style="font-size:15px;"> “We’re on.”
Her phone was ringing again as she finished with Roxanne; it was Hank. She shook her head, smiled at the baby, and answered.
“I’m on my way, my love,” Hank said, trying to make his voice husky—deeply, manly rich. Vickie shook her head at the baby with exasperation. He loved it.
“Don’t be. I told you—I won’t let you in,” Vickie said. “Hank, this is serious for me. You need to be more serious. If you don’t hit a few books instead of beer bottles, not even your athletics will get you into college.”
“Hey, we’re only young once! I already have beer and a pizza. Come on, that’s a super-cool house. I’ll be there—”
“Come, and I’ll call the cops,” she threatened.
“Bitch!”
“I mean it, Hank.”
“Well, you know, we could be over.”
“We will be eventually. Maybe now is a good enough time.”
Vickie hung up, aggravated, and set her phone on the baby’s dresser.
They’d been through this before. He’d apologize tomorrow. He’d beg her to stay with him. But everything she had said was true.
“Maybe this is the right time to end it, huh, Noah?”
Noah laughed and clapped.
And then they both heard a thump. Noah’s eyes widened; Vickie jumped.
It had come from the attic—she was certain.
Now she did freeze. For a moment, she couldn’t even remember to shake it off quickly for the baby.
She waited. Nothing more.
Had a branch fallen on the house?
Or had Hank Fremont not taken her refusal seriously? Could he possibly be there already, up in the attic, or outside? Maybe, like in the movies, he’d actually called her from inside the house or right outside the house!
No, he’d been a jerk tonight, but usually he kind of listened to her. But he was a high school senior surrounded by a few guys who were taking a long time to reach anything that resembled maturity.
No. Hank would not be that big a jerk. But the house was closely surrounded by big trees.
“That’s it—a branch,” she managed to say at last, realizing that her hold on Noah was tight—and right when he looked at her, his little face puckered into what might have turned into a cry.
He smiled instead. “Bick-bick!” he said. It was his name for her. He was beginning to talk—sometimes his words made sense. He was good with mama, dada, bye-bye, and kit-kat. The Ballantines didn’t have pets, but Noah had a great stuffed kitten that sang songs and told nursery rhymes and he knew to ask for his kit-kat when he wanted the toy.
“Let’s go back downstairs,” she murmured. “Maybe we’ll look at your food packs and you can point at one and we’ll choose your late-night snack that way!”
Noah clapped his hands. He was, however, looking past Vickie—toward the door. There was something about the way that he was looking that caused her to spin around and stare.
But no one stood in the doorway.
“You know, Noah, Bick-bick is going to have to stop this. There are a lot of horror stories about babysitters. The phone rings, and there’s no one there. Just breathing, or something like that. We, however, have a great alarm on this house!”
Except the door had been ajar. Before the alarm had been set.
She was really doing it: scaring herself. If she went off the deep end, the Ballantines would never ask her back.
“Television! We will turn the television on. It will talk and be...well, it will be fine,” she said.
Once downstairs, she couldn’t find the remote control for the mammoth television screen that was just the right distance from the play area to make certain Noah wasn’t too close.
She looked all over the room—in Noah’s toy box, everywhere.
Shaking her head, she took the baby with her and headed for the kitchen.
The door remained locked. She couldn’t help but check.
The phone rang and she nearly jumped a mile high. It was the house phone.
This was it—where the babysitter answered the home phone and someone just breathed into her ear.
She let it ring. And ring.
She heard the message machine kick in out in the parlor. And then her mother’s voice.
“Victoria? Victoria, are you there, sweetheart?”
She picked the phone up. “Mom?”
“Yes, it’s your mom—remember me?” Her mother asked dryly.
Her muscles were so tense she had to pray the baby didn’t feel her fear.
She forced herself to breathe. “Mom, why didn’t you call my cell?”
“I did. You didn’t answer,” her mother said.
Vickie felt in her pockets. Nope, her phone wasn’t on her. Where the heck had she left it? Oh, yeah, she’d set it down upstairs after talking to Roxanne.
“Sorry. It’s here somewhere. Anyway, what’s up?”
“You were supposed to call and tell me that you got there okay.”
“Mom, I thought you were planning on calling me. Also, I graduate in June. And I’m going to college. You just won’t be able to check on me every minute.”
“I know, I know. But that’s June. I’ll get a grip by then. It’s just...well, when you go to the Ballantine house, I can’t help but think about their son...their older son.”
“Well, I’m here, I’m fine, baby is as well. I haven’t bounced him off the roof yet or anything.”
Her mother laughed softly. “You’re a great babysitter, Vickie. And dog-walker and student and daughter. You’ve worked very hard. You’re going to love going to NYU. Mrs. Ballantine will be almost as heartbroken as me when you head off.”
“Mom, I’ll be in New York. It’s only a four or five hour drive. Look, I promise I’ll bring home lots of laundry and come home for food and the whole bit, okay?”
Noah let out a squeal of delight. He was looking over Vickie’s shoulder again.
“I hear the little darling. Okay, sweetie. Go and take care of him!” her mother said.
“Love you, Mom.”
