“Who’s that?” Leo asked, glancing at the screen. “A reporter?”
“No, a carpenter, at the school.”
“What? What’s he want?”
“He said he’d do some asking around for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was at the school, and I was talking to him about what caused the fire and he said he’d do some looking around and get back to me if he found anything out.”
Leo frowned. “Why did you do that? And when?”
“It’s nothing, Leo. I had time to kill before I picked Melly up today, so I went over to the cafeteria.” Rose blinked. She was thinking about Thomas Pelal. “Look, it doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me. What’s going on? Can you fill me in on my own life, for just a sec?”
Rose set down the soggy napkin. “I didn’t even get to tell you about the meeting with Oliver and his partner. They told me that what actually caused the fire was going to be relevant to me, since they want us to sue the school.”
“So why are you poking around?”
“Because I want to know.”
Leo’s lips parted. “Oliver has a firm investigator.”
“I know, but I was curious.”
“Curious?” Leo opened his hands, his dark eyes flashing. “You shouldn’t do that, if you’re going to be the subject of a lawsuit, or if we are. You should stay as far away from the scene as you can, and you shouldn’t say anything to anybody about the fire or that day.”
“All I did was chat with him.”
“I know, but whatever you’ve been saying to this carpenter is discoverable. Admissible in court.” Leo got up, shaking his head. “Rose, you’re taking on everything, all on your own. You decide to go to that wake, no matter what I think. You chat up carpenters on your own. We’re supposed to be partners, you and me. You’re acting like a single mom, but you’re not, anymore.”
“No, I’m not,” Rose said, surprised.
“What else don’t I know? What else didn’t you tell me?” Leo started to pace, then stopped, hands on hips. “I have to hear from my secretary that my own wife has a mug shot? I have to hear from Melly that you’re going to the lake house? Now I learn that some carpenter is giving opinions on legal causation in a putative lawsuit against us? Great!”
“It’s not like that,” Rose said, but it wouldn’t help to get into it.
“Can’t you talk to me about what you’re doing? Can’t we make at least some of these decisions together? You’re not thinking as a family.”
“Yes, I am.”
“How?”
“Well, for example, going up to the lake house. I thought, with all this terrible stuff coming out, that it would be harder on everyone if we stuck around, especially Melly. You saw that bruise. She got into a fight at school, defending me.”
“Okay, that’s my point.”
“What is?” Rose thought the bruise would prove her point, not his.
“If she got into a fight, then we’ll deal with that. We have to. Like you said, we have to make a home here.” Leo gestured around the kitchen. “We moved here because you wanted to, and the bullying started all over again. We can’t just take off, or you can’t. Running away doesn’t fix anything.”
“Leo, you agreed to the move.” Rose raised her voice, then lowered it quickly, glancing at the stairwell. “And I’m not running away, I’m taking a break.”
“From me?”
“No, from everything here.”
“But I’m here.”
“No, you’re not. You’re on trial.”
“This again.” Leo raked a hand through his hair. “I wish you had told me, is all. I wish I’d known. I’m blindsided.” He stopped pacing, with a resigned sigh. “You know what, I take it back. Go to the lake house. Take a few days, take a week. The time apart will do us good.”
Rose didn’t understand what was happening. It was one thing to go, and another to be sent. The situation was getting away from her. “Leo, it’s not about you.”
“I know.” Leo leaned on the back of the chair and looked at her, dead even. “That’s what I’m saying. It’s about you and the kids. Your decisions, your reactions, your past, your guilt, and I’m on the perimeter. You cut me out, and it has nothing to do with my trial.”
“Yes, it does. Everything’s been happening so fast, I haven’t seen you to catch you up.”
“Babe, let me ask you this. If I had no trial, would you have asked me to go to the lake house? Did you even think of me?”
Rose hesitated. She didn’t know what to say.
“Be completely honest. Trust me enough to tell the truth, for once.”
Ouch. “That’s not fair,” Rose said, stung.
“Then tell me.” Leo folded his arms. “Yes or no?”
“No.”
“Thank you,” Leo said, with a snort. “Thank you, at least, for that.”
Chapter Forty-six
Rose stood in the backyard, letting the dog out before bed. It was dark, and the nighttime breeze felt cool, with a chilly hint of the autumn to come. The sky looked black and starless, but the lights from inside the house cast squares of brightness around the yard. Googie made a white spot near the back fence, her head down, her nose buried in the fallen leaves. Rose had gotten a return call from Oliver, and he’d said there was nothing they could’ve done to prevent the broadcast, anyway. He’d asked her again about the press release, but she still wanted to talk to Leo about it and told him so.
Rose felt raw and lost, after Leo had gone back to the city. She’d feared that his knowing about Thomas Pelal would end them, and she wondered if this was the beginning of the end. Leo had too good a heart to let Thomas Pelal be the reason for any split; he’d chalk it up later to her distrust, her childhood, their growing apart or whatever; but she wondered if this was the moment when his view of her changed, and years from now, whether she’d think back to tonight and say to herself, this was where our end began.
Rose sighed. The air carried the canned laughter of a sitcom from someone’s TV, the mechanical rumble of a garage door rolling down, and an SUV being chirped locked. A couple was arguing somewhere, their shouts echoing, and Princess Google raised her head, sniffing the air, the tips of her ears blown back. Rose’s phone started ringing in her pocket, and she pulled it out, hoping it was Leo. The glowing screen read Kurt Rehgard. She’d forgotten that he’d called earlier, after all that had happened. She pressed ANSWER. “Hello, Kurt?”
“Rosie, why didn’t you call me back?” Kurt slurred his words slightly. “I gave you good info.”
“Are you drunk, Kurt?” Rose asked, annoyed. Maybe she shouldn’t have given him her number.
“Nah, come on, tell Matlock you have to get away. You can meet my new buddies.”
“Sorry, I have to go.” Rose pressed END. The phone rang again almost as soon as she hung up, but she saw it was Kurt and let it go to voicemail. She was about to slip the phone back into her pocket when she remembered he’d said something about good info. She pressed VOICEMAIL for her messages, then listened:
“Rose, I got some inside info on the fire.” Kurt’s words sounded clear and distinct in the call, earlier. “This will come out, sooner or later, but a buddy of mine heard one of the fire marshals talking, and they think the fire started when the loose wire in the wall sparked with gas and fumes from some polyurethane cans, that some slob left in the teachers’ lounge, from shellacking the cabinets. So, if you ask me, it’s the GC’s fault, the general contractor, Campanile. They’re ultimately responsible for clean-up. Call me and I’ll explain. Take care.”
Rose pressed END, slipped the phone back into her pocket, and put the fire out of her mind. The rift with Leo and the news about Thomas Pelal had put everything in perspective. She had to take care of her family, keep praying for Amanda, and let the lawyers and their investigator take care of the litigation and criminal charges. She’d call Oliver in the morning, tell him what Kurt had said, and let it be
his problem. She’d use the time at the lake to get herself centered and wrestle with the question of what to tell Melly about Thomas Pelal.
“Googie, come!” Rose called, and the little spaniel looked up, her bugged-out eyes making blood-red spots in the dark. They’d be leaving first thing in the morning, and she wanted to straighten up the kitchen before she went to bed, so she went into bribe mode.
“Googie, treat!” she said, and the dog came trotting. Rose shooed her inside the kitchen and gave her a biscuit, then got to work, straightening the clutter of papers on the counter. She spent a half hour reading the unopened mail, taking the bills out and stacking them for payment, then setting aside the stack of school notices: a flyer for a Pumpkin Carving Contest, a permission slip that had to be returned for a field trip to go apple-picking, and a reminder about the school’s Halloween Parade. She flashed on Thomas Pelal in his ghost costume, then skimmed the notice:
Parents, Please remember not to park in the faculty lot the morning of the Halloween Parade! In case of emergency, we need that to keep those extras spaces open …
Rose thought of the fire, the ambulance, then Amanda. She gathered up the papers, stacked them, and at the bottom found the school newsletter for September, which they’d given out on opening day. She remembered that day, when Reesburgh Elementary was brand-new and she’d had such great hopes for moving here. She hadn’t known Leo felt differently. She looked at the flyer, with its proud banner headline REESBURGH READER. Under Meet the Office Staff, the front page showed Mr. Rodriguez, the guidance counselor, and the secretaries standing in front of the counter. She scanned the smiling faces, knowing she could never sue them, ever.
She turned the page, and a subhead read Meet the Teachers and Staff, with photos of the gym, music, and art teachers, then the head janitor and his staff, and the two cafeteria ladies, Serena and Ellen. Rose felt a pang, seeing their smiles. It was awful to think they’d been killed because somebody had been careless. She turned to the next page, to Meet the Library Staff, and a photo of the librarian and her aide, grinning in the neat stacks. Rose would never forget the kindness of the librarian who had helped her get Melly to the ambulance.
There were two photos under the headline, Meet the Special Services and Gifted Teachers. The one on the left showed three special services teachers, who helped kids with ADHD, ADD, and the like, and the photo on the right showed Kristen Canton, who looked pretty and carefree. Rose felt a nub of resentment that Kristen still hadn’t called Melly and made a mental note to try tomorrow. Then she looked at the photos again. Both showed the various teachers standing in the teachers’ lounge, in front of the counter. The room was small, and the pictures were taken from the door, showing the entire lounge. On the left was a galley kitchen, with a toaster, microwave, and coffeemaker, and next to that was an oven and a tall refrigerator. The room contained six round lunch tables, and there weren’t any cans of polyurethane around, or any construction debris. The lounge looked perfectly clean and ready for use, and the cabinets looked shellacked. She turned the newsletter over to double-check the date, and it was dated the first day of school. The picture had to have been taken before school opened, to make it into the newsletter.
Rose thought back to when she had visited the school, the night after the fire. Kurt had taken her around, and it felt like so long ago. She’d been thinking of Amanda then, especially when she’d found the charred videogame. But she’d seen the cafeteria, the kitchen, and clear through to the teachers’ lounge. The wall that had blown up had been between the kitchen and the teachers’ lounge. That was where the gas leak and faulty wiring must have been. She didn’t know what it meant, or if it meant anything, and anyway, it wasn’t her problem anymore. She added it to the list of things to tell Oliver, put the newsletter into the pile, and deemed the kitchen cleaned.
“Bedtime, Googie.” Rose shooed the dog to the stairwell, then checked the clock on the stove. 10:55, almost time for the eleven o’clock news. She was curious if they’d run the story about Thomas Pelal again, so she went into the family room, picked up the remote, and clicked on the TV, keeping the volume on mute. She didn’t need to hear her past played out again, or risk waking the kids up.
Commercials came on for Boniva and Chevy trucks, then the male news anchor popped onto the screen, with a banner behind him that read WAREHOUSE FIRE. If they were going to rerun the feature, it would probably be at the end of the half hour, so Rose sat down on the couch, and the dog jumped up beside her, nudging onto her lap. The next story was of a gas-station shooting, and then an old bridge collapsed outside of Camden; Rose knew because of the banner, and she considered watching the news with the sound off all the time, because none of the stories had any emotional impact. She petted the dog’s soft head, which felt like a baseball with fur.
The banner changed again, this time to BREAKING NEWS, and Rose felt impatient, since she had learned long ago that breaking news was neither breaking nor news. She watched as the screen went live to an aerial shot of a highway at night, with the shoulder surrounded by police cruisers, their red lights flashing. There must have been a traffic accident, and she thought instantly of Leo, driving back to the city. She reached for the remote and clicked the sound on.
The anchorman was saying, “… called to the scene of a fatal accident on Route 76, heading eastbound.”
Rose frowned. Route 76 was the expressway, back to Philly.
“The two passengers in the car were pronounced dead at the scene. They have been identified as Hank Powell, twenty-seven, and Kurt Rehgard, thirty-one, both of Phoenixville.”
What? Rose wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. It couldn’t be possible. It must have been a different Kurt Rehgard. Her Kurt Rehgard had just called her. She had just listened to his message. She hit PAUSE and ran the TV broadcast back until the highway shots reappeared on the screen, then hit PLAY.
“… identified as Hank Powell, twenty-seven, and Kurt Rehgard, thirty-one…”
Rose watched the rest of the report unfold, stunned. It had to be the same Kurt Rehgard. It was such an uncommon name, and he’d sounded a little buzzed. He’d been out partying with friends.
You can meet my new buddies.
She pulled out her phone, thumbed the rollerball until she got to the phone function, and checked the time of his call. 10:06 P.M. Then she checked the current time. 11:12 P.M. She realized what must have happened. Kurt had left the bar, buzzed, after he’d called her, and driven home with his friend. And now they were dead.
The news went on and on, then the commercials, but Rose didn’t hear or see anything on the screen. There had been too much death lately, too much destruction.
It was a long time before she felt strong enough to stand.
Chapter Forty-seven
It was a sunny morning, and Rose hit the BREW button on the Keurig, already on her second cup of coffee. She’d hardly slept last night, thinking of Kurt, Thomas Pelal, and Amanda. Leo hadn’t called, and she hadn’t called to tell him about Kurt’s death because she knew he was busy and it seemed random, after their fight. Melly was asleep upstairs, and John sat contentedly in his high chair, chasing dry Cheerios around his tray with wet fingers.
She went to her laptop and logged onto the newspaper, wondering when she’d gone from being a mom who had an interest in the news, to one who could follow her life in the headlines. She skimmed the home page and breathed a relieved sigh that there was no mention of Amanda, so the child must still be alive.
Thank you, God.
She glanced down the screen, found a link titled Alcohol a Factor in Expressway Collision, and clicked, scanning the five lines:
Two Phoenixville men, identified as Kurt Rehgard, 31, and Hank Powell, 27, both of Bethany Run Construction, were killed in a drunk-driving accident last night.…
She read the story but there was no further news, a photo of the men, or listing of survivors, which left her with the same empty feeling she’d had all night. She clicked to the Loca
l News page, where her own photo ran beside one of Thomas Pelal. The sight stunned her: the two of them, side-by-side, joined together forever, villain and victim, life and death, present and past, juxtaposed.
Mommy!
Rose sank into the chair and read the story, REVELATIONS AFTER REESBURGH FIRE. The article said she had “caused the death of a six-year-old boy, when she struck him with her car,” ending with a disclaimer that the charges had been withdrawn and she had been “convicted of no wrongdoing.” The last paragraph was a quote by Oliver, who had been interviewed on the phone last night:
“It must be noted that my client, Rose McKenna, was convicted of no wrongdoing in connection with the accident that killed Thomas Pelal. In addition, Ms. McKenna is a hero who was injured trying to save her daughter and three other children, including Amanda Gigot, from the school fire. Rose and her husband are currently contemplating litigation against the state, the school district, the school, and its contractors for negligent fire evacuation procedures and for faulty construction.”
What? Rose’s mouth dropped open. She’d told Oliver that she wanted to talk to Leo before she’d let him say that she was contemplating suing the school. She couldn’t imagine how hurt and betrayed Mr. Rodriguez, Mrs. Nuru, and the rest of the faculty would feel, when they heard. She reached for her phone, pressed in Oliver’s number, introduced herself, and asked for him.
The receptionist answered, “Oliver’s in court today, Ms. McKenna. Same trial as yesterday.”
“How about Tom?”
“Same thing, but they’ll both call in.”
“Please ask either one of them to call me on my cell as soon as possible.”
“Certainly.”
“Thanks,” Rose said, pressing END. She checked on John, who was gumming a Cheerio. She glanced at the clock; 8:10. Time to call the school and let them know Melly would be absent. Rose pressed in the office number, hoping they hadn’t read the papers yet.
“Office,” a woman answered, and Rose recognized her voice.
“Jill, how are you? It’s Rose McKenna, Melly Cadiz’s mother.”