Spring Rain (22 page)

Clay forced himself to unclench his teeth. “How did she meet this old guy?”

“He goes to our church, but he wants to retire to South Carolina. And then there’s Pastor Paul. I almost forgot him. He’s single too.”

“What does she do? Go out with every single man she meets?” The edge to his voice took him aback, but Billy didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh no. Only those who ask her. Of course, that’s a lot. Like we said, she’s pretty.”

Clay saw the wayward silken curl that had wrapped around his finger when he held her as she cried. He saw the warm eyes and the sweet smile she had given him when he helped clean up the apartment. “Yeah,” he managed. “She’s pretty.”

“Very pretty.”

“Very pretty,” he agreed. Inside and out. That cute, young girl who had entranced him eleven years ago was now a beautiful Christian woman with character and grit.

“Well.” Billy turned back toward the beach. “What do you think?”

“We’ve got to keep her from making a mistake and marrying some bozo.”

Billy looked at him in disgust, fists resting on his bony hips. “I
mean about the castle. How long before it washes away? Who cares about Mom?”

“Yeah, who cares about Mom?” Clay muttered at midnight as he heard Eric’s car pull in. Finally. He clicked off the TV and went to peer out the window. He bit back a sneer as Eric opened the car door for Leigh and took her hand to help her out. He kept hold of the hand all the way to the garage.

Clay stepped back from the window when he heard a little voice whisper, “You’re spying.”

Clay spun. “Bill! Get back to bed. Your mom will think I’m a lousy baby-sitter.”

He shook his head. “Mom doesn’t even
know
you’re my babysitter. She thinks I’m asleep at Uncle Ted’s. Besides, it’s fun to greet Mom when she comes home.” He giggled. “It’s how I keep them from kissing her.”

A key turned in the lock, and the front door swung open. Two sets of footsteps moved up the stairs.

“Hi, Mom,” Billy called, running forward and peering down the stairwell. “I’m so glad you’re home! I missed you.”

Clay peeked over Bill’s shoulder, thinking the boy’s enthusiasm was only a bit over the top. It was wonderful to see the disappointment splashed across Eric’s handsome mug as he saw the faces staring down at them.

Leigh raised an eyebrow at her son, obviously onto his game. She ignored Clay.

“And look who baby-sat me.” Bill pointed to Clay who grinned in his most disarming manner. Bill threw his arms around Clay’s waist.

“Don’t go too overboard,” Clay whispered through his smile.

Bill giggled.

Eric’s disappointment changed to a definite scowl.

“Hi,” Clay said to Eric, all candor and goodwill. “I’m Clay Wharton, an old friend of Leigh’s.” He gave a wide smile and extended his hand.

“Ted’s twin,” Eric said as he unenthusiastically shook Clay’s hand.

“The same,” Clay agreed. “Would you like a cup of coffee or a soda before you go? Bill and I have been snacking on popcorn off and on all evening while we watched a couple of movies with my brother. We brought all the leftovers home and would be glad to share with you. And you too, of course, Leigh.”

“Of course,” Leigh echoed.

Never mind that the coffee was left over from early evening, cooked to a fine bitterness, and the popcorn had been reduced to kernels at about nine. Clay’s strategy was to smother him in friendliness, and he’d leave sooner.

“Thanks, but nothing for me.” Eric turned and took Leigh by the shoulders. He was pulling her toward him—and she wasn’t protesting!—when Bill tripped over the coffee table.

“My toe!” he cried. “I stubbed my toe!”

Leigh rushed to his side, bending down beside the distressed boy, leaving Eric with his arms holding air.

“Oh, honey,” she said, all concern. “How that must hurt.”

“It does, Mommy.” Bill gave a quavering little sob. Clay had to admit that the kid was very good.

“Let me carry him to his bed,” Clay offered, going down on his knees beside Leigh. “We can take care of him there.”

“Would you, Clay?” Bill asked, gratitude oozing from every pore.

“Hang on, old buddy.” He pulled Bill into his arms and stood. Leigh stood with him, her hand resting on his arm as she looked at Bill.

Clay looked at Eric. “Poor kid. Stubbing your toe hurts so much.”

“Yeah,” muttered Eric. “Poor kid.”

Biting back a grin, Clay strode toward Bill’s room, Leigh right behind him.

“Leigh!” Eric stood in the middle of the living room, deserted and exasperated.

“Can you let yourself out, please?” Leigh called from Bill’s door. Clay was almost certain she was biting back a giggle. “I’m sorry, but I have to see to Billy.”

Clay let Bill fall to the bed where he bounced a couple of times on the mattress, a huge, smug smile on his face.

It was all the three of them could do not to laugh until Eric was safely out the door.

H
E STARED AT
what was left of the sand castle. Over half of it was gone, and a little more went every time a wave hit. He’d seen Billy and the brother guy building it. They’d worked hard, and now the water was washing it away. Just disappearing like the sand dissolved or something. All that was going to be left was a bump in the sand. It gave him a weird feeling, like maybe he could disappear like that too.

Those waves were sneaky. They dribbled in with little bits of foam floating on them just like they didn’t want to hurt nothing. But they were eating the castle alive.
Chomp. Chomp.
He laughed at the picture in his mind of a wave with a big open mouth.
Chomp. Chomp.
Now there was a good joke.

He wondered why the brother guy spent so much time playing with the kid. They’d played ball before they built that castle. He thought hard, but he didn’t think anybody’d ever played with him like that. Anybody grown-up, he meant.

Maybe if someone had played with him, he would have been good at sports. Then he wouldn’t have been the last one to get picked for all the teams all the time. He hated being last.

A wave rushed up the beach and washed right over his shoe. He jumped and swore as more of the castle collapsed. How he hated the ocean, just hated it! You
couldn’t trust it. It ate things, and if he wasn’t careful, it’d eat him.

Muttering, he walked up the beach to the path that led to the Whartons’ house. He skulked cautiously to the edge of the yard. He wasn’t wearing all black tonight, so he had to be careful. He glanced up at the garage. It was dark except for that one light Leigh-Leigh always left on. She had gone out for the evening, and so had the mother. Out on dates. He grinned, imagining what they were doing on those dates. Not that he knew from experience, but he’d seen lots of movies.

He frowned. Why didn’t girls like him? Maybe he wasn’t some movie star or nothing, but then neither was anybody else. Then he smiled. Wait until he got the treasure. Then the girls would flock to him. He’d strut around in fancy clothes and drive a big fancy car, and the girls would be hanging all over him, falling out the windows of the car there were so many.

Enchanted by the picture of his social success, he glanced up to where the AIDS guy lived. The greenish flash of a TV lit the room. The kid and the brother guy were up there with the sick guy watching something. He grinned. He knew what guys watched when they were being guys. Too bad he wasn’t invited to the party. But then when he was rich, he wouldn’t invite them to his party either.

He decided to go get something to eat. His stomach had been growling for a long time. He wandered down the driveway and started walking toward the main part of town where the restaurants and stuff were. He hated not having a car, but he didn’t have the money to buy one or a credit card to rent one. If he didn’t get the treasure soon, he wouldn’t even have enough money to eat.

Pizza. That’s what he wanted. They had lousy pizza in the joint, the crust dry and hard. The cheese didn’t even taste like cheese. Johnny said once that he thought it was artificial. How could there be artificial cheese? It was either cheese or it wasn’t.

He sighed as he walked. Nothing was going to happen tonight. Leigh-Leigh wasn’t home, and she’d probably be real late getting in, if she even came home before morning. She needed to be there to get the full effect of the next step in his plan. He grinned and scratched himself. He was sure going to show her. Maybe tomorrow night.

His feet were tired and sore when he finally reached town and
the pizza place, but the pizza was real good, and the cheese was definitely real. It got all stringy and gooey, and he had to pull at it with his fingers. It was a good thing Ma wasn’t here to crack him over the knuckles and scream, “Don’t eat with your hands, you little moron! And chew with your mouth shut.”

Of course she never kept her mouth shut, chewing or not. Yadda, yadda, yadda. The lady never shut up! That’s one reason the old man whopped her so much.

He got back to the Whartons’ about ten-thirty. It wasn’t too long until the mother came home. She and that doctor went into the house. He was giggling behind his hand about their plans for the rest of the night when the doctor came back out. He got in his car and drove away. What was going on here? Wasn’t he spending the night? Who dated and didn’t spend the night? Were they too old for stuff like that or what?

It was after eleven when Billy and the brother guy crossed the yard to the apartment. What did Clooney say his name was? Oh yeah, Clay. Like modeling clay. What a dumb name. It wasn’t too much longer until Leigh-Leigh and her “friend” drove up. He held her hand as they walked across the yard, and they didn’t see the brother guy watching from one of the apartment windows.

He had watched Leigh-Leigh all day today himself. He’d even gone to the Little League opening ceremonies, taking the bus. The thing that he couldn’t get over was how much everybody there seemed to like her. They smiled at her and waved to her and talked to her. Johnny thought she was a loser, but nobody else seemed to. It was very strange.

It had been exciting when that ball almost hit her. He was standing just behind her, and all he had to do was reach out and he’d touch her. He remembered the feeling of power it gave him to be so close, yet be invisible. She didn’t know who he was, but he knew who she was. And he had power over her. Then the foul ball came, and she turned around to run. He saw her face real good, and she was scared. Real scared. It made him want to smile.

Then she ran into him! He still remembered the shock of the ice cold Coke washing over him. He shivered all over again. He just hoped that Coke washed out of clothes without staining. After all those years in orange jumpsuits, he didn’t have that many nice clothes.

He waited in the dark, and it wasn’t long until the apartment door opened and the “friend” came out. Going home already? Then she would keep the brother guy. Now that was interesting. But no. The door opened a little bit after the friend drove away, and Clay came out and went to the main house. Soon the apartment lights went out.

He frowned. What was with all these people? If the old man was out of town or off on a binge and Ma brought someone home, he stayed. If Ma was gone, the old man brought bodacious babes home and they stayed. The guys in the can always bragged about their women. It was the way life was.

But these people were different. A thought hit him. He bet anything they were in some weird religious cult, like them nuns in their black dresses, and no sex was part of the deal.

He muttered to himself as he shuffled off down the beach to the house with all the windows. Some people he just couldn’t understand. He’d go look in on those he did.

S
UNDAY AFTERNOON
, Julia glanced out the tall living room windows. It was a bitter day outside, the sky pewter, the sea topped with frothing whitecaps, the wind chilly and insistent. It was a day for collars to be turned up and hands to be stuffed in pockets, a day when winter reminded everyone that it may be stepping aside for a while, but it, like General MacArthur, would return, and they’d better not forget that fact.

She turned and looked around the green-and-crimson living room with its accents of palest yellow and cream. Inside all was cozy and warm with everyone she loved here. Her heart swelled.
Thank You, dear Lord, for these occasional perfect moments. They make the others, the painful ones that come with living, bearable.

Leigh and Billy sat on the sofa looking at a scrap-book of pictures taken when the twins were little. Every so often Billy’s chortle would ring out as he pointed in disbelief at a photo.

“I hate to say this, Uncle Ted, but you guys were such dorks.”

Ted, looking wan and weary after expending so much energy eating dinner with them, managed to appear offended. “What do you mean, dorks?”

Billy jumped up and assumed an
en garde
position, feet apart, one arm raised like it was holding a rapier.

“Ah,” Ted said, nodding. “For your information,
everyone in our class wanted our
Star Wars
light swords.”

“Sure. And you’ve got some oceanfront property in Arizona.”

“Clay,” Ted called. “Tell him.”

Clay was standing by the bank of windows looking onto the dunes, talking with Pastor Paul Trevelyan who had come home with them after church for dinner. They were discussing the Phillies’ chances for a decent season without any apparent hope. Clay had been acting as Paul’s host for the afternoon, a role he had taken on himself without any encouragement from her. Truth be told, Paul came over so frequently, he didn’t need a host. He was very much at home here.

Still she appreciated Clay’s effort. He just didn’t know how familiar Paul was with all of them. He didn’t know that Paul had made Ted a special project, spending large amounts of time with him.

But it seemed to her that there was something strange about Clay’s attention to Paul. It was as if he was trying to keep Paul from talking to Leigh, though why he would do that was beyond her ken. Three times she had seen Clay deliberately step in Paul’s path when he had turned to say something to Leigh. Clay did it so pleasantly that Paul didn’t seem to notice. Neither did Leigh. The upshot was that Paul never had any conversation with Leigh.