Rachel Goddard 01 - The Heat of the Moon

and crossed to me with three quick steps. “Mother wasn’t at home when it happened. It was the nanny, she wasn’t careful—”
    “Mother said she left me alone—”
    “Well, you must have misunderstood her. It was the nanny. Mother fired her for it.”
    I gaped, hardly knowing what to think. The Mother-like mask faded and in her face I saw my sister again, just Michelle, beseeching, anxious.
    “Why are you bringing all this up?” she said. “Can’t you see how much it hurts Mother? It tears her apart, having it all dredged up. Can’t you see that?”
    “Of course I can, it makes me feel awful. But we’re talking about something major that happened to me. Don’t I have a right to know about it? And don’t we both have a right to know more about our—”
    Michelle’s hand slipped into mine, and I was silenced by a sudden disorienting memory of her as a tiny child, little hands reaching for me, fingers clutching.
    “Please don’t dwell on it,” she said. “Please, Rachel. Don’t torment yourself.”
    I backed away, freed my hand. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”
    As I opened the door to leave I heard her sigh, softly.
    ***
    I paced my room, propelled by the questions that slammed around inside my head. Every answer created another doubt. Why hadn’t Mother told me about a nanny? I was positive she’d said she was the one who left me alone. Could I have misunderstood because I was upset when she told me about it? If it was a careless nanny who allowed me to destroy the pictures, could the same person have let Michelle and me get caught out in a storm? But why would our careful mother hire somebody like that?
    It was such a long time ago. Maybe she’d been a different person then, not as watchful and thorough. Or was she so grief-stricken herself that she hadn’t been thinking normally, had taken risks with her children? I could imagine what would happen if I went to her and tried to probe this subject. She would turn sad, reproachful eyes on me and the words would freeze in my throat.
    I flopped onto my back across the bed. She was downstairs in her study, the room she now locked because I couldn’t be trusted to stay out of it, the room whose closed door I casually ignored.
    I was exhausted by the effort of pretending nothing was wrong.
    Sitting up, I reached for the cell phone on my night stand. I had the next day, Wednesday, off work, and I would put the free time to good use. Theo Antanopoulos, Mother’s old friend and former professor, might have the answers to some of my questions. I flipped open the phone and punched in his number.
    ***
    “What a treat!”
    Theo stood in the morning sunshine outside his red brick townhouse, one arm flung wide and waiting to hug me. His other hand leaned on a four-footed metal cane. I walked into his hug and kissed his cheek just above the white beard.
    “What a pleasure to see you,” he said, patting my back. “Did you have to park far away?”
    That was always his first question of visitors to his Georgetown home. Parked cars lined the narrow streets, and finding a space near your destination was a wildly unlikely stroke of luck. “Not too far,” I told him. “Over on N Street.”
    “Oh, excellent, excellent. Your young legs can handle that quite nicely.”
    He shifted toward his door, the pain of the movement producing a wince. Theo’s barrel-chested body didn’t look frail, but the brisk stride I remembered from years ago had given way to a slow shuffle. I didn’t ask about the state of his knee and hip joints because I knew he considered his arthritis the single most boring topic under the sun.
    When he pushed open the bright red front door, two Siamese cats jumped back with a duet of unholy screeches. “Oh, now, now,” Theo chided. “Here she is, just as I promised.”
    When I leaned to pet them, Helen leapt onto my shoulder, where she dug in her claws for purchase and ecstatically rubbed her chocolate-brown face in my hair. Sophia shrieked and started climbing my slacks. 
    “Good grief.” Laughing, I tried to extract Helen’s claws from my skin and the silk fabric of my blouse without doing further damage. “I think it’s time I gave these girls another pedicure.”
    “I’d be grateful, if you wouldn’t mind.” Theo waved a gnarled hand, scowling at it in disgust. He couldn’t manage the nail clippers anymore.
    “No problem.” I hoisted Sophia onto my free shoulder, and with Helen balanced on the other I followed