With the fire trucks came a police car. As the firemen rushed to unroll their hoses and hook them up to the hydrant across the street, Betty talked to the policemen. She came back to the car a minute later. The fire fighters were already directing steady blasts of water at the burning house.
"I told them about nobody answering when we called, and the bedroom being empty and the Mercedes gone, and the baby. They know me. They said since you were Tyler's caregiver they'd leave him with you for now, and we should take both children somewhere and get them warm and dry."
"Do you know where I can get some diapers?" Mariana asked. "He really needs a change. And something to wear-this overall is filthy, and he doesn't have his coat." She wondered how she was going to pay for anything. She had $4.37 in her purse.
"Everything's closed," Betty said. "But my daughter will have something you can use. Come home with me."
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They found Darlene shouting at her three noisy children as she tried to get their dinner on, while Dougie sprawled with a beer in front of the television, his ashtray overflowing onto what Mariana was sure was usually Betty's spotlessly clean coffee table. After the first hello Darlene ignored Mariana and Cat, but-when her mother had asked three times-said there were some diapers in the bedroom.
"I need pants for the baby, too," Betty reminded her.
"I can't spare anything else," Darlene insisted. "Tad needs everything he's got. He goes through his things so fast, I'm always running out."
"You wouldn't if you'd do the wash more often," Betty said.
"You only had two to take care of! You don't know what it's like, trying to look after three!"
Her tone was somewhere between a whine and a boast. Betty pursed her lips, but didn't pursue the point.
It was obvious to both Cat and Mariana that this was an argument the mother and daughter had had many times before, one that Betty knew she wasn't going to win. Darlene wore her sense of aggrievement like a hard-won ribbon from a sporting event. Mariana wondered how her friend had managed to end up with a daughter so completely unlike herself. She'd always thought it was a pity that Betty's oldest child lived in Bangor and didn't get back to Crabapple Cove to see her mother more often; now she couldn't help feeling that was probably a good thing.
"Turn that set down, Dougie," Sid said, walking into the house and stomping the snow off his boots. He'd been out shovelling the neighbors' drive. "I can hear it all the way over to Sandersons'." Dougie shot him a baleful look, but picked up the remote and turned the volume down a notch. Few people argued with Sid.
Then Sid saw Mariana and Cat, took the remote himself, and turned the television off.
"Hey," Doug protested feebly, but Sid quelled him with a look.
"We've got company," the old seaman pointed out. "Sit down, Mrs. Rivera." Mariana flushed at being so suddenly made the focus of attention; she wasn't used to being treated like a guest. But she obeyed, perching awkwardly on the edge of the nearest armchair.
"And you, Cathy." No one had told Sid Cat's real name. Cat found a chair and sat down, too. "Where's your grandmother, Darlene?"
"She went next door to the Hollands, to take them some Christmas cake."
"You put the coffee on then, and get our guests something to eat. I want to get the paths cleared again; it's coming down hard out there now."
"I've got my hands full with the kids," Darlene protested.
Sid's brows drew together in a frown that Cat was glad wasn't directed at her. "They don't look full of anything right now."
The three children had already seized their opportunity and scattered. Cat could hear video games starting up, probably on cell phones or Nintendos.
"We can't stay," Mariana said softly, although she was wondering where else they could possibly go. It was clear that Darlene and Dougie weren't going to make room for them there.
And to be fair, she could see there wasn't much room to be made. Sid and his wife must occupy one bedroom, Betty another, Betty's son Joe the third. Darlene, Dougie, and the three children were obviously squeezing in where they could: the living room-which she was sure Betty would normally keep as neat as the proverbial pin-was covered with clothes spilling out from half-empty plastic bags, pillows half-pushed-out from rumpled covers, and pilled and tattered blankets draped everywhere, indicating that several people were sleeping on the couch or the floor.
An artificial Christmas tree took up what was left of the space, its colored lights blinking cheerfully on and off.
Betty came back with a stack of paper diapers and some clothing in her hands.
"What's all that?" Darlene demanded.
"I had these wrapped up for Tad," Betty said, tartly. "This little boy needs them more."
"You're giving away Tad's Christmas presents?"
Mariana flushed with embarrassment. "No, no," she protested. "Don't do that. If you can just spare some diapers. . . ."
"Tad's getting plenty. Mariana, go to my room and change the boy. Darlene, try to think about somebody besides yourself and your own kids for a change. Cat, is that arm hurting you again?"
She'd noticed Cat shifting uncomfortably in her chair.
Cat nodded, miserably. She hated being the center of attention as much as her mother did.
"Let me see it," Betty said, hurrying over. But her father was there already, gently folding back the girl's sleeve.
"Oh, goodness," Betty said, when she saw the state of the bandages. "We've got to get you to the doctor again."
"He's at the lighthouse still," Sid said. "I'll drive."
Mariana emerged from the bedroom with a smiling Tyler, comfortably wrapped up now in a clean diaper, t-shirt, socks, overall and jacket, and happily clutching his blanket and elephant.
"Oh, Catalina," she cried, when she saw her daughter's bleeding arm. "What did you do?"
Sid was already out of the house and starting the truck. Mariana put Tyler in Tad's car seat, then squeezed in next to him with Cat on the other side.
"The President and Donna wanted you and Mary to come," Sid reminded Betty before he pulled out of the drive.
"I'll bring Mom," Betty promised.
"How come they never ask us?" Darlene whined from the front door, where she'd positioned herself so she wouldn't miss out on what was going on.
"They do," Betty snapped. "But it's nothing but their own good manners. If you'd start showing a few of those yourself and acting like the adult you're supposed to be, I might even tell them 'yes' for you sometime."
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Max took the roads at twice his usual rate over the speed limit. It was fortunate for both him and Sabrina that no moose or deer wandered out into their path: he was leaving himself no room whatever to control the car if anything unexpected happened. His lips moved continually as he muttered one word over and over under his breath: "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. . . ."
Sabrina never let out a sound. She sat rigidly beside him, her eyes wide and her face frozen. Her lips were slightly parted, as if she had started to say something just before she'd been turned to stone. Two words crashed over and over in her mind, like waves thrown against a rocky shore by a winter storm: "My baby. My baby. My baby. My baby. My baby . . ."
But when they slowed for the turn into Ocean Front Drive and she saw the flames shooting up and the trucks in the road, she flung the door open and threw herself out while the car was still moving.
"Sabrina!" Max yelled at her, slamming on the brakes. She didn't hear him. She'd staggered and fallen as she jumped from the car, but she was up again in a moment and running up the road, hobbling and slipping through the ice and snow with one shoe off and one on, never stopping until a burly fireman stepped in front of her and put out his arms to keep her back.
"My baby's in there!" she screamed at him. "My baby! My baby! My baby!" She started to beat against his chest with her fists, trying to push him out of her way. "Let me go! My baby's in there!"
"Calm down, ma'am," he said. "Your baby's okay."
She couldn't hear him. She just kept pounding on his chest and sobbing, "My baby! My baby! My baby!" over and over again.
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