Spare Change (Wyattsville #1)(57)

Clara grabbed hold of her arm, “Olivia! Have you gone stark raving mad?” she said, “Do you want someone from the Rules Committee to see you with the dog?”

“What does it matter now?” Olivia answered; then she stepped inside the elevator and pushed the button for the seventh floor.

“Don’t worry,” Clara said, doggedly following along, “I’m not gonna leave your side till we’ve got some word of him.”

Olivia shook her head, “I’d rather be alone.” She turned into her own apartment and closed the door behind her, leaving Clara in the hallway. Olivia may have thought she wanted to be alone, but once she was, the truth of the word settled heavily upon her. Alone was not at all the peace and quiet she envisioned it to be; it was a giant loneliness that draped itself across the ceiling and cascaded down the walls. Alone was cold and hungry and forgotten. Alone was so very…alone. She’d wanted the boy gone, so why was it she felt such a huge emptiness inside her heart? She tried to recall the reasons why she’d been opposed to his staying. She pictured muddy footprints running across the carpet, crusted bowls piled in the sink, dog hairs on the sofa; but those images faded as quickly as they came—replaced by blue eyes like Charlie’s and a grin that popped loose when he found a lost piece of puzzle. It was strange how such a troublesome boy could fill a place with his being.

“I’m letting my heart rule my head,” she sighed as she bent down to unleash the dog, “and, such a thing is foolish.” The words were heavy as bricks tumbling from her mouth. Olivia, suddenly found a need to remind herself of why she’d always avoided entangling relationships—there was always the demanding husband and hanging on children. She searched her memory for the snapshot of poor Francine Burnam, a woman with youngsters of every shape and size, a woman who couldn’t take a sideways step without a little one underfoot. It took several seconds, but she finally got hold of the image; which as it turned out, wasn’t at all the way she remembered it being. Olivia had seen Francine’s babies as cumbersome things, bananas hanging onto a stalk and weighing it down with their presence—but suddenly she could see they weren’t bananas after all; they were bright yellow sunflowers tilted toward the sun. Standing alongside them was Francine, an oak tree, straight and tall as anyone could ever hope to be.

“Good Lord,” Olivia sighed and dropped down onto the sofa. “How could I have made such a mistake? How could I not have seen…” She reached for the telephone and dialed the number for the Wyattsville Police Station.

“Sergeant Grubber,” a voice answered.

“I’d like to report—” the door clicked open and Olivia screamed, “Ethan Allen!”

“Excuse me?” Sergeant Grubber said.

“Never mind.” Olivia hung up the receiver, leaped across the room and grabbed hold of the boy. “Thank heavens you’re back—”

“I ain’t back,” he grumbled, “I just came to get Dog.”

“But…”

He removed the new harness and tossed it to the floor. “Where’s my rope?”

“But, Ethan, there’s no need—”

“Look, lady, you got your ways and I got mine!”

“Maybe so,” Olivia answered, knowing such a thing was indeed true, “but I’ll wager we could find us a way to work it out.”

“I ain’t telling you nothing.”

“I won’t ask anymore.”

“I’ll bet,” he said with a sneer. “Maybe not today, but—”

“I’ll never ask again. When you’re ready you’ll—”

“What if I ain’t never ready?”

“Then you’ll never tell me,” Olivia answered with what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Is this some kind of trick?”

“No trick,” Olivia crisscrossed her heart.

Ethan Allen cocked his mouth to one side in an expression of doubt. “I don’t know,” he said, “I still think I ought to be moving on.”

Olivia could see the determination in his eyes wavering. “To where?” she asked.

“I ain’t got a specific place in mind, but…”

“Then, how about staying here with me; at least until you make up your mind about where you might be going?”

“I can leave anytime I’m ready?”

Olivia nodded.

“And, I don’t have to answer no questions about what happened?”

She shook her head.

“Well…”

“I could sure use some help around here. I’ve been thinking of hiring a boy to help me with carrying up the groceries and other such chores.”

“You pay anything for doing that?”

Olivia nodded. “Twenty-five cents a week.”

“Hmm,” Ethan Allen twisted his face into an expression that could make a person believe he was giving the offer serious study. “Okay,” he finally said, “but if you start in with asking me more questions—”

“I won’t,” Olivia said, “rest assured, I won’t.”

“Dog stays too, right?”

“Right.” This, Olivia figured, was not the time to be worrying about the seven crotchety old farts who governed the Rules Committee. “Well,” she sighed, “now that that’s settled, how about some pancakes and sausage?”