Household Gods

She let her knees give way, and sank down on the front step, hugging the warm wriggling bodies, kissing whichever was handiest, babbling at them – she never did know what, nor care. They were so small. And so clean. Her fingers combed through their hair, automatically – affection, no doubt of it, but habit also, checking for lice as she’d done with Lucius and Aurelia whenever she could get them to stand still for more than a few seconds.

These two were even more wiggly and even more boisterous than Umma’s older, larger children. They calmed down eventually, enough to each take half of her lap and cling there. Just as Kimberley sucked in breath, probably to start regaling Nicole with a rapid-fire account of every event of the past six days, Frank’s voice said, “Nicole. Hi.”

Nicole had got so wrapped up with the kids – literally and figuratively – that she hadn’t even noticed his taking Dawn’s place in the doorway. “Hello,” she said coolly from the bottom of the pile of kids. Frank was exactly the same as ever, early-middle-aged, his dark hair thinning, and his sturdy body – so much like Justin’s – beginning to get paunchy, with that supercilious expression Nicole had mistaken, very early on, for an indication of superior intellect. She couldn’t imagine what Dawn Soderstrom saw in him. A year and a half in Carnuntum hadn’t made it any clearer.

But Dawn plainly adored him. The way she stood, deferring to him, the way she looked at him, her whole attitude and posture, must have struck him as profoundly satisfying and perfectly right. Nicole had been awed enough by him when she first knew him, and she’d bought into it enough to marry him. But she didn’t think she’d ever worshipped the ground he deigned to walk on.

He frowned down at her. No doubt he didn’t think it was dignified of her to be sitting on the step of her own house, half drowned in kids. Too bad. she thought as he said, “So they think you’re all right. Do they have any idea what happened to you?”

“Not a one,” Nicole answered. “All the tests came back negative. The neurologist wants to see me again next week.”

“Dr. Feldman,” Frank said, precise as usual. “Yeah, I talked with her. She does seem to know what she’s doing, but people don’t just go to sleep for six days. Did she say whether you’d be likely to do it again?”

“She didn’t know,” Nicole said, not without malice. Frank looked sour. He liked definite answers, and he very much disliked disruptions. It must have been a dire inconvenience to have to give up Canciun in favor of a week of looking after his own kids.

Nicole bit her tongue. Time was when she would have said all that to his face, and taken active pleasure in the fight that followed. But she’d come too far and seen too much to indulge herself now, and the kids were starting to wriggle. Kimberley spoke up in her clear, precise voice – just like Frank, but by as many gods as it took, Nicole wasn’t going to let her grow up to be just like her father. “I called nine-one-one, Mommy, just like you told me to,” she said.

Nicole hugged her so hard she squeaked in protest, then hugged Justin, who was demanding equal time. “I know you did, sweetie. They told me in the hospital. You did just what you were supposed to.”

Kimberley looked thoroughly pleased with herself. She got to her feet, and watched as Nicole unknotted herself and stood, still holding Justin.

“We’re going to Woodcrest now, Mommy,” Kimberley said.

“Woodcrest,” Justin agreed.

“My teacher is Miss Irma,” Kimberley went on, “and Justin’s teacher is Miss Dolores, and – “

She’d have gone on, and probably at great length, if Frank hadn’t interrupted. “I signed them both up to start Monday, and paid the first month up front.”

Nicole’s eyes widened slightly. “All right,” she said. “Good. How much is that going to cost?”

He told her. She winced. It didn’t take long to do the mental calculations. “If I’m going to be paying that every month, you’ll have to keep up with the child support.”

“I know, I know,” he said, as he always did. That was his way of taking the easy way out. Promises, promises. Well, Nicole thought: words were cheap, but court-ordered support payments were a whole lot more concrete than that.

She was going to have to work to get what was legally due her. She resented like hell having to struggle for it, but the fact remained that if she pressed her case, she could get what was coming to her. No need to put up and shut up. She was entitled to that money, and she would get it.

She didn’t push him, not yet. But she smiled a little. She would. Oh, yes. She would.