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Eyes of Glass - Hearts of Stone

Chapter Seven

Wendy rose from her spot in front of the television on a cloudy Saturday morning and stood dancing at the front door in nervous agitation. The week had gone smoothly, although the dream of the glass eye had rendered a full night’s sleep a luxury of the past, and Lori sensed that the interlude of peace, like the calm before a storm, was at an end.

"Mom, there's somebody here!"

Lori unfolded her legs and tossed aside her romance novel. They collided with one another in the center of the room. "They went around back," Wendy said. "I didn't see who it was."

She ran to the back door and scanned the yard, but saw only Carol and Buddy Davis, the mechanic from the garage across the highway. They stood side by side alongside the old green Volkswagen parked by the shed with Carol draped half-naked on the man's shoulder and Bud's hand roaming the curve of an exposed hip. The two were otherwise animatedly engaged in conversation.

Carol looked around at the sound of the back screen door creaking open. She gave Bud a reassuring pat on the shoulder and trotted to the porch to deal with the intruders. "You two go away! I'm negotiating on getting us some transportation!"

Bud opened the rear hood and peered intently into the engine compartment.

"Carol, no!" Lori cried. "That's disgraceful!"

Carol put her hands on the swell of her hips. "What the hell. He's got a good Volkswagen engine just sitting around his garage doing nothing. Might as well be in our car, seeing as I don't think there's another Volkswagen left in the whole county. Is that a deal? Fifty-fifty? Your car and my engine?"

"Wendy," Lori said grimly. "Stick your fingers in your ears."

Wendy mocked exasperation with the two older women and went back inside the house.

Carol raised an impatient eyebrow. "Well?"

Lori felt emotionally drained. "What the hell, get a ninety day guarantee while you're at it."

Carol trotted back to attend her business transaction. Lori returned to the living room. She dropped onto the couch and picked up the book she had been reading.

Wendy sat at her side. "Carol's embarrassing, Mom."

Lori put an arm about the girl's shoulder. "It's a dog eat dog world for a woman in Carol's position. Don't be too hard on her."

"Nancy up the street prays to Jesus Christ to keep her car running."

Lori studied Wendy's pretty poker face and smiled. Neither she nor Dave had ever traced the origin of the brown eyes and the olive skin tone in the known branches of either family tree. Within another year or two, Wendy would be a foxy little gypsy with half the young men in Sorrel in tow. "Maybe if you let Nancy know what Carol's up to, she can get the bug running and save a soul with a single prayer."

Wendy sputtered laughter. "Yeah, sure, Mom."

But the bright moment faded too rapidly. Wendy pretended to watch television for a moment or two. "Dad's going to be mad," she said.

"The Volkswagen is in my name, darling daughter."

Wendy glanced up with fear in her eyes. "What if he doesn't come home again at all, not ever?"

"He hasn't left for good," Lori decided. "Not yet. He'll give us some forewarning first."

"Can't you stop fighting with him? You're always yelling at each other."

"It's what we do best together these days" Lori resisted the temptation to defend herself and sully Dave's image in the eyes of his children.

"What did we do wrong?"

"Are we going to take responsibility for your father's behavior? How noble of us."

"Then why does he act the way he does?"

Lori shrugged, reluctant to discuss a middle-aged man's interest in younger women. "He lost his job."

"Yeah, so he can go find another job."

"It's not that easy these days."

"But he wasn't coming home months ago!"

Lori decided to try a more direct approach. "It has mostly to do with the way your father and I feel about one another. We loved each other when we married, but people continue to grow in life, and sometimes they grow apart instead of together.”

"Yeah, well what about me and Leslie? He never used to be so mean."

"He's just feeling guilty, Princess. He loves you and Leslie very much. It's just that when things go wrong, people can get their feelings hurt easily, and a good offense is always the best defense. You're smart enough to understand how that works."

Wendy gave a reluctant nod. "I suppose."

"It'll work out for the best in the long run."

Wendy rose to her feet and started to leave the room. She looked back. "Yeah, but I still think he's an asshole. He's got you. He doesn't need to be screwing around with another woman."

Lori dropped her head back against the couch, resigned to the fact that her innocent daughter had finally become a woman worth treating as an equal.

She tried to return to her reading, but caught herself scanning pages without retaining memory of their content. The house was too quiet. Thunder rumbled from outside, and the day had darkened ominously. The forecast had promised more severe thunderstorms. Storms had passed to the south and to the north during the week. The weather channel's flashing red masses on the radar looked to be on a direct course this time around.

"Where's Leslie?" she called out.

Wendy shouted back from her room. "I don't know. With those Smith kids."

"Down by the railroad tracks?" The thought of children playing near the railroad tracks always managed to spark an adrenalin rush.

"Oh, Mom, he's okay!"

But she needed to work off nervous tension regardless. "Watch the house! I'll be right back!"

She went outside to survey boiling clouds coming in from the southwest, then started down the sidewalk toward Sorrel's small business district. She passed Amy's house halfway down the next block. The block beyond that was Main Street, a quarter mile of stores and offices, all of which were closed for the day.

Locomotives tore through town at sixty miles an hour on the tracks running between Main Street and the highway, their horns jarring nerves in the dead of night. Once or twice a year, they struck cars on railroad crossings somewhere within the county, shattering steel, glass, and human lives. They struck stray children and transients as well on occasion, leaving little more than bloody and unidentifiable fragments in their wake. Such an accident was one possible fate of Gloria Radcliff. Lori had warned Leslie about ever playing near the tracks. It was the one violation that warranted a hard smack to the rear, a march home, and hours spent jailed in his room.

She went down as far as the tracks and the abandoned cattle sale barn adjacent to the highway, a sprawling wooden structure with open sides scheduled for demolition. Dave would not have forced her to move to Sorrel had the barn been in use. She had heard horror stories of the noise, the odor, and the flies during the good old days of Sorrel's prosperity.

Reluctantly, she drew closer to the barn and peered into the gloom of countless stalls and isles. She saw and heard nothing of her son and his friends. Beyond the barn and across the highway loomed the quiet, open countryside. Leslie would never have ventured this far.

She started back home, but without serious concern for Leslie's whereabouts. The boy feared thunderstorms. The one bearing down upon them would drive him home soon enough.

Ralph McBride stepped out of his house on her way past the dilapidated, two-story house with its worn, imitation brick siding. Ralph was a short, gaunt man standing hardly taller than her own five feet, two inches. He wore baggy pants, suspenders, and a red-checkered flannel shirt both summer and winter. His disheveled head of hair stood comically on end, cut high along the back and bunched thickly about protruding ears.

"Hey, you! I want to talk with you, bitch!"

He expected her to flee in fear of his vulgar aggression. A year or two ago, she would have obliged him. A day or two ago, she would have merely ignored him. As irritated as she had become on this particular day, she turned to confront the killer clown. Her tone of voice sounded ominous even to her own ears. "What is it you think you want, Ralph McBride?"

He jabbed a finger at her. "I want you and that fat slob Radcliff and that skinny whore across the street to leave my wife and kids alone. There wasn't any call for getting me thrown in jail like that."

She smiled grimly. "What you want and what you get are two different things, Ralfie-boy. If you ever hit Amy again, that fat slob and that whore and I will rip your head off and shove it up your ass."

Ralph reeled back in surprise. To hide his confusion, needing a quiet moment to think it over, he settled for a manly snarl before turning away in mock disgust and storming back inside the house.

Lori continued on, smugly satisfied by her crude and sassy outburst. Ralph's sober ranting didn't warrant much concern. There would be plenty of future opportunities to fear his far more dangerous alcoholic alter-ego.

Leslie had returned home as anticipated. His bike lay discarded across the back porch steps. She rolled it halfway to the shelter of the shed before stopping dead in the middle of the yard.

Something was amiss in the darkening afternoon. The yard looked empty. When she pinpointed the problem, she laughed at her foolishness. Bud had visited with his tow truck during the past hour. The green Volkswagen was gone. Left in its place was a brown rectangle of bare earth surrounded by weeds where the mower had never quite reached.

She put the bike away and crossed the street to tap at Carol's front door. Carol greeted her with a call from the depths of the three room dwelling. Lori let herself in and cut through two cluttered rooms to the kitchen.

Carol stood alongside the wall-mounted phone with the receiver held to her ear. She held out a hand to keep uninvited conversation at bay. "This evening?" she said to the party on the other end of the line. "No way, Jose! I haven't got the wheels to be driving that far, I don't have the money, and I have to work in the morning."

She listened impatiently for another moment, then went livid with anger. "Ruben, if I'm the only person in the world you've got to run your errands, you'll rot in jail! I won't have a car to drive for another day or two! I don't care how much money you give me when it's all over! That won't screw bolts any faster than they're being screwed right now!"

Carol slammed the receiver in place. "Damn," she muttered. "I get burned up and I break my own phone."

"Trouble with Ruben?" Lori asked cautiously.

"Big drug bust, he says. He's in jail, but he says they don't have him for anything serious. I'm supposed to contact this lawyer in Chicago and deliver messages. In person. But it's going to be day after tomorrow before I can get away. He's a really sneaky guy, Lori. He's up to no good."

"I'm sorry I ruined your station wagon."

Carol leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. "You did me a favor. It would have dropped dead on me halfway to Chicago and left me stranded a whole lot further than Clayton." Carol glanced at her in sudden concern. "I never asked if I could use the Volkswagen when it's finished."

"That's what I came over about. I'm so used to seeing it just sitting out back like an old planter. It was there a few minutes ago, and now it's gone."

Carol threw her a guilty look. "Bud's hornier than one of those two-peckered owls I keep hearing about. He's been making googly eyes at me for as long as I can remember. He told me about the engine in his garage ages ago. He's the one who suggested I buy the bug from you and take the repairs out in trade. I never had reason to go for his nasty little scheme until now."

Lori had known about the engine as well. Dave had thought the price too high. She ventured a smile to allay Carol's concern. "I'll have to share, seeing as the engine belongs to you."

Carol gave a nod of appreciation and visibly relaxed.

"Amy's ever-loving is back home," Lori said, opting for a change of subject. "We're going to have trouble with him. If he lost his job, he's going to be doing a lot of drinking."

"I thought he was in jail."

Lori shrugged. "He got out."

"That man needs his butt kicked. I've half a mind to kick it myself, but I suppose we can leave it to Karen, if we want it done right."

Thunder rumbled outside. The darkness outside had intensified. "I've got to get home. Leslie's going to be quaking in his sneakers."

She fled back across the street, frightened by the sheer blackness of the approaching front. Leslie stood in the center of the living room, his suntan paled by fear. "Is it going to lightning, Mom?"

"Probably. Get your windows closed and locked."

She called Wendy from her room. The three of them sealed the house as best they could. Static rendered the television unwatchable. Lori ordered it shut off and brought out the kerosene lanterns in case they lost power. She switched on Wendy's radio and heard what she expected to hear, warnings of severe thunderstorms moving through the area and reports of isolated hail and funnel clouds.

"Where's Dad?" Leslie cried in alarm as the first white light flickered outside.

"Warm and dry and of no use to us," Lori assured him.

They huddled together on the couch, partially entertained by the violence beginning to rage and partially terrified by it. The temperature dropped abruptly. Day turned to night. Hailstones rattled briefly on the roof, and then the wind began to pick up.

"Wow," Leslie said. "Do you suppose we might have a tormado?"

"That's tornado, Tiger, not tormado. Let's hope not."

Wendy sauntered past, sneering at her brother's innocence. "Tormadoes and tormado juice."

"I said tornado! Naaaaa!"

A haunting wail echoed over the world outside. Lori hated the nightmarish town siren going off in the middle of the storms. More than once they had wound up in the cold and wet basement expecting the world to come crashing down about their heads.

The rain began. It pelted against the roof like the footsteps of small animals, and then roared against the north and west walls. Nothing could be seen at the windows but water cascading down the glass.

Leslie shot to his feet. "Mom, the kitchen's leaking again!"

He ran off to investigate. Lori knew what to expect. The stains in the ceiling would spread. More plaster would come loose near the basement entrance. The roof over the side entrance leaked the worst, often filling the basement with water.

Leaks soon appeared in a corner of the living room and in both Leslie's and Wendy's bedroom.  They scattered to put pans and buckets under the worst of them.

By eight in the evening, lightning had knocked out their power. A single kerosene lamp burned alongside the darkened portable television. Leaks had soaked the carpets.

The worst of the storm had passed by nine. Wendy retreated to her bedroom. Lori checked on her a half hour later and found the girl sleeping beneath an opened window, lulled by the whisper of the rain and distant, grumbling thunder.

Leslie had curled up on the couch in defense against the lightning and had fallen asleep as well. Lori carried him to his room.

The phone rang at ten. Lori was curled up on the couch and had only to reach for the extension on the end table.

"Is everything okay?" Dave asked.

Despite herself, she was glad to hear his voice. "Sure, fine."

"I guess we should talk."

"I don't have grocery money for next week. We could talk about that."

"You've got the check book. I put a hundred dollars in the credit union for you and the kids."

"That'll cover groceries for a week. What about bills?"

"The truck payment is automatically deducted..."

"To hell with your goddamn truck! I'm talking about the two month gas and light bill, the phone bill, and the final notice for the water bill!"

"Lori, damn it, I only meant that the credit union takes so much money up front."

She calmed herself. "Okay, but don't you dare run off and leave us stranded out here. I don't care about what happens to you and me, but if you abandon the children, I swear to God…"

"Don't threaten me, Lori."

"I wouldn't think of it, but I have a few promises to make."

"We'll work things out. I haven't abandoned you. I just… got caught."

"Yeah, that you did. Who is she?"

"She works in production scheduling in the main offices. I've known her for years."

"When did you start sleeping with her?"

"Lori, if we can't discuss this in a civilized manner..."

"Civilized as in marital fidelity?"

Dave was silent for a moment. "Lori..."

"Dave, I'm sorry. I'm really pissed at you. I'm so goddamn angry, I'm shaking. I'm sitting here in the dark. The power is out. The roof is leaking, and the rugs are wet. Everything's broken and you're telling me that we won't be able to survive out here because you've decided to trade me and the kids in on a red-head with a sports car."

"I had no intentions of leaving you."

"I know. You wanted to screw around on the side and come home to the cooking and the laundry. So the fuck what? Am I supposed to feel sorry for your ineptitude at adultery?"

"Lori, I'd wish you'd watch your language."

"Why? Is that another example of your dual standards you want to push off on me? I can't say fuck, but you can perform the act whenever you damned well please?"

"That kind of language doesn't sound right coming from a woman. You've been associating too much with that Fisher woman. And Radcliff."

"I don't want to hear it, Dave! Don't you dare start on that petty bullshit now!"

"Why not?" he cried. "Is it all my fault? Damn you, Lori, is it all my fault?"

She was shaking with rage.  "I'm supposed to have the answer to that? Have you ever told me that I was inadequate in some way? My hair's the wrong color maybe?"

She never got the explanation she needed so badly to hear. Lightning flashed. The brilliance sucked air from her lungs, light so vivid that it filled the room with radiance and left afterimages dancing in her field of vision. Thunder struck at the same instant and split the world asunder. The vibration quivered her insides like an earthquake.

The phone went dead. Leslie screamed from his room. Wendy came running through the dining room in bare feet. She tripped over a chair in the dark, tumbled to the floor, and cried out in pain.

Lori picked up the base of the phone and threw it and the receiver across the room with a shriek of unbearable anger and frustration.

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