The Dollmaker (25 page)

She turned away, but he could still see her profile. Her face looked pale and fragile, but her backbone was ramrod straight as she gazed out at the trees. Her hair was pinned up in back and the moonlight glistened along her creamy skin. And at that moment, Dave would have cut off his arm with a butter knife for one brief touch of that smooth neck.

“I lied,” she said softly. “I didn’t come out here to talk about Savannah Sweete. The truth is, I don’t know why I came.”

He swallowed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Dave…”

The way she said his name sent a shiver down his backbone. He stood silently, a strange humming inside him. It was as if every nerve ending in his body had suddenly come to life after years of lying dormant. He reached up, brushed the softness of her cheek with his fingertips, and she trembled.

Afterward, she went into the bathroom to dress. She came back out wearing only her shirt and panties, and as she perched on the edge of the bed, Dave reached out and drew his finger down her backbone. She was so beautiful to look at, and her skin was like warm silk. Her hair had fallen loose from the pins and hung in tangled curls about her shoulders.

She shivered at his touch and glanced at him over her shoulder. “Believe it or not, I didn’t come out here with that in mind.”

He sat up in bed and propped himself against a pillow. “Sadly, I do believe that.”

She smiled. “I should probably finish getting dressed and go home now.”

“It’s late and it’s a long drive back to New Orleans. You’re here now. You may as well spend the night.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, do you?”

“It’s a fine idea. You crawl back into bed and I’ll go downstairs and sleep on the couch.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“After all the shit I’ve put you through, I’d say a good night’s sleep is the least I owe you.”

She lay down on the bed facing him. He brushed the hair from her shoulders and slid his hand down her arm. Her body had changed in seven years. She was thinner than he remembered, and her skin was so pale, as if she no longer spent any time in the sun. But her subtle curves fascinated him. She was an intriguing stranger who had once been his wife.

She watched him for a moment. “I feel as if I should say something.”

“There’s really no need.”

“Maybe there is. I don’t mean to be blunt, but I’m not looking to start anything back up with you, Dave.”

He tried not to wince. “I never thought you were.”

She pillowed her head on one arm. “I’ve been married more than half my life. I think it’s time I try being alone for a while.”

“Take it from me, being alone isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“You seem to be doing okay.”

“I’m always just one bad day away from another bender. We both know that.”

“Dave—”

“I put you through hell when we were married, Claire. I’m not delusional. I wouldn’t wish me on my worst enemy.”

“I guess I wouldn’t, either.” Her eyes were sober, and then she smiled and leaned over to kiss him gently on the mouth. “But you do have your moments.”

M
atthew opened his bedroom door and crept into the hallway. The wooden floor in his aunt’s old house creaked beneath his bare feet, and he froze, breathless and terrified that she had heard him.

After a moment, when nothing happened, he continued down the corridor toward the stairway. Her bedroom was at the top of the stairs, and as he stole past her door, he heard the murmur of voices coming from inside.

That wasn’t unusual. In the weeks since Father had brought Matthew here to live with Savannah, she’d had a number of nighttime visitors. Matthew could always tell when company was on the way because she would make him go up to his room for the rest of the evening. He hadn’t minded at first. The house was old and creepy, and he had begun to think of his room as a haven. But he soon grew restless and bored with the few toys that Father had packed for him, and he longed for someone his own age to play with. But what he wanted more than anything was for Mama to come and
take him away from here. He’d prayed every single night for that to happen, but he was beginning to lose faith. It had been so long now since she’d gone away.

The floor creaked and he paused again outside his aunt’s room. This time, he thought she surely must have heard him, but instead of coming to the door, she raised her voice in anger. Matthew thought at first she was yelling at him, but then he realized her rage was directed at someone in her room. The voices were so loud, he couldn’t help but overhear.

“…gives me the creeps the way he skulks around at all hours. How much longer do you expect me to keep him here?”

“Until I find a house and get settled in my new position. It won’t be that much longer. Where’s your compassion? He’s your sister’s child, your own flesh and blood.”

Matthew went completely still, his veins icing as he recognized the other voice. Father! He hadn’t been back since he’d dropped Matthew off weeks ago. That was the only good thing about being here. Father did not come home every night.

“My
dear
sister stole you away from me. And now I’m supposed to raise her brat while she’s in the nuthouse?”

“I told you, it’s just until I get settled. As soon as I can set up Matthew’s sessions with Dr. Church, I’ll come and get him.”

“Tell me something, Daniel. Since when does a seven-year-old kid need a shrink? What’s wrong with that boy?”

Father hesitated. “He’s confused about things.”

“His gender?”

“Why would you ask such a thing?”

“Because he’s lived in my house for the past two months. I’ve noticed things.”

“What kind of things?”

“He’s not a normal boy, Daniel. He’s not rowdy or disruptive and he never wants to go outside. The only thing that seems to interest him are my dolls.”

“You don’t let him into your studio.” Father’s voice sharpened.

“Not on purpose, no. But I’ve caught him in there once or twice. I didn’t see any harm in letting him look around. He wasn’t bothering anything. I don’t think he even touched the dolls. He just wanted to sit there and…watch them.”

“I don’t care what he was doing, you need to keep him out of there. He might ruin some of your work.”

“You really think he’d do that?”

“Perhaps not intentionally, but he is just a boy. And it’s not unusual for a child that age to act out when he loses his mother.”

“You make it sound like she’s dead.”

He paused for a long time before answering. Then he said slowly, “She might as well be.”

His lengthy hesitation made Matthew think of the terrible argument on Maddy’s birthday. Matthew hadn’t wanted to think about all the terrible things Father had said to Mama, or the blood he’d seen on the floor and on Father’s coat. When Matthew thought of Maddy’s birthday, he tried to remember it as a happy day. But he hadn’t seen his mother since then, and even at his tender age, he knew that, without her, any future celebrations would never be the same.

He suddenly realized that he didn’t want to hear the
rest of the conversation. He was afraid, but for some reason, he couldn’t make himself turn away, even when the voices fell silent. Even when, a few minutes later, the noises coming from inside the room were soft moans and deep grunts.

Matthew didn’t understand what was going on inside his aunt’s bedroom, but he knew that it was something bad. He knew that it was somehow a betrayal of his mother, and he angrily turned and ran down the stairs as fast as he could. His aunt’s studio was down a long corridor that led to the back of the house. Matthew opened the door and stepped quickly inside.

Moonlight flooded through the wall of windows, so he didn’t have to turn on a light. He stood glancing around at the pedestals on which some of his aunt’s favorite dolls were displayed. He took them down one by one, stroking cool cheeks, running his hand down gleaming hair.

Then he went over to the unfinished sculpture that she had left on her worktable. A picture of a little girl was mounted on the wall behind the table, and as Matthew studied the sculpted face, he could already see a resemblance to the child in the photograph. She reminded him a little of Maddy, but the mouth was all wrong. He climbed up on a stool and sat looking at the clay face for a long, long time. Then he reached for one of the shapers and began to mold the mouth into Maddy’s.

“What are you doing?”

The voice seemed to awaken him from a deep trance. Sunlight flooded through the windows and he blinked. He had been sitting there all night. He hadn’t been sleeping, though. The clay face before him had been completely transformed.

“What have you done?”

His aunt’s voice was cold with fury. He glanced up, saw her contorted features and cringed. Quickly, he turned back to the clay face, hoping to catch a glimpse of Maddy, but she was gone. His aunt had scared her away.

She came over to where he still sat, grabbed his arm and jerked him off the stool. “You just destroyed two days worth of work. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I wanted to find Maddy.”

“Who the hell is Maddy?”

Matthew clamped his lips shut.
Shush. Mustn’t tell,
a little voice warned him.

His aunt’s hand tightened on his arm. “I asked you a question. Who is Maddy?” When he still didn’t answer, she started to laugh. “I get it. She’s you, isn’t she? All right, then. You want to find Maddy? You go look for her in here.” She grabbed up the clay and dragged Matthew across the room by his arm. She opened a door to a small storeroom, shoved him inside, then threw the clay at his feet.

“That’ll give you something to do while you sit in there and think about what you did.”

The door closed behind her, and Matthew was all alone in the dim little room. Hands trembling, he took out the old Polaroid picture he kept hidden away in his pocket. He could barely see the faces in the photograph, but it didn’t matter. He knew them by heart. Six little girls seated at a table. Maddy was at the end, her face aglow with happiness. And in the window behind her, if Matthew looked hard enough, he could see Mama’s reflection in the glass.

It was a perfect picture. A perfect reminder of a perfect day.

Wiping the tears from his cheeks, Matthew slid down to the floor and reached for the clay. He closed his eyes for a moment and imagined what he wanted to see.

“You’re in there,” he whispered. “I can feel you.”

And one of these days, he would find a way to let her out.

Matthew sat at the dressing table in his aunt’s bedroom and stared at his reflection. Savannah’s clothes were laid out on the chaise by the window, and all he had to do now was finish her makeup. The wig would come next, cut and styled just the way she liked it. His aunt was very particular about the way she wore her hair. For as long as Matthew had known her, she’d been fastidious about her appearance. He supposed it was an admirable trait, especially after the accident, when even the smallest tasks had taken a monumental effort on her part. She was a strong woman, though. Matthew was constantly amazed by her constitution.

He got up from the dressing table and went over to the bed to stare down at her. She wore a white cotton nightgown that clung to her thin frame. Her hair had gone completely gray, and the skin on her face was pulled so tight across her skull it almost appeared transparent.

She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, but when she sensed Matthew’s presence, her gaze cut to him and her eyes widened. Something that might have been anger glinted in the pale depths, and Matthew laughed softly.

“You’ve still got some fire, don’t you?”

A telltale frown appeared on her brow before she could relax it.

“I saw that,” he said with another laugh. “Your medicine is wearing off. I guess I’ll have to increase the dosage. Can’t have you grunting like a pig while our guests are here.”

She stared at him, unblinking.

“I did tell you that we’re having company this morning, didn’t I? A Sheriff Granger called a little while ago. He’s sending a couple out here later who are interested in a doll they think you may have sculpted. They say it looks like their missing daughter. Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous in your life?”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for the medicine vial he kept nearby. He also had a supply of hypodermic needles in her bedside stand. He’d made sure when he first came to take care of her after the accident that everything he needed was right at his fingertips. That was back when she had still wanted his help, of course.

Matthew drew his knuckles lightly down her cheek. It really was a pity that it had come to this. His aunt was a gifted artist, and he hated that her talents could no longer be utilized. But she had only herself to blame for her current misfortune. She shouldn’t have stuck her nose into Matthew’s business.

When he’d first come back to the area several years ago, he and Savannah had gotten on just fine. He’d been willing to let bygones be bygones, and she’d been flattered by his interest in doll making, had taught him almost everything she knew. Then she’d started to ask too many questions. The accident had curbed her curiosity for a long time, because she’d needed Matthew then. She hadn’t wanted to do or say anything to drive him away.

As time went on, however, she’d grown more and more independent. Eventually, the questions had started up again, and somehow she’d found out that Matthew had dropped out of medical school a few weeks after the family fortune had come under his control, and she’d threatened to expose the fact that he wasn’t a licensed physician. He might have been able to talk his way out of that one, but then another child had disappeared and her curiosity had turned into suspicion. Matthew had to take matters into his own hands, as he had learned very early on to do.

He drew aside the blanket and quickly gave her the injection in her left hip. Then he threw the needle away, pulled the covers up to her chin and leaned down to kiss her forehead.

Walking over to the window, he stared out across the lawn, down to the gate and to the gravel road beyond. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he could see a trail of dust in the distance, and his heart quickened with excitement.

She’s coming!

After all these years, Mama was finally coming back for him.

He felt moisture on his face and he quickly wiped it away. No time for tears. He had to be ready when she got here.