FIVE
And morning came, shrill birds balancing on telephone lines, the occasional slam of car doors. House doors. Children arguing across the street. Shawn lazily unburied his face and tried to make out the bleary red letters of his alarm clock.
No one was bustling about, telling him to get up, report here. Get in line. He supposed that it would be okay to just sleep all day. Or lie looking at the ceiling.
"Shawn"
Or not. Baldwin's voice was rough, unused. Shawn could imagine how many cups of scalding black liquid it took to calm the man down.
Though it usually produced the opposite effect on anybody else.
"Your toast is getting cold!"
"I'll be right down."
The returnee found his jeans, shaking ineffectually last night's wrinkles.
"Get down here!"
Shawn hopped on one foot, his left caught in the stiff fabric. He stumbled against the desk, a figurine toppling. Shawn righted the little gray zebra, remembering how he and his cousin would greedily hang around any tea drinkers when a new box of Lipton's was opened. He'd given his own prized buffalo to Danny, wondered if it was still around.
And went downstairs.
Uncle Tommy was "jamming" a third piece of toast. His perusal discovered how much younger Shawn looked than last night. Stray pieces of brown hair poked into the sky like antennae. The orange shirt was slightly rumpled, bare feet thrust out of pants that still pocketed a fistful of papers.
"Morning."
Shawn returned the salute with a glass of orange juice.
"Sleep well?"
Swallow. "Like a log."
"Nothing kept you up, then, huh?"
"Should it?" Reaching for toast.
Tom slapped another piece onto the plate. "Guess not." The kid was such a dang liar. Probably only honed his skills dealing with all the returnee's psychologists.
"Thanks for putting me up, Uncle Tommy. But you didn't have to do this."
"I figured you could use a hot, nourishing meal your first day back."
Shawn missed the sarcasm, neatly disposing of an entire slice of toast.
His uncle watched, remembering the times Kyle would eat a half loaf of bread and innocently ask for more.
"Is something wrong, Uncle Tommy?"
"No. No, I was just thinking." Clunk of the coffee mug. "I have to get going in a minute. Just hang around here today."
Shawn hid his disappointment. "Okay. Can I make some calls?"
"I'd prefer if you kept them between you and your friends."
"I just wanted to talk to Danny."
"It would be better if we held off on family conversations. Give people some time."
"Am I that different?"
Tom studied the serious face before him. Sighed. "No, Shawn. It isn't you."
"It's the whole mystery."
"Bluntly-yes. They're frightened of the unexplained. They don't like what they can't understand."
"So all of us-the 4400's-we just have to wait around for how long?"
"Lots of your returnees are already back with homes and families. Many of them aren't. The luck of the draw." Tom began gathering his gear.
"When will you be back?"
"Late. Don't wait supper, just order a pizza."
"Talk about what I missed." Shawn dusted the crumbs from his fingers.
"You going to be okay?"
"Ya. Sure. You know me, Uncle Tommy."
Yes, he knew the fake huge grin and who gives a darn attitude.
"I'll see you tonight."
"Hey. You still have cable?"
"As always."
Shawn seemed placated, digging through boxes of stale cereal in the cupboard. It hadn't gone fast enough, now that Tom was eating alone.
Two kinds in the same bowl. Cocoa crisps and fruit loops.
Speak of disgusting.
X
It wasn't until the afternoon had waned that Shawn picked up the receiver, studying it intently for a moment. The urge to hear Danny's voice was almost overwhelming. It would be the final piece of the puzzle that was eluding him.
Welcome home. Plain and simple. Danny was the one person that wouldn't, couldn't have strings attached. He was Shawn's little brother who looked up to him, idolizing every football throw, the eight second pop can record, the running and wrestling, everything that brothers do together. Everything Shawn did with his friends.
"Heck with you, Uncle Tommy."
There were new shows on TV. Things he'd never heard of. The commercials were better, though. He'd watched them all.
Tried the new Ben and Jerry's ice cream. Handled the phone, cool and heavy.
Dialed.
"Danny, hey, it's me. How are things over there?"
"Shawn? Is that you?"
"Ya, man. How are you doing? I can't wait to see you."
"I didn't think I'd ever hear your voice again!"
"Why not?"
"Well, Uncle Tommy believed-you know what he believed."
"Yes." Shawn rolled his eyes.
"I always thought you had to be dead," Danny continued. He was talking too fast, as if this momnet was going to slip away. Separate them.
"Dead?"
"That was the only reason you'd take off without telling me."
"Danny, I could have run." Shawn sensed the anger in his sibling's tone. "You can't blame anyone."
"Mom. Mom thought- she thought-" Danny broke off. "It doesn't matter now. But I always stuck up for you. I knew, even if somehow you had messed something up, you'd let me know you were okay."
Uncle Tommy's end was silent.
"I want to see you, Shawn."
"Danny, there's nothing I'd like better. But Uncle Tommy thinks I should stay with him for a while."
"It's not fair."
"I know."
"No you don't. You don't know him."
Shawn tensed. "Joe?"
Danny only nodded, but his brother sensed the assent.
"Has he ever done anything I should know about, Danny?"
"He-he's great, Shawn. Just like a real dad. And Colin-Colin's like my brother."
"What' so bad about that?" Forced lightness.
"You. Mom has written you out."
"Off."
"No. Out. Like she loves you too much to worry any more, so Colin's taking your place. There's no pictures of you, Shawn. She took them down two years ago."
"Danny, I'm sorry."
"It isn't your fault. But Joe thinks you'd mess her up if you came back."
Shawn jabbed at a beetle picking it's way through the dust on the book shelf.
"He's really protective," his brother offered, lamely.
"Danny, that's crap. He doesn't want his life messed up. I'd mean changes."
"Shawn."
"You were little, Danny. Like his own son. I'm not. It'd be different."
"I think you're wrong, Shawn. Maybe if you talked to him-"
"No." It came out harsher than he intended. "Don't tell anyone about this, okay?"
The phone went silent in his hand. He threw it after the beetle.
Why was he eternally messing things up.
He should have taken Uncle Tommy's advice.
X
Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. Shawn was on the living room couch, photo albums spread before him. It was almost like a window in time, a guide to all those years that he had missed. The returnee undraped himself from the furniture, stumbling over an album. He hoped it wasn't Aunt Linda, because she probably thought he'd treated her stuff like crap. Though there had been surprisingly little around he could recall as being solely hers.
The dead bolt slid, Shawn hastily running fingers though his unruly hair.
Light from the warm afternoon streamed in, haze lingering around cars scattered along the curb.
A well built man stood there, neat dark blue suit. Tie. A briefcase in one hand-paper bag in the other. Shawn had the first minute impression that this was a man who wasn't what he appeared to be.
"Are you looking for Tom Baldwin?"
"I was hoping to talk to you, actually."
"Okay." Shawn hooked an arm around the door, not allowing the man to step inside.
"You called my house, didn't you?"
"Your house?"
"Talked to my kid. Danny?"
"Your kid?" Shawn repeated, dumbly.
"You always repeat things like that? Guess whoever took you messed you up."
"Took-messed-"
Shawn's involuntary movement caught the visitor by surprise. He back stepped, obviously not relishing the idea of this 4400 getting within breathing distance.
"We figure this thing out, right now. You and me. Or I'm going to take it up with your uncle."
The younger man frowned. "You leave him out of this. Joe."
"I see you know my name. Maybe this will help-Danny is my adopted son. Susan is my wife. The Gifford Family. We're respected, content, perfectly normal neighbors. I own part of a law firm, pretty good business. This town trusted Gifford and Lashe for half a century. I don't need any 4400 phenomenon changing all that." He held out a hand, placating. "Now, before you start, listen to this. You want Danny to get beaten up at school?"
"He can take care of himself." Touch of pride.
"Your mom to drop out of those social meetings?" The man continued, doggedly."Maybe live in a house with "freak" painted all over the side? Happened all over town last night."
"She's stronger than that." Shawn almost smiled. "Mom doesn't take it from anyone."
"I don't give a dang if your mother can knit socks out of lint. She deserves a better life. She's going to have it, with me.That'snot with you. Some 4400-person."
Shawn's fingers slid off the door. "No. I don't care. It's my family. It's my family and my house and you're not going to throw me out because of some stupid kids on a Saturday night."
Joe stepped forward, his eyes hard as the sun baked asphalt. They weren't really any color, more or less, just a strange gray-brown.
Shawn wondered, in a small part of his brain, if this man was a prosecutor. He'd be dang good.
"Get your hands off me."
Belatedly realizing his shirt was twisted around the man's fist.
"I'm not always nice, Shawn."
"Don't worry,I wasn't under that impression."
He wasn't about to squirm. Shawn wanted nothing more right now than to level it right between those arrogant eyes. "How about you keep your hands to yourself." Tugging the tee shirt fabric into place.
"Mind your manners. Shawn."
"Some lawyer. You wear a suit and you go around threatening people andtearing their clothes." It was a petty insult, the kind that irritated a petty person. Shawn knew pretty much all there was to know about pushing people's buttons.
"Leave you mother and Danny alone. I'll get a court order if I have to. And, just between the two of us, incredibly easily."
The lowered voice, conspirators smile. The scent of that expensive cologne, all hit Shawn in the face. "You need to leave. Now."
"I can see you're a troublemaker. Not at all like Danny. Who do you take after? Not your father? You know, Shawn, the word around town is."
Whatever the word was, Shawn didn't care. Whether it had changed in the three years he'd been absent or stayed the same.
"Get off this property or I'm calling the police."
"Freak, don't try to play my game."
Freak.
Shawn froze. He'd always looked after his mother growing up, after Danny. There was no one else, so he naturally fell into the mold of protector. He'd been abducted. Poked and examined, herded, numbered, ignored, blamed, and now insulted. "Leave."
Joe didn't really want to touch the 4400. But it was easy to make out the will, the desire to smack Shawn across the face. And Shawn knew it.
"Go on. Scat." The man wasn't worth Shawn's time. And he let Gifford know it.
By now, people would be peeking though the curtains. Wondering. And what did Shawn care? He was already labeled. It was Joe that looked about, trying to stay out of the public eye.
Maybe because he was associating with one of them. The freaks.
"You're full of words. But you don't have the guts to back them up." Closer.
Every step Shawn took, the lawyer backed up a pace. Smoothly, trying to cover his retreat.
"Next time you want to see me, I'll be here." Shawn folded his arms across his chest. Breathing heavily. Wanting so bad to take a shot at that perfectly trimmed head.
"I'll deal with you, and just where I want you. Through the law."
Shawn was too upset to retort. Let the man have his little victory, scrambling into his sports car.
There were people staring when he turned about.
Let them have that, too.
X
Tom slammed the front door, tossing his mail onto the table. He unbuttoned his cuffs, pulling the jacket off with an irritated tug. Where was Shawn?
Not in the kitchen. It was straightened, this morning's dishes already dried. He strode down the hall, listening for sounds. Television, radio. Anything. But it was silent, save a vacuum whining next door.
The long form of his nephew was upstairs, draped across Kyle's bed. He was sound asleep, shoes staggered across the doorway. Tom caught himself, cussing under his breath. Time to have words with Susan's kid.
"Wake up." Rough shake.
Shawn murmured, rolling over. "Uncle Tommy." Blinking into the sudden lamp light.
"Get out of bed!"
"Okay."
"Downstairs. We have to talk." Shawn padded toward the first floor in his bare feet, unusually silent. No protests.
"What were you thinking?" Baldwin rounded on him with an intensity that shocked his nephew into full wakefulness. "Or, more accurately, not thinking?"
This was the tiny space where Shawn could make an excuse. Try to explain his actions, truthfully or not. Instead, he sank onto a chair and glanced downward. There was a tiny stain on the carpet that resembled a map of china.
"Stand up when I'm talking. And look at me."
Shawn complied.
"Joe called me. At work. So you had a nice chat with him."
"I guess you could say that."
"Sometimes, Shawn, I forget that you're my nephew. Why are you always the one causing trouble? And here you are, the first day back. Danny's upset, Gifford is definitely never going to accept you, and Susan is blaming me."
The nephew studied his fingers. "I know." Quietly.
"I don't know what to do, I don't know how to deal with you. This isn't working out. I can't trust you. I thought it was-" Tom threw his hand up, familiar gesture against his forehead. "Why? Why Kyle"
Shawn met the angry gaze. "I don't know. I don't know, Uncle Tommy. Maybe you should ask yourself why you brought me here at all. If you're looking for Kyle-" he gestured toward the stairs-"I can't help you. I don't know how to be like him. I can't be him, Uncle Tommy. I'm sorry. I know you're upset that I'm here and Kyle's in a coma. I get it. Just stop trying to pretend like you're okay with me."
Tom sucked in a breath, cooling off. Trying.
"Shawn-" reaching out, but ignored.
"I get it, Uncle Tommy."