Protector - Laurel Dewey [173]
She looked across the living room to the old radio console. It was late enough, she told herself as she walked over and turned on the dial. Sure, it was a long shot but Jane spun the dial across the waves of static in search of Tony Mooney’s soothing voice.
“Welcome back . . .”
Jane couldn’t believe she found the show and pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming again. She twisted the knob to get the best possible reception. Even so, it was like listening to someone talk amidst a sand-storm.
“Hello again to all you denizens of the predawn madness,” Mooney said in his characteristic cadence, albeit buried beneath a blanket of poor reception. Jane settled down on the carpet and pressed her ear to the speaker. Mooney’s voice briefly broke through the incessant whirring and static. “In honor of the upcoming Independence Day celebration, we’re continuing our discussion tonight on that elusive thing we all crave . . . freedom. Ah, sweet freedom. What really is freedom? They write anthems to it in notes no one can sing. They tease us with the notion as religion, politics and society chain us to the status quo. So where does freedom really live, my friends? Does it lie outside ourselves or is it born from within?” Mooney’s voice faded into a cloud of dissonance, reemerging only briefly. “The reality, my friends, is that most do not taste freedom until the moment of death. But it is the fortunate who can savor the sweetness of true freedom while living.” His baritone voice gradually drowned in a wave of static, “Are you free? Or are you waiting for death to give you wings?”
Jane stared at the radio as her blood turned cold.
“Wake up!” Emily said excitedly, poking Jane in the chest.
Jane awakened with a sudden jerk. “What?”
“It’s Saturday!” Emily exclaimed, jumping up and down with glee.
Emily’s manic joy continued throughout the day as she counted down the hours until seven o’clock when Heather and her friends would arrive. She busied herself by cleaning her room several times, rearranging the living room to accommodate the girls’ sleeping bags and getting all the junk food ready for the group.
“Where are you gonna be tonight?” Emily asked Jane in an insistent tone.
“Oh, I thought I’d sit in the living room with all of you—my Glock in one hand and the remote control in the other,” Jane replied, dripping with sarcasm. Emily wasn’t quite sure what to make of her statement. “I’ll either be in the kitchen or my bedroom. And I promise I won’t listen to one word you say to each other.”
By the time seven o’ clock rolled around, Emily was about ready to collapse in anticipation of her guests’ arrival. She sat perched in the chair near the front living room window, watching the road for Kathy’s car. “They’re here!” Emily yelled, almost falling over as she leapt out of the chair.
Jane moved toward the front door. “For God’s sake, calm down! Listen to me,” Jane tried to corral her. “You’re really wired but you have to remember not to let anything slip out of your mouth by mistake.”
“Yeah, yeah! I know! I know! They’re getting out of the car!”
“Emily, did you hear what I said?”
“Yes!”
“Don’t let Heather talk you into doing anything you don’t want to do!”
“I won’t! Can I please open the door?” Jane stood back as Emily flung open the front door. “Hi!” she exclaimed, her enthusiasm pouring out onto the front porch.
Four girls filed into the living room, followed by Kathy and Heather.
“Hello, Patty, sweetheart!” Kathy said, softly touching Emily’s chin. Turning to Jane, Kathy’s voice took on a more distant tone. “Hello, Anne.”
“Hello, Kathy,” Jane replied with a sugary sweet flavor to her voice.
“Girls! Girls!” Kathy said. “Make sure you’ve got everything you need out of the car! Mary, do you have your eyeglasses?”
Mary, a freckled-faced, red-haired kid, turned to Kathy. “They’re in my bag.