Moonstone Page 7

  "Allie," I told his profile. I hated the way my voice sounded. Wimpy and weak. I cleared my throat. "Most people call me Allie.

  At my words, he flinched slightly then spoke to Kizzy. "Tell me what you have in mind and I'll have samples brought in.

  Maybe he thought if he didn't look at me, I didn't exist.

  Kizzy ignored him and lifted a quizzical brow in my direction. I knew she was thinking, This is your moment, Allie.

  I opened my mouth to speak. I thought of all the things I wanted to say. Like, didn't he ever wonder what I was like? Did he even know I was a girl? Did it bother him that Faye, who was just a kid herself, now had a kid to take care of? Was Faye just an unpleasant chapter in his life, one he wanted to forget? Obviously, the answers were no, no, no and yes.

  I felt anger rise up and warm my cheeks. People are easy to find. He could have found us if he wanted to. The answer was simple. He didn't want to. All the more reason I should speak up, demand help for Faye and me. But I just sat there, tongue-tied, while this stranger in his custom-made suit chatted up a customer who would make him even richer.

  Kizzy continued to stare at me. I responded with a tiny shake of my head. No matter how much outrage I was feeling, my mind was filled with the image of a little boy gazing up at his father with such love it stole my breath away.

  All at once, I felt an unbearable pressure on my chest. I couldn't breath. It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room and I'd suffocate if I didn't get out. Now.

  I bolted for the door. "I need to use the restroom.

  I flew out of the office. Behind me I heard Kizzy's murmur of concern followed by the deep rumble of Purdy's voice.

  Brenda, scowling into the phone, looked up at my approach and pointed toward the back of the showroom with a red lacquered fingernail. I trotted by the cluster of salesmen and sought out the only uncarpeted room in Magic Mike's Carpet Heaven, the bathroom. It was a dark, crummy little room, apparently not intended for customers. A giant case of toilet tissue from a big box store sat against one wall, a waste basket and toilet brush against another.

  I splashed cold water on my face and patted it dry with a scratchy paper towel, breathing deeply to slow my racing heart. The tiny mirror hanging over the sink reflected my wide staring eyes. My face looked greenish-yellow in the dim light. Swarthy people do not pale prettily. I'd just given my cheeks a vicious pinch when I heard someone tap on the door.

  "Allie? Everything okay? Mrs. Lovell wanted me to check on you.

  I opened the door to find Brenda hovering just outside, her forehead wrinkled in concern.

  I gave her a weak grin. "I'm fine. Just a little carpet overload.

  "No kidding. The smell gets to you, huh? I'm looking for another job. I want to have a kid someday. Gotta be screwing up my eggs, workin' here. A woman only has so many egg, ya know.

  We passed the leering salesmen. Brenda snickered and nudged me with an elbow. "Not that it wouldn't be a good thing if their little swimmers went belly up. Know what I mean?

  "Yeah, some people shouldn't have kids.

  "Right on, girlfriend!

  We exchanged high fives.

  "Tell Kizzy I'll wait for her outside.

  I headed out of carpet hell thinking about my flippant remark, the one about people not having kids. Did I really believe that? If Mike Purdy hadn't reproduced, there would be no Allie.

  I sat on a bench outside the store, my mind swirling in confusion. All my life, I'd waited for this moment. Father and daughter joyfully re-united. Faye and me in a cozy little apartment, funds provided by the guilt-ridden man who wanted to make up for his years of neglect. But it wasn't just about money. Maybe he'd even take me out for a hamburger and coke, get to know me better.

  What was I feeling? Angry? Scared? Disappointed? Bingo. But not in Mike Purdy. No, I was disappointed in myself. I'd been an idiot. The fairy tale ending I'd imagined had vanished, sucked up into the noxious fumes of Carpet Heaven.

  I stood and walked to the curb. Charlie jumped out and opened the door. Before I slid in, I turned for one last look at the man in the billboard. Magic Mike. Seated on a magic carpet? What was that about?

  I hurried back into the store almost colliding with Kizzy, who Purdy was escorting to the door. Kizzy had a big carpet book under each arm.

  "Mr. Purdy," I said. "That billboard outside? The one with the magic carpet? It's really cool. That's you, sitting on the carpet, right?

  Kizzy beamed like I was a gifted child.

  Purdy squirmed and gazed out the window. "It's just a sales gimmick. Everybody knows the magic carpet story. That's all.

  "But why do you call yourself 'Magic Mike?'" I persisted.

  He shot me an annoyed look. "Like I said. Just a gimmick. Nothing magic about me.

  I stuck out my hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Purdy.

  He looked surprised but instinctively reached out. I shook his hand vigorously and gave it a quarter turn counterclockwise before I let it go. Looking puzzled, he pulled it away but not before I got a gander at his palm. And, if I'm not mistaken, he took a look at mine.

  Oh yeah, he had the star.

  Maybe Mike Purdy had a few secrets of his own.

  Chapter Ten

  Charlie loaded us into the limo and we headed for the freeway. Kizzy looked at her carpet books and waited for me to talk.

  Finally I said, "Did you see it? At the base of his little finger.

  Kizzy slid the carpet books onto the floor and nodded. "It's called 'the Mercury mound.' Has to be the reason he calls his business 'Magic Mike's Carpet Heaven.'

  "But why would he call himself Magic Mike then get all weird when I asked him about it?

  Kizzy shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe he's not comfortable with his powers. Sort of like you.

  I winced. Yeah, it sounded exactly like me. Special powers are a double-edged sword. Part of me was proud and excited about doing things other people couldn't. But the other part screamed, "You're a freak!

  "Yeah, he's my dad alright." I sighed.

  Kizzy gave me a quizzical look. "What do you plan to do about it?

  I shook my head. "He's got a new family. I bet they don't know anything about Faye and me. I keep seeing that kid, the little boy who looks like me. He loves his dad. If I make a big stink his wife might leave and take the kids. They'd lose their dad like I did.

  My voice quavered and I gulped back tears.

  Kizzy took my hand and squeezed it. "That's very mature of you, Allie. Putting others' needs ahead of your own.

  A jet thundered overhead, startling us into silence. The body of the plane cast a huge shadow overhead, its dark presence moving across our path. In its wake came an explosion of color. Purple, bright pink and sunshine yellow. It swooped across the windshield then slithered around the side of the car. It paused for a moment and flapped like a bed sheet in the wind before peeling off and shooting skyward. I yelped and jumped about three inches off the seat.

  "What is it, Allie? What's wrong?" Kizzy said, her brows drawn together in concern.

  "That ... that thing. It flew across the windshield," I stammered.

  "You saw the shadow from the plane. That's all." She touched the back of her hand to my forehead.

  "No, it wasn't the shadow." I was desperate to make her understand. "It was right there." I pointed at the side window closest to me. "It looked like a purple, pink and yellow sheet flapping away and...

  "You don't have a fever," Kizzy said. "But maybe the chemicals...

  I leaned forward in the seat. "Charlie? You saw it, right?

  Charlie glanced back at me. "All I see is a bunch of friggin' traffic.

  I stared out the window. Was Kizzy right? Had sensory overload from Carpet Heaven made me hallucinate? It was then I noticed the green highway sign pointing the way to SeaTac. The Seattle-Tacoma airport. Trilby's hell on earth. Trilby with her purple, hot pink and yellow tie-dye dress.

  "How far is SeaTac?

  Kizzy blinke
d in surprise. "It's just a few miles down the freeway. Why?

  "Just wondering.

  I closed my eyes. Should I tell Kizzy about Trilby? At first, I'd believed Trilby was a dream. After the second time, I knew she was real, at least as real as a semi-ghost can be. But what would I say? Your mother's housekeeper's daughter is my spirit guide. She's a dope-smoking, aging hippy who hangs around SeaTac waiting to go to heaven. How could I tell that story without sounding totally nuts? Better to let Kizzy believe I was ditzy from carpet fumes.

  When the limo turned into Uncle Sid's driveway, it was jammed with cars.

  "Aunt Sandra's church ladies," I explained. "Every other Monday evening. They're probably peeking out the windows to see who's in the limo.

  Before I climbed out, I gave Kizzy a hug. "Thanks for everything. I'll never forget this day.

  I trudged down the driveway and, sure enough, I saw the curtains in the dining room window part and three faces peering out. I pointed back at the limo and mouthed the words, "Yeah, it was me in the limo. Cool, huh?

  The lights were on in the trailer. I knew Faye would be waiting for me. On the table, I'd see a paper plate with two Twinkies, each with a birthday candle. The message, "Happy Birthday, Allie," would be spelled out in chocolate chips on the table top. When I walked through the door, she'd light the candles. Our annual tradition.

  I grinned in anticipation. I looked forward to telling her about my day. I'd tell her about Mike Purdy, his new family and that she was right. We'd celebrate like we always did. Blow out the candles, eat our Twinkies and have a race to see who could scarf down the most chocolate chips.

  I reached for the door and stopped when I heard voices inside, the rise and fall of female voices, murmuring softly as if soothing a fussy child. Above the murmurs I heard Faye's voice, wild and shrill with panic. "No! You can't take her away from me!

  I charged through the door, my heart in my throat. Faye sat at the table, ashen-faced, a tattered University of Washington sweatshirt pulled over her pajamas. Her lower lip trembled and her eyes were wide with shock. The Twinkies had been pushed to one side, the chocolate chips scattered in a random pattern across the table.

  A tall, thin woman sat on my couch bed, a briefcase open by her side. She looked up when I entered and compressed her lips into a pale, narrow line. Her steel-gray hair was styled into rigid curls and stiff with hairspray. Across from her and perched on the edge of the swivel chair sat a plump, pleasant-faced woman clad in a tan pants suit. Her eyes twinkled and the corners of her mouth curled up in an inappropriate smile. "Oh, you must be Allie.

  She stood and extended her arms like she wanted to give me a hug. I ignored her. Good cop, bad cop, I thought.

  I plopped down next to Faye and grabbed her hand. "What's going on? Who are these people?

  Faye made a little sound like a cross between a hiccup and a sob. "CPS," she whispered.

  "What?" I screeched. "Child Protective Services? No way! Besides, they don't come calling this time of the night. Did they show you their identification?

  I was shaking with outrage and fear. An ugly suspicion began to form in the back of my mind as I remembered the faces in the window as I passed the big house.

  At my words, the two women dug out their identification. The place was so small I didn't have to get up to see that their State Of Washington ID's matched the names on their badges. Cynthia Badgley was the mean one. Pam Pettibone, our lady of the perpetual smiles, the other.

  "Why are you here?" I waited for the lies to begin. CPS operates on referrals. Somebody had turned Faye in. I was pretty sure I knew who it was.

  Pam regarded us with a concerned smile. Cynthia squared her shoulders and cleared her throat. "We've had a referral regarding your mother's parenting practices and feel her neglect may be putting you in harm's way.

  I jumped up. "I'm fine! My mother has fibromyalgia. Maybe you've never heard of it. It's a disease that makes you hurt all over. She can't work. I'm not neglected. Do I look neglected?

  The fear was gone. Now I was just plain mad and maybe a little crazy. Never did I think I'd be defending Faye's fake illness.

  Pam Pettibone fluttered her fat little fingers and clucked, "It's all right, Alfrieda When we have a referral, we have to check it out. Surely you understand. And, you look fine, dear. Just fine.

  Cynthia shot her a dirty look. I continued to glare down at the women. Pam was right. Thanks to Faye, I looked pretty darn good. She'd insisted I wear her good black slacks for my big day. They looked like crop pants because they hit me midcalf, but topped with her blue silk blouse, I looked hot. Well ... maybe not hot but definitely hotter than those two.

  "But ... but..." I sputtered. "Faye needs..." I clamped my mouth shut before I could utter the rest of the sentence. Faye needs me to take care of her. Even though it was true, why give them more ammunition?

  Cynthia, though, gave me a smug look. Maybe she could read minds. Maybe she had a moonstone like me. Too bad mine couldn't help me now.

  After a long silence, Pam said, "Ms. Emerson, we understand your father lives in Vista Valley.

  Faye jerked like she'd been poked with a sharp stick. "I haven't spoken to my father for..." She paused and glanced at me. "Fifteen years.

  "We talked to him about your, er, situation," Pam began. "He's willing to let you and Allie move in until you get on your feet.

  Faye lurched forward and clutched the tabletop with shaking hands, like she was trying to hold herself back. "You have no right to go behind my back!

  "Actually, we do," Cynthia said. Her pinched lips barely moved when she talked. "We make every effort to keep families together. From all accounts, your father is financially well-set, he has a large home and...

  "No!" Faye shouted. "I will not take my daughter into his home. Period.

  Pam cocked her head to one side and raised an eyebrow. "Are there issues we don't know about?

  She waited for an answer but Faye had shut down. I sighed. When Faye chose not to talk, she could hold out forever. If we wanted to get rid of these two before midnight, I had to do something. "Do you have Big Ed's card?

  Hope bloomed in her eyes. She hurried into the bedroom and I heard her rummaging through the papers stacked next to the bed. Pam, Cynthia and I waited in uneasy silence. The tension in the room hummed like the power poles next to Tom's Corner Market. I folded my arms across my chest and stared at Pam (the weakest link,) who squirmed in discomfort. Cynthia gazed around the trailer, a look of disapproval on her narrow features.

  Finally, I broke the silence. "Talk to Susan Wright, our caseworker. She knows all about us.

  Cynthia gave me a pitying look. "We have jurisdiction over all other agencies. Your mother doesn't work, drinks excessively and doesn't provide for you. That sounds like neglect to me.

  I opened my mouth to protest when Faye emerged holding Big Ed's business card. I handed it to Cynthia with a triumphant flourish. "You have anything else to say to us, tell it to Big Ed.

  Cynthia smirked and shook her head in mock distress. She peered around me and spoke to Faye. "Oh, yes, Ms. Emerson. I've heard you have a special working relationship with Mr. McDougall.

  The fury I felt burned through my veins like molten fire, and I wanted nothing more than to punch the smug look off her face. The need to inflict pain boiled up from deep down inside me, the same feeling I'd had when Cory Philpott dissed my mother and I smacked him. I heard a moan like an animal in pain. Had I made that sound? I saw Pam's stricken face floating before me while I fought for control.

  From my peripheral vision, I saw Faye sink back onto the dinette bench, two red spots burning in her cheeks. Be smart, Allie, I told myself. Use your head, not your fists.

  Breathing deeply, I sat down beside Faye, brushed aside some chocolate chips and folded my hands on the table top. I focused on Pam. "Do you go to Peacock Heights Church of the Good Shepherd?

  She gulped noisily. "Yes, why do you ask?

  I turned my gaze on Cynth
ia "What about you?

  She blinked three times in succession and avoided my eyes. "My religious affiliation has nothing to do with the subject at hand.

  I took that for a Yes. "I know Aunt Sandra wants us out of here. Must have been her who made the referral.

  Cynthia drew herself up and huffed, "That's privileged information.

  "No problem. I'll just walk over and ask her. Godly people never lie. Right?

  "Your lack of respect is just another symptom of poor parenting. Your attitude needs adjusting, Alfrieda," Cynthia said. She picked up her brief case and stood. "We'll take no action tonight but we will be making frequent drop-in visits. Let's go, Pamela.

  Pam who'd been staring at me, mouth agape and goggleeyed since I'd brought up the church issue, snapped her mouth shut and shot out of her chair.

  I followed them to the door. Suddenly my mind flashed on an item from Current Events class. "Nice to know Faye and I are top priority for CPS. Too bad about the little kid in foster care who got beaten to death because his caseworkers didn't check on him. Remember that one?

  Cynthia and Pam scurried away. I waited a few beats then, in spite of Faye's protests, stepped from the trailer and into the shadows. Cynthia's tall figure was easy to track in the dark. She was heading for the cluster of cars in the driveway. Pam trailed behind like one ship following another. The SS Cynthia, sleek and tall-masted, sailed straight ahead, making for home port while the SS Pam floundered and clunked along in her wake.

  They'd just reached the car when a dark figure slipped from the shadows. I was too far away to hear her words, but when she stepped into the circle of light illuminating the driveway, I could see it was Aunt Sandra. Big surprise. Though I wanted to charge up to her and scream out my anger at her lies and betrayal, I did nothing but watch helplessly as the three women, heads bent together in the dim light, discussed my future.

  Happy birthday, Allie. Not!