The Unexpected Neighbor

The Unexpected Neighbor

Terri Peterson

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Terri Peterson

Smashwords edition, license notes

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Table of contents

Prologue: January 2006

1. February

2. March

3. April

4. May

5. June

6. July

7. August

About the author

Prologue: January 2006

Veronica was sitting on her back stoop, knees hunched up against the cold, cradling a mug of coffee. Her eyes were slatted against the hard sun, so she didn't notice the young girl in her yard until she was almost right in front of her.

'Oh, hey, hi.'

'Hi.' The little girl looked at her. 'I'm Lindsay.' She stuck out her hand.

Veronica's hand met hers. 'Nice to meet you, Lindsay. I'm Veronica.'

'Are you my new neighbor?'

Veronica nodded once. 'I guess I am.'

Lindsay accelerated. 'I thought so I mean I saw you before but I was never out when you were out and it was cold and I never got to meet you before and I was outside and I saw you out here and I wondered who you were.'

Veronica widened her eyes at the girl's breathlessness. 'Well, now you know.' She took a deep draw from her coffee, then gestured to Lindsay. 'You want some?'

'Coffee?' Lindsay giggled. 'I'm ten.'

'Never too young to start,' Veronica said.

Lindsay giggled again. 'Gross!'

'Then I guess a beer is out of the question.'

Lindsay, who by now was twirling around the laundry pole, slowly twisted herself into a full-on view of her neighbor. She gaped at Veronica.

Veronica caught the look. 'Joking. Joking.' She stretched her legs down the steps. 'That would get me arrested.'

'And in trouble with my mom.' It was Veronica's turn to laugh.

'So, Lindsay, how long have you lived here?'

The twirling continued. 'Practically my entire life except for the time I was in the hospital.'

'You were in the hospital?'

'When I was being born.'

'Ah.'

'What kind of car is that?' She pointed to the driveway. 'It looks like a big red bug but without the scary eyes or wings.'

'That's a Saab, Linds.' Patrick was outside with the recycling. 'Swedish for trouble.'

Veronica chuckled into her coffee; Lindsay frowned. 'What does that mean?'

'Car's a bitch to take care of,' Patrick said, straightening himself. 'And you can't find anyone who will take care of it.'

'I have my ways.' Veronica set down her empty cup. 'I assume you two are related?'

Patrick jogged over and offered his hand. 'Patrick.'

'Is it because we look like each other?' Both Patrick and Veronica squinted at Lindsay.

'There's that.'

'And we came out of the same house.' Patrick noted.

Lindsay let herself fall into the snow. 'Oh, doy.'

'Well, neighbors, it's been a gas meeting y'all, but my butt is freezing, and I need more coffee,' Veronica announced, standing up. 'Stop by when I'm, uh,' she looked down at her sweats, 'more presentable.' She waved at them as she headed inside.

Lindsay lay where she fell, liking the sensation of being completely surrounded by snow. 'I like her she's funny.'

Patrick grabbed her arms and dragged her back to their yard, to the accompaniment of her hiccuping giggles. 'So are you, Lindsay, so are you.'

1. February

Kit was coming home after almost three weeks in the hospital, and didn't notice at the bright-red Saab parked next door.

She didn't notice that the snow had retreated up the lawn, a gray-white foam brittle under the muted sun, or the damp wind that curled into her open coat. Kit's eyes were fixed on the uneven bricks leading to the back door, so she didn't notice the faces of her brother and sister propped in the kitchen window.

Kit's mother, Janis, did look up to see her children, and she managed a tight smile for them. Lindsay's eyes lit up and she waved, but Patrick remained grim, fixed on the thin figure slipping on the shadowed, icy bricks. Their father, Rick, stayed behind to close the garage door, swearing as the door resisted his commands to fall.

'That's it. We're getting an automatic door. Enough of this.'

Janis and Kit were already entering the house, and didn't hear his declaration. Having finally gotten the door to yield, Rick smacked his hands together, and looked around his yard. He took in the graying fence, the basketball hoop on the garage, the weary raspberry bushes waiting for the spring sun to lift their branches. 'Won't be long, now.' Rick murmured.

The bang of the screen door made him wince. 'Gotta fix that door,' he muttered, and stepped toward the house.

He watched as Lindsay threw herself at her older sister, watched as Kit shrank from her embrace, before recovering to wrap her arms, carefully, around Lindsay. 'Hey, Linds.'

Janis was hanging up their coats as Rick entered. 'That damned garage door,' he said, handing her his jacket.

'You're staying for dinner, then?'

'Yeah. Seems like a good idea.'

Janis paused, then turned back to the closet. 'Yeah. I think you're right.' She walked toward the refrigerator. 'Patrick, did you make it to the store?'

'Yeah.'

'Did you get the stinky feta? Not that pre-wrapped nonsense?

'Yeah. Got it.'

'And the Greek olives? from the bin?'

Patrick let out a huff. 'Mother, I can read---even your appalling handwriting.' He was sitting on the counter, frowning.

Janis reached across and squeezed his knee. 'You can read! Such a big boy!' She peered around the door at him. He looked away, a soft snort trailing his gaze

'I'm, uh, I'm gonna go upstairs. For awhile.' Lindsay was still wrapped around Kit. 'Unpack.' She peeled the younger girl from her. 'Sorry, Linds. I'm a little tired.'

'But I haven't seen you in sooo long.'

Kit let out a slow breath. 'I'll be around, okay?' She looked across to Patrick, who stared, then shook his gaze away.

Lindsay chattered all through dinner, her words crowding out the silence of the dinner table.

'Well Jason. Jason's such a jerk. He told Mr. Fenner that Maria threw the plant out the window, but there's no way Maria would do that and besides she was in the bathroom anyway cause she's always in the bathroom she and Melinda and Darcy are always in the bathroom. So Maria gets called into the principal's office and Jason and Mr. Fenner and then because there was nothing that they could do to prove it well they had to just let everyone go even though they were all really mad because the plant almost hit Miss Jackson. . .' Lindsay started coughing.

'Jeez, Lindsay, breathe', Patrick yelled as he refilled her glass. 'Slow down already.'

Lindsay gave one, last, hard cough, then a took big gulp of milk. 'It was just, I'm, I'm all right.' She started hiccupping. 'That Jason. He's such a---brrup---jerk.'

'Ooo, hoo, you got a crush on him, don't you?' Patrick teased.

'I I I sooo do---brrup---not!'

Her sister, who had been watching her talk, giggled at the inopportune hiccup. 'You soo do?'

'Doo---brrup---not!'

Kit laughed. 'Your body's giving you away, Linds. You sooo do.'

Patrick mimicked a hiccup. 'Not.' Everyone except Lindsay laughed, who instead got very red. Then she hiccupped again, and joined in.

As Janis retrieved Rick's jacket, she asked him how he thought the night went.

He paused, putting on his jacket. 'Better than I thought it would. She laughed. That's good.' He searched his pockets for his keys. 'Thank god for Lindsay.'

'Yeah.' Janis found his keys on the counter. 'I just,' she squeezed the keys in her hand before handing them over to her husband. 'You don't think she was trying too hard?'

Rick stopped at the back door, pulling on his gloves. 'That's just Lindsay. She does that all the time, right?'

'I guess.' She kissed him. 'Drive safe.'

'See you tomorrow.'

Scraping the frost off his windshield, Rick pondered the day. They weren't sure if they'd be able to bring Kit home that afternoon---staff had found some pills in the laundry bin outside her room, which she insisted weren't her's---and the doctor cautioned that they had to watch her without making her feel as if she were under surveillance. It's a different thing being at home overnight than out on a pass for a few hours, the doctor said. She has to know that her home is safe, and that she can keep herself safe there.

Rick didn't like the doctor. He knew she was trying to look out for his daughter, but he resented her advice. He stabbed under the wipers. It was his job to look out for his family, not hers. The scraper went slack in his hands. That's it, isn't it, he thought. I can't even keep my own kid safe. The windshield was half clear.

'Hey there.'

Rick looked up at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. 'Hello?'

A woman stepped into the moonlight. 'Sucks, doesn't it?

'Huh?'

'Frost. You gotta work it.' She tried, and failed, to tuck her bangs behind her ear. 'At least snow you can just shoosh away.' She watched him stare in bewilderment at her. 'Oh, I'm sorry. I'm your new neighbor.' She held out her hand over the car. 'Veronica. Veronica Finnegan.'

Rick moved around the front of the car. 'Oh, hey. I'm Rick---Ross. I, uh, don't, well, my family lives here. I don't.' He half-shrugged.

Veronica waved her hand. 'Oh, whatever. I've just seen you and your,' she waited, 'ex?'

'No. Just,' he turned back to his windshield, peering back over his shoulder. 'Complicated.'

Veronica tossed the brush into the back seat, then looked up at the moon. 'Ah. Well, I met your kids, and thought it was time to meet the parents. Or a parent.'

The windshield clear; Rick moved to the passenger side. 'You did?'

'The girl, who talks without ever taking a breath, Linda?'

'Lindsay.'

'Lindsay. Sweet. She asked all kinds of questions about my car.' She patted the Saab. 'Thought it looked like a bug.'

'A Volkswagen?'

'No, an insect.'

Rick laughed. 'She doesn't hold back.'

Veronica joined in his laughter, her breath forming a cloud around her face. 'Neither does your son.'

'Patrick.'

'Patrick. He's sweet with her. He also informed me that my Saab was, quote, 'A bitch to take care of'.' She made her way back toward her stoop. 'He ain't wrong, that one.'

Rick was working on the back window. 'So why'd you get it?'

'The Saab? Always wanted one, in spite of everything.' She blew into her hands. 'It's worthwhile trouble.' She laughed again.

Rick threw the scraper into the car. 'Anyway.'

'Anyway.'She opened her back door. 'I just wanted to introduce myself.'

'I've got another one.'

She stopped. 'Excuse me.'

'Another daughter. Catherine.' He shook his head. 'Kit. She's been, ah, she's been away. In case you see her. So you know.'

She nodded. 'Well, have a good night, then.'

He nodded back. 'You too.'

Veronica heard Rick drive away. So there was another one. That was who she saw stumbling up the walk. She turned out the light.

Kit watched her father shave the frost through her unlit window. He was so methodical, pushing line after line of ice away, then clearing off the threads which remained. Her dad never just punched a hole through the white; he always cleaned each window completely, never mind that he was only driving a few blocks, never mind that he'd have to do it all again in the morning.

She squinted at the woman who appeared from the shadow of the house next door. Was she flirting with her father? Kit cocked her head. Why else would she step into a cold night in just her sweater and slippers? And what was with that ugly car?

She watched as the woman returned to house, then peered down the driveway as her dad backed out, two neat lines trailing the tires. She sighed and shook herself away from the window, taking in the moonlit room. Her suitcase was flopped in front of her open closet door, obscured by shadows, but her desk and bookcase were lit silver, and a few scattered cd cases blue-gray squares on the carpet. She couldn't tell if they had gone through her stuff, although they had to have, given the clothes they brought to the hospital. She tugged her shirt sleeves over her palms. It was weird being home.

Three days---well, two and a-half, really. Friday Saturday Sunday. Then back. Kit closed her eyes, summoning the sounds of the night ward, all of the mutterings and shouts of the day settling like dust on the floor, waiting to be stirred with the dawn; the muted laughter trailing from the desk; the whoosh the door made when the nurse peeked into the room. No locks on those doors. She looked at her bedroom door. No lock on this one, either.

She exhaled slowly through her fingers.

Everyone slept in. Patrick was the first one up, and when he shuffled into the kitchen he was surprised not to see Lindsay wriggling on a chair.

He grunted, glad for the quiet. Yesterday was too much, waiting for Kit to arrive. He'd visited once in the hospital, but all those people weirded him out. The guy with the stuffed animal, the woman carrying on a conversation with voices only she could hear, and the smoke! Man! It was a hospital, and all those nutjobs were busy giving themselves cancer! What gives? He rubbed his chest as if his lungs still hurt.

Nutjobs. His sister was one of those nutjobs. He picked the sleep out of his eyes, then dipped back into his cereal. At least she looked normal.

The creak of the floor announced another had risen: his mother. She looked like shit yesterday, he thought, munching. All that smiling. That weirded him out, too.

Janis padded into the living room, retrieved the paper, then crossed back into the kitchen. She kissed Patrick's head. 'Hey, sleepy-head.'

'I was the first one up.'

She rustled his hair. 'Such a stickler.' She looked at the stove. 'Pancakes?' He lifted his bowl in response. 'You still eating those chocolate frosted sugar bombs?'

'That's Calvin and Hobbes, mom, and no, because you don't buy those.' He waved the box at her. 'Healthy shit, remember.'

'Mmm.' She ran water into the pot. 'No swearing before coffee.' She pointed the half-full pot at him. 'Want some?'

Patrick got up. 'I'll make it. You can't make coffee for people.' He added more water. 'Only for yourself.' He measured out the scoops.

Janis plopped herself into the captain's chair. 'My. So hard on your old mom at such an early hour.'

'It's almost ten.'

'So early. I should go back to bed.' The coffee pot kicked into life. Janis rubbed her eyes. 'So how are you doing?'

Patrick sat back down, avoiding her face. 'What do you mean?'

'You know, with everything.' Janis continued rubbing her eyes.

He poured more cereal, slicing a banana into the bowl. 'I dunno. It's weird. I dunno.'

Janis stretched her elbows along the table's edge and looked intently at her son. 'I know, Patrick, I know.' She looked back at the coffee. 'But it'll be okay, you know? It will.'

'Hmpf.'

They sat in silence, the spluttering of the coffee maker interrupted only by the knocking radiators. 'Where's Lindsay?'

Patrick shrugged. 'I thought she'd be the first one up.'

'Too much excitement. Must have tuckered her out.'

Patrick shrugged again.

Lindsay was awake, and could hear the murmurings downstairs. She was waiting to hear Kit, waiting for the signal that she could bound out of her bed and into Kit's. She knew her sister was only home for the weekend, and didn't want to waste a moment. Lindsay kicked her feet under the covers. Come on, come on. Wake up.

Kit was still sleeping. Although the doctors told her the drugs shouldn't make her sleepy, she was sure they knocked her out. The meds, and the relative quiet of the house, protected her slumber.

When she did finally awaken, she kept her eyes closed, trying to reorient herself back to this house. She could hear Lindsay banging around in her room, trying to wake her without actually trying to wake her. Patrick would be up, she figured. He liked to be the only one awake in the house, especially since Dad moved out. Was that why he didn't go back to school? Was it Dad? Or was it her?

Kit pushed her face into her pillow, hunching her shoulders before stretching her arms beyond the covers. It was cold here. It was always warm, too warm, in the hospital. Half the time she woke with the sheets kicked off, her legs sticky with sweat. It was probably too warm in the winter, too cold in the summer; shorts in January, sweaters in July.

Not that she planned to be there in July. Dr. Chowdhury told her that if this visit went well, she could---she should---start planning for a final return home. It had been weeks. You can get too used to this place, she was told. Don't become a permanent patient. Kit thought that was the dumbest thing she'd ever heard. Who'd want to stay in a psych-o ward?

But now, lying in her own bed, no nurses, no group, no fellow patients---no Sheila---she understood. In was hard; out was harder. Out, she was alone. She shuddered, although whether from the cold or the thought, she wasn't sure. She drew her arms back in, and turned over.

'Mom! Come on! I haven't seen her in forever and I know she's awake she went to bed really early and I want to seeee her.' Lindsay was beseeching her mother, loudly, calling on guilt and noise to get what she wanted. And what she wanted more than anything was to see her big sister. She still didn't know exactly what happened, only that it was bad, and that Kit had to stay in the hospital a long time.

She pondered her pancakes. Actually, she knew more than that. She knew Kit had done something so that she almost died. Took drugs or something. But no one would tell her exactly what happened. Sometimes her mom and dad would stop talking when she walked into the room, and Patrick had been really nice to her this whole time. Lindsay liked that. She liked her older brother, but was kind of glad when he went away to college. He was never really mean to her, but he sort of scared her anyway. He never really talked to her.

But now! Now he took her to the PizZa Zone and he sometimes even brought her to the music store when he went to see his friends. He was nice to her. He talked to her now. Would he stop now that Kit was home? She wanted to hang out with both of them, show them that she was one of them. She kicked her feet against the chair legs. But first Kit had to wake up.

Kit wondered if Lindsay knew why she was in the hospital. Probably not. They wouldn't want Lindsay to know that her big sister was on a psych ward, didn't want to have to explain why her big sister was on a psych ward. Maybe they thought they wouldn't have to tell her. She was sick, that was all. Not a lie, exactly, and it covered the time away. Damage control.

So was Kit supposed to half-lie, too? Was she supposed to pretend that all was well?

Kit rolled on to her back, and tugged back the curtain. The sun was dim, the day, gray. Oh well. At least she knew how to pretend.

In the bathroom, Janis heard Lindsay squawk, and shook her head. Poor kid. Doesn't know what's going on but knows it's nothing good. Well, wasn't anything good. Janis checked her eyes in the mirror, then reached in to turn on the shower. Kit was home, if only for the weekend, which made life better than it had been in awhile.

Scarier, too. When she was in the hospital, Janis didn't have to worry if she'd be safe. When she was in the hospital, Janis missed her, but was relieved too. What could she do? There, they had locks and nurses and cameras and here, here, she had only a locked medicine cabinet and her eyes. At least Rick helped her search Kit's room before he left.

The over-hot shower water reddened her shoulders, but the heat felt too good to turn down. What would they do today? They had the entire day. Go to the mall? Rent some movies? God, did Kit want to talk about the hospital, or did she just want to act as if everything were normal? What if she wanted to hang out with her friends? Could she trust her to leave the house by herself? Janis reached back to crank up the fading heat. Maybe, if she wanted to see her friends, Janis could suggest that they come over here. Yeah, that's what she'd do.

Then again, maybe they could just hang out in the kitchen and bake something. Cookies, maybe some bread. Lindsay would like that, too.

So much for a hot shower. Patrick grimaced. How long for that stupid hot water heater to heat up another shower's worth of water? Lindsay wouldn't shower, not on a Saturday, and Kit, whhfffp, who knew. She didn't look particularly grimy yesterday, but Patrick thought one of the reason's depressed people were so depressed was because they were greasy.

He flipped through the paper. No, he knew that wasn't right, but man, some of those people in the hospital looked like they could've used a good hosing down. That one blond girl, the one who didn't blink for like the entire time he was there, she looked liked she'd been dipped in crisco. Might be cute, too, with a little soap and shampoo.

Dammit! His team lost. They'd never make the Big Dance if they didn't improve their record. Mid-majors always had to fight harder.

But Kit was clean. Depressed, but she managed to find her way to water.

Fucking war. He'd never admit it to his parents, but they were right to be skeptical of this president. He thought they were just being hippie dips, knees jerking against any mention of payback, but the situation had certainly gone to hell. His friend Mikhail wouldn't talk about what he'd been through, other than to say that when he first got home he found it hard to sleep in all the quiet. He was back there, now.

Patrick had thought about enlisting, but his parents guilted him into going to college. You got those scholarships, and we saved for you. Don't throw that away. Go for a year. Give it a try. If it doesn't work, the Marines will still be there. God knows, the Marines will still be there.

Anyway, he liked college. He liked the classes, liked living in the dorm, liked the girls. He very much liked the girls. And the freedom. You don't get much freedom in the Marines. And he wouldn't have been able to take a semester off from Fallujah to spend with his family. He wasn't sure why he didn't just go back after the break---his parents both said he should keep on with his life---but it seemed right that he stayed.

Besides, his schedule this semester sucked.

Janis was towel-drying her hair when Lindsay stomped into her room and threw herself on the bed. 'Mom. What. Are we going to do today.' She fell back, arms outstretched, as her declaration ended.

Janis responded by throwing her towel over the prone figure. 'I don't know. Maybe we can all just lay on my bed and stare at the ceiling.'

Lindsay didn't remove the towel. 'Well, I can't see a thing with this on my face.'

'Wh-at?'

'This isn't very good planning, mom,' she continued, 'if you want me to stare at the ceiling we'll have to do something about this towel.'

Janis narrowed her eyes, then crept over and started tickling her through the towel. 'Not good planning, huh, huh?' she teased, as Lindsay squirmed and giggled. 'Well, maybe you're just going to have to figure this out for yourself.' The tickling continued, as did the giggling. 'After all, you keep telling me you're not a little girl anymore.'

They were both laughing now, Lindsay gasping with pleasure and for breath. She finally straight-armed the towel over her chest. 'I am almost a teenager.'

Janis collapsed next to her. 'Oh, Lindsay-bear, you are a funny, funny, girl.' The ten-year-old responded by curling into her side, rolling Janis's arms around her.

They lay that way for awhile. 'This is nice,' Janis murmured.

Lindsay propped herself up on her elbows, her chin on her mother's chest. 'Mom. What happened to Kit?' Her face rose as her mother's chest tensed up, then fell with the long, slow, breath outward.

'Honey, it's. . .' Janis's gaze remained fixed on the ceiling.

'I know she almost died.'

Janis's eyes veered down to catch Lindsay's. 'Oh, Lindsay.'

'Tell me.' Her eyes were wide. 'Please.'

Janis pulled Lindsay tight into her body. What would she say? She and Rick had been putting this off, hoping that they could get away with telling Lindsay simply that Kit was sick, and needed to be in the hospital for awhile. They should have known better. She took a deep breath. 'I don't know how to explain this to you, Linds. I don't know that I,' she sighed, 'that I get it.'

'Was she taking drugs? Miss Jackson said bad things happen to kids who take drugs.'

Janis let out her breath. 'No, no, your sister was not taking drugs.'

'But I heard one of the ambulance guys say something about OD-ing, and that's something that happens with drugs, isn't it?' Lindsay's face was bunched in confusion.

Janis sucked her lips over her teeth, and made a slight pop when she let them out. 'I didn't know you heard the paramedics.' She paused.. 'Your sister took too much medicine, Linds. If you take too much of any kind of drug, even the good kind, it's called overdosing, or OD-ing. That's what the paramedics were talking about.'

Lindsay frowned at her mom? 'Well, why'd she do that? I mean, it says right on the bottle how much to take. Even I know that.'

Her question vibrated through Janis's ribs. She lay still, eyes closed. 'Lindsay, it wasn't an accident,' she finally said.

Lindsay's frown deepened. 'Whaddya mean? How, I mean, if it wasn't an accident. . . ?'

Janis waited.

'You mean, she did it on purpose? On purpose?!' Lindsay was sitting up now, shouting. 'How could she do that? How could she do that on purpose?!' She wriggled away from Janis's attempts to pull her into her arms, and slid down from the bed. 'Why would she do that? Why why why, mommy, why?' Her anger shattered into tears. 'Why mommy?'

She stood straight as a board even as she let Janis encircle herself around her, even as her tears dropped off her cheeks. Only when her chest heaved did she relent, and lean into Janis.

Kit had just finished tugging on her sweats when she heard the rap at the door.

'Kit? You up?'

'Yeah. I'm up.' She went to the door.

'Can I come in?'

Kit moved back to the bed. 'Yeah, sure. It's open.'

Janis glanced around as she entered Kit's room. 'Looks like a clothes bomb went off.'

'Yeah, I should do some laundry.'

'You