Chapter 24

 

Wednesday

 

While the children were turned over to their waiting parents or caregivers at noon, Abby waited until the traffic cleared and then started for home. Like Carolyn, she too needed time to think about what they’d discussed. Funny that Carolyn had brought up Salem, although that reference probably popped into the head of a lot of people, but always in reference to “witches,” conveniently ignoring the fact that even the people of Salem had recognized that there was no witchcraft involved in what had happened there. Enough people had been so ashamed of the deaths they’d caused that they buried the sorry tale as much as they could. It hadn’t worked: people were still talking about it.

One point was very clear to Abby: people were frightened of what they couldn’t understand, and that fright made them angry and often they lashed out. Which was why psychics and their ilk had to hide in the shadows, and had to swallow any response when they were called fakers. She knew the reality of it, but she wasn’t about to go out and form a PAC and lobby for psychics. Although, she thought irreverently, their diverse talents might come in handy in current politics.

She arrived home quickly, and when Abby opened the front door, Ellie came bounding down the hall to greet her. “Ned said you got a job?” she asked without preamble.

“Maybe—we’re doing a sort of tryout for it.”

“Where?”

“At the Birch School, a few blocks from here.”

“That’s the place for people like Danny?”

Ellie knew the place? Abby had to wonder why. “Yes. It’s for children with autism. How is Danny? Is he settling in well?”

Ellie shrugged. “I dunno. He doesn’t talk much, but he doesn’t have a lot of friends to talk to.”

Poor Danny. Abby wondered what the whole story was. Where had he been schooled before? Had someone recommended that he be mainstreamed in a public school for his own benefit, or couldn’t his mother, Samantha, afford a private school? Abby made a mental note to investigate what scholarships or subsidies were available for people with his challenges.

She realized Ellie was waiting for her to say something. “What have you and your dad been doing this week?”

“We read some, and watch movies. Sometimes we play cards or do puzzles. But Petey’s kind of young for that kind of stuff, and if you don’t watch him, he gets into things.”

“Who’s looking after him now?”

“He’s at a friend’s house—a kid from his preschool. His mom’s home with them. Things sure take a lot of planning when you have kids!”

“That’s true. I’m glad you could come over today, though. Have you had lunch yet?”

Ned emerged from the kitchen. “No, we have not. I was just thinking about making something. How about a pizza?”

“Ned, people don’t make pizzas,” Ellie said with contempt, “restaurants and places like that make pizzas. Or big companies. Or you buy it frozen in a box at the supermarket.”

“And where do you think pizzas come from? Are they like eggs that hatch?” Ned was grinning at her.

“No, that’s dumb,” Ellie told him firmly. “Chickens are alive. Pizza isn’t.”

“Well, I vote that we make our own pizza for lunch. Do you know what goes into it?”

Ellie actually looked kind of intrigued, and followed Ned toward the kitchen. The next thing Abby heard was Ned’s question, “Do you know what yeast is?”

She followed more slowly, enjoying simply watching the two of them together. What she saw was almost the best of all possible worlds for teaching: patient instruction from somebody who knew you and wanted you to understand, plus learning a useful skill—cooking—that would stand Ellie in good stead. It could create problems with Leslie, who had a full-time job and two kids and probably didn’t have much time to make pizza from scratch. But Abby wasn’t about to call a halt to this impromptu learning experience. Maybe Ellie could show Leslie how to do it.

An hour and a half later they were seated around the kitchen table consuming the final product, which Abby had to admit tasted pretty good. Ned must have done this before, which might explain why they’d had all the ingredients on hand. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever bought yeast. When their plates were empty, Ellie said, “What are we going to do next?”

Before Abby could comment, Ned said, “Clean up. Never leave a messy kitchen—the dirty dishes might multiply and take over while you’re not looking.”

“That’s silly.”

“Yes, but doing the dishes—or the laundry or the vacuuming—is going to be part of your life for a very long time, so you might as well learn now. And you can help your mother out too—I bet she’d love that.” Ned stood up. “Come on, I’ll help. It goes faster with two people.”

“Okay,” Ellie said and took her plate over to the sink. Ned looked at Abby and winked.

The dishes were done quickly, as Ned had predicted. When Ned and Ellie were finished and had polished all the countertops, Ned looked at Abby and said, “Okay, your turn. What fabulous thing are you going to teach Ellie now? Origami? Needlepoint? Quantum mechanics?”

Abby laughed. “Ned, I’m hopeless at all of those.”

Ellie piped up, “We could work on the tiny closet. You know, the one under the stairs.”

“We could,” Abby agreed. “What would you like to do with it?”

“Well, it’s not very big. What kind of small things do you have that need a closet?”

“Um, I hadn’t really thought about it. When I moved in and put things wherever there was room, and I haven’t moved anything since. How about games?”

“Do you have games?” Ellie asked, looking dubious.

“Well, some. And we can get more. Unless you only play with electronic games. Do you know how to play board games? Card games? Put together puzzles? Or we could keep art supplies in there—I know we have some of those. And I don’t mean wall paint and stuff like that.”

Ellie nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. So we need shelves. Can you make shelves?”

“You mean, without Ned? Sure. It’s not hard. But there are some pretty big holes in the walls and floor that Jack made when he took the old stuff out. We have to think about patching those before we can add anything new.”

“I know there are some scraps of sheetrock in the basement, and plenty of patching plaster, so you can start on the those holes. And there are some old boards that are about the right size too,” Ned volunteered. “I can probably scrounge some stuff for brackets. There’s already light in there.”

“Well, there we go! We’re building a games closet,” Abby said triumphantly.

Once they’d located the recycled building materials, Abby noted that this was also a great teaching opportunity, although she didn’t mention that to Ellie. It would be useful to her throughout her life to know how to plan and measure, and to use basic tools like saws and screwdrivers and drills. Abby was pretty sure that Leslie had no time for projects like this. Did George? But she didn’t want to get into a discussion with Ellie about gender roles in a family. She herself held fond memories of borrowing her father’s tools, with his permission, and playing with nails and such, although she couldn’t recall ever finishing anything she had started.

By the end of the afternoon they’d made a good start. First they’d measured—another good teaching opportunity—and decided on a layout, and now the shelves were cut, sanded, and ready for installation. Abby was proud that they’d found enough scraps to cover what they needed, and hadn’t had to go out and buy modern replacements. It seemed right to her to keep pieces of the old house in the house, and besides, the lumber was not warped, and was definitely thicker than modern stock. Then they started in on filling the roughly shaped holes.

It was after five when Abby said, “We’d better wrap it up for today. Your mom will be here soon.”

“Aw, I hoped we’d finish it today.”

“We’re pretty close to finishing the walls. Besides, you’ll be back on Friday, right?”

“Yeah, Mom and Dad are both working. And now you’re going to be working too. I won’t get to see you as much.”

“Don’t worry—I promise we’ll still have Thursdays. And you’re pretty busy after school most days anyway.”

“I guess,” Ellie said, looking disappointed. “But we have fun, don’t we?”

“We do,” Abby agreed. “Let’s stack up the tools and the scraps and then we can shut the door and forget about our closet until Friday, okay?”

Leslie arrived shortly after they’d finished cleaning up. “I closed up early since there weren’t a lot of people around. You ready to go, pumpkin?” she asked Ellie.

“Yeah. Let me get my coat.” Ellie headed for the kitchen, leaving Abby and Leslie alone together in a stilted silence. Abby said, “We’ve been doing carpentry this afternoon.”

“That’s nice,” Leslie said vacantly. “Oh, right—I meant to thank you for sending those plumbers our way.”

“George already did. I’m glad they worked out. They just happened to be here when we heard from you. It was Sarah who recommended them. Everything working again?”

“Yes, it’s fine. Still kind of damp, though. What are they doing for you here?”

“We decided to move the powder room to a space next to the laundry, behind the kitchen. More room all around. That left the old powder room under the stairs, which wasn’t original. That’s what Ellie and I were working on today—making it into a useful closet with shelves.”

“Nice. Ellie?” Leslie called out. “Let’s get moving—I still need to make dinner.”

Ellie emerged from the back, wearing her coat. “Hey, Mom, we made pizza for lunch! From ingredients, not a box!”

“That sounds like fun. Come on, sweetie. Thanks again, Abby. We’ll drop her off here on Friday morning. Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Same to you,” Abby said, to Leslie’s retreating back. No, their relationship still wasn’t exactly warm. Would it ever be? She wasn’t trying to fight Leslie for Ellie’s affection, but she and Ellie would always share a connection that Leslie would never have. She could see that Leslie might have trouble dealing with that, but she hoped time would help.

Ned crept up from the basement. “Is the coast clear?” he asked in a stage whisper.

“Yes, Leslie’s gone. You are such a chicken! You’ve known her for years—what’s changed?”

“I want to keep seeing Ellie, which means I have to be very careful about what I say. I’m always afraid I’ll put my foot in my mouth.”

“The story will all come out eventually. Can we sit down for a bit?”

“Sure.” Ned dropped into a chair and waited until Abby followed suit. “Why?”

“Something happened at the school today.”

“Good or bad?” Ned asked solicitously.

“I’m not sure yet. I was waiting for the kids to go in after I got there, and I saw a girl trip and skin her knees. I went to help, so of course I ended up touching her, and I heard the word ‘Alice’ in my head. And then the girl said, ‘I’m Alice.’”

“How was that odd?”

“Because Carolyn took me aside after she’d patched up Alice and told me that Alice had never spoken before, or not that she’d heard.”

“Wow. So of course she had to ask you about what happened.”

Abby nodded. “Well, yes. And I ended up telling her most of the story—I mean, about seeing dead people, and why I wanted to find out if I could connect with the autistic children.”

“How did she react?”

“She was actually pretty cool about it. She wanted to take the weekend to think over what I’d told her, which I completely understand. And we talked about Christine. I really don’t know what Carolyn’s going to decide, but we said we’d talk on Monday.”

“What would be the best-case outcome?” Ned asked.

“I’m not really sure. It’s kind of a relief that she knows, because I hate hiding things, and this makes a pretty big secret to hide. But I’ll understand if she decides she and the school can’t handle it.”

“I’m sorry, Abby. It’s a good idea, but it may not be easy to make happen.”

“I know. And as for this afternoon, it was kind of nice, working with Ellie without dragging any of that stuff in,” Abby said. “She’s pretty good at building things. She’s careful, and she thinks through what the steps are. I hope we can get the new old closet finished on Friday. We can paint the whole thing once we put in the shelves.”

“Oh, that reminds me—Jack and Bill called to say that they’ll be here on Friday,” Ned told her. “They’ve got all the appliances—all those holiday sales at the big box stores, right?—so they asked if they could go ahead with the installation. I told them that was fine. It is, isn’t it?”

“I think so. Ellie and I can keep working in the hall, so we won’t be tripping all over each other. And she can watch them, if they don’t mind, and ask plumbing questions.”

“Sounds like a fun day. Sorry I’ll miss it.”

“I guess I should go think about dinner. By the way, your pizza idea was brilliant. Ellie gets to learn how to cook some basic stuff and have fun doing it. That’s the way it should be, right?”

“Definitely.”