The Red Hunter(29)

nine


His references checked out . . . and then some.

“Oh, Josh,” effused Jennifer Warbler. “He’s not a handyman, he’s a magician. In fact, I should give you a bad reference because I don’t want to share him!”

In the background, Claudia could hear a baby cooing. Oh, that sound! Those little noises and babbles! The tired cry, the checking-out-my-voice yell, all the funny one-syllable stabs at language—Claudia had loved every minute of Raven’s babyhood. She’d never allowed the darkness to touch that; she fought it back with therapy and yoga and meditation. She’d worked so hard not to be like the women she read about who had a baby after rape. She’d read every horror story. The woman who saw her rapist’s face every time she looked at her son. The girl who couldn’t touch her daughter because she was so riven by trauma. More, worse. Claudia didn’t even like to think about some of the things she’d read, worried that those thoughts could wiggle into her, a virus, a contagion.

Raven was Ayers’s child, not his (she didn’t even like to think his name), and her child. Claudia did not look into her child’s face and see the face of her attacker. She had found joy, because she wouldn’t accept anything less for herself or her daughter. It was a jaw-clenched, white-knuckled kind of happiness, but it had worked well enough.

Jennifer Warbler’s baby cooed again loudly into the phone.

“Sorry. He can fix anything!” Jennifer went on. “I’m not kidding. My husband—such a good guy—totally useless when it comes to stuff like that. Can’t even hang a picture straight. I found this table? At a garage sale? It was a mess. But Josh made it amazing! You’re the one fixing up that old farmhouse, right?”

“Yes,” said Claudia. “That’s me.”

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” said Jennifer wistfully. “I have design fantasies. But, you know, with three kids, fantasies are about all I have time for!”

“I hear you,” said Claudia. “I only have one, and she keeps me running ragged. I can only imagine three.”

Mothers of multiple children needed a lot of commenting about how hard they worked, Claudia noticed. They wanted acknowledgment, especially from mothers of single children, of what a challenge it must be to juggle it all. Claudia never minded giving credit where it was due. Claudia would have had more children, always thought there was a big brood in her future; but it just didn’t happen. Life was such a twisting helix of choice and circumstance, especially hers; she found it didn’t make any sense to have regrets.

Ayers had wanted them to have another one. Not even a year after Raven was born, and when they were already pulling apart, they started talking about it. She got pregnant pretty quickly, but then she miscarried within a month. You’re under too much stress, Martha had said. You might be ready, but maybe your body isn’t Give it some time.

But there hadn’t been time. How much sadness could two people endure before it started to take them apart? She could always look at Raven with love and joy. But slowly it became harder to look at Ayers, his face a mirror of her own heart, trying so hard to soldier through it, wanting so badly to be okay again.

? ? ?

“JOSH IS INTO HIS WORK, you know?” Jennifer went on. “He likes helping and fixing things, and it shows. You can just tell, can’t you? When people are passionate about what they do. You’ll love him. Just make sure he still has time for me!”

Mr. Crawley, the second person on Josh’s list, had similar things to say. “He’s a good boy. A hard worker. He just brought back my vacuum cleaner, all fixed, didn’t even charge me. Said it didn’t take long enough to charge. Imagine that? There aren’t too many honest people around these days, but he’s one of them.”

She called another woman, Wanda Crabb, but the woman didn’t answer, so Claudia left a message. But she’d heard enough when the landline rang and it was Josh.

“Hey, Mrs. Bishop. It’s Josh. The handyman? I don’t want to be pushy, but I was just following up on my visit yesterday.”

It was good to want something bad enough to call and follow up, right? It meant that he was eager, that he needed the work.

“Your ears must be ringing,” she said. “Your clients have been singing your praises.”

There was a bit of a pause where she wondered if the call had failed.

“That’s nice to hear,” he said finally.

Claudia glanced at her cell phone, watching the little blue dot that represented Raven. She’d spent the afternoon tracking Raven, between bouts of trying to peel off the wallpaper in the kitchen. Her daughter had departed the train and was now wandering around Ayers’s neighborhood. Was Ayers with her? she wondered. Raven and Ayers had a good relationship, the kind Claudia had always wanted with her father. It was easy, loving, they liked the same things, could hang out. Claudia loved it, for both of them. They were kindred; more proof as Claudia saw it of their biological bond. And more reason not to care if there was one.

The wallpaper featured a hideous pattern of cornucopias, rows and rows of them, and it clung onto the wall as if someone had affixed it there with cement. She tried to imagine who might choose that kind of wallpaper. What about the beige background and shades of brown, orange, and gold appealed? She knew almost nothing about the last family to rent the house; it had sat empty for more than ten years. She kept meaning to look into it but just hadn’t gotten around to it.