Island of Lost Girls - Jennifer McMahon [49]
And what were you doing at Laura Lees? he asked.
Just visiting, she said.
Right. Peter narrowed his eyes.
Anyway, Rhonda said, desperate to change the subject, what have you been up to? Are you working?
Ive been fixing up my moms place. Weve decided to put it on the market.
You are not!
Its not like Moms ever going to use it again. And Tock and I have our house. Seems a shame to have a perfectly good house just sitting vacant. Besides, the taxes are killing us, and we could use some cash. Rhonda nodded. Speaking of cash, have you done anything about a job yet?
God, you sound like my father! Rhonda moaned.
Maybe hes got a point, Peter said.
Yeah, I know. Hes right. Youre both right Rhonda trailed off. Peter, can I ask you something?
What?
Why did you decide to take the day off to go hiking? You know, the day Ernie was kidnapped?
Peter blew out an exasperated breath. I dont know, Ronnie. I guess I figured I needed some alone time. So I packed some trail mix, put on my hiking boots, and headed for Gunners Ridge. Whats the big deal?
Rhonda bit her lip. I thought you said you were at Sawyers Pond. When Tock and Suzy went to find you, your truck wasnt at the trailhead by Gunners Ridge.
What I meant was, Peter said, sounding more than a little flustered, I headed for Gunners Ridge, then decided at the last minute to do something different. Christ, cant a guy be spontaneous?
What, Rhonda wondered, would Peter say if she asked him about the missing keys she found in the cemetery? The keys were in the pocket of her jeans, and she stuck her hand in, stroked the rabbits foot as Peter lay sprawled out on her bed.Another day, she decided.
Peter laid his head back on the pillow, let out a little sigh. Then he frowned.
Whats this? Peter said, twisting, sliding his hand under the pillow. He withdrew a claw hammer with a worn wooden handle and nicked, black-painted head. Peter regarded it with the same look hed used for her drawing and Lizzys postcardssquinting, confused. He turned the hammer in his hand, as if it was an ob ject he was unfamiliar with. As if he were not a mechanic but a man from another galaxy.
Rhonda stepped back, alarmed at first. Then she remembered, and her face flushed. As she spoke, the story sounded made-up, even to her ears.
Oh, that! She gave a nervous little laugh, looked away. Uh, I had a bad dream last night after the submarine dream. The, um she flapped her hand at the hammer, made me feel safe. I guess it worked, just knowing it was there. I fell right back to sleep.
Peter turned the battered old hammer in his hands, felt its weight. He gave her a look she knew well. It was his worried look. Hispoor, pitiful Rhonda look. He stood up from the bed and walked out into the hallway, taking the hammer with him. She watched as he put it back where it belonged, in the kitchen drawer.
Want my advice? he called back to her as he came out of the kitchen and turned to leave. Stick to drawing fruit. Youll sleep better.
Rhonda stood in the doorway to the bedroom, watching the front door to her apartment close, listening to his footsteps on the stairs. She heard the motor of his truck turn over, the engine revving a little too hard and fast as he put it in gear, the tires squealing. Peter never had been good at good-byes.
She turned around and eyed the drawing above her bed from a distance, pitying the girls trapped in the submarine. She stared hard at the ghost faces swirling, dancing around the submarine. Andwas it her imagination?the largest face, the cruelest, the one that hovered, looming large over the submarine, staring in at the girls, giving them an evil, screaming wink, looked an awful lot like Peter.
JUNE 30, 1993
ISAVED MONEY ALLthrough high school for this car, Clem told her. They were side by side in Clems abandoned convertible beside the stage. The car had been turned into a pirate ship complete with a painted skull-and-crossbones flag that flapped from a pole lashed to the middle of the front