money’s in trust. There’s nothing I can do.”

Greg got up. “Skip it. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

Thursday morning, Patrick left after breakfast, saying he’d be back late Friday afternoon. Greg stuck his head in the door after Patrick took off, saying, “Mind if we borrow the Buick? We’re going to do a little driving tour so Destiny can see the town, and then we may bomb up the coast to Calida. Destiny’s never been there, but I was telling her how cool it was.”

Deborah jumped at the chance to have them gone, even for a short time. “That’s fine. I just filled the tank with gas. The keys are on the hook by the back door,” she said. “What about Sky Dancer?”

“He doesn’t want to come so we’re leaving him here.”

“Would you object to his coming with Rain and me? She has her swimming lesson this morning.”

“He doesn’t need babysitting. He’s fine on his own.”

“I thought he might enjoy being out and about.”

“Sure, whatever. I doubt he’ll do it, but why not? If we’re back late, don’t worry about it. He doesn’t like to be fussed over. He can take care of himself.”

“What time does he go to bed?”

“He’s a night owl. He gets hyper. It’ll be one A.M. before he falls asleep.”

“I see,” she said, and then hesitated. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to get to know your daughter. She’s an adorable little girl. In many ways, she reminds me of you.”

“Yeah, well, Shelly’s kind of touchy on the subject.”

Deborah bit back a remark. She was sick to death of his catering to the woman. “Fine. I just thought I’d mention it.”

Deborah waited until she saw Greg and Shelly pull away and then she went out to the bus. The day was overcast and inside there was hardly enough light to see by. She knocked on the folding front door and Shawn opened it. He wore a T-shirt and a pair of ragged cutoffs. He’d been lying on his futon, his flat pillow rolled up to support his neck. On the floor around his bed there were piles of dirty clothes.

“Would you like to come inside where the light’s better?”

“Did Mom say it was okay?”

“Greg did.”

“You mean Creed.”

“That’s right. Creed. I keep forgetting. You might round up a jacket while you’re at it.”

Shawn picked his way toward the back of the bus, lifting up garments in search of his jacket. Deborah removed the dead pillow from its case and stuffed dirty clothes into it until it bulged. Shawn came back, pulling on a sweatshirt of Greg’s that hung to his knees.

“I thought we’d give this a quick wash,” Deborah said of the pillowcase full of dirty clothes. “I can show you how to use the washer and dryer.”

“My mom showed me once at the laundromat.”

“Ours might be different. It won’t hurt to take a look.”

Shawn pulled on his tennis shoes and followed her.

Deborah loaded his clothes and showed him how to operate the washer. As soon as the cycle was under way she said, “I’m taking Rain for her swimming lesson this morning at the Y. Would you like to come along? You and I can paddle around in the pool.”

“I don’t have a suit.”

“I can stop at a store and pick one up. You probably need a new toothbrush, too. You know how to swim?”

“Not really.”

“Well, we can practice.”

While Rain had her lesson with six other little kids on the far side of the pool, Deborah and Shawn sat with their legs dangling in the water. In his bathing suit he looked younger than ten, more like a seven-year-old, with his bony shoulders and his collarbones exposed. He was afraid of the water, though he pretended he really wasn’t interested. When Rain joined them half an hour later, they persuaded him to get into the shallow end with them. Rain had a set of weighted rings that Deborah dropped into the water, one by one. Rain would upend herself like a duck, kicking to the bottom to retrieve them. Shawn didn’t want to get his face wet, but Rain made the game look like fun and at the end of an hour, he would at least hold his nose and sink to the bottom briefly. He and Rain would look at each other underwater and blow the air out of their mouths before they shot to the surface.

After they’d showered and dressed again, Deborah ushered them into the station wagon. “On swim days, we have a late lunch at McDonald’s and then we skip dinner unless we decide to have popcorn,” she said.

“That’s a hamburger stand.”

“Yes, but they have other things as well. I can get you lettuce and tomato on a bun. It’ll be fine.”

Once at McDonald’s, she told Rain and Shawn to secure a booth while she ordered their lunch. She came back to the table with their order number and sent the two off to get paper napkins, salt, mustard, and ketchup in small packets. When their number was called, Deborah went back to the counter and picked up their food, which was piled on a plastic tray. She brought a glass of ice water for Shawn and a large chocolate milkshake that she and Rain would share. She doled out a paper-wrapped sandwich for each and put a large container of fries in the middle of the table where everyone could reach them.

Shawn opened his sandwich. In addition to the lettuce and tomato there was a meat patty with cheese melted on top. He put his hands in his lap and looked at her.

“Do you see lettuce and tomato?”

“Yes.”

“You want condiments? You’re allowed to eat mustard and ketchup, aren’t you?”

“Sure.”

Rain was munching on her burger, dipping fries in a puddle of ketchup and eating them rapidly. Deborah bit into her cheeseburger, and a moment later Shawn picked up his and took a hesitant bite. Neither of them said a word, and she kept her attention focused elsewhere. The next time she looked, Shawn had devoured his lunch.

“That was quick. You want another one?”

He nodded.

She ordered him a second cheeseburger, and when that was ready she brought it to the table, passing him an extra straw so he could help with the milkshake, which she said she and Rain couldn’t finish without help.

After they got back to the house, she moved Shawn’s clothes into the dryer. Later the two of them folded his clean clothes and made a neat pile of them. Then he and Rain read stories and worked on her printing skills. For supper they had a huge bowl of popcorn, corn being a vegetable, as Deborah pointed out. She made sure they bypassed the television set, and played board games until Rain’s bedtime at 8:00.

Deborah asked Shawn if he wanted to sleep on the couch. She had a knitting project she was working on and said she’d work in the next room.

The idea made him anxious. “I better not. Mom and Creed might come back and wonder where I am.”

“We can leave them a note,” she said. “That way they won’t wake you up when they get in. With Patrick gone, I could use the company. I don’t know about you, but I sometimes get scared on my own.”

“Okay.”

She let Shawn write two notes and he went off to brush his teeth while she taped one to the back window of the bus and slipped the second into the front bifold door. She settled him on the couch under a big puffy quilt and a spare pillow she told him he could keep. Then she sat in the den with her knitting, leaving the door open between the two rooms so the light would slant in.

At 9:00 he called, “Deborah?”

“I’m here.”

“Do you think my mom will get mad about what I ate?”

“I don’t see why she would. You had lettuce and tomato on a bun with a glass of ice water on the side. We won’t mention anything else, okay?”

“Okay.”

And after a few minutes, “Deborah?”

“Yes?”

“You know what?”

“What, Shawn?”

“This has been the best day of my life.”

“Mine, too, sweetheart,” she said. Her eyes filled and the knitting blurred in her lap. She had to put a finger on her lips to maintain silence while she blinked back tears.