“He knows not to touch them, and I know he can be trusted. Most Swiss families have members in the militia—nearly every male citizen there is prepared to defend his country, did you know that?—with guns in almost every house, but they have the lowest rate of accidental shootings in the world. Because guns are a way of life. Children are taught to respect them from an early age. Chris’ll be okay.”
As Laura put the Uzi under the bed again, Thelma said, “How on earth do you find an illegal gun dealer?”
“I’m rich, remember?”
“And money can buy anything? Okay, maybe that’s true. But, come on, how does a gal like you find an arms dealer? They don’t advertise on Laundromat bulletin boards, I presume.”
“I’ve researched the backgrounds to several complicated novels, Thelma. I’ve learned how to find anyone or anything I need.”
Thelma was silent as they returned to the kitchen. From the family room came the heroic music that accompanied Indiana Jones on all of his exploits. While Laura sat at the table and continued cleaning the revolver, Thelma poured fresh coffee for both of them.
“Straight talk now, kiddo. If there’s really some threat out there that justifies all this armament, then it’s bigger than you can handle yourself. Why not bodyguards?”
“I don’t trust anyone. Anyone but you and Chris, that is. And Danny’s father, except he’s in Florida.”
“But you can’t go on like this, alone, afraid …”
Working a spiral brush into the barrel of the revolver, Laura said, “I’m afraid, yeah, but I feel good about being prepared. All my life I’ve stood by while people I love have been taken from me. I’ve done nothing about it but endure. Well, to hell with that. From now on, I fight. If anyone wants to take Chris from me, they’re going to have to go through me to get him, they’ll have to fight a war.”
“Laura, I know what you’re going through. But listen, let me play psychoanalyst here and tell you that you’re reacting less to any real threat than you are overreacting to a sense of helplessness in the face of fate. You can’t thwart Providence, kid. You can’t play poker with God and expect to win because you’ve got a .38 in your purse. I mean, you lost Danny to violence, yeah, and maybe you could say that Nina Dockweiler would have lived if someone had put a bullet in the Eel when he first deserved it, but those are the only cases where lives of people you loved might’ve been saved with guns. Your mother died in childbirth. Your father died of a heart attack. We lost Ruthie to fire. Learning to defend yourself with guns is fine, but you’ve got to keep perspective, you’ve got to have a sense of humor about our vulnerability as a species, or you’ll wind up in an institution with people who talk to tree stumps and eat their belly-button lint. God forbid, but what if Chris got cancer? You’re all prepared to blow away anyone who touches him, but you can’t kill cancer with a revolver, and I’m afraid you’re so crazy determined to protect him that you’ll fall to pieces if something like that happens, something you can’t deal with, that no one can deal with. I worry about you, kid.”
Laura nodded and felt a rush of warmth for her friend. “I know you do, Thelma. And you can put your mind at ease. For thirty-three years I just endured; now I’m fighting back as best I can. If cancer were to strike me or Chris, I’d hire all the best specialists, seek the finest possible treatment. But if all failed, if for example Chris died of cancer, then I’d accept defeat. Fighting doesn’t preclude enduring. I can fight, and if fighting fails, I can still endure.”
For a long time Thelma stared at her across the table. At last she nodded. “That’s what I hoped to hear. Okay. End of discussion. On to other things. When do you plan to buy a tank, Shane?”
“They’re delivering it Monday.”
“Howitzers, grenades, bazookas?”
“Tuesday. What about the Eddie Murphy movie?”