Another reason, perhaps, that he’d fallen so easily under Carma’s spell. Then he shook his head. No, he shouldn’t say that, even as a half-assed Navajo. Witches were considered a real and present danger that walked among the Diné. Carma might be something other than so-called normal, but she was definitely not evil.
She was…unique. Fascinating. Every conversation with her forced him to rethink how he viewed the world. He couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of talking to her. This was why he envied his brother and all his happily paired-off friends. Companionship. The simple pleasure of being known and appreciated. If a marriage could be like this—a partnership between two people who could talk and laugh, have each other’s backs and call each other’s bullshit…
His heart stuttered. Marriage? Where the hell did that come from?
Sure, he’d like to have that kind of life, but he’d accepted that he wasn’t a likely candidate. An addict. A workaholic. A self-absorbed bastard at the best of times. Honestly, he didn’t even know what he was asking Carma. Hang out with me, baby? She had plans. Places to go, people to help. A life and a home that weren’t in Texas.
What could he offer her in exchange for all of that?
He paused halfway between house and shop as the sky brightened with the imminent arrival of the sun. As he watched, a pinpoint of light appeared, then spread along the horizon. His mother had told him it was the opening through which prayers could pass to the spirit world…or something like that. He did remember that the morning prayer was meant to clear his head and make him fully present in the coming day, so he stood, and breathed, and did his best to empty his mind. When he could no longer look directly into the sun, he closed his eyes and tilted his face toward the sky, uttering a silent plea.
I know I haven’t earned any favors, but for the sake of everyone else I could hurt, if I’m taking a wrong turn, could you give me some kind of sign?
He listened for a full minute. There was no answer except the chatter of birds and the rattle of a Jake brake as a Sanchez truck came home to roost. Gil continued toward his house, impatient to get on with his day.
And his suddenly wide-open life.
Chapter 26
The night in the van and touching base with Eddie had done wonders for Carma’s equilibrium, but seeing Gil this morning had set her off-tilt again, and not just from the rush of desire. He looked like sleep-deprived hell, which made his uncharacteristic cheerfulness even more jarring. Of course he was beyond excited about the prospect of riding again. She was excited for him.
So what was it in his smile that made danger signs flash in her head?
She was so preoccupied that when the door opened, she didn’t immediately recognize the rangy, ginger-and-gray haired man who smiled as if he was the one welcoming her.
“Hello, Carma.” Instead of offering a hand, he hooked his thumbs in his pockets and rocked onto his heels. “I’m Merle Sanchez.”
Well, duh. She should have known him from the framed photos of Merle accepting half a dozen Business of the Year plaques from the Earnest Chamber of Commerce. How many times had she studied that face and marveled at the total lack of resemblance to either of his sons?
“I wasn’t expecting you,” she blurted, then almost laughed at how many ways it was true. She had been sure she would see or feel something of Gil in him. A blander version of the same flavor, maybe, mild chili sauce versus Tabasco. Merle wasn’t even in the pepper family.
“The fish weren’t biting so I came back a few days early,” he said.
Nothing changed in his expression or his posture, no nervous twitches or shifty eyes, but with sudden, painful clarity Carma knew exactly what was on his mind.
Damn it to hell.
* * *
When Gil came back with his tablet and saw the worry lines bracketing Carma’s mouth, apprehension ran a sharp fingernail down his spine. “What’s wrong?”
“Your dad is here.”
Gil shot a look toward the main office door, now closed. “Is he meeting with someone?”
“No.”
A drawer rattled in one of the steel filing cabinets. “Why is he back so soon?”
“He said the fishing wasn’t any good.” But there were shadows in Carma’s eyes that made Gil think of wildfire smoke dimming the sun. Something was in the air, and she could smell it.
Before he had time to brace himself, the door popped open and his dad stood there, holding a cardboard box. “Gil! It’s been a while since I beat you to the office.”
“I just ran over to the house for a few minutes.”
“That’s what Carma said,” Merle said, a little too hale and hearty. “She’s really on the ball. I figured I’d have a pile to wade through when I got back, but there’s hardly a thing on my desk.”
“I was going to talk to you about that…” Gil began, but his dad kept rolling, intent on having his say.
“It’s about time y’all found someone who can keep up with you. I’m as obsolete as that ugly old coffeepot in the break room. It’s about time you put both of us out to pasture.”
No. No, no, no! Not now…
Merle gestured at the reception area while keeping his grip on the box. “Since you’ve got all this under control, I went ahead and said yes to a fishing trip with a couple of the boys from the lake. Three weeks up on the boundary waters in Ontario to celebrate my official retirement.”
The numbness started in Gil’s scalp and spread downward, so he could barely make his lips move. “When are you leaving?”
“Got my plane ticket for Friday. I figured I’d spend the rest of the week packing up my house. You might as well rent it to one of the drivers, since I’ll be spending most of my time at the lake.”
Gil lost the feeling in his arms. “You’re moving out?”
“Not much sense keeping up two places.” He hefted the box. “And I cleared out the desk in here. You can take over the big office instead of being cooped up in that closet.”
Gil could no longer tell if his heart was beating. The nerves had gone dead in his chest, and all he could think was that it was typical Merle, having no clue that the main office would have to be completely rewired for the dispatch system. Which only proved his point about being out of the loop. Hell, if he’d made this announcement last Wednesday, Gil barely would’ve blinked.
But that was last week. Before Huntsville. Before Gil had thrown himself open to all the possibilities.
Carma made a quiet, protesting noise. “Wouldn’t it be better to wait until school is out and I’ve had more than a few days on the job?”
Yes. The kids were cut loose on the last day of May, a date marked in glistening red on Gil’s mental calendar. Krista and the girls were coming home on the first of June to stay most of the month, and Gil had promised to have Quint at the Oklahoma City airport to meet them.
And possibly decide not to come back to Earnest?
Today that nagging worry was displaced by a hopeful bound of Gil’s heart. The Diamond Cowboy was on Memorial Day weekend. If Merle could just hang around until…
“Can’t,” Merle said. “It’s a limited-time offer, at a private cabin. I only got invited because one of the guys who usually goes with Jimmy had to cancel for some family thing.”
Gil was aware that Carma was giving him a Say something stare, but he refused to look at her.
“Sounds too good to pass up,” he said.
“That’s what I thought.” Merle smiled heartily. “I guess I’ll go on now. Anything I didn’t get to is on my desk.”
“Fine.” Gil would take care of it, the way he’d been taking care of every damn thing.
Merle started out, then paused at the door. “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. The bigwig from Heartland Foods called wanting to talk to you about their contract. I told him you were working on it, but he could consider it as good as sig
ned. Wouldn’t want to let a big one slip off the line, right?”
And with that final kick in the nuts, he waltzed out the door.
“Gil!” Carma burst out. “Why didn’t you tell him?”
Even his blink happened in slow motion. “I tried doing it your way. I looked into the sky and asked for a sign that I was making the right choice.” The sound that came out of him was nothing like a laugh. “Guess that’ll teach me.”
“Gil…”
He had just enough sensation left in his body to do a stiff-kneed zombie walk to his office. He’d pulled the door halfway shut behind him when he stopped, turned, and said, “Pass the word—if anyone tries to take that coffeepot, I’ll break their fucking arm.”
Then he sat down and stared blindly at his computer monitor while phones rang, notifications beeped, emails piled up, and his brief, shining dream faded to black.
* * *
Normally Carma would have followed him into his office and demanded to know what he meant about getting a sign and why he hadn’t stuck up for himself, but after that comment about the coffeepot she decided it was better to give him some space. And after no more than ten minutes he’d started answering his phone and messages, alternately cursing and cajoling.
Business as usual.
But she’d felt the blow land when Merle announced he was leaving. Practically heard the pops as all the plans that had been bubbling inside Gil had burst. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. Gathering up the morning’s mail, she went over, tapped lightly, and pushed the door open.
Gil was slouched in his chair, one foot slung up on the desk, phone in hand…smiling. “Absolutely. I’ll be hand-picking a dozen of our best drivers and assigning them exclusively to Heartland Foods. I’d like to bring them down to your facility for an orientation session before the distribution center opens. The more we know about your overall operation, the better we can anticipate your needs.”
Without glancing at Carma, he held a hand out for the mail. She ignored it, clutching the envelopes in disbelief while Gil buttered up his newest client with that easygoing charm he could whip out on demand. The anger and disappointment from a mere hour ago had been bundled up and tucked away where even she couldn’t see them.
Out of sight, out of mind. And so, so wrong.
The instant he hung up, she burst out, “What are you doing?”
“My job.” He folded his arms, a warning glint in those dark eyes. “This is what I do, Carma. Hold it together. Make adjustments. Maintain.”
“But what about—”
He shook off her objection. “Like I said, I asked for a little spiritual guidance and the answer was crystal clear. We’ve got too much in the works for me to go off on some wild hair.”
“But your dad—”
“I’ll write up a retirement announcement to send out to all the drivers by email, but I think we should go old school with the clients. I’ll forward it to you to print out. We must have some company stationery around here somewhere.”
“Bottom left drawer of my desk.”
“Great.” Once again he held out a rock-steady hand for the mail.
Carma was trembling when she passed it over. Why? she wanted to scream. Why does everyone else get to do what they want, while you stay here and maintain? You should let them help you. Demand your turn.
You should, you should, you should—her old, tired mantra, that had only ever made things worse.
Gil flipped quickly through the envelopes and handed two back to her. “Dad has always dealt with everyone who hits us up for donations or advertising. Just look back and see what we did last year for things like Little League and the junior rodeo association, and use your own judgment for anything else. We’re always willing to support a good cause…within reason.”
“I… Okay.” She might have said more, but his phone buzzed.
“That’s Delon. I texted him the news before word got back to him some other way. You never know around this place.” He turned away as he said into the phone, “Hey. Yeah. It’s a pain in the ass, but it’s not like we haven’t been expecting—”
The rest was lost when she shut the door.
She sank into her chair, hands clenched, and listened to the rise and fall of his voice through the crappy tissue-paper wall. His tone was clear—annoyed but reassuring. No need for Delon to rush home. Gil would take care of it. Gil would take care of everything…except himself.
Don’t interfere. Do not interfere.
But she couldn’t sit there and do nothing while Gil let Fate sucker punch him again. He obviously wouldn’t listen to her, but there must be someone else who could talk him out of playing the martyr…
His sponsor? Carma didn’t even have a name, let alone a number, and she knew nothing about the person. Would they understand what Gil was giving up?
But there was someone she did know, who was the next best thing to a sponsor. She started by texting Bing. When she got the cell number she needed—and refused to explain why she was asking—she fired off a second text. This is Carma. Gil needs help. Can we talk?
The reply didn’t come back until almost noon, but finally her borrowed phone pinged.
Meet me at the Smoke Shack in half an hour.
When it was time, she yelled through the wall that she was going out to lunch. She got a “Fine!” in response. She ran upstairs to grab the ugly purse and her keys and was parked outside the weathered wooden building that housed the barbecue joint when a battered old Chevy pickup pulled in beside her.
Hank jumped out and strode to where she was sitting with the driver’s door open to take advantage of the breeze that stirred the muggy, post-rain air. “Sorry I took so long. I didn’t have my phone at the arena.”
“That’s okay.”
It was great, in fact. In two sentences he’d confirmed what she’d already suspected. Hank was willing to drop everything for Gil’s sake, the way Gil had done for him. Maybe he could make Gil see reason. Maybe not. But it was worth a try.
He sure as hell wasn’t listening to Carma.
Chapter 27
After the paralysis wore off, Gil had functioned almost as if he hadn’t been gutted like one of his dad’s fish. The trucks were still rolling. He’d nailed down the Heartland Foods deal after ironing out the issues he’d redlined in the contract. He’d talked to Delon and managed to sound no worse than irritated. When Analise had arrived at four on Tuesday afternoon, he’d called Max and the mechanics into the office to tell them that Merle had officially retired.
And he’d avoided Carma as much as a man could when she was working fifteen feet away. With everyone else he could pretend his dad’s desertion was nothing but a speed bump. Carma knew better, and he had to maintain the facade.
Once he’d had a chance to go somewhere and kick and scream out his rage, he would explain to her why it had already been a lost cause.
He couldn’t have left Merle in charge, even in the short term. Their dad really was obsolete, and Gil had made him that way—constantly updating, automating, renegotiating, until the business bore no resemblance to the way Merle had always done it. But worse—downright fucking scary—was the fact that once Gil had declared he wanted to ride again, he’d been sucked in so fast and so deep that he’d been ready to throw away the biggest contract in Sanchez Trucking history.
Thank God his dad had shown up today.
So no, he hadn’t attempted to stop Merle. What he had done was blast out of the office before Carma could try to pin him down again, and drop Quint off to stay with Tori and Beni while he went to an evening meeting, then on to a coffee shop with his sponsor for a slow-motion replay of the past week.
When he was done, Tamela sighed. “Gotta love the demon addiction. It’ll use the wins against you as easy as the losses. New job, new relationship…anything that makes you stick your neck out a little.
Wham!” She chopped her hand down on the table like a guillotine. “It sounds like this woman could be good for you, though.”
He laced his fingers around his lukewarm cup. After zero sleep followed by the day he’d had, it was like drinking acid. “But am I good for her? She’s fresh out of a long-term, codependent relationship. An addict seems like the worst choice she could make.”
“I think that depends on the individual. I’m not ready to write myself off just yet, and I’ve been telling you for years that you shouldn’t either. Especially when you may have finally found the One.”
He hunched his shoulders and ducked his chin. Geezus. All the things he’d confessed to this woman over the past twelve years, and admitting that he might be falling in love made him blush like a gawky tween.
She reached across the table to squeeze his arm. “It could work if you communicate and stay honest.”
“I don’t have any choice with Carma,” he muttered. “She literally sees right through me. But how do I know this isn’t another one of my runaways?”
“Give it time. The rush will wear off, and you’ll be able to see what’s left.” She tapped the back of his hand with one beautifully manicured nail. He should ask her where she got them done and pass it along to Bing. “There will be other rodeos.”
Of course. But like always, he’d wanted to go as fast as possible, aiming for the highest high, his addiction setting him up for one more massive fall. He stared down into his coffee as if he’d find the answer written in the iridescent film on top. Why not? He’d asked the sky for guidance, and he’d gotten a sorely needed slap in the face in response.
“You can make a comeback,” Tamela insisted. “Just don’t try to do it by yourself. You have to be absolutely straight with your brother and your son, so they know the danger signs. Then sit down together and make a plan. They deserve a say in something that’s going to affect them, and they can keep you from getting carried away.”
He frowned. “I can’t expect them to keep me in line.”
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