by Jianne Carlo
“Don’t try to threaten me, Valérie. Or my mother. You’ll live to regret it. I guarantee you.” Mike didn’t raise his voice, didn’t move a facial muscle, and met her gaze dead-on.
“Hey, bro, what’s cooking?” Drake called out as he exited the Caboose. “Valérie de Verteuil, I haven’t seen you in a monkey’s age.”
Mike suppressed a grin and glanced left when his brother halted at his side.
Drake clasped Valérie’s hand, bent low, and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “I’d forgotten how beautiful you are. I like the red hair. Very sexy with the green eyes. I’ve often thought of trying colored contacts. Tell me, do you see everything tinged green?”
The pup had balls and then some. In five sentences, he’d both complimented and insulted Valérie, and the woman had no clue how to react.
“Your brother is quite the studly charmer, Mike.” Valérie tugged her hand free, dug in her purse for keys, and clicked the Unlock button. The car beeped twice. “I’ll see you two next Friday.”
“I’ll be counting the seconds.” Drake opened the door, waited for Valérie to arrange her long legs, and said, “Till Friday,” and clicked the door shut.
They both watched the car peel out of the parking lot.
“What happened to you? It’s a good thing Mom didn’t notice your no-show.”
Drake fell into place when Mike started back to the Caboose.
“Tell me, bro, exactly when did you plan to inform me that we own half of the Caboose?”
Chapter Ten
“What’s up, sis?” Susie lay sprawled on the couch, the remote in her hand, her feet crossed at the ankles and propped on the oak coffee table. “Trouble at the Caboose or the clinic?”
“No.” Melanie stifled a groan. She’d clean forgotten Susie would be home early today. “Where’s Gray?”
“Football practice. How come you’re so late?”
“I have a life, you know. Everything doesn’t revolve around the three of you.” Melanie hung up her coat. “Where’s Mama?”
“Asleep.”
Melanie swung around, her internal alarms pinging. “Asleep?”
“She walked home from the casino. Guess it tired her out.” Susie yawned.
“You tired too?” Melanie separated the bills from the junk mail.
“Yeah. A bit.”
“How about soup and sandwiches for dinner?”
Susie bounded off the couch. “I’m starved. I’ll make the sandwiches. BLTs?”
“Didn’t get to the grocery. No bacon.” And no tips from this morning, but Melanie kept her trap shut. Susie had been talking about not going on to university after she finished with community college, and getting a job instead. Not going to happen. Not on Melanie’s watch.
Susie planted her hands on her hips. “But it’s Friday. You always go to the grocery on Fridays.”
“I didn’t today. Don’t you have an exam to study for or something? I’ll handle dinner. You go do something somewhere else.” Melanie waved a hand at Susie.
“What’s up with you? I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard you snap.” Susie stretched, throwing her arms over her head, and arched her spine. “Valérie have breakfast at the diner again? Wait a minute. It’s way late. Did Virgil make you work breakfast and lunch?”
“I don’t ask you to give me a blow-by-blow account of every minute of your day, but I can start as of this moment.” Melanie opened the fridge, checked the veggie drawers, and decided on chicken and lentil soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.
“What’s up with you? You never lose your temper or sulk.”
Practical, always smiling Melanie who never talked back or wasted a moment brooding about what could’ve been. She was so blasted sick of that Melanie that she could scream.
After she grabbed the required items, shoved them onto the counter, and kicked the door shut with her foot, Melanie fisted her hands on her hips. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Don’t give me that. You look ready to bawl.” Susie grasped Melanie’s wrist. “Did something happen? Oh gawd, tell me Justin Laroque didn’t corner you again at the bus stop?”
“Let go of me.” She gritted out the warning. Right then she could cheerfully have strangled her sister and not given a flying damn. Melanie opened the bottom cabinet, extracted a pot, and banged it on the counter. “No. Justin did not corner me again.”
“You’ll wake Mama.”
All the temper zinged out of her like the air hissing out of a popped balloon. Melanie closed her eyes and prayed for patience. “Brinda dropped me home. She wanted to talk, so we stopped at the truck stop on Route 7. Why don’t you chop the onions and the carrots? I’m going to have a quick shower.”
Melanie grabbed her purse and felt Susie’s eyes burning a hole in her back as she hurried down the narrow hallway. Guilt cascading fast and furious, she shut the door to their shared bedroom, closed her eyes, and leaned against the chilled wood. Her shoulders sagged.
What had she done? What if Susie found out? She was supposed to set the standards for her younger siblings. Lead by example, that’s what Doc G. pontificated day in, day out. Exhaustion slammed through her bones. What she wouldn’t give for one day and one night of no problems, no money worries, no planning each day to the second, no wondering if tomorrow would be the day Mama slipped off the wagon.
But it didn’t do to take it out on Susie. Her sister’d had precious little childhood and had been nothing but a rock during the weeks after Papa and Gramps died and the police and the elders had talked about foster homes. She’d had not one, but two jobs lined up the day after graduating from high school and had point blank refused to consider community college until they had the money situation under control. At twenty-three Susie should’ve been finishing university not working two jobs and still going to community college.
Leaning against the door, Melanie tried to remember the last time she’d reamed Susie for no good reason at all. The day she and Mike Dorland had literally bumped into each other in the cafeteria. The first time she’d ever gazed into his beautiful eyes. Susie had somehow guessed about her instant, mad crush on Mike and teased her about it. They’d almost come to blows.
Mike. Brinda’s little bulletin had started an itching in her palms. If he’d been at the truck stop, she’d not have hesitated to slap his face. The bitter taste of humiliation still coated her tongue.
Melanie thudded her head against the door. By all logic, Brinda’s mortifying news should’ve carved a chunk out of her heart, should’ve eroded the blossoming optimism that the two of them stood a chance, but it hadn’t.
Stop. Stop. Don’t go there. Mike Dorland’s not for you. Not even in your cavewoman wildest fantasies. That’s it. Get your ass in gear, Melanie Frances White. Shower, cook dinner, and forget the last few days.
She dropped her purse on the dresser, kicked off her shoes, tore off the shapeless uniform, and headed to the bathroom. Scrubbing her skin and washing her hair three times didn’t dull the scent of him.
Even after she toweled off furiously, dragging the worn terry hard from shoulder to shoulder, Melanie still smelled of Mike. Wrapping her bathrobe around her, she heaved a huge sigh and wandered into the bedroom, remembered the journal, and dug in her purse, only to stop on a nickel at the sight of Susie sprawled on her side on the single bed against the far wall.
“What do you want, Susie?” Melanie bent over to twist her hair into the damp towel.
Susie’s gasp and startled yelp made her spin around. “What?”
Her sister’s mouth had dropped open, and her eyes had gone saucer-wide.
“Well? What’s with the goldfish moves?” For Susie kept opening and closing her mouth, but uttered not a single word.
“Well, I never. Melanie Frances White, you have a hickey. Big and bold. Who in heck?” Susie tossed her head. “You didn’t say yes to Justin Laroque, did you? I’ll strangle you myself if you let that asswipe get his hands on you.”
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�Susan Elizabeth White. Lower your voice and clean up your language.” Melanie wanted to howl. Today of all days, she didn’t need her sister being a pain in the butt. She hurried to the bathroom and checked her image in the mirror. “Nooo.”
“Oh yes. Very definitely yes.”
Melanie glanced up at Susie’s reflection and wondered for the kazillionth time why she couldn’t have inherited height. Susie rested her hands on Melanie’s shoulders.
“I just put two and two together. It’s Mike, isn’t it?”
Their gazes met in the mirror’s reflection; Melanie nodded. It wouldn’t help even trying to lie. Susie always said she was the worst liar in the universe.
“’Bout time you did something normal. How’re you going to tell Mama?”
Melanie pressed Susie’s hand. “Mama’s never going to hear anything. I let things get out of hand today, but trust me, nothing’s going to happen again.”
Susie stared at her. “Isn’t it about time you stopped being the self-appointed family martyr?”
“What the hell do you mean?” Melanie rounded on Susie.
“It isn’t easy for Gray and me, you know. You won’t let us do anything to help you.”
“You need all your energies focused on community college and getting that scholarship to Florida State. Just because I want to make sure that you and Gray have all the opportunities I never had doesn’t make me a martyr.”
“When was the last time you did anything but go to work and come home? I’d bet anything that’s your first hickey. Do you even realize how ab—how so not normal you are?” Susie’s nostrils flared. “You’ve never been on a date, Melanie. I can’t remember you even going to a movie with a girlfriend once during the last five years.”
“And leave you alone with Mama? What if she came at you again? I couldn’t have that on my conscience.” Melanie fiddled with the toothbrush holder. “It’s way too dangerous.”
“I’m an adult, Melanie, and I’m almost twice Mama’s height. I can handle her. It hurts, you know, that you don’t trust me.” Susie spun around and marched to their bedroom.
Melanie gritted her teeth and followed. “It’s not that I don’t trust you—”
“It is. Besides Mama’s been sober now for eighteen months, five days, and three hours. She’s worked at the casino for the last nine months, never missed a day, never took a wrong step. How do you think she feels? You watch her like a hawk. The first thing you do when you come home is try to smell her breath to see if she’s had a drink.”
Had she been that obvious? “You were too young to know what it was like. How she’d pretend to be sober and then I’d leave to go to the store and come back to find her passed out with all the burners on the stove on. It petrified me to have to be away for even a minute.”
“I was a child then. I’m not anymore. By not trusting me with Mama, you undermine me, can’t you see?”
Melanie slumped onto the mattress. She peeled the towel from her head. “What do you want from me, Susie?”
“I want you to trust me. I want you to respect that I’m an adult. If this scholarship comes through, next year I’ll be heading off to Florida. If you trust me to be okay hundreds of miles away, why can’t you trust me to be alone regularly with Mama?”
Her eyes misted, and she bit her lip. “Mama can be mean when she’s drunk. I don’t want you to think of her like that.”
“See. That’s the martyr part. You have to be the only one to take Mama’s drunken rage? You think Gray and I haven’t heard all she’s had to say? The walls in this house are paper-thin. We’ve heard every ugly word.”
Melanie sniffed and swiped at the stupid tears rolling down her cheeks. “I wish you hadn’t. I tried so hard.”
Susie dropped to her knees and captured Melanie’s hands. “I know. We both know how hard you tried. It’s not good the way things are now. Gray and I tiptoe around you. Mama’s so ashamed she can’t look any of us in the eye. Don’t get mad, but I’ve been seeing a counselor at the college.”
A counselor? Please God, don’t let Susie have been scarred permanently by all that had happened.
“Don’t look like that. It’s not what you’re thinking. The counselor won’t blab. She says we all need to start sharing responsibilities. Mama too. She says Mama needs to feel useful. And that you should give her control of the money she earns.”
Shaking her head, Melanie spat, “And have her spend the entire paycheck on booze and end up in Pincer’s jailhouse? Not on your life.”
“Damn it. That’s just what I’m talking about.” Susie lurched to her feet. “How do you think Mama feels? Her daughter runs her life. She can’t even buy a stick of gum if she wants. Tell me, Melanie, do you plan to live alone with Mama for the rest of your life? Because I don’t. I’m not staying in Chabegawn for a second longer than I have to. And I can guarantee you Gray feels the same way. You need to make a choice. Set Mama free and get a life, or end up being resented by each and every one of us.”
Susie stomped out of the room.
Her words echoed in Melanie’s head. She sat there in the dark for a long, long time. Didn’t stir when she heard Mama’s voice, didn’t move when the front door banged open, and didn’t bother to acknowledge Gray’s boomed greeting. Every bone ached, and her hair pulled painfully on the roots.
Had she done Gray and Susie a disservice? And Mama? Melanie curled into a ball on the bed. A headache blossomed, and her temples throbbed. She was so damned tired. It had felt so wonderful when Mike had taken the lead, when he’d said, “your responsibilities are mine,” when he’d tied her to the bed and just made her feel. It had been so long since she’d actually felt anything but the weight of worry: the burden of never knowing when Mama would be sober; the question mark each month waiting for Shuman to kick them off the reservation.
And now all these murders. All the stupid reporters and their microphones. Somehow she, Susie, and Gray had to find a way to keep Mama on the reservation until things quieted down. Had Susie heard about Old Man Balden? Had Mama heard about it?
Light streaked across her face when the door opened. Gray. His wide shoulders reflected in a squat shadow on the planked floor. He had showered at the gym, the smell of the disinfectant soap used in the showers too strong to miss.
“Dinner’s ready, sis.”
She fiddled with the towel. “Not hungry. You guys go ahead.”
“I made chicken potpie,” Mama murmured.
The towel fell from her hand. Melanie swung onto her forearms to face Gray and Mama standing in the doorway. Chicken potpie?
“It used to be your favorite.”
Susie appeared behind Mama. She and Gray had inherited Papa’s height, all right. “Been a long time since we all sat down at the table.”
It had been years. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“I’ll come get you if you’re not out in five.” Gray shot her a grin.
Melanie dressed and then went out to join everyone. Hot tears burned her eyes, and her throat went scratchy at the sight of the table. It looked like the old days, the days when Papa and Gramps were alive. The best dishes sparkled and gleamed on the table. The crystal that had been part of their parents’ wedding gifts sparkled like spun sugar, and the barely used good cutlery had been spit polished to perfection.
A small squat vase filled with wildflowers, daisies, bluebells, the odd lilac, and strands of variegated ivy filled the middle of the table. The sight of that vase choked Melanie to the brim. Long, long ago, she had been the one to help Mama set the table for dinner. It had been her job to collect the flowers from their gardens, and then she and Mama would arrange the blossoms together. And every day the first thing Papa would say when he walked into the house was, “Which of my beauties made such a masterpiece?”
Melanie skipped a finger over a trailing strand of emerald ivy. “The flowers are beautiful, Mama.”
“But missing your special touch. You always did add in the last one, the special one.” Mama
’s voice wavered at the end, and Melanie knew she was thinking about Papa and Gramps.
“That Chrysanthemum bush out back is blooming. Why don’t we find a couple of flowers and finish the table?” Melanie opened the drawer where they kept the shears. She did something she hadn’t done in years, hugged her mother and walked with her to the back door. They discussed which flower to cut at length even though the wind didn’t cooperate, swooshing moisture and the promise of winter in icy waves over their uncoated flesh.
Mama had apples in her cheeks and a twinkle in her blue eyes when everyone finally sat down to eat the pedestrian but delicious meal of chicken potpie.
“I have some news.”
It had been so long since Mama had voiced a thought that Melanie set her fork down.
“Geraldine’s stepping down, and she’s recommended me to take her place.”
Melanie couldn’t stifle a gasp. Geraldine, the casino’s special event manager, made a hefty salary.
“The council voted on it today. I got the promotion.” Mama didn’t look at them but kept her head down and popped a tiny morsel of chicken and pastry into her mouth. “Shuman has to give final approval, of course, but I spoke with Freddy Pawath, and he assured me that it would go through.”
If hearts could burst with pride, Melanie’s would’ve right there and then. Freddy Pawath had been a classmate of her father’s, and since he’d been appointed the tribe’s senior legal counsel, things had improved all around, even for the White family. If Freddy’d given his word, then chances were the promotion would go through.
“That’s great, Mama.” Susie reached for the shaker with the red pepper flakes. “I’d heard that Geraldine was moving away. Does that mean you’ll be running the holiday specials like Thanksgiving, Easter, Fourth of July, that sort of stuff?”
“Yes. I’ve been helping Geraldine with the special events for the last five months.” Mama poked her fork around fat chunks of carrot and celery. “She’s moving to Oregon. Wants to be nearer to her grandbabies.”
“It seems like good news all around. Susie, you tell Melanie about your scholarship?” Gray winked at Melanie.