“Bedtime,” Catherine said, stepping around Willard.
“But…” Again, all four chimed in.
“I know you haven’t had any time with Daddy, but he was late because of the rain. And there’s school tomorrow, so scoot, all of you.”
None of them scooted, precisely. But under Catherine’s and Willard’s watchful eyes, they meandered through their evening rituals, finally settling themselves in their beds. Suze turned her light out without being asked.
Willard reached around the door jamb to flick the switch in the boys’ room.
“No!” Sams was sitting bolt upright in his box bed. He had his blanket pressed so tightly against his cheek that his knuckles glowed white in the overhead glare. “No! Light!”
Willard glanced at Catherine. This was new. None of their children-Sams included-had ever indicated any untoward fear of the darkness. Even Sams had slept without a night light since he was two.
Catherine knelt by his side.
“Come on, Sams. You know everything is all right, even with the light out.”
“No!”
This time Catherine heard a touch of panic in his voice. She rubbed his back, trying to comfort him.
“Oh, let it be,” Willard said from the hallway. “Just for tonight.”
She shot him a sharp look. They had discussed this when Sams was first trying to sleep in a darkened room, and they had agreed that he was old enough. Anyway, his two brothers were in there with him, and he could crawl in with Burt if he woke in the middle of the night. And besides, they had a hard and fast rule-never disagree in front of the kids, especially when there was already a rule in place.
“Willard?” There was an unspoken question in the way she said his name.
He caught it.
“Just this once.”
“Just this once,” Sams piped in imitation. “Light?”
Catherine hesitated. To make an issue of it would probably reinforce whatever it was that was bothering Sams. But she didn’t want to give in completely.
“All right. We’ll leave the hall light on and the door open. That okay, Sams?”
He nodded, already relaxing under her touch.
She laid him back, tucked his covers around him-careful not to hide his blanket-and crossed to the door. Willard had already turned on the hall light. She snapped off the one in the boys’ room.
“Good night.”
“Night” came quietly from both bedrooms.
6
“What were you thinking in there?” Catherine was almost whispering, even though she and Willard were at the opposite end of the house from the boys.
Willard shrugged and sipped his coffee. “I didn’t think it really mattered that much. Just this once.”
Catherine shook her head. “But after they were punished for fighting over the game…”
“Punished?”
“Having to put it away like that. We’ve never done that before. We’ve always given them at least one more chance. Then knuckling under to Sams…”
“Knuckling under?”
Catherine started. She heard anger in Willard’s voice, not right at the surface yet, but there nonetheless.
She reached out and laid her hand on his.
“Willard, what’s wrong? This isn’t like…”
“Nothing,” he said curtly. Then he took a deep breath and sighed. “Nothing, really. I guess I was just tired. First that horrendous trip home-the freeway was like glass, the rain was so hard that the wipers could barely keep up, and red lights kept flashing right and left like crazy. There were so many cars jammed together that it seemed like there had to be a roadblock or an accident somewhere up ahead, but there never was, just car after car after car creeping along like slugs.
“Then the garage door not working when I got home, and me getting drenched like that. And then the cracks…”
“Sweetie, don’t…”
Willard’s hand slammed against the table top. “Dammit, don’t tell me to…”
Startled at the hurt expression in her eyes, he stopped, placed his hand over hers, and sighed.
“It’s like all of a sudden everything is going wrong. The kids arguing like that, us arguing, the rain…and this house, falling apart and we haven’t even been in it three months. And that creep Maxwell shrugging it off like it was nothing.
“We were cheated! And then he just blows us off like it was nothing. ‘The house isn’t going to fall in any time soon. Maybe in forty or fifty years, but not tomorrow.’
“Right. Only it isn’t his kids that have to live in it, his wife that… I feel like a total failure.”
“Willard.”
He looked at Catherine, suddenly realizing that he was holding his breath in…anger? No, fury. He had never felt this way in his life, so impotent, so helpless, so…so cheated! Screwed!
“It’s not worth it, honey. Not tonight. There’s nothing we can do right now. Tomorrow we’ll call the county inspector or something, get someone out here who can help us. It will all work out. You know it will.”
Willard took several deep breaths. “Okay. You’re right. Maybe tomorrow everything will look better. Maybe the rain will stop.”
7
But the rain didn’t stop.
If anything, it was pouring harder when Willard struggled awake at 5:00, showered and shaved, threw on his clothes, grabbed a left-over corn muffin from yesterday’s breakfast, and shuffled off to work.
It was pouring even harder than that-solid sheets of water that almost obscured the world outside and left eerie dark patterns on the windows-a few hours later when Catherine finally had all of the kids up and seated at the breakfast, putting the finishing touches on their school lunches.
“I don’t want peanut butter and jelly,” Burt muttered. “I always have peanut butter and jelly.”
“But that’s your favorite, isn’t it?” Catherine knew that he insisted on the same thing every day for his lunch, had insisted on it since his first day in kindergarten.
“No. I hate it.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but your lunch is already made and packed and you’ll just have to eat it.”
“No!”
Catherine turned to stare at him. Will, Jr., and Suze were staring at Burt as well. Sams ignored his bigger brother, intent on destroying his bowl of Sugar Crisps and drawing circles in spilled milk on the tray of his high chair.
“Burt!” Catherine’s voice was sharper than she intended. “It’s made and you’ll eat it.”
“But…”
“Don’t argue with me.” She glared at him, unsure herself why it was so important that she win this small tug-of-wills. Usually she wouldn’t have minded, just made him a tuna sandwich like she made for Will and Suze. And peanut and butter was his favorite. The whole family knew that. Burt would almost rather have that than a bowl of chocolate fudge ice cream, his second favorite thing. But today…
“Okay,” Burt muttered, lowering his gaze to his plate. He spooned fitfully at his own bowl of cereal, complete
