Beyond Repair Read Online Free PDF Page B

sure.”
    â€œBut now you are?”
    â€œI don’t know I’d swear to it in court. But yes. I think so.”
    Mom pulls the phone off the wall.
    â€œMom. It’s Saturday. Do the cops handle this kind of thing on the weekend?”
    She tips the phone sideways so she can answer me. “I’m not going to call the police. I’m calling Gail. Her husband is a lawyer. He’ll know what to do.” She punches in the number, then holds the phone against her chest. “God, I wish your father was here.”
    For a second I think of saying how stupid that is. If Dad was here, the guy wouldn’t be stalking us, would he? But one look at her face, and I keep my mouth shut.
    I get up and put our mugs in the sink.
    Leah bounces into the room. “Who are you calling, Mom?”
    â€œCome on, kid,” I tell her. “I’m going to hose down my bike. Wanna do yours?”
    She sends a sideways look at Mom, who is listening to the phone with her eyes closed. “What’s Mom doing?” asks Leah.
    Without answering, I grab my sister’s arm and haul her out of the room.
    Mom comes outside as I’m emptying the bucket of grubby water into the drain at the end of the driveway. She’s wearing her work scrubs now.
    â€œDon’t go too far,” Mom calls to Leah. She’s riding her bike along the sidewalk as fast as she can to dry it off. “You shouldn’t let her go off on her own,” Mom tells me.
    Until six months ago, my bratty sister had the run of the neighborhood. We’ve lived here so long, it’s hard to make a move without everyone knowing about it. But lately even I get nervous when Leah is out of sight, especially if roads and traffic are involved.
    â€œI’m watching her,” I say. “So what did Gail’s husband say?”
    â€œLucas said that three sightings is not much to go on. The cops wouldn’t do much with it. Me and all my talk about restraining orders.” She wraps her arms around herself.
    â€œI think I should talk to the guy,” I tell her. “Find out what he wants.”
    â€œHe told me. I told you. He wants to make up for what he did,” Mom tells me. “Offer some support. Some practical assistance . His words exactly. Although what he meant…” She shakes her head, like there’s stuff in there she’d like to pry loose.
    â€œI just wish he’d bug off,” I say. This isn’t quite the truth. Part of me wonders what the guy means by practical assistance. We never got much of that from Dad.
    â€œLeah. That’s enough now,” Mom calls as my sister heads back down the sidewalk. “I wish he’d bug off too,” says Mom. “But I’m at a loss as how to make it happen.”
    â€œMaybe I should track him down. See if I can get him off our case.”
    â€œIt’s not up to you, Cameron.” She puts one hand on my arm. “I’m the parent here. It’s my job to keep you and your sister safe.”
    I shake off her hand and step out of reach. I kick the empty bucket so it rolls away on its side. “So why don’t you then?” I’m surprised at the rush of anger that swamps me. “I take care of Leah!” I yell. “I do the groceries. Mow the lawn. The days you are home, you spend sleeping. The rest of the time you’re at work. Now suddenly you’re going to take care of things?”
    â€œCam. Don’t.” She steps toward me.
    I step back. “Everyone tells me I’m the man of the family. So I’ll take care of this.” I am shaking almost as much as Mom had been earlier. Now she’s turned to watch Leah. And Leah’s watching us. She sits astride her bike, one foot on the sidewalk, the other on a pedal.
    â€œI’ll tell him that we don’t need him,” I say to my mother’s back. “What did Dad ever do but bury his head in his books anyway? If we