“I’m still hungry,” she said in a small voice.
She was young and scared. He was hurt. I rubbed the spot between my brows. “Okay. I promised you that.” Food I could manage, though not for long, not with my pathetic bankroll.
I closed Alex’s door and sucked in a deep breath. A few more of them and the top of my head felt more settled on my shoulders and less in danger of exploding. I walked to the trunk and loaded the rest of my belongings plus the duffel that must be Val’s.
Then I rounded the car. And prayed that the A/C was still in Eskimo mode, since Maggie already had her claws sunk way too far into me.
Three people plus a cat were too many for a night in my car, and my stomach was gnawing on my backbone. We needed a place to stay and a real meal, but Alex had no purse, and Val was injured, so the solution was up to me.
Thanks to Alex’s map reading, I had an idea where we were, at least. Problem was, there were a lot of miles to go to find a main road. I kept looking for signs and prayed that I could find a place that was clean but also in my budget.
Budget. Hah. Maybe I should have taken Anwar up on his offer. I was going to need money soon, unless Val could help out, and I couldn’t ask him right now. He was sound asleep in my back seat.
Asleep. Ohmigosh. I jammed on the brakes and slid to the side of the road, then leaped from the car and yanked open his door. “You have to wake up.”
“Hunh?” He blinked at me, then his lids descended again.
“You can’t sleep. Concussion.” I dragged at him. “Let me look at your eyes,” I snapped when he resisted. I shoved him to sitting. “Wake up, Val. I mean it.”
He frowned. “Go ‘way.” Started sliding back down.
“Alex, please get back here and prop him up. Oh, God, I knew we needed a hospital.”
She opened her door, but Isis beat her outside. “Wait!” she cried. “I have to catch the cat. Oh no!”
I glanced up just in time to see a tiny furball skittering toward the road. A truck was barreling down the blacktop.
I let go of Val and charged. Launched myself at the kitten as an air horn wailed.
Tires screamed, and a wall of wind knocked me backward. I landed on my butt, then smacked my head on the ground—
People always say my head rang. Or bystanders talk about the roof-jumper’s head splitting like a watermelon. I was caught inside the watermelon, and the meat of my brain slapped hard against my skull with a dull gong.
For a second, I was lying in Kentucky blue grass with sunrays winking in and out, darting into my eyeballs, then dancing away behind the leaves of the elm tree I’d bailed out of, holding onto a dish towel for a parachute. Mama was bent over me, her lips moving without sound, her eyes wide and panicked. Are you all right? Breathe, honey. Breathe.
I didn’t want to. I wanted to stare at her longer. Feel her touch as she pulled me into her generous bosom. Let me linger in that green, fresh-mowed grass scent of heaven.
Breathe, Pea.
Obedient as always, I did.
And sound rushed into my silent movie.
It took a second to realize that a few of those needles in my chest were coming from the outside.
“Mrowr—” Isis sank her claws deeper.
One rock poked hard into the back of my skull. A whole host of others jammed into my back. But Isis was alive, and so was I.
Just then the world exploded into voices.
“Lady, what the hell do you think—”
“I didn’t mean to let her out—”
“You are one crazy woman, you know that?”
Faces crowded around me; a crusty old cowboy with a gimme cap that said Truckers Do It In The Road. Alex, looking not at all tough and very much terrified.
And Val. Grinning.
“You’re not unconscious,” I managed.
“Kinda hard to sleep through a daring rescue attempt,” he drawled. He nodded at Isis. “If you’d loosen that death grip, she’d probably unsink those claws.”
I woke up in the back seat sometime later, sweaty and sticky with a mouth full of fur. The car was stopping. “Where are we?”
Val spoke from the driver’s seat. “The kid’s hungry, and I need some sleep.”
“He won’t let me drive,” Alex complained. “And I’m not a kid.”
Both turned to me, scowling.
I glanced around. The little burg was barely a spot in the road. No other choices than the old-fashioned motor court with the empty cracked pool and a sign proclaiming IIBO. Good thing I didn’t need hi-speed internet.
The sign said thirty-nine dollars. I winced. “I guess that’s not so bad if we’re splitting it.”
His shoulders sagged. “If only I could. I was robbed right before you hit me.”
I flinched. “I’m so sorry. Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”
“I’ll pay you back.” His expression was earnest. “The first second I can.” Sorrow lined his face. “My grandma . . . she died. I’d been taking care of her, and when she was gone, I just couldn’t stay there anymore. I quit my job, withdrew my savings and set out on a pilgrimage to visit all the places she wanted to see but never managed.” A muscle in his jaw jumped. “I’d gotten to the first three, and then someone . . . ” His lips tightened.
“You were robbed.”
He nodded. Looked away, ashamed.
“Every cent?”
Another nod.
“That’s terrible. Where had you planned to go next?”
Wearily, he rubbed at his eyes. I felt horrible for ever worrying about money. “Taos. She was there once when she was young, and she always wanted to go back to visit the pueblos.”
Oh. My. God. Taos. Sister’s people. Pueblo Indians. “That’s where I’m thinking about heading.” I hesitated. I didn’t know him that well, but he’d been nice so far, and he’d certainly had me at his mercy for however long I’d been conked out. Alex didn’t seem nervous around him anymore. What if his arrival was another sign from Sister, and I let him leave? “Maybe you could ride along.”
He took a long time to answer, which made me feel better still. “I don’t want to be trouble. You don’t seem to have much money yourself.”
Resolve flooded me. I’m listening, Sister, as hard as I can. “I don’t, but I’m a hard worker. I can find jobs along the way, if need be.”
“That’s too generous, Red. I’ll pitch in, too.”
He was trying. And the company would be nice, especially after I got Alex settled. Full up on optimism, I smiled. “Let’s go check in, then we’ll eat something.”
“Better yet, I’ll go next door and scrounge up food while you’re checking in,” he said. “So you can have first dibs on a shower.”
“How’s your leg? Should you be walking that far?”
“It’s sore, but it’s not bad.” He looked over the seat at me. “You didn’t hit me that hard.”
I couldn’t help wincing. “I’m really sorry.” Not to have to pay a hospital bill or wrangle with my insurance company, though, was a huge relief. I dug in my purse and handed him a beat-up twenty, then realized it might not be enough. I got out one more.
He took it hesitantly, clearly uncomfortable taking my money.
“Alex, you want to stay with me?”
“I want to pick out my own food.”
Are you okay with him? I tried to ask with my eyes.
Her brows knit together, but Val got it. “She’s a little young for me, Red,” he said with a grin. “And forty bucks isn’t enough to pay me to take her off your hands.”
“Hey!”
He held up his hands. “No offense, kid.”
“I’m not a kid.”
To forestall the brewing argument, I interrupted. “Get milk,” I said. “Make sure your food is nutritious.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mom.” Then followed after Val with the slow, shuffling steps of a chain gang.
Oh, Sister, I thought. I owe you. Big.
I was in the
shower, ignoring the cracked tiles and missing grout. The ancient dun carpet and cowboy-print drapes. Some Hollywood designer would probably have paid big bucks for the scarred wagon wheel headboards and the ceramic horse table lamps.
Isis was outside the bathroom, flinging herself at the door and howling fit to beat the band. A little hard to block out, especially with the trickle of water. We might have just a little attachment problem, Kitty Girl.
But she was so young. I closed my eyes and concentrated harder on the relief of being clean. A few minutes wouldn’t kill her, surely.
The howls became an eerie scream. I leaped from the shower, skidded on the spatter-print linoleum floor and yanked open the door to scoop her up.
And looked straight into the grinning face of Valentine. The O of Alex’s mouth.
The next screech was me. Slam door. Breathe deep. Maybe Val would suffer amnesia during the night, and Alex’s baby wouldn’t be scarred for life.
Oh, crap. I dumped the cat on a pile of towels, where she licked her behind, yawned real big and curled up, instantly asleep. Thanks a lot, girlfriend.
Back in the shower, I wished for instant blindness so I could block out that there were two people, one wall away, whom I would soon have to face. I stuck my skinned elbows under the water and instantly forgot everything but the urge to scream.
Hunger drove me out, finally, along with a pang of conscience because I’d used so much hot water.
Finally, there was no choice but to put on the T-shirt and pair of Jelly’s Tweety Bird boxers I decided to wear to bed. My wet hair was rapidly soaking my shirt, but one thing you learned as a Naturally Curly Girl was never to blow dry or brush unless you wanted your hair’s volume to increase to a scary degree. I already had hair out the wazoo. I left the sleeping cat on top of the toilet in her nest, figuring I’d retrieve her when the next person was ready to shower. I grasped the doorknob and sucked in my courage.
Open door. Walk through, head high. Nothing happened.
Wet shirt. A/C. Instant nipples. Oh, crap.
I wheeled around and headed back.
“If I had boobs like that, I’d go naked everywhere,” Alex said.
So much for nothing happened.
I glanced over at her and understood that she was making an effort. “Thanks,” I responded, vigorously avoiding Val.
“Don’t mind me,” he said. “I can take it. My heart only stopped twice.”
My eyes shifted to him. He was smiling, yes, but it was a nice smile. Mischievous, sure, but not . . . leering. Not a Fat Elvis fanny-pincher.
“They’re just breasts,” I said. “I’m not going to be mortified.”
“Yes, you are,” Val responded. “But you can take heart that we know you’re a natural redhead.”
I grabbed a French fry to throw at him just before the scent of them hit me. Then I could think of nothing but food. Like a locust horde, I devoured my hamburger and fries to the last pickle, the final dab of ketchup. It was all I could do not to lick the paper they were wrapped in.
“Here.” Val tossed the second twenty at me and began to dig into his jeans pocket, hauling out coins and small bills. “The kid and I did good.”
“Stop calling me kid,” Alex said, but there was no heat in her words. Their mission seemed to have worked something out between them. “Even if I have to drink milk,” she muttered.
I was relieved to see that she had a salad instead of fries to go with her burger. “Baby Alex thanks you,” I said.
An expression of wonder crossed her features. “Baby Alex,” she repeated softly, as if she had never considered the child to have anything of her.
Val was regarding Alex with bewilderment, like she was some sort of foreign creature. Mixed into it was something almost . . . fond.
I couldn’t blame him. I’d seen pregnant women before, of course, but I’d never had anyone in my life who was carrying a child. It seemed at once the most terrifying risk I could imagine, the heaviest burden . . . and yet the thrill of it, the unknowns, the possibilities took my breath away.
Alex was no longer alone. If she handled things right, she had years ahead when there would be a home and someone who loved her. For the rest of her life she would have a bond, a special connection to someone who shared her blood, who would be part of her forever.
Except I knew only too well that life and Fate could rip all that away. That someone could be so much a part of you that you got reckless and took them for granted.
If Sister was right about the do-over, I could have another chance to be with her, and my heart hurt, actually hurt, I missed her so much.
But what if—I closed my eyes, clenched the neck of my t-shirt and twisted it in my fingers. Dared to think the words.
What if Sister was wrong?
“Are you okay?” Alex asked.
“Yes,” I answered quickly, shaken to my soul. Stumbled as I made my way to the bathroom, each step feeling like I was slogging through molasses. I picked up towels, folded them, cleared away all the red hairs I seem to drop like some molting bird. Brushed my teeth and grabbed Isis. Walked through the bedroom and straight out the door, which I carefully closed. Across the parking lot to the scrap of what might be called a lawn bordering the empty, cracked swimming pool.
But I felt too exposed there, in the center of the horseshoe of rooms, so I rounded the edge of the last building.
There was a field. Trees. I settled beneath the sheltering arms of an ancient one, tucked between two massive roots. I cuddled the purring kitten and fought not to crush her as I sought her warmth.
I wished for a blanket in the cooling wind. I wished for a place of my own, for the luxury of belonging.
For my sister and the home she’d always been for me.
I couldn’t let myself think Sister was wrong. If I did, I was completely lost. Yet what did I really know for certain? Yes, she might be right back there in that room—or she might be across the planet, for all I knew.
The magnitude of what I was tackling socked me right in the gut. Like a story I’d once read about the Spanish explorer Cortes, I’d burned my boats behind me. I was too far gone to turn back, and anyway, I had nothing to return to.
I kept trying to catch my breath, but there was no air.
When things seem too big and scary, you got to pick just one thing you can handle and focus on that, Sister would tell me on those worrying nights. Just one thing. Tell me your one thing, Sweetpea.
I hunched in my shoulders and cuddled the cat close, wondering exactly what it was I thought I could handle.
Driving, I decided. I could manage driving. I would keep heading for Lubbock and see what the next day would bring.
And try to believe.
I believe I believe I believe.
Val cursed under his breath. Her purse was right here. Money. Car keys. Freedom.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Alex said. “Go get her.”
Red should know better. A second-grader could skate away with all she had.
“Hey! Are you listening to me?”
“What?”
“You can’t just let her walk out like that.”
“Of course I can.”
“You gonna steal her purse?”
“I look like a thief?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, I’m not.” Not exactly, he added silently. And not anymore. Women liked to buy him things. Who was he to resist? He kept his part of the bargain; he made them happy.
“You embarrassed her, talking about her . . . you know. Pubes.”
“You brought up her boobs first. I was trying to keep her from feeling self-conscious. She’s the one who opened the door when she was naked. And anyway, that wasn’t what upset her.”
“What did, then?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“You still need to go after her.”
“You do it.”
“I’m sleepy. Anyway, I’m not big enough to carry her back. You are.”<
br />
“She’ll come back when she’s ready.”
“Coward. You’re scared of her.”
“There’s not a woman alive I’m afraid of.”
“Keep telling yourself that. But you still hurt her. She might be bossy, but she doesn’t deserve that.” The last words slurred as sleep claimed Alex.
Val remained in the ancient aluminum kitchen chair beside the formica table for several minutes, staring at that purse made of crazy quilt pieces of tapestry and velvet. Thinking about a woman foolish enough to be ready to turn herself into the cops after falling for a con. Wondering if her head still hurt after the spill she took, saving that scrawny cat.
Damn it. He never asked to be picked up by a Mother Teresa with a killer rack.
With a sigh, he rose and walked out the door.
Mrs. Angelina Bell Peyton Eberly
(About 1800-March 15, 1860)
A Tennessean, Angelina Peyton came to Texas in 1822. With her husband, J.C. Peyton, she operated an inn in San Felipe, capital of the Austin Colony. Peyton died in 1834; in 1836 the widow married Jacob Eberly. She and Eberly had a hotel in Austin by 1842, when Angelina Eberly discovered men secretly removing records from the capital. Firing a cannon, she started the “Archives War,” and rescued the original records of the Republic of Texas. Later she lived in Indianola. Her burial place and marker were destroyed in a flood in 1875.
GUNS ‘N’ GLORY
I was used to waking up in strange places, but I was usually alone when I did. That next morning, I couldn’t place all the noises that crept into the edges of my grogginess, but I’d long ago learned to approach morning with caution. No moving, just listen. Then feel what’s around you very slowly.
I was on a bed, but I was close to falling off. The mattress was lousy, but I’d had worse. Light was starting to leak around the drapes.
I heard purring. A sob.
And somewhere below me was a definite snore.
I went rigid. Stifled a yelp when tiny claws anchored themselves in my thigh. Isis, I remembered, and smiled. Gently pried her away while glancing over to see the small shape in the next bed, shoulders shaking.
A loud snore. Val, I remembered. I rolled in the opposite direction to get nearer the other bed. “Alex,” I whispered. “Are you okay?”
The Goddess of Fried Okra Page 5