“And we will see you here again on Tuesday,” Russ said. He clapped his hands and turned to Frances. “Shall we?”
He saw that she was holding a small, flat package. It was wrapped in Santa Claus paper and red ribbon.
“Will you do something for me?” she asked Theo. “Will you give this to Ronnie tomorrow? Tell him it’s from the lady he made the drawings with?”
Russ hadn’t seen the package in any of the boxes. She must have had it in her coat pocket. He wished she’d mentioned it to him earlier, because Theo was frowning.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s just a set of Flair pens. They’re great for coloring-books.”
“That’s nice,” Theo said. “Some little boy or girl be happy to get that.”
“No, it’s for Ronnie. I got it specially for him.”
“All well and good. But I think you should put that with the other toys.”
“Why? He’s such a sweet boy—why can’t I give him a little present?”
She seemed innocently surprised, innocently hurt. An instinct to protect her welled up in Russ so strongly, he thought he might really be in love with her.
Theo wasn’t similarly moved. “I was given to understand,” he said, “that you and Ronnie’s mother had some words.”
“It’s a gift,” Frances said.
“I already asked you once to leave that boy be. Now I’m asking you again, politely.”
Frances’s hurt was turning to anger. It was an emotion Russ had never seen in her, and the sight of it turned him on. He imagined her angry at him, the full womanly range of her emotions bared to him, in the kind of spat that lovers sometimes had.
“Why?” she said. “I don’t understand.”
Theo rolled his eyes toward Russ, as if she were his woman to control.
“Frances,” Russ said, moving toward her. “Maybe we should trust Theo on this. We don’t know the situation.”
“What is the situation?”
“The situation,” Theo said, “is that Clarice, the boy’s mother, doesn’t want you talking to him. She came and complained to me about that.”
Frances laughed. “Because why? Because she’s such a perfect mother?”
Her derision, too, was sexually exciting to Russ, but morally it was unattractive. He placed a hand on her shoulder and tried to turn her away. “You and I can talk about this later,” he said.
She shrugged off his hand. “I’m sorry, but how is it right for a boy who should be in a special school, getting special attention—how is it okay for him to be wandering around the neighborhood during school hours, cadging quarters?”
“Frances,” Russ said.
“I appreciate your concern,” Theo said evenly. “But I suggest you head home. It’s a long drive in the snow.”
“We really should be going,” Russ agreed.
Frances now did direct her anger at him. “Does this seem right to you? Why isn’t someone calling social services? Isn’t this something the state should know about?”
“The state?” Theo smiled at Russ as if they were in on a joke. “You think the State of Illinois has a functioning child-protection system?”
“What are you smiling at?” Frances said to Russ. “Did I say something funny?”
He erased his smile. “Not at all. Theo is just saying it’s not a perfect system. It’s understaffed and overwhelmed. We can talk about it in the car.”
Again he tried to steer her toward the door, and again she shed his hand. “I want to know,” she said, “why I can’t give a needy boy one tiny little Christmas present.”
The time on the community center’s wall clock was 5:18. Each passing minute deepened the trouble Russ would be in with Marion, and he knew he should insist that they leave. But again his lady was asking him to perform a difficult task—to side with her against an urban minister with whom he’d painstakingly cultivated a relationship.
“I take your point about the gift,” he said to Theo. “But I’m kind of with Frances here. It doesn’t seem right that Ronnie’s on the street by himself.”
Theo threw him a disappointed look and turned to Frances. “You want to take charge of that boy? You want to take that on? Retarded South Side nine-year-old? You ready for that?”
“No,” she said. “That would be a lot for me to take on. But I can’t help—”