A Fool and his Honey Page 0,75

she might hurt my baby." And Regina, bigger and stronger, clapped a hand over my mouth, held on to me, and would not let me go. I was hardly in any shape to offer much resistance. We could hear voices right outside the door. Several male voices, one female.

Margaret.

"Come over this way where we can hear," Regina whispered, and dragged me off the stairs and over to a spot by the wall where the dryer vent fed into the basement.

I was adding my niece to the list of people I wanted to die.

But for now that would have to wait, and I listened as she bid me. "... his truck by the road," a male voice was saying. "His wife has been out looking for him."

"Is he going to be all right?" Margaret asked, and I swear there was genuine concern in her voice.

"Well, he's lost a lot of blood," the man said doubtfully. "We'll just have to wait and see. One dead, two in bad shape. They can't tell us what happened. You didn't hear any shots?"

"... heard what might have been one, late this afternoon," Luke said. His voice was much fainter.

"And you had already been down there? Everything was okay?" "Oh, yes, fine!" Margaret. "But - I hate to say this - Martin's first wife and her boyfriend were there, and there was some bad feeling in the air." "Dennis and Martin never did get along," the male voice said thoughtfully. "And I really don't like to say this," Margaret said, "but it seemed to me like Dennis was kind of making eyes at Martin's new wife." "... we don't know where she has..." the voice faded away.

If it wasn't for the baby, Regina would let me go.

If it wasn't for the baby, I would scream my head off.

If it wasn't for the baby, none of this would have happened.

No, no. If it wasn't for Regina...

No, even that was wrong. If it wasn't for the Granberrys and their desire to have what nature couldn't give them...

No, it was all of these things.

It was quiet upstairs. Our rescue had walked out the door.

Regina let me go.

I sank down on my sleeping bag, exhausted.

"I'm sorry," Regina said, when she saw my face. I started to tell her I would never forgive her, but I think she already knew that. At least I was certain that Martin had gotten help, though I had no idea what shape he was in. "Tomorrow morning by surprise," I said, "we take them." I outlined my plan, which was based on far too little data. "I thought you were a nice lady," Regina said, awed.

"Not anymore," I told her.

In the morning, about eight o'clock, Luke brought our tray down, Margaret covering him as she had the night before. They looked glassy-eyed, and I hoped Hayden had kept them up all night. There were two cups of orange juice and two Toaster Strudels. No coffee. Well, good. That would make me meaner, having to go without my coffee.

We ate. I took more Excedrin. I felt about like you'd expect - hell warmed over - but at least I'd slept fitfully. After we'd used the bathroom and washed our faces in the sink, Regina carried the tray up the stairs and put it on the small landing right inside the door as she had the night before. She came down and stood before me. "You're sure you can do this?" she asked me.

I could tell by the look on her face that I looked bad. "I'm a lot more worried about you than me," I said, with mistimed bluntness. "Do you want your baby back?"

"Yes," she said fiercely. "The people that killed his dad can't raise him." Discovering she was a widow had tempered Regina overnight. I looked in her eyes and saw only determination. It almost matched the desperation I felt, the absolute necessity of reaching my husband to find out what had happened to him. Only that desperation got me up off the sleeping bag, pushed me up the stairs. I stood, one foot on the landing just inside the door and one foot on the next step down, with my back to the wall, looking over the wooden handrail at the open space of the basement, reviewing what I had to do. I glanced at my watch; it was nine o'clock.

Then there was only the waiting. If it were the much larger Luke instead of Margaret, if for once it were both of