Break Point Down Page 10

  This problem had touched him before. Each time he'd reasoned it offstage, but it had been hiding in a corner of his consciousness, waiting. Now it was here.

  Why come to him? The uncle who brought presents and took them skating. Their buddy who could fix the little troubles, small problems with simple solutions. What he heard in her voice sounded neither small nor simple.

  “Where are you, Kari?”

  “Downstairs. Downstairs in your building.”

  He kept the surprise out of his voice. “Run on up.”

  One look at her face as she emerged from the elevator took his suspicions to certainty, but he asked no questions until, huddled in the corner of the big couch by the fireplace, she tried to sip her hot chocolate, and with a shaky hand set the cup down on the hearth.

  “Want to tell me about it?”

  She shook her head.

  “I'd better call home for you,” he said, but she grabbed his arm hard, and the cell phone fell out of his hand.

  “Don't!”

  “Kari, we have to. They must be worried sick.”

  She shook her head miserably. “Don't call,” she repeated. “Please don't call.”

  Kitt picked up the phone, placed it on the coffee table. Her white-faced panic frightened him.

  “Better start talking, kiddo.”

  Kari had e-mailed faithfully, almost from the day she'd learned to write, chatty stuff about school and friends. Lately he'd been so absorbed in his own decisions that he hadn't given enough thought to it, but this summer her messages had become fewer, and emptier. Reserved. Kari was about to become a teenager.

  She sat there on his couch, looking less like Kari than ever. She'd never come with problems before, not real problems. Just kid things like what to get Dad for Christmas. Squabbles with friends. Regrets over a lie she'd told, a test she'd flunked. Stuff like that. What did she look like right now? Angry? Worried?

  Recently something had been a bit off about Kari. That night at the ice cream place, that was the first time he'd noticed it. When he and Thor had sat on the porch with her. And yesterday in the rage that had made a travesty of Christmas. Her home was a war zone.

  She'd always reminded him of Dad—his manner, his eyes. Shattered sunshine in their eyes, diamond dust. Fourth-of-July sparklers and rockets raining bits of fire.

  She was curled up miserably on his couch, trying to make herself even smaller than she was, nervously squirming under his stare. With a shock it struck him. The change he'd been trying to pinpoint. The change he couldn't define and couldn't deny. The crushed sunlight was gone. Kari's eyes had become plain brown.

  She sat there looking like someone he'd never seen. Waiting, expectant. Afraid. It had been twenty minutes since she'd appeared at his door, her hair wet from melting snow, unable to stop shivering. In her eyes the fear was plain. Laura needed to be doing this. What did he know about kids?

  “Let me heat up that cocoa for you.”

  Her mouth quivered but no sound came out. She shook her head.

  “What can I do?”

  Her dark stare shut out the world.

  “Listen, sweetie, how about letting me take you home? Maybe Mom—”

  She shook her head vehemently, and he felt helpless. That one didn't work a few minutes ago, stupid!

  The look in her eyes unnerved him. Nothing was left of that swirl of light scattering in haphazard patterns. In its place a muddied dullness. Stress? She was halfway to hysteria. Had things gotten so out of hand? A fight with Laura? That was manageable.

  “Come on, honey—it can't be that bad.”

  Her silence was getting on his nerves. She was twelve now, but the eyes— the eyes weren't twelve. They were three and twelve and fifty-five.

  “Kari—baby, I need to know why you came here in the middle of the night.”

  Kari threw pillows at him and emptied the refrigerator and told him about school. This child was from a world of darkness and fear.

  “Okay—it's okay. You run into my bedroom and put on a sweatshirt or so. It'll be big, but it'll do while we dry your stuff.”

  As he paced through the hallway he heard the bedroom door shut, then a scraping sound. He stood, frowning. It sounded like—yes, there it was again. She was dragging furniture. That thud against the door. Must have pulled the armchair over. Block the door, with him? How many times had that girl been in this place—how many times had she snuggled up with him in front of the TV, got him to tuck her into bed?

  The thought he'd pushed back ever since she had stood, pale and closed, on his doorstep—it was back. Not Kari. Kari was a child. Could someone—? He grabbed the phone, then dropped it. What could he tell Jeff and Laura? That Kari had come to his place pale and cold and scared and didn't want to drink hot chocolate? Did he really know anything?

  He sat down.

  Could she look like this because the popular kid in class hadn't invited her to a party? Kids—dramatizing their little crises. He glanced at his watch. Twelve-fifteen. How long had she walked around? Time had got away from her and now she was too freaked out to face trouble at home. This was something he could fix.

  But the chair at the bedroom door?

  Kids had problems. Perhaps she missed her old friends, her old neighborhood. Someone at school might have said something about her new house. Maybe even about her dad; these things got around. Kids this age, weren't they supposed to go through these emotional changes, become more vulnerable as they entered adolescence?

  She looked small in his big ski sweater that came to her ankles. She stood in front of him, looking at the floor. Her voice was a whisper.

  “Uncle Kitt, can I stay here?”

  “Mom and Dad would have to know—we can't let them worry about you, maybe call the police. They've got to know.”

  She clamped her lips together and grimly shook her head.

  Frustrated, he paced the room, a hundred questions in his head, questions he was afraid to ask. Kari was a carefree, happy child, who adored him. He was Uncle Santa Claus. There was no room in his life for this vast pain he saw coming at him like a Mac truck careening out of control. He backed off.

  “Kari, you're twelve. Don't act like a baby. You want me to talk to Mom and Dad for you?” He put his arm around her shoulder but with a little cry she jerked away from him.

  “Kari! What is the matter with you?”

  There was no side-stepping the terror in her eyes. How did you hug a kid you couldn't touch?

  “Hon, I'm sorry. Here, sit on the couch. I'll be over here.”

  She nearly disappeared under the throw pillows she pulled around her. Seemed like she wanted to sink deep inside them, into a world where neither he nor anyone else could follow.

  What now? She was a wild thing caught in a trap, counting on him to get her out, clawing every time he tried. Steeped in his own crises, he'd dismissed the ominous symptoms of a child in pain, and now she was here, and no way could he escape the menace with the copout of her age, or the disaster at home.

  “Talk to me, Kari. Please.”

  The tears were almost there now, but she held them back.

  “Kari, is this about that guy you told me about?”

  Where did he get these idiotic notions? Why should that kid have anything to do with this?

  She looked up, confused.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  Say the word, stupid. You're asking her if she's been raped. You're an adult. Why can’ t you say it? You've said it before.

  But not to Kari. She didn't have to know about these things. There would be time enough when she was grown up to learn about the ugly things some men did to women. Time enough to learn suspicion and terror.

  Too late. She knew.

  “Did Chris molest you?”

  “Not Chris.”

  His first thought, that thought he'd clubbed down. It was right after all, and there were no escapes left. She'd been hurt. You idiot! Hurt was a skinned knee or a bruised shin or even a black eye. Kar
i had been molested, perhaps raped. His shocked voice was almost a whisper.

  “You want me to help you tell Mom?”

  She looked up for just a moment, and he was perplexed by what he saw in her face—a new emotion. Anger, akin to hate.

  “Kari, has somebody raped you?”

  Her voice was a pitiful squeak, and she nodded.

  “Do Mom and Dad know?”

  Her expression baffled him. Could they have blown her off? They weren't at their best, but they wouldn't—would they? The family was coming apart. What did he know about their marriage, anyway? A weekend here and there, now and then a week or two at their house when he was younger. Maybe it all hinged on smooth sailing. It sure hadn't taken long for the happy couple to be at each other's throats when things went south. Jeff and Laura were big on refusing to face problems these days.

  “Sweetie, when did all this happen? Today?”

  She had to try twice to get the sounds out. “Yesterday.”

  On Christmas day she'd been raped? But who, and how—had she been gone at all? Must have been. That must be what she and Jeff had been talking about before they got home. Her eyes had been red and swollen. And Jeff was mad.

  “Yesterday—it happened yesterday?”

  “And before.”

  No way. This was an ongoing thing? But how, and who? He closed his eyes. Was there any chance at all that she was making this up?

  The lackluster eyes that looked up at him gave him his answer. The Kari he had known, the kid with the shining eyes might have played a trick on him, but not like this. He always could read Kari's face when she pulled something on him. There was a sort of glimmer in her eyes, and a twitch to her nose, and you knew she couldn't hold out much longer without giggling. There was no humor in the exhausted child that stared up at him.

  “Did you tell anyone, Kari? Did you talk to a teacher or somebody?”

  She shook her head.

  She'd kept it inside, carrying the deadweight of her loss all by herself. Heaven knew for how long now she'd gone to sleep with it at night and got up with it in the morning. She should have been safe, secure. There would be no gradual growing into young womanhood now, no awkward transition into adolescence. And she'd come here. Why not her mother? What could he do? Another question puzzled him. How could anyone have raped her over and over? Had to be someone familiar—a teacher, a janitor, an older kid at school. But why not tell sooner?

  He knelt before the forlorn little figure on the sofa.

  “Kari, we're going to get you some help, Okay? I am here. Nobody's going to hurt you tonight.”

  She shivered again, and pulled the sweater closer around her. He almost wished she would cry, anything. They sat in silence for a while, and he knew at that moment she was very far away. Like the Olympic swimmers he had watched slice into the water and stay under and under till he was sure they'd drown that minute if they didn't come up for air. Kari's spirit was diving into numbness, briefly surfacing for a halfhearted attempt at contact, not really expecting anybody to be there. What if she didn't come back up? She sat with her eyes closed, huddled in a near-fetal position, her small body rocked now and then by a slight shudder.

  There must be things you had to do. Call her mother, a doctor, the police. But this had been going on for a while—nothing that couldn't wait till morning now, except Jeff and Laura. They had to know.

  Thor jumped up when he snapped his fingers, and came over to him. He motioned the dog toward Kari. She opened her eyes when he licked her hand, and for a moment seemed startled. As she touched reality, the fear in her eyes ebbed though her face remained a mask. Slowly she began to stroke his head. Thor rose on his hind legs and rested his paws on her lap, nuzzling her. She put an arm around him and buried her face in his neck.

  “I want to help you, sweetie. Mom and Dad will want to help you.”

  “No, no, no.”

  She let him hold her hand. A month ago he would have taken her in his arms and hugged her tight to comfort her for the little ills of her existence. But she was not a child anymore and this was no stolen bike. She was a little woman, violated. He was in a suspect category.

  “I must let Mom and Dad know where you are. No fair to let them worry.”

  “Don't tell—what I said.”

  “Okay, okay. But they do have to know you're here.”

  The call to Jeff and Laura was unavoidable and he listened desperately for something that would tell him Kari was confused, that she was all right, that Jeff was Jeff and Laura was Laura and his world was okay. He winced at the sudden fury in his brother's voice.

  But Kitt was firm. Let her stay here for the night. She was upset. No, he wasn't sure why. He had her calmed down a bit. Let her stay, they could talk tomorrow. Jeff's tone was belligerent.

  “What does she want to stay with you for?”

  “Jeff, will you listen to me? This is not a freak kid idea. I'm sorry I can't tell you any more. Why don't you let her sleep here and get at the problem tomorrow, and maybe—”

  “I think I know what's best for my daughter. I am coming for her. Now.”

  “What's the matter with you? You think I'd be doing this if I thought this was a tantrum? This kid's in trouble. She can't be hassled. Trust my judgment on this, will you?”

  “Your judgment, right.”

  “Yeah, a family affliction.”

  “I don't need advice from you about child rearing. She is coming home. It'll take me twenty minutes to get there.”

  “Will you calm down? She's scared and exhausted, and she needs some rest. She just seems to feel better about staying here tonight.”

  “I don't reward sneaking out with a sleepover party. She's been rebellious and she seems to want a medal for it. It's going to stop. I'm surprised she went to you instead of out partying.”

  “Oh, come on!”

  “Has she been drinking?”

  “Listen to yourself! What's going on here?”

  “Well, has she? Or does Mister Clean know how to tell?”

  “She has not. She is twelve, Jeff.”

  “Like that would stop her. Don't be such an idiot. She's a great little actress and she can ham it up big when it suits her. You can't believe a thing she says anymore these days.”

  Kitt glanced over at Kari, and was surprised at the hatred in her eyes.

  “I'm not going home. I'll run away! I am not going back.”

  There was a gnawing at the pit of his stomach again, as though there was still more to come. What could make this any worse?

  “Please, Uncle Kitt.”

  He tackled Jeff again, uneasily, as though he were a stranger.

  How far they had come, he and Jeff, his refuge, his anchor. Now look at them. He didn't know anymore how to talk to his brother. How did you get back? It wasn't about the money. It was the loss of faith, the trust that was gone.

  “Kari, he wants to talk with you. I think he'll let you stay if you come to the phone.”

  The cryptic exchange between Jeff and Kari had a feeling of threat about it, an angry sparring between two wary antagonists that he did not quite understand. Kari seemed to be the pathetic winner in this restrained confrontation. Kitt sat for a long time staring at the phone. Jeff hadn't even asked her what was wrong.

  “I'm going to try to figure out what to do. I can't feel what you feel, but I'll try to understand.”

  She no longer avoided looking at him, but there was no light in her eyes.

  “Can you tell me what happened? For how long has this been going on, sweetie? Weeks? Months?”

  Dry, hacking sobs shook the small figure crouching in a cramped heap in the corner of the big couch, and Kitt knew if it didn't stop pretty soon he'd break down, too.

  “Kari, Kari!”

  She was still trembling. He stroked her hair, tentatively, afraid to repel her by his male presence. Time ticked on, and the fire died out, leaving desperately glowing embers. How much time had passed?

  A doctor, he though
t desperately. Don't you have to get her to a doctor immediately? All kinds of things could happen. There was AIDS—and what if she was pregnant? Was she old enough for that? Of course she was.

  “Okay, okay. We'll talk in the morning. You try and get some sleep, honey.”

  The sounds of late-night traffic hummed through the walls and he was still pacing aimlessly. In the bathroom he glanced in the mirror, detached, as though he had no connection with the somber face that stared darkly back at him. This was not a face he knew. It didn't speak of energy and purpose and anticipation. Do I know you? The face of shock. It looked familiar—not the familiarity of your own face, but that of someone you know and yet don't know. The features were older, as old as Jeff.

  Back in the darkened living room he walked endlessly back and forth, stopping now and then, deep in thought. Everything was wrong. Where did you go from here? Why weren't Jeff and Laura there for Kari? Why wouldn't she talk this out with them? Had she talked with them?

  How dense are you?

  “No!”

  He was surprised to hear himself spit it out. Eerie moonlight soaked through the clouds as he walked toward his bedroom, standing still for a moment at Kari's door. A few steps farther, he turned back at the sound of her door opening. Her scream churned the marrow of his bones. The bedroom door slammed shut so hard it bounced back open. She stood on the far side of the room, her back pressed against the wall, staring in stark terror at his face. Bewildered, Kitt turned on the light.

  “Kari, sweetie—what's the matter?”

  His voice seemed to calm her, and the panic drained from her eyes.

  “I thought—I thought it was—I thought you were—I mean, you looked like, like–“

  “Like who, honey?”

  Silence.

  “It's all right. You're safe here. You know that, don't you?”

  Another nod.

  “No one will come in. Let's just keep the reading light on. I will be right down the hall. Think you can get a little sleep?”

  On some level, she trusted him, but she couldn't help cringing at his touch. Outside her room he stood a moment, his head bent as he grimly contemplated the night. In the master bathroom he stared somberly at his reflection in the mirror.

  The likeness between them was minimal. Just now and then, when fading light erased the sharp differences in their coloring and stature. A mannerism. The curve of an eyebrow. A way of looking up at a sudden sound. He had looked like Jeff.