Hold Me Close

by Rosalind James

  “No,” Luke said. “Not pink. I draw the line at pink. But yellow—you know, bud, I think you’ve hit it. I think that’s it. As soon as we get this breakfast down us, we’ll head on over to the hardware store and get ourselves set up. Might take us next weekend, too, by the time we get it all done, but if you’re willing to give me a hand, maybe we can make it someplace she’d enjoy hanging out in. Bake us some pies, maybe.”

  “Or teach you to bake them,” Aunt Raylene said. “You like them that much, you know, you could actually learn.”

  “I could,” Luke agreed. “What do you think?” he asked Eli. “Willing to help me out?”

  “Yeah,” Eli said. “I could do that. I guess.”

  He was a little bit nervous all the same when they were riding back to town together, but Luke didn’t talk about it again, just picked out paint colors and brushes and rollers and coveralls and masking tape and all different things, and explained what they were for. When he went to pay, it was hundreds of dollars, but he didn’t seem to care, just pulled out his credit card like it was nothing.

  “Are you rich?” Eli asked when they were back in the truck with Daisy between them.

  “Pretty much,” Luke said. “For around here, anyway.”

  “Oh.”

  “I don’t think your mom likes rich guys, though. She doesn’t like presents too much.”

  “Except the bike. She liked that.”

  “Yep. Because you fixed it for her.”

  “Well, you mostly did.”

  “Nope, we did it together. But maybe boots would be all right. What do you think?”

  “Maybe,” Eli said doubtfully.

  “Yeah.” Luke sighed. “That’s what I figured. Oh, well. The music on the radio’s free, right? And so is the view out the window. I’ll just give her those, how about that? I know she likes those. And a prettier kitchen to enjoy them in.”

  “Yeah,” Eli said. “Good idea.”

  “Thanks, bud.” Luke reached out a hand and messed up Eli’s hair, and Eli remembered his dad’s hand doing the same thing and had to bite his lip, because he had a bad feeling in his throat like he was going to cry.

  They went back to Luke’s house, and Luke turned on the radio to country music while they worked. His mom and dad had always played country music, but Alan didn’t like it, so they’d only had classical music there. Classical was slow music that wasn’t really songs, without any words. You couldn’t sing to classical music, and his mom hadn’t sung anymore after they’d moved in there. Since they’d moved to Paradise, though, she’d sung again sometimes, and Luke did, too. Not to the slow songs, like his mom, but to the fast, zippy ones. He sang loud, like he didn’t care if anybody heard.

  They put tape around all the cabinets first, so they wouldn’t get paint on them, and then they painted the red walls with primer. “So the red doesn’t show through the yellow,” Luke explained. “I don’t think your mom would appreciate an orange kitchen any more than a red one. Especially not a splotchy orange kitchen.”

  “No,” Eli said. “Probably not.”

  They got a little interrupted when Daisy came in and wagged her tail right next to the pan of paint and ended up spraying it around and getting a bunch on herself, and then sitting down and trying to lick it off. They had to put her into the shower and hose her down, and she shook all over both of them, which didn’t even make Luke swear or anything. It just made him laugh. Luke was almost always in a good mood, which was nice, because it meant you didn’t have to be nervous about making him mad.

  They got the primer part done after that, and then stopped and made sandwiches.

  “We have to let it dry anyway,” Luke said.

  “And then what?”

  “Then we do the first coat of yellow. Or I do, if your mom comes home first.”

  “I could stay and help you. If you wanted.”

  “Well, that’d be real good.”

  They ate their sandwiches and potato chips for another couple minutes, and then Eli asked, “Do you have a gun?”

  “Uh . . . yeah,” Luke said. “I’ve got a few.”

  “Have you ever killed anybody?” Eli concentrated on his sandwich, like it was really interesting.

  “No. I sure haven’t. I don’t guess I ever will, not unless I was protecting myself from somebody who was trying to kill me. Or protecting somebody I loved.”

  “Would you, though?” Eli did look at him then. He wanted to see what he would say. “If it was somebody you really loved? If you had to protect them?”

  “Yep.” Luke took a bite of sandwich himself, chewed it, and swallowed it down with a drink of water. “I sure would. But you know—I’m an adult, and that’s pretty different. An adult knows—well, you hope they know—when killing’s necessary, and when something less than that would work. Because killing somebody’s a big, huge deal. Killing somebody could kill a little bit of your soul, I think, especially if it turned out to be the wrong choice.”

  “Oh.” Eli put down his sandwich. He wasn’t that hungry anymore.

  “And even then,” Luke said. “Self-defense, or defense of somebody important to you—that has to be in the heat of the moment, when it’s actually happening. And it has to be absolutely necessary to save that person from dying. Pretty hard call to make, I’d guess.”

  “What if somebody was hitting somebody else?” Eli asked. “If they were really hurting them? Wouldn’t it be better if you got a gun from someplace, so you could make him stop? Wouldn’t it be . . .” He had to look down again. “Really bad, if you didn’t do anything?”

  He had trouble saying it very loud, but he thought Luke heard him, because he looked like he was thinking. He took another bite of sandwich, and Eli waited while he finished it. “Well, like I said,” Luke finally answered, “I’d think that would depend on whether I were a man or a boy at the time. If I were a man, I’d beat the sh—well, yeah. I’ll go ahead and say the word. You’ve probably heard it before. I’d beat the shit out of him. But if I were a boy, I wouldn’t be able to do that, would I? So in that kind of tough situation—I guess I’d help my mom get away from him, and then I’d help her the best I could once we’d done that. I hope I’d have the guts and the heart to get a job and give her most of the money from it. I hope I’d care enough about her to want to protect her. If I did that—well, I guess that’d be about as much as anybody could ask.”

  Daisy had sneaked under the table again, even though she wasn’t supposed to be there when you were eating, and now, she put her damp head into Eli’s lap, and he scratched her neck and petted her ears. Maybe Luke didn’t notice her, because he didn’t say anything.

  “I don’t know too much about that,” Luke went on. “I’ve never been in that position, maybe lying in bed in the dark, knowing somebody I loved more than anybody in the world was getting beat up bad right then, and thinking I should be able to stop it somehow. Maybe I’d even be mad at myself for being scared to get a gun and shoot that guy. I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Eli still couldn’t look up. He petted Daisy’s ears and sat really still.

  “But I do know something about moms,” Luke said. “Good moms, the kind who love their kids more than they love themselves. The kind who’d take a bullet for their kids. The kind of mom you’ve got. And I know that for that kind of mom, knowing that her son had shot somebody—that would hurt worse than anything anybody could ever do to her. If she thought she’d put him in a spot where he had to do that, and that he’d have to live with it—” He shook his head. “Well, I think that would just about kill her.”

  “Oh,” Eli said again, and Daisy shoved her nose a little farther into his lap. “But what if—”

  “What if what?”

  “What if he comes back?” His hands got shaky just saying it, because he was scared again. Like always.

  “Hm.” Luke took a dri
nk of water and seemed like he was thinking some more. “Well, first, you figure that this time, he’d have a whole lot more to worry about. He’d have to worry about me.” He didn’t look like he was lying, either. “I do have a gun, and I’d be down at your place with it in a heartbeat if you and your mom needed me. Tell you what. You see him—you even think you see him, anytime, day or night—you call me. You say, ‘He’s here,’ and you can bet I’ll be heading down that hill in about ten seconds, and I’ll come prepared to deal with anything. Does that help?”

  “Yeah,” Eli said, because it did. Some. “But I don’t have any weapons. Except a knife, and I don’t think our knife is sharp enough. Mom always says it isn’t. I think I should have a weapon.”

  “Right.” Luke sat back and considered him. “You a pretty good athlete?”

  Eli shrugged. “I’m OK, I guess.”

  “Played any baseball?”

  “Not for . . .” Eli had to look down again. “Not for a long time. I did Little League when I was little. But then I didn’t, because it costs money.”

  “We’ll get you a youth bat, how about that? Nice compact thing. I’ll do some pitching to you, much as we can manage before the snow. I’m not too bad at that. I’ll tell you a secret. Varsity pitcher, right here. Of course, I don’t have my fastball anymore, but I’ll bet I could get you set so when Little League starts up, you won’t be too far behind. And if you learn to handle that bat—well, that’s not such a bad thing, either, is it? Especially if you had to keep it—oh, say, beside your bed?”

  “Yeah,” Eli said, feeling a lot better. “Just in case.”

  “You bet. Just in case.”

  COWBOY BOOTS

  When she came home that afternoon and saw Luke’s kitchen, Kayla was floored.

  “I didn’t know you were going to paint,” she said. “But, wow, this is really pretty.”

  “See, Luke?” Eli said. “I told you she’d like yellow best.” Luke smiled at her, and she realized he was painting it to please her, and letting Eli help. Just like fixing her bike. Exactly like that.

  “Are you OK, Mom?” Eli asked. He’d been looking at her a bit anxiously, searching her face, and now he came over and put an arm around her, which was unusual. Eli didn’t usually hug her when somebody else was around. Had he been uncomfortable at Luke’s parents’ by himself?

  “Sure.” She smoothed his hair back and gave him a squeeze. “I’m just great. Good tips today, too.”

  “Busy day down there?” Luke asked.

  “Oh, yeah. Weekends are always good. Winter boots, here we come. I’ve got tomorrow off, Eli. We can go out to the mall and go shopping after school, how’s that?”

  “I don’t need boots,” Eli said. “Not that much.”

  “Yep,” she said. “You do. Did you have a good time last night? I got your message. I’m sorry I couldn’t call you back, but—like I said. Busy.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I mean, I had a good time. I just thought, if you need me to stay home or anything next time. I can.”

  “No, sweetie. I want you to have fun.”

  He seemed to relax after that, and they did have fun. She put on one of Luke’s old button-downs and helped them do the last coat, getting paint in her hair so that Luke had to wet a paper towel and gently scrub it out for her.

  “You’re just like Daisy, Mom!” Eli said. “She got paint in her hair, too!” Which made them all laugh.

  The house smelled too much like paint to cook in, so Luke brought the radio down to her place, and they cooked dinner there and did some dancing and singing along while they did it. When she had the chili simmering, she swung Eli around the floor for a couple of numbers, just because she was happy. And then a song came on about putting a ring on the finger somebody was wrapped around. An old song, and a good one. Luke took her from her son and said, “This one’s mine,” and two-stepped her around the tiny space, smiling into her eyes, and she thought her heart would burst.

  They ate, and did the dishes, and Luke played Battleship with Eli while Kayla took a shower, and then they sent Eli to bed. And it all felt like . . . family. Like home. Except, of course, that Luke had to leave, because they both had to be up early the next morning.

  “Got something to confess to you,” Luke said. They were sitting on the couch, and now, he took her hand. “I almost made Eli give me that bastard’s name today. I didn’t, because it wasn’t fair to get it out of him, but damn, I was tempted. And I want to get it out of you.”

  Her hand stiffened in his. She tried to pull it away, but he kept hold. “Kayla. Wait. I have to know, in case I need to help you.”

  “No. You’ll want to do something, and he’ll find us. He could kill me, Luke. I mean it. He could kill Eli. Or you’d want to do something to him, and it’d wreck your life. I’m not going to let you do that. It’s over. It was bad, but it’s all over. Let it stay in the past. I need this to be the—the future, now. The better future. I need to leave it behind.”

  He sighed. “You had to make the one argument I can’t fight, didn’t you?”

  “If it’s the one that works to keep you safe, then yes. I had to make it.”

  “Did I say,” he told her, “that I loved you? Have I mentioned that?”

  “No.” She was trembling a little again, but not with fear this time. With something else.

  “Well, I’m mentioning it now. You are one very special lady, Kayla Chambers, and I’m flat-out in love with you.”

  “Oh. You are?”

  “Yep. I sure am. And I get that it’s too soon to say it, and what do you know? Here I am saying it anyway. So let’s move on. Give me another topic, and we’ll chat a little, and I’ll go home, and we’ll take this up another day.”

  “Well . . .” she began hesitantly. “I did think, today—I did think of something—I wondered—”

  “Oh, good. If you’re that worried about it, it’s something tough. Give me something tough to do here.”

  “If you’d help me get up to Bonners Ferry.”

  He blinked a little at that. “Uh—Bonners?”

  “What you said about grandparents,” she hurried on. “The other night. Eli does have grandparents, and I—I couldn’t get him up to see them, not for a long time. Not since Kurt—died. I wasn’t able to talk to them once—once I moved in with Alan, and now I don’t even have their number. But I need to go there. He needs to know them, and they need to see him. He’s all they’ve got left of their son, and I need to get him there. It’s almost Thanksgiving, and I can’t let them go through another Thanksgiving without seeing their grandchild, or even knowing that he’s alive in the world. That he’s OK.”

  She’d run down, finally, but he hadn’t said anything. And still, he waited. “But I need a favor,” she finally brought herself to say. “I don’t have any way to do it, and I don’t have anybody else to ask.”

  “You bet,” he said. “You bet I will. What? Drive you there? But that wouldn’t be too good,” he decided. “Not this first time. Not to show up with a new guy, because this won’t be easy for you anyway. Nope. You should take the truck.”

  “I thought—maybe loan me some money for a rental car.” He knew? How hard it would have been to show up with him—to have it look like she’d replaced Kurt? “A cheap one. And I’d pay you back. I promise.”

  “No way. Could be icy up north. Some cheap little tin can? No. Take the truck.”

  “But won’t you need it?”

  “Why? How long you going for?”

  “Just a day. Next weekend, I thought, if I could. I have Saturday off.”

  He shrugged. “So take it. It’s a small town, Kayla,” he said when she would have argued. “No place I can’t walk to on a Saturday. Any errands I need to do, I’ll make Eli do with me on Sunday. You take it.” He got up then. “And now I really am going to go home, because I don’t have
a day off tomorrow.”

  He got his coat on, then turned and took her in his arms and gave her a kiss. “Hell of a day,” he told her. “All the way around. One hell of a day.”

  Then he left, and she watched him start up the hill, and knew that he’d meant it.

  Kayla gripped the wheel a little more tightly on Saturday morning as they left Sandpoint and the lake behind. “Only forty more minutes, baby,” she told Eli.

  The tall evergreens marched, dark and silent, beside the road, and the mountains were hidden in the mist. The rain had started north of Coeur d’Alene, and had been coming off and on ever since. Not the best day for a visit, but then, she wasn’t sure there would be any day that would feel easy. Not after nearly three years.

  She wondered again if they would blame her, and then shoved the thought resolutely aside. What she’d told Luke was true. The past was the past. This was the future, and Eli’s grandparents were part of his future. Whatever they thought about her, they’d want Eli.

  She had to consult her directions for the turn. A right onto a gravel logging road, past the sawmill and before the town, then up the hill, winding through the pines and firs and cedars. Double-wide trailers and low, wooden houses, sheds and outbuildings and old pickup trucks.

  “Do you remember any of this?” she asked Eli.

  “I sort of do,” he said doubtfully. “It was hot, though. And there were chickens. Except when Dad died. It was cold then. I remember that.”

  She came around a bend in the road, and this time, she didn’t have to consult her directions. She swung into the driveway, and was grateful for the pickup’s traction as they came slowly around the corner and stopped in front of the house.

  A little older, a little shabbier. The same blue-and-white pickup parked in the driveway. And the chickens. She could hear them cackling from under a shed when they climbed out of the truck, both a little stiff from more than three hours on the road. The rain had stopped for now, and they picked their way through the gravel and mud toward the house. And then the dog came tearing out, barking, and Kayla jumped and shrieked.