Cries of the Children(9)

No matter, she had to do what was right.

She would call the police, no matter how difficult it was.

But she’d wait until morning to do it, because tonight she was too afraid.





6


AFTER HER ORDEAL the previous night, Rachel was relieved when Eric volunteered to drive the girls to their Saturday ballet class. The day had been rife with tension from the moment they woke up; Eric wanted to discuss what had happened, Rachel refused. Instead, she kept herself busy until it was time for Eric and their daughters to leave. She met them in the foyer downstairs, dressed in a multi-colored neon exercise outfit. Her softly waved brown hair was pulled up into a bun.

“I’m going to work out for an hour or two,” she said. “I need something to push this tension from my muscles.”

“Just be careful,” Eric said.

“Oh, Eric,” Rachel said, “I’ve been working out three times a week ever since you’ve known me.”

“Yes, but . . .”

Rachel glanced down at the girls, then gave her husband a warning look. He silenced himself, and after a quick good-bye they all parted company.

The Frelengs’ house was a large colonial, and a room in the back corner had been converted to a mini-gym. Rachel was an athletic woman, balancing the rather sedentary life of a musician with regular exercise. She headed now for their personal stairmaster. Within half an hour she was so deep in concentration that she did not hear Eric return. When he tapped her on the arm, she gasped in surprise.

“Sorry!” he called over the din of the machine’s levers and pulleys. “There’s someone here to see you.”

Rachel stopped pumping.

“It’s Nina Blair,” Eric said. “You know, the social worker who comes down to the high school on occasion?”

Rachel grabbed for a towel and wiped the sweat from the back of her neck.

“What does she want with me?” she asked.

“She said she wanted to discuss something with both of us,” Eric replied.

Nina was waiting on the black-and-floral chintz couch in the living room. She looked up at them with glassy brown eyes, a small-boned woman with lackluster hair. Rachel had often thought she’d be a perfect Agnes Gooch if the school’s Faculty Players ever put on a production of Mame.

“Hello, Mrs. Blair,” Rachel said. “What can I do for you?”

Nina stood up.

“Oh, Mrs. Freleng,” she said, “I’ve come to ask for a very, very big favor. If you say no, I’ll understand, but please listen to everything before you make a decision.”

“Sit down,” Eric said as he and Rachel took seats on the opposite couch.

“A few nights ago,” Nina said, “the police brought a black boy of about ten years old to the Children’s Shelter. He’d been wandering alone down 315 South. When I spoke to him for a while, I knew you would be the perfect family to take him in for a few days.”

Eric shook his head.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “Where is this child’s family? And why on earth would you pick us—out of all the people in Columbus—to take him in?”

“That’s the trouble,” Nina said. “We don’t know who his family is. The child is suffering from amnesia and remembers only a little of his past. But wait until you hear why I decided to take a chance that you might have room for him. Mr. Freleng, it would only be for a few days, and a sensitive, talented child like Steven shouldn’t be kept in an institution. This child is the most musically gifted boy I have ever heard in my life. I thought . . . I thought that perhaps, through Mrs. Freleng’s own musical talents, you could help him open up.”

Rachel was silent for a few moments. A strange sense of déjà vu washed over her, chilling her to the bone. She’d had this conversation before, but when? Consciously she was certain she’d never heard about a child named Steven. And yet . . .

“Where . . . where is the boy now?” she asked softly.

“Rachel . . .” Eric cautioned.

“He’s at the shelter,” Nina said. “You could pick him up this afternoon.”

Eric held up both hands. “Wait a minute! We haven’t agreed to this!”

“Oh, Eric,” Rachel said, “Mrs. Blair said it would only be for a few days. And we have so much room here.”

Nina turned to Eric, her eyes moist.

“I know how busy you must be with two little girls,” she said. “I’m asking an awful lot from you, but I’m sure you’ll be rewarded. Steven is a good boy, I can tell. He’ll be no trouble at all.”

“But what about . . . ?”

“Eric, please!”