Lost Innocents (2 page)

Doug did not give her time to think about it. He leaned over the seat and smiled his dimpled smile at their three-year-old daughter. “We’re here, Amy,” he said. “Time to get out of the car.

Amy, who was fair like her father, gave her dad a dazzling grin. “I’m bringing George,” she said, waving the stuffed monkey who was her constant companion.

As he leaned over the seat, Maddy studied her husband’s soft, sandy blond hair and gentle eyes and thought how handsome he looked in his tweedy sports jacket and tie. She had not been surprised to find that a student had a crush on her husband. A few years ago Maddy herself had fallen for him at first sight. But the way the student had described it—that Doug had blackmailed her, demanding sex for a good grade…Fortunately, by the time it got to the courtroom, Doug’s accuser twice failed to appear, and finally, when she did testify, Charles Henson’s skillful questioning revealed that she was telling three stories at once.

“Can’t you leave the monkey here?” Doug said with a frown.

Amy’s face crumpled. “I need George,” she pleaded.

“Oh, let her bring him,” said Maddy in a low voice. “They’re the ones who insisted we bring her. Little kids come with stuffed animals.”

“Okay, why not,” said Doug.

Maddy turned to her daughter. “You can bring George. It’s okay.”

Maddy and Doug got out of the car, and Doug opened the back door, reached in, and undid his daughter’s car seat restraints. Maddy smoothed down the knit dress she was wearing. She hadn’t known what to wear for this occasion. “Do I look all right?” she asked.

“You look great,” said Doug, holding Amy’s hand and coming around the car to where she waited.

“I still don’t really understand why they wanted us to come here,” Maddy whispered. “And to bring Amy.” They had invited Charles and his wife out to dinner to express their gratitude, but Charles Henson had made a counteroffer.

Doug shook his head. “I don’t know. He said his wife doesn’t like going out. I think she’s a little odd. Somebody told me that she had some kind of breakdown and spent a year in a mental hospital.”

“Really?” Maddy asked.

“I don’t know that for sure,” said Doug. “These days I’m a little leery of gossip. And of course it wasn’t the kind of thing I would ever have mentioned to Charles.”

“No, of course not,” Maddy said thoughtfully.

“Anyway, I’m sure the dinner will be fine. I think he said that they have a cook.”

“Don’t get me wrong. It’s all right with me,” said Maddy. “I’m happy to have dinner wherever he wants. He saved us from disaster.”

Doug smoothed down his hair. “Well, it wasn’t as if I’d actually done anything wrong,” he said.

“I know. I know,” Maddy said hurriedly. “I’m just saying that it could have turned out…Innocence doesn’t seem to be a guarantee of anything these days.”

“I’m underwhelmed by your support,” he said dryly.

Maddy took his arm, immediately feeling guilty. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean for it to sound that way. Of course I believe in you. It’s just that…I’m tired, too, honey. Tired out from…this whole experience.”

He nodded and patted her hand, which was tucked in his arm. Maddy did not look at him. It had been surprisingly easy to stand by him when Heather Cameron made her accusations and the school board suspended him. After the initial shock, she had immediately surged to his defense. They were embattled as a couple, as a family, and resistance had been the natural thing. Now that it was over, now that she had time to think, she was ashamed to admit that she found herself wondering.

Doug led the way across the driveway and started up the flagstone walk. The front door of the huge house opened. Charles Henson appeared in the doorway, dressed casually in a polo shirt and a cardigan. His thick, silvery hair was perfectly combed; even in sports clothes he exuded an air of formality. A fragile-looking woman peeped around from behind him. “Come in, come in,” Charles called as they walked up to the front door.

Doug extended his hand and the two men shook hands. Doug clasped Charles’s hand with both of his, and Maddy pressed her lips together as she watched them. Doug’s gratitude seemed slightly obsequious. Don’t be so critical, she chided herself. Of course he’s grateful.

“Thank you for—for inviting us,” Doug stammered.

“Welcome, Maddy. And Amy,” said Charles. He knew them all from the courtroom and from strategy sessions at their house. “I want you to meet my wife, Ellen.”

Maddy smiled warmly at the lovely, timid-looking woman behind him dressed in jeans and a chambray shirt. She was as slim as a girl, though Maddy judged her to be nearly fifty. She was still beautiful, with masses of gray, dusty-looking curls pinned up in a topknot. Ellen greeted Maddy, but her gaze was fixed on Amy. She crouched down and admired George, speaking gently to Amy. Maddy felt an immediate liking for anyone who paid such careful attention to a child.

“Come in and have a drink,” said Charles. “I don’t think Paulina has dinner ready quite yet.”

As if in answer to his remark, a round woman in an apron appeared in the hallway. “Half an hour to dinner,” she said in a middle European accent. “Does the child want a frankfurter and mashed potatoes?”

“Oh yes, that would be fine,” Maddy said gratefully. “She loves hot dogs.”

They followed Charles into the huge living room filled with expensive leather furniture, thick rugs, and ornately framed artwork. Maddy ‘s eyes were immediately drawn to the painting that hung over the fireplace mantel. It was a portrait in oils of a much younger Ellen with her arm protectively encircling a small boy of perhaps four or five. He must be grown by now, Maddy thought. They probably have grandchildren.

Charles poured flutes of champagne and handed them around. “Let’s drink to justice being done,” he said.

Doug stared into the tiny golden bubbles in his glass. “Charles, I don’t know how I can ever thank you. We had some bad moments in these last few months.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll feel less grateful when the bill arrives.”

Everyone laughed nervously.

Maddy sighed. “I’m just so relieved to have this nightmare behind us,” she said. “I mean, this girl made these accusations, and suddenly our whole world was in chaos.”

Charles Henson frowned and nodded. “It’s terrifying. And the fact that she is the daughter of the chief of police didn’t make matters any easier. It’s the new McCarthyism. That’s what I believe. Kids today have a frightening power. They’re sophisticated enough to know just what to say so that their accusations sound believable, but they’re young enough so that they have no concept of how their malicious whims can destroy a person’s life.”

“But Charles,” his wife interrupted gently, “you know there is a lot of ugliness in this world. Some of them are just innocent children….”

Ellen Henson’s words struck Maddy in the pit of her stomach. Does she think that Doug is guilty? Maddy wondered. Is that what she’s trying to say?

Charles was unfazed by his wife’s objection. “Darling,” he went on smoothly, “I am the first one to admit that a lot of children are victimized by adults, and we need to pay more attention to it, but it’s mushroomed out of control. It’s become a witch hunt.”

“Well, I think Heather Cameron is a very troubled young girl,” said Maddy. “But that’s not my husband’s fault.”

Charles tipped his champagne flute in her direction. ‘The way you supported your husband was admirable, and helped us immensely in court.”

Maddy blushed and looked uncomfortable. “I think it was obvious to the judge that Heather was lying,” she said.

Ellen set her crystal flute on a mahogany end table and spoke softly. “I have something I want to show Amy before dinner. Amy, do you want to come outside with me?”

Amy looked up eagerly, always ready for a new distraction. Ellen extended a hand to her. Maddy put her flute on the table. She found the transition a little abrupt, but she was glad to change the tone of the evening. “I’ll come along,” she said.

“Good. Mommy’s coming with us.” The two women and the child walked toward the door as Charles indicated a seat to Doug and he sank gratefully into it.

Once outside, Amy began to run, and the two women walked along behind her, their hands in their coat pockets, their shoes crunching on dry leaves.

They walked in awkward silence for a few minutes, and then Maddy said, “We really are very grateful to your husband.”

“Charles is very good at what he does,” Ellen said evenly.

Maddy nodded, but she had a distinct impression of disapproval from the older woman that made her feel uneasy. Maddy recognized, with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, that she was going to meet with lots more of this kind of reaction. This victory in court did not mean she could let down her guard. People loved to believe the worst…. Maddy cast about for something else to say. “This is a beautiful place you have here.”

“Isn’t it,” Ellen agreed. “This was my childhood home. I love it here. I do hate to see the winter coming. I’m a great gardener. It’s my passion.”

“I’ve got a purple thumb,” Maddy admitted.

“I hope you don’t mind dining at our home. I don’t enjoy going out in public much. I’m a hermit.”

“Oh, not at all. It was kind of you to have us,” said Maddy, but she could not help thinking of what Doug had said about the rumors of Ellen’s breakdown. She cast a sidelong glance at the woman’s seemingly untroubled countenance.

“Amy,” Ellen called out, “it’s back here, in the garage.”

Maddy wondered which garage she might be talking about. The house obviously dated back to the days of the horse and carriage. The walkways were lined with gas street lamps, which had illuminated as darkness fell. A series of connected outbuildings bordering the extension of the cobbled drive matched the main house in style. One of the doors was open and light spilled out from within. Ellen pointed in that direction. Amy saw where she was going and barreled toward the open door.

Maddy could hear Amy’s squeals of delight before she caught up with her. She came around the corner into the empty garage, and it took a moment to locate the source of Amy’s excitement. Inside the doorway, in one corner, was a large cardboard box lined with flannel. Inside the box was a mother cat and a bunch of kittens. They were not newborns, for they were actively exploring the straw-strewn floor of the garage, but they were small and fuzzy, and Amy was clapping her hands at the sight of them. She crouched down to try to pick up the nearest one.

“Don’t squeeze it, honey,” Maddy said with dismay. She grimaced, knowing it would be difficult to tear Amy away from these adorable creatures.

“Let her play with them,” said Ellen. “She won’t hurt them.” She led the way out of the garage as Maddy looked worriedly at her daughter.

“I guess it’s all right,” said Maddy. She followed Ellen up a gentle incline to a wrought-iron bench in a coppice of evergreens. They sat together on the bench. A gas lamp beside the bench threw a mantle of yellow light on their shoulders. The air was damp with the threat of rain. In the distance, surrounded by overgrown bushes, was a small, clapboard-sided house, which looked like a tiny one-room cottage with a carriage light on beside the front door. Despite the lantern’s glow, it was impossible to tell what color the building was painted.

“Isn’t that darling,” Maddy exclaimed. “What is it?”

“It was my son’s playhouse,” said Ellen. “It’s an actual historical building. I think it was once a tinsmith’s shop. We had it moved here and restored, years ago.”

“It’s just adorable. Wait till Amy sees it.”

“I don’t allow anyone to play in it,” Ellen said. Then she added apologetically, “I’m funny about it.”

As soon as she said it, Maddy looked closer and saw that the door was padlocked, the windows blocked with drawn curtains. Instantly she felt uneasy again, as if there were something ominous about the cheerful-looking little building. “Oh, it doesn’t matter,” Maddy said hurriedly, knowing immediately that she had made some sort of faux pas. “I doubt we’ll be able to tear her away from the kittens anyway.”

Ellen continued as if Maddy had not spoken. Her voice was a dull monotone. “My son’s name was Ken. He died when he was five years old. Meningitis. This is his birthday. He would have been twenty-one years old today.”

The tragic confidence struck Maddy like a blow. Somehow she felt as if she had known it, before the words were even out of Ellen’s mouth. She had sensed something terrible. She had not even wanted to ask about the boy. But still, it was the worst of all nightmares, and her heart ached for the frail woman seated beside her on the bench. “How awful,” she breathed.

“He came home from kindergarten complaining of a stiff neck. In three days he was dead.”

“Oh, I’m so very sorry. This must be a very hard day for you. We shouldn’t have come today.”

Ellen shook her head. “No harder than any other day,” she said.

“I can imagine,” Maddy said grimly, although she couldn’t. Not really. She looked back at the garage, where Amy’s blond head was visible.

Ellen nodded calmly, and they sat in silence, each one thinking of her own child.

Finally Ellen spoke. “So, life goes back to normal for you now.”

Maddy sighed, feeling the irony of her observation. “I hope so.”

“Charles tells me you’re an artist?”

“I do stained glass. I have a studio behind my house.”

“Really?” said Ellen.

“It started out as a hobby, but I got some orders, and I wasn’t really enjoying my job, so…”

“So you made it your profession.”

“Well, I put some of my work in a local craft shop. But it wasn’t a living. Then I got a commission to do a window at the new meditation chapel at the Catholic church. And that led to several others.”

Ellen squinted into the darkness, in the direction of the playhouse. “This is fortuitous that I’ve met you. I’ve been thinking I wanted to do something with the playhouse. Maybe you could help me.”

Maddy felt uncomfortably jolted by the return to the subject of the padlocked playhouse. She tried to keep her expression impassive.

“I was thinking about Peter Rabbit.”