38. Quiet Worm, Don't Squirm (D1)

__ Maggie absorbed the warmth from Mr. M's hand as she walked with him down the center of the deserted stretch of road between the two hemispheres of Palley's Woods. She thought about asking him why it seemed there was no one around except the three of them: Mr. M., Maggie, and Doug who hung limply over Mr. M's shoulder.
__ "You're so strong," she offered, then wished she hadn't said anything. She was rather enjoying the hush of the August Winter silence.
__ "I have to be, child," Mr. M said.
__ Maggie sighed and gave his large hand a squeeze. It was amazing how warm it was considering how cold it was in death just about an hour ago. But she didn't want to think about that either.
__ Instead, she concentrated on who she was and wondered where she would be tomorrow. And, in thinking about that, she couldn't help but remember and wonder how she got to be where she was now. What she was yesterday. A worm.


__ "Stay quiet, little worm. Stay quiet," man said.
__ That's what Maggie Morrow called her father. She didn't call him "daddy" or "papa," or even "Clye," his given name. Because he wasn't her father. He couldn't be. Fathers don't touch their daughters the way he did. They weren't supposed to hurt them.
__ "Stay quiet, little worm. Don't squirm," was a little rhyme he used to tell her before the touching began. He used to repeat that mantra over and over as he went about his duties and she, the dutiful daughter, would try to detach herself from him, from life. She tried to imagine she really was a worm because things like this don't happen to worms. They don't cry or scream. They don't even talk. Worms just crawl and eat dirt and get eaten by birds.
__ She used to imagine --
__ "Stay quiet, little worm. Don't squirm."
__ -- that a giant robin would swoop down through her bedroom window and swallow her up so she'd be away from it. So she wouldn't have to wonder about daddies and why they would say, "Stay quiet, little worm. Don't squirm."
__ After it was over she wouldn't cry or whine. He would smack her with his palm and tell her that was just the beginning if she ever told anyone about his duties. He would open a manilla folder and show her black and white pictures of horribly dead people, eyes staring like unblinking dolls, weeping holes in their cheeks and foreheads. Sometimes they'd be in pieces with dark black liquid in puddles around them and tendrils of slop splattered all around. "Little worms," he'd say, "who talked."
__ Then he would leave her with the nanny, Miss Rita, as he went off to his law firm to make money to buy more toys, dolls, crayons, and books for her. To make money to buy her silence.
__ She never told Miss Rita about it because every time she thought about telling her, Miss Rita would pull at her long stringy hair and say, "Doesn't your dad ever buy peanut butter?" or "Don't you hate that Friends isn't on TV anymore" or "Hey. Wanna color?" and those distractions were so welcome and needed that she pushed the other thing away. She could forget about man until he came home from work and sent Miss Rita away. Some days that would be that. They'd have a quiet dinner, or man would ask about what she colored that day. Sometimes --
__ "Stay quiet, little worm. Don't squirm."
__ The last time she saw him, well before he became like the pictures, he sat on her bed staring off into space.
__ She didn't ask him what was wrong. Worms don't talk, remember. But he answered her anyway. He said, "You had a brother."
__ Maggie Morrow kept the covers pulled tight to her chin, kept staring straight ahead, but her eyes and ears grew wide. She felt the blood heating her ears as man talked.
__ "Robert Lee, he was called." Man paused, imagining some pictures she was glad she didn't see. He smiled. His ugly pink tongue touched his lower lip. "Huh. Don't know why I started thinking of that little shit."
__ Then he looked at her and said, "You can go out on your own before you become a teenager. I don't need that kinda crap, I'll tell ya."
__ She didn't ask what kind of crap. She let him imagine she asked it.
__ "He was the property of my last wife. She didn't like the games we played, so she took him away." His black eyes fell on her for a moment, over his shoulder, "Good thing for me your momma died, huh?"
__ That was the first time Maggie ever felt like crying, not like a worm at all. She never knew her momma, but imagined she was not like man at all.
__ "Well, little worm," he said, rising to his feet, "No lesson today, huh? I think you know the rules by now."
__ More silence. More vacant stares. Then the last words man ever said to her, "Okay, I'm gonna go pick up Miss Rita. You get some sleep 'til she gets here." Then he was gone.

__ That night she prayed herself to sleep. She prayed for her brother she never knew she had to come back and save her. She prayed her momma up in heaven would send him.
__ And she did.
__ Maggie changed when the news came. She had already started having the strange dreams. The dreams had dirt and shovels, rope, guns, and a glowing eye behind a pane of glass. She dreamed of boys delivering pizza and of store clerks coming to court lovely young psychics.
__ The news came in the form of neighbors and strangers who never rescued her when she needed it. But now they were here to comfort her, to tell her that her father had gone to heaven. That a bad thing had happened. That a bad man had taken him away. Others talked about something called 'video surveillance' at his office. And others, when they thought she wasn't around, said things like 'disgruntled client' and 'brains splattered all over the floor.'
__ But she knew the truth. She could see it on the day the darkness came. That morning she felt the rain coming down on her face as she ran away from her house and the crying neighbors.
__ "Let her go!" they called. "Let her run it off!"
__ "Poor child!" others called. Miss Rita was not among them. Her mother wouldn't let her come. Maggie knew that but didn't know how she knew. She just did.
__ But she giggled as she ran. Her brother had returned and made man go away. And God told her in her waking, running, giggling dream that she would find her brother in the dark and the snow. Winter in August!? Yes. Apparently, yes.


__ Maggie Morrow squeezed Mr. M's hand again, this time to get his attention.
__ He smiled down at her. "Yes, Maggie?"
__ "Did you know my brother, Mr. M?"
__ "Robert Lee?" Mr. M looked ahead and smiled. "No. But I understand he played his part well."
__ "I knew he would," Maggie giggled. "I just knew it."
__ "I'm glad, child. There's a lot you have to know before the end. A lot."
__ She abruptly stopped and pulled back on his arm.
__ Mr. M released her hand and turned to face her, lowering himself to one knee so they could be eye to eye. He lowered Doug to the snowy pavement and gently rested his head.
__ "Mr M," Maggie started.
__ The man who looked like Robert Lee Munson -- except for the crisp blue eyes -- took Maggie's hands in his own. He smiled. "You wish to talk to him?"
__ The little girl couldn't say anything. Her chin quivered and icy tears welled up in her eyes. She nodded.
__ Mr. M's blue eyes closed. His brown eyes opened. He instantly looked softer, warmer, forgiven.
__ "Oh, Maggie," R. Lee cried. He pulled his little step-sister to his chest and hugged her hard. Their shuddering tears mingled as she rubbed her hands up and down his broad back and his large hands hugged the back of her head and neck like a warm hood. "I'm so sorry," he sniffed. "I didn't know. I didn't know any of it."
__ They separated to soak up each other's faces, faces they never knew. Faces that would have had different lives if not for the circumstances that caused them so much separate but identical physical and emotional pain. They were instantly a brother and sister who had always known and loved each other.
__ Munson said, "I knew what he did to me, but I didn't know he--"
__ Maggie pressed a finger to his lips. Tears cascaded down her cold red cheeks as she shuddered. She couldn't tell him. She could only stutter, "Nobody needs to know anymore."
__ They hugged and cried some more, catching up on lost years of love in a single embrace.
__ When they parted a second time, Munson stood. He said, "I have to go now."
__ Maggie sniffed and nodded. "Will I see you again?"
__ Munson slowly shook his head. "I still have much to repay. I was lost before I was found."
__ The girl nodded again and fresh tears glittered in the corners of her eyes.
__ Before returning to the darkness, R. Lee knelt again and hugged his little step-sister good-bye. "Before this day is over," he said, "You'll be with your momma who loves you more than you could know."
__ Maggie hugged him tighter and cried harder.

__ When she finally pulled away from him, his eyes were once again hard but loving, the cool blue of a determined soul, God's soldier.
__ "Mr. M?" she sniffed. "Thank you."
__ He lifted Doug onto his shoulder again and took Maggie by the hand. "Let's go, shall we?"
__ They walked off into the night without another thought of worms or death, the child, the store clerk, and the archangel.