Chapter 11
Alan felt strangled, impotent, frozen. "You can't do this," he finally said, walking closer to Rosa. "You have to let them go!"
She frowned, stepped out of his reach. "Let them go? To what? I've heard your stories, Alan, I know how you worry. You're afraid that Don will be injured in the line of duty, Charlie is too wrapped up in his mind to use common sense sometimes…why, if he hadn't tried to work a full day and help Don when he was sick already, he wouldn't even be here yet!" She glanced again at the monitors. "And you can see, you can look…", her frown deepened, she rubbed at her temple as if she had a headache. "It wasn't true what they said."
"Who? One of the boys said something to make you angry?"
"No! Alan, please, pay attention! I like Don and Charlie, I really do. And you and I should be together…but I knew you wouldn't leave them, and I knew it wasn't true what those other people said…back when…back when I lost David. I was not a bad mother. It was not my fault. I did nothing to endanger that baby, he was my life!" Her voice was rising, and she gestured frantically at the monitor. "I'm a good mother, ask your sons! I've taken care of them! I gave them whatever they asked for!"
"Rosa, please…" Alan held his hands up, so show that he was not going to try to touch her again. "I can see…" His voice broke, and it was difficult to continue. "I can see what a good mother you are." She smiled, and he followed his instincts. His instincts would take him to his sons. He swallowed. "Sweetheart…" Rosa's smile grew tender, and she didn't interrupt him. "I'm so grateful to you for taking care of them. You were right to show me what a good mother you…you will be, to my sons."
"To our sons," she breathed, taking another step back from him. Her hand stretched out behind her, because she needed to feel it. The cold steel was comforting to her.
Alan couldn't repeat it, so he just agreed. "Yes. But you must let me go to them, Rosa."
She began to shake her head, and he rushed on. "Please, you don't want me to worry. I need to see them…" He could tell this line of reasoning wasn't working, jumped at a sudden inspiration. "Rosa. Sweetheart," he said again. "Please let me tell them about us."
She leaned the rifle back against the wall, and interest piqued in her face. "Alan?"
"I'll tell them what a good mother you will be, how happy I am to have them safe, now."
"I'm already a good mother," she pouted.
"Of course, of course you are Rosa. I'm sorry, that's what I meant…"
She scowled, touched the smooth, precious steel again. "You're just making fun of me."
Alan looked at the monitors again. They both reflected the same view, but one was a close-up. He could tell that Charlie wasn't well, He could see how closely Don was sitting to his brother, how often he looked at him, how solicitous he was. Alan closed his eyes, whispered a prayer to his Margaret, opened them again to look directly at Rosa. "Darling." He took one step forward, grabbed her face with both hands, kissed her with an intensity that nearly dropped her to her knees. He drew back, caressing her cheek with one hand. "I wouldn't make fun of you. You know that. Please. Let's do this right, dearest. Let's tell the boys together." She didn't answer right away, so he gently pressed. "Where are they?"
She cleared her throat, hefted the rifle until it was between them. "You understand," she whispered, indicating it. "They don't know yet, so I've had to be careful."
He flinched. "But I'm here, now…"
"No," she interrupted, stepping around him, still holding the rifle. "I must still be careful." She paused at the doorway, remembering his kiss. She turned to him. "I'm taking the rifle, and you have to do what I say. It's for all of us." He looked at her hopefully, and felt the blood rush to his head when she turned away again, saying, "Follow me. They're this way."
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"Thirty-two," said Charlie. "I wish I had somewhere to keep score."
Don was exasperated. "The only reason you're making any points at all is because it's impossible to play Scrabble in your head. At least for normal people. And you can't even play it when the letters are right in front of you – maybe that hit on the head made you some kind of spelling savant."
"What? What are you…"
Suddenly, they heard the scraping again. Don's head whipped around to face the west wall. She was coming back? Why? He hadn't asked for anything, had he? He glanced at Charlie, saw him hiding a bottle of water under the pile of blankets. Was she coming to take things away, this time?
He looked back at the opening now created in the wall. He rose dreamily to his feet. He didn't remember opening his mouth, but his heard his own voice echoing in the nearly empty room. "Dad?"
Her hand was on Alan's back. "Not yet." She positioned herself with the rifle, again targeting Charlie on his mattress. "No one touches. No one moves."
Alan felt his heart breaking. To be so close…his arms actually hurt.
"Tell them," she said.
"I can't go in?" he begged, and she chambered a round in his ear. "This is Rosa," he said hurridly. "She's proven to me what a good mother she is, how she can keep you boys safe." His eyes drifted to Charlie, still sitting propped against the wall, eyes wide and uncomprehending. Then to Don, frozen only four feet away, eyes burning and angry. She elbowed Alan in the back. "We'll be a family, now," he choked. He tried to speak to Don with his eyes. "You'll see. Maybe…" he searched his head, heard the door start scraping closed. He continued to look at Don as long as he could. "We'll have David Granger perform the ceremony, all right?" The door snapped shut and he closed his eyes. Did she know that much about the people Don worked with?
"Thank you," she said gently. She knew he was upset, wanted to comfort him. She nudged him down the hallway with the beautiful rifle. "They'll be all right. I gave them a lot of water, today." They reached the kitchen again. "Please, Alan, sit down. You must be hungry." She carried the weapon with her as she walked over and turned on the stove. "I'll heat up some lasagna."