Cries of the Children(14)

“Shut up!” Royce screamed, pushing through the revolving gate and running upstairs.

The other gang members followed, and the subway platform was silent once more.

Lorraine fell to her knees and began to cry.

It’s over. You stopped them.

I don’t understand what I did.

You brought out his worst, deepest emotion—fear. He’s been humiliated. He’ll never bother you again.

Who are you, Marty? Where do you come from?

I can only tell you the name they gave me. Marty. The less you know, the safer you’ll be. When the time is right, when everything is ready, I’ll contact you. I have to go now. You stay with the old woman. She won’t harm you.

Don’t go away! Please, I’m so scared!

But her mind was a blank. As clearly as she had heard the boy speak, she now heard only silence. After a moment, though, she opened her eyes to the sound of moaning. Bettina was pulling herself to her feet, holding her head. Lorraine ran to help her.

“Are . . . are you okay, child?”

“Uh-huh,” Lorraine confirmed with a nod. “But you’re hurt!”

Bettina fished through the pockets of her coat until she found a handkerchief. She pressed it to her head.

“Bettina . . .”

Bettina turned to the child.

“Just a little blood,” she said. “I wasn’t really passed out, you know. It was a trick to make ‘em stop. I didn’t dare open my eyes. But what was that kid screaming about?”

Lorraine didn’t really know the answer to that, so she simply shook her head.

“I want to go home,” she said.

Bettina took her hand. At that moment a train rumbled into the station. Together they got on board.

Bettina did not even look at the transit cop who was riding in the car.





8


SAMANTHA’S HOUSE had been built a hundred years earlier by the owner of a mining company. It was situated on two and a half acres at the base of the Sangre de Cristo Range. Much of this was wooded, but a small yard had been cleared behind the house. Springtime brought lavender wisteria blooms, dripping over the surrounding split-rail fence, pink blossoms on a flowering Japanese cherry tree, and countless bright tulips and daffodils. This bright morning, the array of colors and scents seemed to give the yard the charming effect of a secret garden.

“Oh, it’s so pretty out here!” Julie cried as they walked toward the kennel. “So many beautiful flowers! Do you know the names?”

“Some of them,” Samantha said. “But not all. We could probably get a field guide, if you’d like.”

Julie nodded eagerly.

“It smells so good!”

Samantha breathed in deeply. The scented air was calming, and yet somehow the contrast between this natural beauty and the troubles she was having made her situation all the more difficult to handle.

She opened the kennel and let the dogs out for a run. Immediately they circled around Julie, licking her hands and wagging their tails. Julie picked up a stick and threw it. Sunday raced ahead of Lady, grabbed it, and brought it back. Lady, however, had started down a path that cut through the nearby trees.

“Where does that go?” Julie asked.

“That’s a surprise,” Samantha said, pushing her worries aside for the moment. “You follow it and see.”

The path was a narrow one, inlaid with odd-shaped pieces of bluestone. Lavender and white columbine grew up in the cracks, and tall yellow pines sheltered it from the sun. At its end, tucked into a clearing, was a tiny adobe-style house.

“Oh!”

“Isn’t it cute?” Samantha asked. “It’s the reason I fell in love with this property. I’m told the first owners built it for their children, a hundred years ago.”

Julie didn’t hear her. She had already run up to the Lilliputian dwelling and was through the wooden door before Samantha could catch up with her. There was one room inside, empty now except for a few forgotten flowerpots and a battered old trunk. The walls had been painted white, and several niches had been cut for shelves. Two small windows were situated to either side of the front door, and each remaining wall had one window. A loft had been molded into the back wall, and there was a fireplace in one corner, decorated with an Indian motif.

“We’ll clean it up for you,” Samantha said. “And we’ll get some furniture, and toys . . .”

Something in the sensible part of her brain told her to stop acting as if Julie was going to be here forever. But she pushed it aside, as she had tried to push away the idea of reporting Julie to the police.

“Well,” she said, “you have fun. There’s a trunk back there with some old dishes and things if you want to play pretend. I’ve got to catch up on some chores before I go back to work tomorrow.”