Six Figures (Harvest Book) by Fred Leebron

Author:Fred Leebron [Leebron, Fred]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Six Figures
ISBN: 9781938103957
Publisher: Dzanc Books
Published: 2014-02-18T06:00:00+00:00

At three—she was still awake, lying there in the living-room bed, the phone at her ear—there was a light, cautious knocking at the town-house door. She climbed from the bed and pulled on her robe. Through the peephole she could barely recognize them, their faces engulfed in shadow. She unchained the door, her heart shrinking. She hadn’t expected this. She supposed she should have, but she hadn’t known. He hadn’t told her.

“Alan,” she said. “Ruth. Come on in.” She turned from them and reached for light switches along the hall and inside the kitchen, getting as many as she could. In the living room she couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by the bed.

Ruth came in quickly, shivering. She stared at the bed, looked away. Alan was still coming in, shutting the door.

“How’s Megan?” Ruth asked.

“Oh. Well. They don’t know. I think she’s going to be fine, but with head injuries they have to wait.” She was clutching her thin gold necklace as she talked, strange that she’d forgotten to take it off before bed.

“Warner’s at the hospital?”

Now Alan stood huffing beside Ruth, catching his breath as if they’d walked the last few miles.

“Well.” Nan felt for her necklace. “He’s…he’s answering some questions up at the police station.”

“Oh,” Ruth said.

“What?” Alan said.

Nan remembered he had trouble hearing. “The police are asking him some questions,” she said more clearly. He nodded.

Ruth stood there, looking about the living room.

“Well.” Nan gripped at her necklace. “You all are welcome to stay here. I wouldn’t mind getting back to the hospital. The kids are asleep. Finally. They are so cute. I think they’ve changed even since Christmas.” She awkwardly patted the bed. “This has fresh sheets. Warner did them before he left. And I haven’t really slept in them. You must be tired from your drive. You drove, right?”

Alan nodded. Ruth still stood there, her mouth hanging slightly open.

“I’ll just get ready, then.” She gathered her clothes and fled to the powder room, shut the door quickly behind her. It was very small, and she tripped over the step stool planted at the sink. She closed the toilet seat and set her clothes on it, wrestled out of her robe and nightgown. She tried not to hear whether they were talking. She didn’t want to hear them stop when she pushed her way out from the tiny bathroom. She didn’t want to make the situation any more uncomfortable than it already was. She ran the water in the sink. She struggled into her slacks and pullover, glanced at the big mirror, shut off the water, and opened the door. They were standing just as she had left them, looking mutely at each other, their coats still on.

“Okay,” she said gaily, as if calling to a waiting companion. “Okay.” She saw her keys and purse on the pass-through and snatched them up, reached into the hall closet and pulled out her overcoat and shouldered into it. Should she tell them she’d phone them or that she’d see them soon? They were looking at her.

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