Eventide (Plainsong #2)(31)

AT EIGHT-THIRTY THE NURSE CAME IN TO ANNOUNCE THAT visiting hours were over. Guthrie and Maggie and the two boys told Raymond good night and went out. Victoria leaned over the bed, holding her thick black hair out of the way, and kissed Raymond on the cheek and gave him a hug, then he patted her hand and she carried the little girl out of the room.

DJ’s grandfather was awake now. You better go too, he said to the boy. You’ll do all right by yourself, won’t you?

Yes sir.

You can come back tomorrow after school.

The boy looked at him and nodded and went out. Victoria was waiting in the hall, with Katie asleep in her arms. Is somebody expecting you at home? she said.

No.

Aren’t you afraid to be by yourself?

No. I’m used to it.

Let me give you a ride anyhow. Will you do that?

I don’t want to take you out of your way.

It’ll only take five minutes. You don’t want to walk home in the dark.

I’ve done it before.

But you don’t want to do it tonight.

They went down the hall and out the front door onto the sidewalk. It was cold outside but there was no wind. The streetlights had come on and overhead the stars winked clean and hard. Victoria strapped the sleeping child into her car seat in the back and they drove off up Main Street. You’ll have to tell me where to go, she said.

It’s across the tracks. Then you turn left.

She looked across at him where he was sitting close to the door with his hand on the handle. I would’ve thought you knew the two Guthrie boys. They’re your age, aren’t they?

I know them a little. I know Bobby anyway. He’s in the same class with me. Fifth grade.

Aren’t you two friends? You didn’t say anything to each other.

I just know him from school.

He seems like a nice boy. Maybe you could get to be friends.

We might. I don’t know.

I hope so. You shouldn’t be alone too much. I know what that’s like, from when I was your age and later on in high school. This can be a hard place to be alone in. Well, I suppose any place is.

I guess, he said.

In the backseat Katie had begun to fuss, reaching her hands out, trying to touch her mother. Just a minute, sweetheart, Victoria said. She watched her daughter in the rearview mirror. It’ll just be a few minutes. The little girl drew her hands back and began to whimper.

The boy turned to look at her. Does she cry all the time?

No, she almost never cries. She’s not really crying now. She’s just tired. There’s nothing for her to do at the hospital. We’ve been there for three days.

Main Street was almost vacant as they drove along past the small individual houses and on north into the brief business district under the bright lights. Only two or three cars were out on the street. All the stores were closed and darkened for the night except the tavern. To the east when they crossed the railroad tracks the whitewashed concrete cylinders of the grain elevator rose up massively out of the ground, shadowy and silent. They drove on north.

Here, the boy said. This is where you turn.

They came into the quiet street and he pointed out the little house.

Is this where you live?

Yes, ma’am.

Really? I used to live near here. Before I had Katie. This was my old neighborhood. Do you like it here?

He looked at her. It’s just where I live, he said. He opened the car door and started to get out.

Just a minute, she said. I don’t know what you’d think of it, but maybe you could come out and stay with us tonight. So you wouldn’t have to be here alone.

Out with you?

Yes. Out in the country. You’d like it out there.

He shrugged. I don’t know.

All right, she said. She smiled at him. I’ll just wait until you’re inside and get the light on.

Thanks for the ride, he said.

He shut the car door and started up the narrow sidewalk. He looked very small and much alone, approaching the dark house with only the streetlamp shining from the corner illuminating the front of the house. He opened the door and went inside and then a light came on. She thought he would come to one of the windows and wave to her, but he didn’t.



AT THE HOSPITAL THE NURSE ON NIGHTSHIFT CAME INTO the room and Raymond was still awake. She was a good-looking woman in her late forties, with short brown hair and very blue eyes. She bent over the old man in the bed next to the door, who was asleep on his side and still breathing the oxygen through the prongs in his nose, his face red and damp. She checked the level of the fluid in the plastic bags hanging from the stand, then came over to Raymond’s bed and looked at him with his head raised up on the pillow, watching her. Can’t you sleep? she said.

No.

Is your leg hurting you?

Not now. I reckon it’ll start again directly.

How about your chest?

It’s all right. He looked up at her. What’s your name? he said. I thought I knew all these nurses in here by now.

I just came back on duty, she said. I’m Linda.

What’s your last name?

May.

Linda May.

That’s right. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. McPheron. Is there anything I can get for you right now?

I could take some of that water there.

Let me get you a fresh pitcher. This isn’t very cold. She left the room and came back with a pitcher filled with ice, and poured water in the glass and held it out to him. He drew on the straw and swallowed, then drew again and nodded and she set the glass on the bedside table.