Read Online Grime and Punishment by Jill Churchill - Free Book Online Page B

she simply wasn’t interested in what Jane was saying. Neither of them referred to the events of the day before, even though it was obvious Edith must have known what had befallen her substitute. Jane kept feeling she ought to say something sympathetic, but didn’t know what.
    The tour was mercifully interrupted by the phone. Jane left Edith to strip the beds and ran downstairs to answer it. It was Uncle Jim.
    “Honey, I just read the papers. That was right on your block, wasn’t it? Are you all right?“
    “You mean the murder? Yes, it was next door, at Shelley’s, but I’m fine. Just kinda shaky.“
    “You want me to come stay with you until this is sorted out? I don’t like to think about you and the kids there by yourselves.“
    “That’s nice of you to offer, but you’d have an hour and a half drive each way to work.”
    “I wouldn’t mind.“
    “Well, I would. No, I’m okay. Really. See you Sunday.”
    She had only a half hour before driving her blind kids, but she took the time for a quick shower and sprayed on a tiny, precious bit of the Giorgio perfume to which she’d treated herself for her birthday. These kids, having lost one sense, had developed the others to a high degree. It was a running joke with them to guess what sort of soap and shampoo she’d used, and they could often tell if she’d been to the store recently because of the scent of onions or cleaning materials or whatever she’d carted around in the station wagon.
    As she flew through the kitchen, she found Edith leaning on the counter, gazing out the window and languidly sipping at a cup of coffee. There was no sign of her having done any cleaning at all.

    Jane had a delightful morning with her kids. They identified the perfume right away, and knew about the cleaning materials. One of them also pointed out that there was a weak spot in the upholstery in the back seat, and the muffler didn’t sound at all good.
    The previous spring Jane had told the teacher that, come the new school year, she wanted to start learning how to help these kids in a more concrete way than simply acting as taxi driver. So, during class, she was blindfolded. “You can’t pretend you’re blind, Mrs. Jeffry,“ the teacher said. “You won’t be really motivated unless you experience not seeing.”
    Jane acquired a few bruises trying to get through a maze of chairs using a cane, and discovered she had insensitive, if not downright numb, fingertips when she was introduced to braille. Still, as she drove home, she felt she’d gained valuable insight into what these children faced.
    The experience gave her a lot to think about. Back in February, when Steve died, her great-aunt May had phoned to say, “My dear, I’m going to tell you the best advice I got when I was widowed and I want you to follow it. Do nothing for a year. Make no changes, no decisions that aren’t necessary. Too many new widows dash into things they shouldn’t before they’ve come to terms with their loss.”
    It was, she’d discovered, good advice, and she was glad she’d taken it, but now, little more than halfway through the first year, she was feeling impatient. She must do something. The children were growing up fast; in a few years they wouldn’t need her so much. But she would still have whole days to fill. She needed to start planning how she was going to fill them.
    It was probably too late now, but by the spring semester she was going to start some courses at the local junior college. She wanted to find out what else she might like and be good at besides mothering. Working with the blind children might be exactly that avenue.
    When she got home, the kitchen was actually clean. Not spotless, by any means, but better than when she left. She had come in very quietly, not exactly admitting to herself that she wanted to sneak up on Edith, but doing so just the same. Dorothy’s remarks about the cleaning lady just slouching around kept echoing in her mind. She wanted to know