Jack’s guard went up immediately. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Forget it,” Rose said quickly. “It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. What do you suppose really did happen to Anne Forager?”
“Anne? Probably nothing. I tend to go along with the idea that she stayed out too late and came up with a good story to avoid her punishment. Children are like that.”
“Not ours,” Rose said quietly.
“No,” Jack said. “Not ours.” He stared into his drink for a moment. “Where are they?”
“Upstairs. Elizabeth’s playing with Sarah. Oh, God, Jack, what if the same thing happened to Anne that happened to Sarah?”
Jack recoiled as if he’d been slapped.
“It didn’t, Rose. If something like that had happened, she wouldn’t be talking about it at all. She wouldn’t be talking. She’d be sitting—staring at the walls—just … sitting.” He broke off for a moment, as if it was too painful to continue. Then he forced himself to speak again.
“She’s going to get better. She’ll be back in school next year …”
“She’s in school,” Rose said gently.
“I mean regular school, where she belongs. Not that other place.” The bitterness in his voice hung in the air.
Rose bit her lip for a minute, trying to choose the right words.
“It’s a good school, Jack. Really it is. And Sarah’s doing well there. You know she isn’t well enough to go to public school. Think what would happen to her. Why, the children alone …” She trailed off.
“We should keep her at home,” Jack said. “She belongs at home, with people who love her.”
Rose shook her head. “It isn’t love she needs, right now. She needs to have people around her who understand her problem, who can help her. God knows, I don’t have the time or the skills to devote to her.”
“It isn’t right, Jack insisted.” That school That’s for crazy kids, and retarded kids. Not for Sarah. Not for my daughter. All she needs is to be around normal kids, kids like Elizabeth. Look how well she does with Elizabeth.
Rose nodded. “Of course I know how well she does with Elizabeth. But do you think all children are like Elizabeth? How many other children would have her patience? Children can be cruel, Jack. What do you think would happen to Sarah if she were back in public school? Do you think they’d all play with her the way Elizabeth does? Because if you do, you’re crazy. They’d tease her, and taunt her. They’d play with her, all right, but she wouldn’t be a playmate; she’d be a toy. It would only make her worse, Jack.”
He finished his drink and rose to fix a third. Rose watched him go to the bar, and a wave of pity swept over her. He suddenly seemed unsure of himself, his step wary, as if something were waiting to trip him. As he tilted the bottle to pour the liquor into his glass, she spoke again.
“Do you think you ought to?”
“Ought to?” Jack glanced back at her over his shoulder. “No, I don’t think I ought to. But I’m going to. There’s a difference, you know.”
The scream came before Rose could reply. Jack froze where he stood, the liquor streaming out of the bottle, overflowing the glass as the terrified shriek filled the house. It seemed to root him to the spot, and it wasn’t until it had finally died away that he was able to let go of the bottle. Rose was already in the hall by the time the bottle broke on the floor, and if she heard it, she didn’t turn around. Jack glanced at the mess at his feet; then he too ran from the room.
The awful sound had come from the floor above. Rose and Mrs. Goodrich met at the bottom of the stairs, and Rose came close to toppling the housekeeper as she scrambled up the single flight Mrs. Goodrich recovered, and made her way up the stairsas quickly as her age and arthritis would allow. Jack passed her halfway up.
“What was it?” he asked as he passed.
“Sarah,” Mrs. Goodrich panted. “It was Miss Sarah’s voice. God Almighty, hurry!”
Jack was at the top of the stairs when he saw his wife disappear into the children’s playroom. By the time he got to the door, he realized that whatever had happened, it was over.
Rose stood just inside the door, a slightly dazed look on her face. In one corner, Sarah sat huddled against