Read Online Natural Order by Brian Francis - Free Book Online Page A

myself say. I think of the magazines pressed flat under my mattress. “When did this happen?”
    “A week or so ago. There’s no body, of course, which makes it harder. They say when a child dies before the parent, it’s the worst possible thing. Especially in those circumstances, if you catch my drift. Did you know him?”
    Charlie’s sledgehammer rises and falls. Rises and falls. “Yes,” I say.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
    “No, no. It’s all right. I didn’t—we weren’t—”
    A scream. “A bee stung me, Mommy! A bee!”
    I rush over to the sandbox. My son is wailing, tears running into his mouth, a finger pointing to his knee. Charlie calls over, asking what’s wrong.
    I can’t let Charlie know , I think, and then wonder, Why can’t he know about a bee?
    Charlie drops the sledgehammer and begins to hurry over, his face set with concern. I hold my hand up. “It’s fine. I’ve got him,” I say, but my voice cracks. “Nothing to worry about.”
    “Poor little guy,” I hear Mr. Sparrow say.
    I scoop my screaming son up and carry him into the house.
    The date squares turn out as perfectly as I’ll ever get them. I ask Charlie to taste one. He chews for a minute.
    “Not dry, are they?”
    “Why didn’t you make that carrot cake?”
    “Older women like date squares,” I say, annoyed. I remind him that John is in his room. “I won’t be long.”
    “Who died again?”
    I brush some crumbs from the tablecloth. “An old friend. Anne Pender’s son.”
    “What was his name?”
    I feel my face go warm. “Freddy.”
    He meets my eyes. There’s a playful look on his face. “And did you date this Freddy fellow?”
    “No. It wasn’t like that.” I can’t let him know anything about Freddy. I can’t let anyone know about Freddy.
    “You seem a little preoccupied.”
    “Someone I knew died, Charlie. What do you expect me to do? Tap dance down the street?”
    “Sorry, shouldn’t have said anything.”
    “It’s fine.”
    I should’ve just sent a card, I tell myself as I gather up my purse and the tin of squares. Or flowers. I’m not good with these face-to-face things.
    “Do you want me to go with you?” Charlie asks.
    “It’s fine,” I say. “You stay home with John.”
    “I can’t say I’m surprised,” Helen had said when I called her with the news. “Freddy wasn’t right.”
    “He was a nice person, Helen.”
    “He was troubled. Anyone could see that. I don’t know what you saw in him.”
    I turn down Mrs. Pender’s street. The elm trees lining the boulevard are in full leaf, branches reaching over the road. She could be away. Or she might not be open to receiving visitors. I should’ve called first. I pull over and step out of the car. Is she watching me from inside? I don’t know why I feel so afraid. She’s just been through a horrible tragedy. Still, the tin wobbles in my hand.
    The front walkway is cracked. Burgundy paint peels away from the eavestrough in curls. The second porch step feels soft under my shoe. I press the doorbell and hear the echo of the chime bouncing off the walls inside. There’s movement on the other side of the window and for a second, I imagine it’s Freddy.
    The door opens. A figure stands behind the screen.
    “Mrs. Pender?” My eyes try to adjust. “It’s me, Joyce Sparks. I don’t mean to disturb you. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through. I just thought—” I look down at the tin in my hands. The door opens with a metallic scream. Dark eyes, long nose, lips that would melt away if it weren’t for lipstick.
    “It’s you, Joyce Conrad.” She sounds bothered, as if I promised to come earlier.
    “I made these,” I say, holding out the tin. “Date squares.”
    “You didn’t have to.” She takes the tin from me. I wait for her to invite me inside. Somewhere, a wind chime tinkles on a nearby porch.
    “I just can’t believe it,” I say. “I can’t believe Freddy’s gone.” A lump catches