Artie and the Red-Headed Woman Read online

  Artie and the Red-Headed Woman

  By Jan Christensen

  Copyright 2011 by Jan Christensen

  Cover Copyright 2011 by Dara England and Untreed Reads Publishing

  The author is hereby established as the sole holder of the copyright. Either the publisher (Untreed Reads) or author may enforce copyrights to the fullest extent.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold, reproduced or transmitted by any means in any form or given away to other people without specific permission from the author and/or publisher. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Also by Jan Christensen and Untreed Reads Publishing

  Artie and the Long-Legged Woman

  http://www.untreedreads.com

  ARTIE AND THE RED-HEADED WOMAN

  By Jan Christensen

  The bus bucked and came to a stop in the middle of the street. The woman driver cursed softly, then spoke into the radio attached to her shoulder. From his curbside bench seat along the front, Artie glanced around at the other passengers. His feet tightened against the athletic bag between his legs. It held his stash of watches and fine jewelry, and his first impulse was to dash from the bus and catch a taxi home.

  He forced himself to sit still, to relax.

  As he looked around, he noticed a young woman a few seats away. She was the only one who wasn’t sharing space with another passenger. Her eyes welled with tears as she stared out the window. Not a great time of year to be crying, Artie thought. The Saturday after Thanksgiving and already Christmas lights twinkled from the stores along the street. Santa stood on the corner, breathing out a white plume of cold air, ringing a bell Artie couldn’t hear. All he wanted to do was get home to Josie, but he forced himself to sit still as he watched the red-headed woman take a tissue from her shoulder bag and dab at her eyes.

  When she looked up, their eyes met. Oh, no. He recognized her. Wondered if she realized who he was. He couldn’t get involved in her problems. He pulled his eyes away and tried to catch what the driver was saying to dispatch. Car horns yelped behind them.

  “What good will the cops do?” the driver asked. She was stout with crinkly gray hair and a round face. “Send a mechanic.” The radio crackled. “What do you mean none are available?” More crackle. Artie wondered how she could understand what was being said. “I know what day it is, dammit. Again, what can a cop do? Well, send another bus so these folks can get where they’re going.” After listening again, she raised her eyes to heaven and pushed a button on the radio. Then she stood up and faced the passengers.

  “Sorry for the inconvenience, folks. You can either get off the bus or wait in warm comfort for another one to arrive to take over the route.”

  Before anyone could move, someone banged on the door. The driver glanced at it, then sat back down to lever it open.

  A cop stood at the bottom of the stairs. “Move this bus,” he growled. Artie looked around for a hidden camera. Were they part of a reality show? That would be swell.

  “Sorry, Officer. The engine quit.”

  The cop cursed, then climbed inside. Artie’s gut tightened, and he glanced over at the red-headed woman. Her large blue eyes widened, and looking frightened, she quickly turned her head away.

  “Let me try,” the man in blue said.

  Giving him a disgusted look, the driver stood up and stepped aside. While the cop settled into her seat, she looked around for a place to sit. Artie stood quickly and offered his spot on the bench, then moved to the only other empty space and sat down next to the red-headed woman, telling himself the whole time he was being a fool. Curiosity gnawed at him.

  She looked startled as he put his bag carefully between his feet. Then she turned her head to continue staring out the window. He could see her reflection in the glass. He’d never seen anyone look so sad in all his life.

  “What’s wrong?” he murmured.

  Her head jerked around, and she stared at him. Her red hair glowed as if lit from within. It tumbled outside her green winter coat down almost to the middle of her back in flowing waves. She had tried to tame it with a scarf, but it couldn’t be contained easily, so some had escaped and covered part of her face. He squelched the impulse to reach out and smooth those flying strands away. When he’d last seen her, her hair had been very short. He looked at the floor to avoid her eyes and saw a small suitcase at her feet. Running away?

  “Something’s wrong,” he said.

  “Why do you care?” Her tone was bitter.

  He looked into her eyes again. Tears gone, and the blue had turned to ice.

  He shrugged. “I’ve always cared.”

  She studied him for a moment. He was vaguely aware of the police officer trying to start the engine.

  “You’re Artie Applegate?”

  She hadn’t grown much, if at all, since he’d seen her last. Probably not yet even five feet. He attempted a smile. “And you’re a Santa’s elf, right? You have Christmas presents in that suitcase?”

  She shook her head, and her hair shimmered and caught the light both from inside the bus and from all the Christmas lights outside. “You and my father were good friends a long time ago. I was just a little girl then.”

  And hadn’t gotten much bigger since. “Regina MacIntosh. Little Gina.”

  She smiled. “You remember me.”

  He’d tried to forget her father and the bad times back then. He never could forget Gina entirely, though. She’d changed from a cute kid with freckles into a stunning woman. And seeing her on a stranded bus after all these years made him want to know what had happened to her and why she was so sad.

  The cop banged the steering wheel with his fist and stood up. Both Artie and Gina looked forward, then at each other’s alarmed faces.

  The officer faced the passengers. “We’re going to have to clear the bus. It needs a tow. So, off you go.”

  Artie muttered, “Poet and doesn’t know it,” and picked up his bag. The cop stood outside watching people struggle with bulky shopping bags and gaily wrapped packages. Only Artie and Gina carried athletic bag and suitcase. Artie averted his face as he climbed down the steps, but turned to be sure Gina got down okay.

  The officer stared at them long enough to make Artie uncomfortable, but then the cop was distracted by another one who came over to ask what was going on.

  Artie took Gina’s arm and steered her down the street. He had to bend down to hear when she spoke.

  “I need to get as far as away from here as I can.”

  He pulled her into an alley and turned her to face him. “What’s going on? You’re running away, right?” He was vaguely aware of the stench of rotting garbage and the red eyes of a rat watching them.

  She nodded, her lips trembling. “I can’t do it anymore, Artie. I can’t live that way. But I don’t have much money, and I have nowhere to go. I figured I’d get on the Staten Island ferry and find someplace over there to crash. He wouldn’t think I’d go to Staten Island, would he?”

  “You’ve been living with Darrin all this time?”

  “Yes.” Tears glistened against her eyelashes.

  Artie swallowed hard. “And he and you have been doing the same thing?”

  She nodded, then kept her head down. Artie shuddered. He raised up Gina’s chin and looked into t
hose sad eyes. “I should have stuck around. Should have made him stop. We argued, and I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry.”

  “Not your fault.”

  “If I’d reported him, they would have taken you away, put you in foster care. I just couldn’t do it.”

  Gina moved her head down, pulled his glove aside and kissed his palm. “I know you cared. And you’re right. I loved my dad. It would have torn me apart to be separated from him back then.”

  “But now?”

  She took a step back. “Now I want something better for myself. I can’t persuade him to change. So I had to leave.” She squared her shoulders. “I need to get going. I’m sure he has people out looking for me.”

  Yes, he would, Artie knew. Darrin had a wide network of friends, some of them even cops who didn’t know what he really did during the late night hours when he wasn’t manning his liquor store. People who knew the city inside and out. And who knew what Gina looked like.

  “Let’s go,” Artie said. He checked the alley entrance, saw no one of interest, and took Gina’s arm again.

  “Where?”

  “For now, I’m taking you home with me.” They began walking rapidly toward a taxi stand.

  A shout from behind stopped them. “Gina! Artie!”

  They hustled to the nearest taxi and jumped inside. Artie gave the driver the name of the street corner two blocks away from his apartment. He never took any public transportation to his door and always made sure he wasn’t followed home.

  “Hurry. An extra twenty if you can get us there in less than ten minutes.”

  Without a word, the driver stomped on the gas, throwing Gina against Artie. She gasped, and he put his arm around her. He looked out the back window to see if anyone was following them. It was hard to tell—too many cars. When they arrived at the corner, brakes squealing as the driver pulled over, Artie pushed some bills through the opening in the partition. He and Gina scrambled out of the taxi, Artie’s head on a swivel, looking for any familiar faces or anyone paying attention.

  He pulled her along toward his apartment. Running footsteps sounded behind them. Artie looked back and saw Finian O’Malley close behind. “Stop,” Finian yelled. “I just want to talk to you.”

  Artie and Gina started running. It was hard, she with her suitcase and the purse sliding down her arm, he with his athletic bag full of watches and fine jewelry. They held hands, and after only a few steps, Gina stumbled. Artie pulled her toward him, but Finian grabbed Artie by the shoulder, and his and Gina’s hands tore away from each other. Gina fell to her knees, her suitcase thudding to the ground, spewing open. She glared up at Finian.

  “Look what you did,” Artie shouted. “Get away from us. This is none of your business.” He shook the other man’s hand off his shoulder.

  “Darrin’s a good friend of mine. That makes it my business.” Finian squinted as he watched Gina get up and start to put her belongings back into the suitcase.

  Pathetic belongings, Artie thought. A small cosmetic case and a brush. Tiny little bras and panties, some blouses, tops, skirts and slacks. One extra pair of shoes. Pink nightgown and robe. All looking as if they were bought years ago, when she was a child. He realized she wasn’t yet much more than a child as he returned Finian’s glare. And no bigger than many.

  “Look what you made her do.” Artie shoved Finian on the shoulder, which surprised them both. Artie hardly ever got physical.

  “What’s going on here?” They all turned to see a cop approaching. “Oh, it’s you, Finian. Gina? Your dad’s looking for you.”

  “So what?” she spat. “I’m of age. Go away, both of you. You can’t make me go back to him.”

  Finian and the cop looked astonished. Taking advantage of that, Artie grabbed Gina’s arm, his other hand clinging to his athletic bag. He broke out into a cold sweat thinking about what would happen if the cop got a look inside. “Leave it,” he said as she bent to pick up the suitcase. “Run!”

  They took off. Shouts of surprise sounded behind them. Artie dared to look back and saw the men start forward, but then stop to talk. They had to be wondering why Gina was running away. Everyone thought Gina and her dad were inseparable. As far as he knew, Artie was the only one who was in on their secret.

  He’d found out by accident. One late evening after a disappointing haul, he’d gone to see Darrin, just to talk. He wasn’t married to Josie then. They hadn’t even met. Darrin had let him in with obvious reluctance. When little Gina heard his voice, she popped out of her bedroom to hug him.

  Before she got too close, her father stopped her with outstretched arm. “Go change,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Gina looked down at herself, her tiny blue overalls and white T-shirt covered in soot, and her eyes widened. She ducked her red head, her short hair covered in a kerchief, and ran back to her bedroom, closing the door behind herself.

  “What the hell,” Artie said and collapsed onto the sofa. “What did she get into? A roomful of coal?”

  Darrin frowned and sighed, crossed his arms, and leaned against the doorjamb. “Yeah,” he drawled.

  Artie’s mouth dropped open, and he made an effort to close it. “How did that happen?”

  “None of your business.”

  Artie clenched his teeth so his mouth stayed closed this time and stared at his friend. He didn’t know whether to push Darrin for answers or wait to get Gina alone for her to tell him why. But suddenly he knew why. He’d heard about parents sending their kids into houses through the old milk doors, if the child was small enough, or through the coal chute door if the child could fit. He tried to imagine the horror the child felt the first time he, or she, zoomed down the chute and landed in a pile of coal. Maybe now most of the coal rooms were cleaned out, but there must still be dust left in the chutes. The kid would be told to run upstairs and open an outside door to let daddy or rarely, mommy, in.

  He’d been appalled, thinking it was Dickensian when someone had first told him about the process. He could hardly believe it then, and now… Now, he sat, shocked speechless.

  “Little Gina,” he finally muttered. “How can you…”

  Gina came out of her room again, face scrubbed, in a clean flannel nightgown, her tiny feet bare. She walked shyly over to Artie and leaned against his knee. He pulled her close and kissed her forehead, watching Darrin over her thatch of red hair. She still smelled of coal dust.

  Darrin’s gaze shifted to the floor, and he didn’t look up until Artie asked Gina, “What were you doing to get so dirty?”

  She wrinkled her freckled nose and shook her head. “It’s a secret.”

  “Oh, but you can tell me.”

  Darrin stirred. “No, Gina. You can’t tell anyone.”

  Gina popped her thumb into her mouth and stared at her father with round eyes. Artie wondered if she wasn’t too old to be sucking her thumb. He’d never seen her do it before.

  “Give Uncle Artie a kiss and off to bed.” Darrin moved away from the doorjamb and waited while Gina kissed Artie on the cheek and held out her hand to her father. They walked to her bedroom and went inside.

  Artie leaned back into the couch cushion and took a deep breath. His stomach clenched as if someone had thrown a punch at it. When Darrin came back into the living room, they argued for hours, but Artie could not persuade Darrin to stop using Gina to help him. Artie showed up at odd times for several weeks to argue some more, but he could never change Darrin’s mind. He didn’t see any evidence that Gina had been in a coal room again, but once he thought he caught a whiff of coal dust in the air when he arrived. That night Darrin told him Gina was already asleep.

  After awhile, he gave up. If he turned Darrin in, Gina would lose her father, maybe for years. Her mother had died giving Gina birth, and Artie wasn’t aware of any other responsible relatives who might take Gina in. Darrin’s parents were dead. He had a brother with an alcoholic wife, and a sister with an abusive husband. Artie couldn’t think of a good solution, and he co
uld no longer be around Darrin and Gina. It both frustrated and hurt him too much.

  Now he gripped Gina’s hand hard while they ran. A block from home, he dared to look back again. No one was following. He pulled at Gina to make her slow down. “Act casual. Only one more block to go.”

  Gina, gasping for breath, nodded. She must really be scared, Artie thought. We didn’t run far enough to make her so breathless. When they arrived at his apartment building, he looked around again. No one in sight. They walked inside and rode the elevator to one story below Artie and Josie’s apartment. Gina still gasped for air, and Artie began to worry that she was ill. His mind spun busily, thinking about what to do with her.

  When the elevator stopped, they made their way upstairs slowly. His hand still clutched his bag as if they were welded together. Gina pushed against her purse to keep it from slipping off her shoulder.