It felt good and terrible all at the same time, but I kept at it for all five miles. When I got back, I found Gil awake and alert and looking much better, thank God. He was busy typing on his laptop, but still asked me to fluff his pillows and get him a soda. Apparently he took the maid part of nursemaid seriously. When I arrived back with his soda and one for me, he turned the screen to me and said, “I just ordered that!”
I popped the top of my Fresca and squinted at the screen. “An iPad?”
Gil nodded. “Best tablet on the market,” he said, turning the laptop back around.
“Honey,” I said soberly, mopping at the sweat on my brow, “you just got paid. Do you really think it’s smart to spend it so quickly?”
“I got a good deal,” he said without looking up. There was a ding, which came from his computer, alerting him he had mail, and it must have been good news the way his face burst into a sly smile when he read it.
“What?” I asked. I knew that face. It meant trouble.
“Nothing,” he said a little too quickly.
“Gilley Morehouse Gillespie,” I said evenly. “Tell me what.”
But Gil is nothing if not stubborn. Snapping the lid of the laptop closed, he merely widened his smile and said, “It’s a surprise. You’ll find out in a day or two.”
“Great,” I said woodenly. “We all know how I love surprises.”
Gil didn’t say another word. Instead, he leaned back against the pillows and said, “I’m hungry. Can we go for something to eat?”
I got up and headed to the door. “Let me shower and check in with Heath. I’ll call you when we’re ready.”
“Gilley Gilleshpie,” I heard as I exited the door.
Half an hour later we were sitting in a café scarfing down some fantastic fajitas. Well, Gilley and I were scarfing. Heath? Not so much. He mostly pushed his food around on his plate and looked sad.
I swallowed the bite I’d just taken and felt terrible for him. “I’m so sorry,” I said, squeezing his knee.
“Mwf moo,” Gil said. Gil will talk through anything. Fajita, doughnut, muffin, pancakes . . . food is no impediment to his verbal expression.
“Gil’s sorry too,” I said, and saw a tiny quirk at the edge of Heath’s mouth.
“Thanks, guys,” he said.
Gil seemed to think of something then, and he took another huge bite, cocked his head to the side, and said, “Runeral wooday?”
I froze. Oh, God! Had I forgotten to tell Gil about Heath’s aunt? Yes. Yes I had. “Uh, Gil,” I said. “Sorry to fill you in so late, but Heath’s aunt was killed in a car accident yesterday morning. The funeral for his uncle has been postponed until the family can make arrangements to have them buried together.”
Gil’s eyes bulged.
I nodded. “I know. It’s awful.”
Gil flailed his arms around in some sort of air origami pattern.
“Yes, he’s taking it hard,” I said.
“Gahkwrk!” Gil said, shaking his head.
I interpreted for Heath. “He wants to know if you’ll be okay and he’s here for you.”
Heath, however, was staring hard at Gilley. “Actually . . . ,” he said, dropping his fork and pushing back from the table before hurrying around me to stand behind Gil.
I watched as he grabbed Gilley around the middle and pulled him up so violently that he lifted Gil right out of his chair. “What’re you doing?” I cried. “Heath! Put him down!”
In the next second there was a strangled sound from Gil; then Heath swung him around again, thrusting his fists into Gilley’s middle. I was so stunned that I didn’t realize what was happening until a small wad of food flew out of Gil’s mouth and onto the floor.
Gil took a huge ragged breath. “Thank you, Baby Jesus!” he gasped, holding his throat. Heath let him go and Gil sank to his knees. “Gilley Gilleshpie. Gilley Gilleshpie. Gilley Gilleshpie!”
Heath bent down and lifted Gil up gently from under his shoulders; then he eased him back over to his chair. Meanwhile a manager had come running over to us and most of the patrons were staring. “Is everything all right?” the manager asked.
“Yes,” I said quickly, placing a hand on Gil’s arm to make sure he was okay.
“I almost died!” Gilley shrieked, then smiled tightly at the manager and said, “Gilley Gilleshpie.”
The poor man visibly paled.
“He’s fine,” I said evenly, shooting Gil a warning look.
But Gil was having none of it. “That fajita almost killed me!”
Heath calmly took his seat again. “But it didn’t,” he said. “Gil, you’re fine.”
“No I’m not!” he snapped. “First I had a stroke on the plane, then I caught SARS, and just now I almost died eating the house special!”
“I’m so sorry!” the manager said. “Please, let me take care of your check. And if there’s anything else I can bring you, please let me know.”
Gil’s eyebrows rose.
Uh-oh, I thought.
“Well, in that case,” Gilley said, “I’ll need to see the menu again.”
For the next hour, Gilley ate his way through most of the menu, completely over his near-death experience(s). At least for the moment.
I, on the other hand, was still really shaken. How had I misinterpreted Gilley’s choking for conversation? “Hey,” said Heath when he caught me staring as Gilley ate each bite. I felt his hand on my arm. “You okay?”
I turned to him. “I should be asking you that.”
Heath smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have to call my mom again,” he said. “I need to check on her and see if she’s okay. When she’s upset, she sometimes forgets to take her medicine.”
Heath’s mother wasn’t in great health. She had a heart condition and diabetes and her doctor had advised her not to stress herself out.
I rubbed Heath’s back. I had no idea what to tell him to make it better and it was killing me.
We left the restaurant and Gilley nearly needed to be carried to the car, he was so full. Behind his back, Heath and I left enough cash behind to more than cover the bill and we drove back to the hotel in silence.
Gil went back to his room for a nap, and I followed Heath out to the courtyard, where he called his mom. It was a tough conversation and he looked very upset after he’d hung up.
“Feel like talking about it?” I asked.
Heath sighed heavily and stared at the ground. “My family always makes things ten times harder than they need to be,” he said. “I mean, it’s bad enough that we lost Uncle Milton and Aunt Bev, but I know the flak my mom’s gonna take when she shows up at their funerals, and it’s killing me that they all know she’s in bad health and they’re still holding a grudge.”
“A grudge?” I asked. “For what, Heath?”
But he shook his head. “It’s a long story, Em.”
“I’ve got time.”
Heath sighed again. “Yeah, well, I appreciate that, but I’m not up to telling it.”
I couldn’t keep the hurt out of my voice when I said, “Oh, okay.”
Heath lifted his eyes to my face then, and I could see the pained look there. “Aw, man!” he said. “I’m sorry, Em. It’s just that my mom and I left the Pueblo a long time ago, and most of the rest of my family have never gotten over it. My granddad, and Uncle Milton and Aunt Bev, and Ari of course, are the only ones who never made me feel like an outsider. Everybody else resented the fact that I was a Whitefeather living off tribal lands. It’s like, because I’m loyal to my mom, the tribe doesn’t consider me an actual member and it hurts sometimes, you know?”
I wrapped my arms around him. “I’m so sorry, honey,” I told him. I realized I’d been saying that a lot lately.
We sat there for a while, but I could still feel the intense sadness filling Heath’s heart. Eventually he kissed the top of my head, saying, “Think I’ll go upstairs and get some sleep.” Then he hugged me tight one last time before moving off.
/> I could tell he wanted to be alone, but it still stung a little to be pushed away.
Gil found me about an hour and a half later still sitting in the courtyard. “You’re a gloomy Gus these days,” he said, coughing into his hand before sitting next to me on the bench.
I sighed. “What else would I be? My boyfriend’s just lost two of his closest relatives, his mom’s sick, and most of his family hates me.”
“Oh, come on,” Gil said. “I’m sure they don’t hate you.”
I told him what’d happened at Ari’s house and about how just by being there I was guilty of trespass. “Ah,” he said when I was finished. “Allow me to retract my previous statement. They obviously hate you.”
I cut him a look. “Gee, thanks, Gil.”
“What do you want me to say, M. J.? You know I’m not good at this sentimental stuff.”
I pulled my legs up and hugged my knees. “I wish Teeks were here.”
What I felt I really needed was the support of my best girlfriend, Karen O’Neil. Karen lived in Boston (Gil and I lived there too) and she was currently looking after the pug I’d adopted from Scotland. Karen is also one of those breathtakingly beautiful women who just wakes up looking perfect. If she weren’t so great and such an amazing friend, I’d probably hate her. Anyway, Karen is such a knockout that Gilley had been the one to first nickname her TKO, or Teeko for short. What can I say? The nickname stuck.
“Yeah,” Gil said with a knowing smile. “If only Teeks were here.”
There was something he was hiding from me, but just as I was about to press him on it, he coughed again. I listened hard for the telltale wet sound that indicated an infection was setting in, but he seemed to be recovering from his bout with the flu very well. “Maybe you should call her?” Gil said after a minute, and again that knowing smile returned.
But to my surprise, at the mention of calling Teeks, my eyes watered. I was starting to feel off-balance emotionally. So much had happened in the last few months and through all of it I’d just kept going. I hadn’t paused long enough to stop and consider what I might be going through. “Naw,” I said, wiping my eyes and sniffling. “She’s got her own stuff to deal with. She doesn’t need me to dump on her.”
Gilley bumped my shoulder with his. “You know what, M. J.? Sometimes you’re an idiot.”
That got me to smile a little. “I’ll call her later, after I get Heath through the next few days.”
“Do you guys have any leads on this demon thing that might’ve murdered Milton?” Gil asked, blowing his nose loudly into a tissue.
I shook my head. “Heath’s been calling members of his family to talk to them about the possibility that both Milton and his ex-wife were killed by something otherworldly, but according to the Pueblo coroner, Milton died of wounds consistent with a mountain lion attack, so no one’s buying our alternate theory.”
“A mountain lion?” Gil asked.
“Yep. Can you believe it?”
Gil eyed me soberly. “Only we would think it might’ve been a demon, M. J. Seriously, can you blame these people for wanting to believe it was some kind of wild animal?”
“Yeah, well, they’ve been no help to us in trying to figure out what this demon is or where it comes from or why it might be attacking the Whitefeathers.”
“And we need to know that because . . . ?”
“For a bunch of reasons, Gil. For starters, we need to know what we’re up against, and Sam hinted to me in that first dream about Milton that there was a person who’s involved with or possessed by this demon. A human that’s no longer human, I guess.”
“Are you really going to kill this person?” Gil asked me, just as I was having the same thought.
“No!” I said, more to convince myself than to convince Gil, I think. “There’s got to be a way to deal with the demon without any further bloodshed.”
“What’s Heath say about it?”
“We haven’t talked much about that part,” I said, rubbing my temples, suddenly so homesick I wanted to cry.
“Why not?” Gil pressed.
“If you haven’t already noticed, Heath’s in pretty bad shape emotionally and I think it’s best not to push him right now.”
“But he knows what Sam told you, doesn’t he? He knows that Sam said you’d have to kill the guy who controls the demon, right?”
“Of course Heath knows,” I said defensively. That wasn’t exactly the truth. I was sleep deprived, jet-lagged, and feeling somewhat lost emotionally: Thinking about how to tell Heath that had felt like too big of a challenge to take on right now.
“So if I ask him about it . . .”
“Don’t you dare,” I warned him.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said.
Gil sighed and got up.
“Where’re you going?” I asked him.
“To send a text. And fix this for you.”
I snorted derisively. “You can’t fix this, Gil.”
“No,” he agreed. “But maybe I can fix you.” And off he went to send his little text.
Normally I’d have been worried, but I wasn’t feeling myself, so I just let him go without asking what he meant.
The next morning, just as I was starting to come out of a fitful sleep, there was a soft knock on our door. My eyes flew open and I looked at the clock. It was eight a.m.
The knock sounded again, no louder than the last time but with a few more raps.
I glanced at Heath. He was facing away from me, but he appeared to be sleeping. I eased out of bed and hurried to the door, peeking through the peephole first to see who it was. “No freaking way!” I gasped, then pulled on the handle.
When it opened, there stood five feet five inches of blond gorgeousness. “Teeko!” I cried, and threw my arms around my very best girlfriend.
In her usual calm style she laughed and wrapped one arm around me to pat me gently on the back. “Hey, girl,” she said. “How you been?”
A lump formed in my throat, and it was several seconds before I could speak. “Okay,” I said, squeezing her tighter.
“Really?” she asked. “I heard you weren’t doing so well.”
I backed up and noticed that she was also carrying a wriggling little black pug in her arms who was anxiously trying to lick the air between us. “Wendell!” I said, taking him from Teeko. “He’s grown!”
“He’s getting a little chubby,” she admitted.
I cuddled the pup. “So’s Gilley,” I told her. Then I realized that she had come here from Boston, probably at Gil’s request. “He e-mailed you and told you to come, didn’t he?”
But Teeks just shook her head and beamed her beautiful smile at me. “No,” she said. “I was already planning on coming here. John and I bought a house near the slopes three months ago and I came to make sure that the decorator’s finished and all the art we purchased got hung in the right places.”
I shook my head. “Wait . . . what? You guys bought a house here?”
“It’s a lodge, really,” she said, waving her hand as if it were nothing. Since she was engaged to one of the wealthiest men in America, the “lodge” was bound to be something more like an “estate.”
“We bought it to have a place close to the Santa Fe art scene and the slopes,” Teeks said. “The art here is amazing, M. J. We’ll have to go into town and I’ll show you around some of the galleries.”
“Okay, so how did you know I was here in Santa Fe specifically?” I’d sent Teeks an e-mail telling her only that Heath’s uncle had died and I was traveling to New Mexico to attend the funeral, but I hadn’t mentioned anything about where we’d be staying . . . mostly because I hadn’t known until the night we landed.
“Oh, that Gilley told me,” Teeko admitted. “I e-mailed him to ask him where you guys were in New Mexico, because I wanted to see you, and if we were going to be in the same state, I really couldn’t pass up the opportunity. He let me know you three were here, and that you really needed some one-on-one girl tim
e, and he and I planned this big surprise!”
I hugged her again. “Well, color me surprised!”
“Hello,” Heath said from behind me. “Please, come in and make yourself comfortable while I sit here awkwardly half naked.”
I felt my cheeks redden and Teeks giggled. “Hi, Heath. Nice to see you again.”
I whipped around and held up Wendell. “She brought the puppy, Heath!”
“I can see that,” he said. “Now, how about everybody turn around while I put some pants on, okay?”
Teeks and I laughed and turned our backs to him. “God, I’m glad you’re here,” I admitted.
“I heard you guys had a rough time in Ireland,” she said. “And my condolences, Heath, on the death of your uncle. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you,” he said, and we heard a zipper close. “You guys can turn around now.”
“I have another surprise for you two,” she sang. “But first you and Heath need to pack your things and meet me in the lobby.”
I cocked my head. “What’ve you done?”
She smiled wickedly and took Wendell back. “Just get dressed, get packed, and get downstairs, okay?”
With that, she turned away and walked elegantly back down the hallway. I heard her phone ring and when she answered it, she said, “Yes, Gil. I’m really here. I flew in on John’s jet. Now pack your stuff and meet us in the lobby.”
Heath was slow to get moving. He seemed to be far away and I knew he was hurting, so I didn’t push him to hurry and I did my best to quell the excitement at seeing my friend. I just moved with steady progress to get us both packed and ready to go.
We met Teeks in the lobby and a man in a chauffeur’s uniform tipped his hat at us when we arrived. We followed Teeko out to a stretch limo, and I thought Gilley was going to bust at the seams, he was so excited. “Gilley Gilleshpie,” I heard him whisper when he saw the limo. If anything could send that boy into a stroke, it was the idea of being wrapped in luxury.
The trip was a good ride—maybe forty minutes—and the whole way Teeks refused to tell us where we were going. The only one who didn’t seem to be enjoying the ride was Heath. He sat in gloomy silence and forced a smile any time one of us directed a comment his way.
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