There was a long white envelope propped on the sill of Amanda's screen door, well under the porch overhang and thus safe from the rain. Lisey's first alarmed thought on seeing it was Dooley's been here already. But the envelope Lisey had found after discovering the dead cat in her mailbox had been blank on both sides. This one had Amanda's name printed on the front. She handed it over. Amanda looked at the printing, turned the card over to read the embossing on the back - Hallmark - and then spoke a single disdainful word: "Charles."
For a moment the name meant nothing to Lisey. Then she remembered that once upon a time, before this current craziness had begun, Amanda had had a boyfriend. Shootin' Beans, she thought, and made a strangled noise in her throat.
"Lisey?" Amanda asked. Her eyebrows went up.
"Just thinking about Canty and Miss Buggy, charging up to Derry," Lisey said. "I know it's not funny, but - "
"Oh, it has its humorous elements," Amanda said. "Probably this does, too." She opened the envelope and removed the card. Scanned it. "Oh. My. God. Look. What just fell out of. The dog's ass."
"Can I see?"
Amanda passed it over. On the front was a gap-toothed little boy, Hallmark's idea of tough but endearing (too-big sweater, patched jeans), holding out a single droopy flower. Gee, I'm Sorry! read the message below the scamp's battered sneakers. Lisey flipped it open and read this:
I know I hurt your feelin's, and I guess you're feelin' bad,
This is just a note to say you ain't the only one who's sad!
I thought I'd send a card an' apologize to you,
'Cuz to think of you down in the dumps has made me feel so blue!
So get out an' smell the roses! Be happy for a while!
Get that spring back in your step! Put on that cheery smile!
Today I guess I made you feel a tiny bit o' sorrow,
But I hope we'll still be friends when the sun comes out tomorrow!
It was signed Yours in friendship (4-Ever! Remember the Good Times!!) Charles
"Charlie" Corriveau.
Lisey tried mightily to keep a solemn face, but couldn't. She burst out laughing. And Amanda joined her. They stood on the porch together, laughing. When it began to wind down a little, Amanda stood up straight and declaimed to her rain-soaked front yard, with the card held out before her like a choir-book.
"My darling Charles, I cannot let another moment pass, without asking you to come over here and kiss my f**kin ass."
Lisey fell against the side of the house hard enough to rattle the nearest window, screaming with laughter, her hands against her chest. Amanda gave her a haughty smile and marched down the porch stairs. She squelched two or three steps into the yard, upended the little lawn-pixie that stood guard over the rose bushes, and fished out the spare latchkey she kept stashed beneath. But while she was bent over, she took the opportunity to rub Charlie Corriveau's card briskly over her green-clad fanny. No longer caring if Jim Dooley might be watching from the woods, no longer thinking of Jim Dooley at all, Lisey collapsed to a sitting position on the porch, now wheezing with laughter because she had almost no breath left. She might have laughed so hard once or twice with Scott, but maybe not. Maybe not even then.
12
There was a single message on Amanda's answering machine, and it was from Darla, not Dooley. "Lisey!" she said exuberantly. "I don't know what you did, but wow! We're on our way to Derry! Lisey, I love you! You're a champ!"
She heard Scott saying Lisey, you're a champ at this! and her laughter began to dry up. Amanda's gun turned out to be a Pathfinder .22 revolver, and when Amanda passed it over, it felt absolutely correct in Lisey's hand, as if it had been manufactured with her in mind. Amanda had been keeping it in a shoebox on the top shelf of her bedroom closet. With only minimal fiddling, Lisey was able to swing out the cylinder.
"Jesus-please-us, Manda, this thing is loaded! "
As if Someone Up There was displeased with Lisey's profanity, the skies opened and more rain poured down. A moment later, the windows and gutters were rattling and pinging with hail.
"What's a woman on her own supposed to do if a raper comes in?" Amanda asked.
"Point an unloaded gun at him and shout bang? Lisey, hook this for me, would you?"
Amanda had put on a pair of jeans. Now she presented her bony back and the hooks of her bra. "Every time I try, my hands just about kill me. You should have taken me down for a little dip in that pool of yours."
"I was having enough trouble getting you away from it without baptizing you in it, please and thank you," Lisey said, doing the hooks. "Wear the red shirt with the yellow flowers, would you? I love that one on you."
"It shows my gut."
"Amanda, you don't have a gut."
"I do s - Why in the name of Jesus, Mary, and JoJo the Carpenter are you taking the bullets out? "
"So I don't shoot my own kneecap off." Lisey put the bullets in the pocket of her jeans.
"I'll re-load it later." Although whether she could point it at Jim Dooley and actually pull the trigger...she just didn't know. Maybe. If she summoned up the memory of her can opener.