“I’m an old fool,” Ruth said. “Yes, David asked me. But I was supposed to be discreet about it.”
“It’s not a problem, Ruth. Truth is, after what happened, I don’t mind knowing there’s a good neighbor living next door.”
“Would it hurt to talk about it?”
“Oh, I don’t mind.” Nancy told Ruth about the attack. “The police said he must have used a tire iron. I threw my arms up to protect my head. Otherwise, I’d have been dead.” She held out her arms, showing the scars. “As it was, he broke both wrists.”
Ruth shuddered. “No wonder you wanted to get out of the city,” she said.
“David’s idea, really. I’m a city girl, born and bred. But I’m beginning to think he was right. I love the quiet, and I do feel safe.”
They sat quietly for a moment, then Ruth got up to clear the table. Nancy helped her, and while they were both in the kitchen, Ruth asked whether they had caught the man.
“No,” said Nancy. “I never saw his face. All I could give the police was a description of his clothes.” She shuddered. “He wore a cape and a wide-brimmed hat.”
Three nights later Ruth sat in her kitchen trying to catch her breath. She’d almost been caught! She shivered with fear and excitement. The rain pounded on the roof. Drops splashed from her poncho onto the floor.
She didn’t know what had waked her. The rain, perhaps. A single light was on next door. She checked the time: three in the morning. Maybe that was the source of her disquiet. David gone. Some noise from next door. Nancy in trouble perhaps.
She had pulled on her poncho and rain hat and squelched across to the sliding glass door in the back of the Lowell house. She could see Nancy sitting in the kitchen, reading.
Relieved that nothing was wrong, Ruth had tapped on the glass. Nancy, startled, looked up and screamed.
Her breathing now returned to normal, Ruth got up and looked at herself in the mirror.
I should go right back and explain, she thought, removing her wide-brimmed hat. I shouldn’t have run. Why didn’t I just stand there until Nancy could recognize me? She pulled the poncho off and shook her head: best to let it go for now. She’d have them to dinner and figure some way to explain.
Nancy’s voice shook. “It was probably nothing, but it did look similar.”
Ruth passed her the salad. “You should have called me.” With an apologetic look at David she went on. “After all, I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you.”
“Oh, Ruth, it’s not your fault.”
“Well,” said David, “I don’t think it could possibly be the same guy.” He patted his wife’s arm. “But I’ve reported it to the police.”
“Probably nothing at all,” said Nancy.
Ruth had planned to explain, but the opportunity never came up. After all, David had told the police.
Ruth took advantage of the unseasonably warm Sunday to till some compost into her gardens. Nancy, cup of coffee in hand, came over to watch. Vera, working in her own yard, put down her rake and joined them.
“They catch that prowler yet?” she asked.
Nancy shook her head, smiling. “No. No, they haven’t.” She took a sip of coffee. “Chances are, there’s nobody to catch. Just my imagination in an empty house early in the morning.”
Vera shivered. “Well, I hope you’re right,” she said. “I don’t like the idea of somebody sneaking around this neighborhood.”
When Vera had gone back to her own yard, Nancy confided that David had bought her a gun. “Not necessary, really,” she said. “But it makes him feel better.”
“Oh my!” said Ruth, thinking it wouldn’t be a good idea for anyone to go looking into the windows of the Lowell house. “Oh my goodness!”
“Well,” said Nancy, “it does make him feel better.”
“I’m worried about her, Vera. She’s had a terrible shock.”
Vera looked up from her sewing. “I thought they were smugglers, Ruth. Why are you so concerned about dopers?”
Ruth snapped, “Nonsense! Vera, that’s just silly!” She straightened impatiently in her chair. “I’m talking about a poor, fragile girl who is in trouble, and you prattle nonsense!”
Dismayed, Vera protested, “Oh, Ruth! I’m sorry. Really I am. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.” She laid her sewing on the table. “I’m just as worried as you are, Ruth. The poor child.” She thought for a moment. “Of course, I don’t know her all that well.”
Ruth had intended to tell Vera about the gun. But it was an embarrassment, since Ruth was the cause of the weapon in the first place. It wasn’t necessary, really. The important thing was Nancy’s future wellbeing.
“We must help her, Vera.”
“Of course, Ruth. Of course.”
The unseasonable warmth had left. Cool, wet weather settled in. Ruth could feel a sore throat coming.
The place next door was empty: too early in the day for anyone to be there. Ruth made herself a cup of tea and sat in the kitchen, her housecoat wrapped tightly around her. She sipped her tea and watched the Lowell house.
She saw Nancy come home. Lights went on, cheerful against the wet gray day. As the day grew darker, more lights went on until the whole downstairs was lit. It had been that way since Nancy’s fright — it told Ruth that David was not at home.
Placing the teacup back in the saucer, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her image startled her. Her eyes glittered with fever, and the skin on her face was drawn tight to the bone.
It rained harder. She watched the lights burning steadily next door from the center of her own dark room. She pictured Nancy safe in the pooled light inside the house built from Ruth’s tree.
Her throat was getting worse, and she definitely felt feverish now. She made up a bed on the couch, near the phone. She wanted to be immediately available should Nancy need her. Sick as she was, she must keep an eye on Nancy while David was gone.
Sometime later she woke. Rain drummed on the roof. She rolled over on the couch. The lights were still on next door. She checked the time: two in the morning. The wind rattled a loose fastening.
She looked back at the house. It seemed to her that something moved in the shadows outside. She held her breath, watching. She couldn’t be sure. It might be wind. Her throat hurt. She shivered. She’d catch her death if she went out there.
She phoned Vera, who answered on the fourth ring. “I need your help,” Ruth croaked.
“Ruth? Do you know the time? Ruth!”
Ruth cut through the shrill voice. “Vera, get over here. You must help me!” She hung up, cutting off further protest.
Vera arrived, holding her coat over her head. She dropped it on the back deck before entering the house. “Ruth? Ruth, I’m here.”
“In here,” Ruth wheezed. “In the living room.”
“All right, just let me turn a light on.”
“No lights! Vera, get in here.” Vera navigated by the light from next door and found Ruth on the couch, covers bundled tightly around her chin.
“Oh, Vera,” said Ruth. “Thank God you’ve come.” She held out one hand from under the covers. Vera took it. “You are a good friend.”
“What is it?” Vera quavered, overcome by Ruth’s emotion.
Ruth nodded her head at the window. “Over there,” she said. “Something is wrong, and I’m too sick to go check. The lights are on, Vera. At this hour!” She squeezed Vera’s hand tightly. “Please, Vera. Go look, for me.”
Vera returned the squeeze. “Don’t worry, Ruth. I’m sure there’s nothing wrong.”
“You always were the strong one, Vera.” Ruth saw Vera’s breast swell; the head rode a little straighter on the neck.