Starter House(54)

Theo hummed. She poked a Vienna sausage into her mouth, keeping her hand pressed against her lips. She ate the whole can in two minutes and shrieked again. Lex gave her two Hydrox cookies and a sippy cup of formula, slightly diluted. She made a suspicious face but was too tired to fight. He couldn’t put her to bed like this, covered with yam. He carried her into the bathroom.

Lex had done everything for Theo since she was born. He had changed diapers, dressed her, fed her, played with her, and talked to her. Everything but the bath. That was one thing Jeanne always did. He couldn’t do it; many times he’d put Theo to bed grimy or sticky rather than wash her, but this was too much. Trying to remember how it was done, he ran the water, half an inch at the deep end, barely covering the tub at the shallow end. Was it too hot? It felt like room temperature. Maybe it was too cold.

His mother used to test the water with her elbow. Lex lowered his elbow into the tub, and the bottom was higher than he expected. He whacked his funny bone on the bottom of the tub, the strength went out of his arm, and he collapsed against the tub, the tub’s hard wall catching him under his armpit.

Theo screamed. She’d used the toilet seat to pull herself up, and then her fat little feet slid out, and she hit her chin on the toilet. Lex’s right arm was useless, throbbing and tingling with funny-bone pain. He gathered her in with his left arm—he was wearing his last clean white shirt, and now he was covered with yam, but that didn’t matter. “Baby, baby, baby,” he sang to her.

Bit by bit, his right hand came to life, and he undressed Theo and lifted her into the bath. Instantly, she screamed and beat the water with both hands. “No!” she yelled. “No, no!”

The water was too hot. Or too cold. Lex retreated to the bathroom door. He wanted to go back to the kitchen and stay there for a while, but he couldn’t leave Theo in the bath. Never, never, he said to himself.

Theo’s screams crumbled into sobs. He’d never heard her sound so unhappy. The water must be too cold, because if it was too hot, she’d be crying in pain. Lex knelt beside the tub and turned the water on again, tilting the knob slightly toward warm.

Theo fell backward. Her head hit the back of the tub, and the shrieks began again. That big square mouth, just like Jeanne’s. Lex pulled the towel off the rack, grabbed Theo, and ran from the house with her in his arms. He couldn’t do this on his own. He needed help. He had to get to the old man right away.





Chapter Twenty-four

SATURDAY WAS BRILLIANT AND CLEAR, a perfect day, and Lacey was stuck in bed. Yesterday, Dr. Vlk had given her permission to get up for a couple of hours and maybe walk around the backyard. “Nothing strenuous,” Dr. Vlk said. “Avoid stress,” which made Lacey laugh. Whenever she tried to sleep, she heard Greeley Honeywick: There hasn’t been a live baby born in that house since 1972. And remember Beth Craddock, whoever that was.

Google would tell her, in seconds. She’d rather talk to a real person, so she would know she wasn’t imagining the whole thing, so she could ask questions, find out what Google couldn’t know. What did it mean, and what could she do? There was no app for that. And every time she logged on, Drew was there, watching where she went.

Eric had grown up here in Greeneburg; he might know the name. Where was he on this gorgeous Saturday, when she had the doctor’s permission to go outside? Was he enjoying the day with her, mowing the lawn while she sat on the Adirondack lounge and pointed out the spots he missed? No, he was at the office, meeting some rich old people about writing their will, showing them how to leave all their money directly to their grandchildren, bypassing their wastrel children. She missed him and resented his freedom to go where he liked and work as hard as he needed, while she was trapped by her leaky, defective, inadequate womb.

Harry Rakoczy was mowing the Miszlaks’ yard. Lacey leaned against the cushions. Her bed stank like a swamp. She suspected that Bibbits had wet it. Even if he hadn’t soiled her bed on purpose, he was old and getting weaker. She’d seen him at his business. He dribbled down his leg sometimes, and other times his aim was off and he peed on his chest, and that oily brown smell had grown on him again.

“I want cookies,” Drew said. He was standing at the door, as if he had just entered the room, though the door hadn’t opened. “You haven’t made cookies for ages.”

Not again. Not now. Lacey shut her eyes and thought, Go away, don’t be here. Without opening her eyes, she said, “The doctor told me to stay in bed.”

“You got out of bed yesterday,” Drew said.

“That was to go see the doctor.”