Lullaby Town Part 22

"Sure."

"It's dangerous. Can't you see that?"

"It's not as dangerous as motorcycles, and I don't think it'll skew your son's values if he gets a nice gift from his father."

She shut the door on the garage. "I wouldn't think that you'd understand."

Karen went back into the kitchen and put out the rest of the things she had brought from the Colonel and then she called Toby to the table. He came out sulky and silent. She asked him what he would like to drink and he said nothing. She asked him if he wanted rolls and the cole slaw and he said no. She asked him if he wanted a breast or a thigh and he said he didn't care. Sore about the snowmobile, I guess. Pike made himself a cheese sandwich and ate as if he were alone.

We were most of the way through the chicken when the white van that said WKEL-TV turned into the drive and the tall, thin woman got out. The weenie with the minicam got out with her. When Karen saw them coming through the big front window, she said, "Oh, Jesus Christ."

I said, "Would you like me to get it?"

Karen shook her head and went to the door. "No, thank you. This is my house, and my problem."

The doorbell rang just as Karen opened the door. The tall, thin woman tried to step in past Karen, but Karen wouldn't get out of the way. The tall woman gave a nice local-news on-camera smile and put out her hand. Karen didn't take it. "h.e.l.lo, Ms. Lloyd. Janice Watkins, WKEL-TV. I do local color and human interest, and I was fascinated when I heard that Peter Alan Nelsen, the filmmaker, is your husband." Janice Watkins seemed neither to mind nor notice that Karen hadn't taken her hand. Probably used to it.

Karen said, "You've made some sort of mistake. I'm not married."

The smile didn't falter. "Ex-husband, then. I know how that is, I've got two." She chuckled. Establis.h.i.+ng rapport.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Watkins. I don't know what you're talking about."

A corner of the smile gave way. "Peter Alan Nelsen and his entourage are staying at the Howard Johnson's."

Toby craned around the bucket of chicken, trying to see. Pike pushed the bucket out of his way.

The thin woman said, "You've been seen with him. So has your son. Everyone is saying that Toby Lloyd is Mr. Nelsen's child and that Mr. Nelsen has journeyed across the country to find him." Journeyed Journeyed. She was working up the human-interest angle, all right.

"I've never been married to Peter Alan Nelsen and I don't know what you're talking about."

The smile faltered. "You weren't?"

"No."

"Is Peter Alan Nelsen the boy's father?"

"No."

Janice Watkins blinked. She tried to peek past Karen to see if Peter Alan Nelsen was lurking inside. I waved at her.

Karen Lloyd said, "You've interrupted our meal. Do you mind?"

Janice Watkins narrowed her eyes. "Ms. Lloyd, I have this information on very good authority."

Karen Lloyd leaned toward Janice Watkins. "Ms. Watkins, chew a used rubber." Then she slammed the door.

Toby was staring at his plate when Karen came back to the table. His face was red and her face was tight and pale. When she picked up a piece of original recipe, her hand trembled and she put it back down.

Toby said, "Why did you tell'm he wasn't my dad?"

Karen lifted the piece of chicken again and this time took a small bite. She didn't answer. After a while Toby got up, took his plate into the kitchen, then went down the hall to his room.

Karen Lloyd put down her chicken and said, "s.h.i.+t."

At seven-fifty that evening the doorbell rang again and this time when Karen answered, Peter Alan Nelsen came in without Nick or T.J. or Dani. He said, "I've been thinking about this and I've got a way to make everybody happy." Toby must've seen the limo, because he came out of his room.

Karen stiffened as if someone had injected her with Super Glue and said, "He can't keep that thing." First words out of her mouth.

Peter started to say something, but then he didn't. Showing restraint. "I'm not a dope. I know I'm here at a bad time. You're trying to straighten out this thing with the DeLuca people, and you've got me here, and you've gotta be worried about Toby. Lemme lighten the load for you. How about I take Tobe back to L.A. with me until you guys get this worked out?"

Toby said, "Yeah!"

Peter looked from Karen to me and then back to Karen. He spread his hands. "Toby'll be safe, and I'll be out of your hair, and you can take care of what you need to take care of. When it's done, you can give me a call and Toby and I will come back and we can work out our family situation."

Toby was giving it the ear-to-ear. "Great! Can I meet Sylvester Stallone?"

Peter said, "Sure."

Karen said, "No."

Peter frowned. "No, he can't meet Sylvester Stallone, or no, he can't go to L.A.?"

Karen went back to one of the wing chairs and sat down. Her knees were together and so were her hands. "He has school. He has basketball."

I said, "It might make things easier."

Peter said, "Jesus Christ, Karen, it won't kill him to miss a few days of school."

Toby said, "I can get Miss Garrett to give me the work. I won't fall behind."

"No."

Peter said, "What do you mean, no?"

"It would be too disruptive. Who knows how long this is going to take?"

I said, "I think it's a good idea."

Karen flashed the hard eyes at me. "n.o.body asked you."

Peter rolled his eyes and looked at the ceiling. "Hey, am I being an a.s.shole here or what?" Getting loud.

Karen said, "Watch your language in front of my son." They were starting to shout.

Peter gestured wide with the arms the way he had when I'd first seen him, reading the riot act because a couple of executives had been trying to fob off a TV guy on him. "Hey, Karen, a mobster mobster was here with was here with our son our son. Do you remember that?"

Karen pushed up out of the chair and made a shooing gesture to Toby. "Toby, I want you to go to your room."

Peter said, "Lemme take the kid back to L.A. He'll be safer there than here. You think I won't bring'm back?"

Pike stuck his fingers in his ears.

I said, "Peter, maybe now isn't the time to talk about it."

Peter whirled around and glared at me. "I'm Peter Alan Nelsen and I'm tired of fooling around." He wheeled back toward Karen. "If you played it smart, I could set you up. You wouldn't have to worry about a thing and you could do whatever you want. You could even be an actress again. I'm Peter Alan Nelsen, and I could make you a star." Like she was still nineteen and always would be.

Karen Lloyd put her hands on her hips and laughed at him. "You arrogant a.s.shole."

Toby started crying and yelled, "Why won't you let me go with him? Why are you being like this? You're gonna make him go away and I hate you!" He ran down the hall and slammed his door.

Pike still had his fingers in his ears.

Peter was giving us confused and frustrated, as if he were trying to explain that two plus one equals three and Karen just couldn't get it, and the frustration was giving way to suspicion, like maybe she got it but was pretending she didn't because something was going on. He squinted at me, then back at her, and then he nodded and made an oh-I-get-it smile and said, "You're f.u.c.king this guy."

Karen Lloyd slapped him. It was a hard, quick shot that took him off guard and backed him up. I stepped in between them, taking his wrists and keeping his hands at his sides and pus.h.i.+ng him backward. Karen yelled, "You piece of s.h.i.+t. You rotten piece of s.h.i.+t. Why'd you have to come back? Why couldn't you leave us alone?"

Peter jerked away from me and threw a punch that seemed to float down from heaven. I stepped outside of it, then stepped back in very close and pushed him up against the door and told him to relax. He tried to bite me and then he tried to b.u.t.t me with his head, and when he did, I punched him once in the stomach. He made an urp urp-ing sound and went down onto his hands and knees and threw up on Karen Lloyd's beautiful bleached-oak floor. I hadn't wanted to hit him, and I was glad the boy wasn't there to see it.

Peter stayed on all fours, head hanging down, and made little burping noises. "I'm sick."

Pike said, "Take deep breaths."

Karen stood by the mantel, holding herself. Pike went into the kitchen and came back with a roll of Scot towels.

Peter took the deep breaths, then staggered to his feet and shook his finger at me. "G.o.dd.a.m.nit, you're fired. You're off the f.u.c.king payroll. I'm gonna make sure you never work again."

I said, "Cliched, Peter. I expected more originality from the King of Adventure."

Peter burped some more and then he lurched out the front door. In a minute the limo pulled away and Pike held out his hand. "I'd better make sure he gets home."

I tossed Pike the keys and he left.

Karen Lloyd and I stood without moving in the now quiet house, and I said, "Peter's idea was good."

She shook her head.

"It's smart to get the boy out of the picture. It's smart if Peter's gone, too. It would give you more room."

She shook her head again. "If he wanted to help, he could just leave. He doesn't need Toby. This is just more of the same old Peter Alan Nelsen bulls.h.i.+t. Peter wanting everything his way."

"Karen," I said, "think about it. They've threatened your life. They made a move on your son. Falling behind in history doesn't rate with getting him out of here. Do you see?"

She made a little blowing move with her mouth and then she crossed her arms and sat on the edge of the hearth, leaning forward so that her elbows touched her knees. She gave me a short glance, and then she looked at the floor, and then she uncrossed her arms and put a hand on either side of her head and squeezed, like maybe she was trying to keep her head from bursting. She said, "I'm not crazy. I am not crazy. I'm not crazy I'm not crazy."

"Nope," I said. "You're scared, but it isn't Charlie DeLuca who scares you, though it should be."

She shook her head and closed her eyes. "I'm too tired to argue."

I said, "This is your house. You bought the couch and the table and the wood in the fireplace. You secured the loan for your car. You buy Toby's clothes, and you've made a good life."

She shook her head some more.

"But now comes Peter, and you're scared that it won't be yours anymore. You'll be the woman who was married to Peter Alan Nelsen, and Toby will be Peter's son."

She stopped shaking her head.

"You're scared of losing yourself."

Two tears squeezed out of the inside corners of her eyes and ran down her cheeks. "You sonofab.i.t.c.h." She might've been talking to me, but maybe not.

I said, "Don't think about Peter. Think about Charlie. Charlie is who you have to focus on. Charlie can hurt you and Toby a lot worse than Peter."

She brought one hand up and rubbed at the tears but still did not open her eyes. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No."

"It sounds so stupid, worried about losing myself. It sounds weak and silly, like something one of those idiot Cosmo Cosmo feminists would whine about. I don't want to be weak. I don't want to be stupid." feminists would whine about. I don't want to be weak. I don't want to be stupid."

I made a shrug. "Pride isn't male or female. It's human."

"I'm a vice-president at the bank. I have a real estate license and I am a certified financial planner and I've been president of the PTA twice and vice-president of the local Rotary." The tears were coming harder.

"Unh-hunh."

"I have a B.A. in finance. I am Toby Lloyd's mother. I will not lose those things."

"No. You won't."

"I will not lose who I am."

"I won't let you."

She opened her eyes and looked at me.

"Saving selves is one of my best things."

She rubbed at the tears again and then she put her face in her hands and sat very still. I guess she wasn't convinced.

I used the Scot towels on the floor, then put them in a white plastic trash bag and took the bag out and put it into a blue garbage can in the garage. It seemed twenty degrees colder than it had been at dusk, and the north wind rattled tree limbs and dead leaves and pushed dark shapes across the lawn. Thunder rumbled many miles to the east, a winter storm moving with the front. When I went back inside, Karen Lloyd had gone to bed.

I turned off most of the lights and went down the hall to the room where Joe Pike and I were bedding. Karen Lloyd's room was at the end of the hall in the back of the house, and Toby's room was across from Karen's, in the front. Both of their doors were closed, but I could hear them crying, she in her room and he in his. I felt a very great urge to knock and say the word or make the touch that would make them feel better. I went into my own room and I closed the door.

You do what you can, but you can't do everything.