The World of Pondside by Mary Helen Stefaniak

Author:Mary Helen Stefaniak
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing
Published: 2022-03-04T21:30:47+00:00

Kitty Landiss had expected Mary McIntyre to rise up in furious confusion and fly down the hallway after her daughters. Instead, Mary McIntyre remained sitting next to the bed with her chin on her chest and her bony arms limp over the arms of the chair, as if she had expended all of her resources on the beatific transformation of a few moments ago. Sitting there, she looked harmless, even helpless, but Kitty wasn’t fooled. She knew from experience that Mary McIntyre possessed a kind of life force fueled by fury that had no respect for fragile bones or aging organs but pursued its ends with implacable determination. Kitty had seen it in her on the day she’d arrived at Pondside in the transport van, strapped into a wheelchair that was chained to the floor, thrashing from side to side and roaring like a rogue elephant. Kitty had half expected the old woman to break an arm, if that’s what it took to escape. Then, too, there was the broken shower.

Even if Mary McIntyre was not going to rise up in fury, it seemed unwise to leave her alone here after her daughters had run off so abruptly. Kitty’s gaze traveled to the pull cord for the call light. She was reaching for it when Mary McIntyre lifted her head, slowly and with obvious effort. Kitty felt an absurd desire to hide—to duck into the closet or behind the door—any place that would keep that wounded and bewildered gaze from landing on her. The old woman’s eyebrows drew together, as if she were trying to focus on Kitty’s face, trying to place her. Kitty edged closer to the cord that hung between the bed and the chair. It was almost within her reach when Mary McIntyre’s hand shot out toward her. Her fingers closed around Kitty’s wrist.

“My poor baby,” she said.

“No!” Kitty said, “I’m not your—”

“Tell Molly I’m sorry,” Mary McIntyre pleaded. “I know it wasn’t her fault. Tell her I’m sorry.”

“I will,” Kitty promised, although she had already heard the distant buzz of the door alarm that probably meant one or both daughters had gone.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” Mary McIntyre said. There was not a trace of fear or confusion in her voice now, only sadness. “I know these things happen. We just have to accept them. It’s nobody’s fault.”

“I’ll go after her right now,” Kitty said.

Mary McIntyre’s fingers opened like a sprung lock, and Kitty snatched her arm away. As she backed toward the door she heard, or thought she heard, someone out in the hallway calling “Hey!” or maybe “Wait!” She poked her head out into the hallway, hoping that help had arrived, but there was no one in sight. Almost directly across the hall, Kitty could see a border of light flickering around the door to Duane Lotspeich’s room. He must be watching something lively on television. She looked down Hawkeye Lane—no sign of Mary McIntyre’s daughters. A voice was rising and falling emphatically

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