His reaction startled the ten-year-old, who reflexively stepped backward.
Marvin sputtered, “Who… what do you mean… good God.”
He’d seen this boy before. He was a student. Because of the adrenaline coursing through his system, he couldn’t remember his name. In fact, just this afternoon—
“Headmaster, my father says he would like to speak to you,” the boy said.
“Jon Gravenow?” The name popped into his head at the same moment when he realized that the boy had turned on the bedside lamp. “Get out of my house. Who do you think you are?”
The boy looked down and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Denim jeans and a T-shirt to visit the headmaster’s house. This was exactly the kind of disrespectful behavior that made the boy a perpetual discipline problem at Northern Neck Academy.
“He, um, said he wanted to see you now.”
As the adrenaline drained and awareness returned, Marvin sat taller in his bed. He adjusted his pajama blouse to make the buttons align.
“He did, did he? Well, it must be very urgent if he sends his son to burglarize my house. Do you know that you can go to prison for this? Do you know that you can be expelled?” That last point was a certainty, Marvin thought.
The boy continued to stare at his sneakers.
“Look at me, young man,” Marvin commanded. His head was completely clear now. If there was one thing that an experienced educator knew, it was how to project authority over a child.
Jon Gravenow did as he was told. His left eye was still swollen from this afternoon, and it appeared that someone had applied a new butterfly bandage to his lip.
“Get out of my house at this moment, or I will call the police. Tell your father that if he wants to see me, he can call for an appointment.”
Jon’s face showed nothing. The rebuke triggered neither anger nor fear. “We’ll be waiting in the living room,” the boy said. He turned on his heel and left through the open door to the hallway. Sure enough, the far end was illuminated in the wash of light from the parlor downstairs.
The temerity! Marvin felt his blood boiling as he rolled to his side and lifted the telephone from its cradle. Just who did these people think they were? Maybe a chat with the local police would set them on the right—
No dial tone.
The fear returned, fueled by a new rush of adrenaline. He realized for the first time that this was more than some childish prank; that he might truly be in danger. They’d cut the phone line, for heaven’s sake, and now a man he’d never even met sat perched in his living room.
Marvin ran his options. The first was to flee, but he dismissed that out of hand. He was forty-six years old, not in the best of shape, and on the second floor of a home that boasted twelve-foot ceilings. As if that weren’t bad enough, a leap from either of his bedroom windows would send him into a nest of wrought-iron patio furniture. Even if he survived the fall, he would likely wish that he hadn’t.
He could dash down the stairs and try to make it to the front door, but that path would take him directly through the living room where his uninvited guests sat waiting.
He could try hiding, but then what? Would he just wait for them to become bored and leave on their own?
No, he thought, the only reasonable option was to face them. He would summon as much dignity as the occasion allowed, and he would hear what they had to say. After all, if their main desire had been to do him harm, they could have hurt him in his bed.
Come to think of it, the very fact that a man sent a child to deliver his message was a sort of peace offering in its own right.
His options, then, boiled down to only one: He would hear what his visitors had to say, and when their conversation was over, he would take the necessary actions to ensure that the adult went to prison, and the boy never again set foot in Northern Neck Academy.
Marvin took his time getting dressed. There was no time to shower, but he could certainly comb his hair and brush his teeth. That done, he donned the navy blue suit he had laid out for today. White shirt, yellow tie, black socks and matching shoes, shined to a high gloss. When he was buttoned and cinched, he tucked the loops of his wire-rimmed glasses behind his ears and headed for the stairs.
The man he saw waiting for him could have been his brother — better yet, his business partner. He, too, wore a suit — a slightly outdated gray three-piece, complete with a watch chain that stretched from pocket to pocket in his vest. He stood as Marvin entered the room, and beckoned for his son to likewise rise from his perch on the sofa.
“Doctor Applewaite,” the man said, extending his hand. “Simon Gravenow. Forgive the intrusion. It’s very nice of you to meet with us.”
Marvin made no move to accept the gesture of friendship. “I will not forgive the intrusion,” he said. “How dare you invade my home in the middle of the night—”
“Doctor,” Gravenow interrupted. “Shake my hand.”
Marvin felt a chill. The man’s voice remained soft, and his tone reasonable, but his eyes projected danger. As if working on its own accord, Marvin’s hand allowed itself to be folded into that of his guest.
“Please take a seat,” Gravenow said, nodding to the only remaining piece of furniture in the small room — a wooden chair with a padded seat which in Marvin’s previous assignment had been part of a dining room set. “You, too, son,” he added, nodding to the spot on the sofa that still bore the boy’s impression. Simon kept Marvin’s leather reading chair for himself.
Marvin felt heat rising in his ears. This seemed to be an effort to embarrass him in front of one of his students. “Might I ask—”
“No, you mightn’t. Just sit. Listen and answer.” Simon smiled as if he’d just told a joke at the dinner table.
Marvin sat. He’d long considered himself to be a good judge of character, one whose first impressions rarely were wrong, and Simon Gravenow was projecting a level of danger that he’d never witnessed before.
“You remember my son, don’t you?” Simon asked.
“I do indeed. He’s the one who frightened me out of a very sound sleep.”
Gravenow nodded. “Is that all you remember him for?”
Marvin sighed. “Clearly, you’re here for a specific reason. Perhaps if you could share what that is—”
“Listen and answer,” Gravenow said again. “Do you remember his name, for example? As headmaster, I’d think that would be simple enough.”
“His name is Jonathan,” Marvin said.
The visitor smiled. “Very good. Thank you. And does he look at all different to you right now?” To the boy, he said, “Look at the headmaster, Jon.”
“Clearly he’s been in an altercation,” Marvin said. “But surely you don’t think that I had anything to do with those bruises on his face.”
Gravenow’s eyes turned even darker. “If I thought that, I’d be driving your teeth into your skull with a hammer.”
A fist gripped Marvin’s intestines. He knew without question that the man was speaking the truth, absent exaggeration.
“Tell me what you do know about his bruises.”
“Your son was in a fight on the playground today.”
“Over what?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Children fight all the time.”
“But in this particular case, Jon told you specifically what the fight was about.”
The fist in Marvin’s gut grew tighter. Certainly, there had been an explanation, just as there was always an explanation when boys fought. But the explanations were never more than empty excuses. “Northern Neck Academy has very strict rules that prohibit fighting for any reason.”
Gravenow pounded the arm of his chair with his fist. “Listen!” he boomed. Then, more softly, “And answer.”