by JF Freedman
“You’re going into ranching now?” Luke asked Steven. He hadn’t heard that one before. “I thought you were still headed for medical school.”
“He’s going to do both,” Juanita interjected. “He’ll be a doctor, and also a rancher. My husband double-dipped. It’s not hard. You hire good help and let them do the heavy lifting.” She smiled at Steven. “And you know I’m ornery enough to stay alive to see it all happen.” She squeezed his elbow affectionately.
“That’s great, Grandma,” he said with a mouthful of cake. “Hang in there.” He swallowed and smiled. “Tyler and me. We’re a great team, aren’t we? Like brothers. He saved my life, the way he stuck it to that D.A. Served them right for the way they screwed us.”
Luke and Kate exchanged looks of concern. This was not a topic for public discussion.
“Steven, let’s table it,” Luke said easily. He didn’t want to draw more attention to this.
“Whatever you say.” He grinned lopsidedly. “Tyler and animals. Who’d a thunk it?” He patted Juanita on the arm. “Give her credit. It was her idea. Hey,” he said brightly, “she’s paying for it. Tyler’s getting a free grad school education. No way he was going to turn that down.” He gave Juanita a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “You’re the best, Grandma.”
Juanita sipped her coffee. “I’m glad I can help Tyler,” she said. “He surely deserves it.”
Steven raised his glass again. “To Tyler, and me, and my grandmother. Living happily ever after. Or at least for a damn long time.”
Kate had driven up with the Garrisons. They stood outside, by their car. The other guests had left; they were the last to go.
Sophia came out to say good night. She was spending the night with Juanita. There was a ton of cleaning up to do here, and tomorrow morning they were going riding.
“Did you have fun?” she asked.
“Yes,” Riva answered, “it was lovely. You’re going to be a great hostess someday if you keep hanging around with Juanita.”
Sophia smiled. “She’s a great role model. Almost as good as you, Mommy,” she said, giving Kate a tired hug.
“Where’s Steven?” Kate asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Inside, helping out.” She laughed. “He’s not very much help. He had too much fun tonight. Making up for lost time.”
“You’re not going to keep up with him, I hope,” Kate fretted.
Sophia rolled her eyes dramatically. “Knowing Steven, he’ll fall asleep before his head hits his bed. Or maybe he’ll stay here. He likes it here, out under the stars.”
That would be fine with me, Kate thought. If it were up to her, he would sleep it off until Sophia came home tomorrow. Although she knew that was wishful thinking. They were going to have a last night together. It was out of her hands, and her daughter was a good kid. She trusted Sophia.
“So Steven’s going to be a rancher,” Luke mused. “That’s a surprise to me. He never said anything about that.”
Sophia made a face. “Don’t believe everything you hear. He wants to be a big-city boy. No horseshit on his loafers. He’s gone loony, isolated out here.” Instinctively, she looked over her shoulder. “Don’t tell Juanita I said that. Steven’s like a god to her. She’s got all her hopes piled up on him. And it isn’t like he’s shining her on,” she said defensively. “He knows she has these fantasies, so he tells her what she wants to hear. He figures he’ll deal with the reality of it later. Or he’ll keep playing out the string until her memory’s gone, or she dies.”
She looked back at the house again. “I need to get back inside and help Juanita. See you tomorrow.” She gave Kate a kiss, waved goodbye to Riva and Luke, and went back inside.
The three stragglers stood together for a moment, breathing in the fragrant night air. Riva broke the silence.
“Juanita bought Tyler off.”
Kate stared at her. “That’s a heavy accusation, Riva.”
“We don’t know anything,” Luke said heatedly. He didn’t need to hear this shit tonight, especially from his wife. “Juanita is a generous woman, and she’s rich. She can easily afford it. They probably have an arrangement that he’ll pay her back after he’s established.”
“She’ll be a hundred when he’s in a position to do that,” Riva told him. “But maybe I’m too cynical. And you know what? Her helping Tyler doesn’t mean he lied. Maybe it was…”
“Insurance?”
“If you want to call it that. Gratitude.” She nuzzled her husband’s neck. “You won, Luke, fairly and legitimately. You kicked their sorry asses from here to Bakersfield. You would have worked around it regardless of what Tyler had said,” she assured him.
“Riva’s right,” Kate chimed in. “You outplayed them, Luke. And whatever strings Juanita pulled, if she did, Steven’s innocent. Nothing else counts.”
Juanita was exhausted. She had been on a forced high from the months of waiting, the trial, the verdict, and now the entertaining to celebrate the end of it all, and she was ready to collapse, at least until tomorrow morning.
Sophia sat alongside her on her high wooden bed as the old woman, wearing a flannel nightgown that had been through so many washings it was almost transparent, brushed out her hair.
“We’re getting an early start,” Juanita reminded her. “So don’t stay up late.” She cocked an ear as if listening for something. “Did you hear a noise?” she asked. “I wonder if Steven’s all right.”
When they had returned, Steven had given his grandmother a sloppy kiss and staggered across the yard to his room in the back of the stable. He insisted he wasn’t drunk, but he wanted to lie down.
“No, I don’t hear anything,” Sophia answered. “He’s probably conked out. Boy doesn’t know the meaning of the word moderation.”
“Unfortunately, that’s true,” Juanita concurred. He had been indulging himself too much recently for her satisfaction, but she knew by now he didn’t take criticism well, so she’d left it alone. “He needs to be careful. It’s dangerous to be drunk and go wandering around out here.” She laughed. “But Steven can take care of himself. We know that, don’t we?”
“Yes,” Sophia agreed. “He can definitely take care of himself.”
She knew that Steven wasn’t sleeping. He was awake, waiting for her. She would go to him after she was satisfied that Juanita was asleep. Although she was pretty sure that by now Juanita had figured it out about her and Steven. That Juanita hadn’t said anything about it, hadn’t tried to be all grandmotherly and protect her, was another reason she loved Juanita. She was living proof that you could be old and still be cool.
Juanita ran the brush through her hair. “Fetch me that box, please.” She pointed to a large, square, black onyx jewelry box on the top shelf of the old triangular bookcase in the far corner of the room.
Sophia got up from the high bed and walked over to the bookcase. She reached up and took hold of the box. It wasn’t as heavy as she had expected. She brought it over, set it down on the bed next to Juanita, and climbed up on the bed again.
Juanita picked the box up and placed it in her lap. She opened the top. “Take a look.”
Sophia edged closer, so she could see inside. The box was two-tiered. The top section was hinged, so both levels were easily accessible. In the bottom level there were bracelets, mostly silver with turquoise inlays. The top level contained several sets of earrings: diamond, pearl, ruby, sapphire. Two sets were deep turquoise, in silver settings.
Juanita delicately took out one of the turquoise sets. She held them in the palm of her hand. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”
“Very,” Sophia said. They looked like turquoise stars in Juanita’s feathery hand.
“I got them in Santa Fe, over fifty years ago. My husband and I were out there on a visit. Have you ever been there?”
Sophia shook her head. “No.”
“It’s beautiful. If I didn’t live here, that’s somewhere I’d enjoy spending time.” Juanita twisted her hand so the earrin
gs caught the light. “We should go there, after you graduate. I love to travel, but I don’t have a companion to do it with anymore. You can be my companion,” she decided. “Would you like that?’
Sophia was taken aback. “Yes. Thank you,” Sophia told her.
“Good. I’ll start looking into it.”
She picked the earrings up between her thumbs and forefingers and held them against Sophia’s earlobes. “Excellent,” she enthused. “See for yourself.”
Sophia got off the bed and went to the mirror of Juanita’s dresser. She held the jewels up to her ears.
“Put them on.”
Sophia took out her studs and replaced them with Juanita’s heirlooms. She stared at herself in the mirror.
“Let me see.”
Sophia walked over to Juanita and stood in front of her. Juanita was beaming. “Perfect. They fit your face much better than mine.” She took both of Sophia’s hands in hers. “Wear them in good health.”
Sophia’s jaw dropped. “I can’t take these.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” She was overwhelmed. “They must cost a fortune.”
“So what?” Juanita said. “They didn’t, actually, but what does that matter? They should be worn, not hidden away in an old lady’s keepsake box.” She squeezed Sophia’s hands. “I’ll be very hurt if you don’t take these.”
Sophia was shaking. “I…”
“You must.”
Sophia touched the earrings. They felt like fairy wings on her ears. “I’ll take perfect care of them,” she promised. She leaned over and kissed Juanita on the forehead. “I can’t believe how good you are to me.”
Juanita began brushing her hair again, long, forceful strokes. “You bring me joy every moment I’m with you, Sophia.” She brushed more vigorously. “You’ve been a great comfort and support to me.” The brush dropped into her lap. “As I hope I will always be for you.”
Sophia quietly closed the door behind her and ran on tiptoes to the stable. It was a clear, starry night and the moon was only a day past full, so there was ample light to see by.
Steven sat on the edge of his bed. A lantern cast his long shadow against the far wall. He was sucking on a sweaty bottle of Corona. A baggie of marijuana and his pipe were on the edge of the blanket. His shirt and shoes were off, and his jeans rode low on his hips. Damn, he’s beautiful, she thought yet again.
He looked up with a lazy smile as she came to the doorway. “What took you so long?”
“I had to make sure she was asleep.” She breathed in the sticky air. It was warm and sweet, the smell of smoked weed. At his feet she spied a couple of empty beer bottles. “Don’t you think you ought to slow down?” she cautioned him. “You’ve been hammering it pretty good tonight.”
“More like you need to catch up.” His words were slightly slurred. He pulled a cold bottle from his Igloo and held it out to her. “Here.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to drink. I want to be clear.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He patted the bedcover. “C’mere.”
She remained in the doorway. They hadn’t had any time alone since the trial ended. Partly because of their schedules, but more because Steven was withdrawing. It was a natural reaction, she understood that; but it still hurt. Although he had used her, she had used him as well, so that wasn’t what upset her. The difference was emotional. On a pretty deep level she was committed to Steven, but she had come to understand he had never been committed to her; not honestly.
Despite that, he still enflamed her. She had been aching for this. She wanted their final times together to be romantic. This wasn’t romantic.
“Put the marijuana and beer away, and I will.”
He brought the bottle to his lips and drank the rest of it in long gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He tossed the empty across the room.
“Okay. It’s gone.”
“The marijuana, too.”
“What a party pooper!” He stuffed the baggie under the mattress. “Happy now?”
“Yes.” She made him wait a moment longer; then she walked across the small room and sat down next to him, kicking off her sandals.
He put his arm around her and drew her close. “I’ve missed you,” he sweet-talked her clumsily. “All these people wanting a piece of me. My parents, my grandmother, my lawyer, your mother. Why can’t they all leave me alone?”
Jesus, she thought—you won. Give it up. “Those are the people who stood behind you,” she reminded him, feeling put off by his lack of graciousness. “Your grandmother’s been a saint through all this. Where would you have been without her?”
“You’re right,” he gave in. “It’s just…arrghh…that stupid girl! Why did she have to be such a cunt?”
She stared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You weren’t in the courtroom to hear all the garbage they said about her,” he told her, his voice rising in anger. “She lets some bozo she’s never met pick her up in the morning, an hour later she’s hot to trot to fuck him, but it got fucked up so she picks up some other guy and goes off to fuck him. Or maybe it was the first guy, who knows. If she hadn’t been a little whore, none of this would have happened.” He spat onto the floor. “She’d still be alive if she wasn’t such a slut.”
Sophia felt a chill, hearing Maria described that way. She knew of Maria’s reputation, but it still hurt to hear such harsh, unfeeling words. She had said those exact words herself, and now she was ashamed that she had.
“You shouldn’t talk about her like that,” she admonished him. “She’s dead. Think of her poor family and what they’ve gone through.”
He slumped back against the rough plank wall. “You’re right, it’s petty of me. But I lost eight months out of my life that I’ll never get back. And there’s always going to be a cloud over my head.”
Sophia leaned back so she was resting against him. She could feel the heat coming off his body. “Maybe they’ll find the real killer someday. Maybe it’s that other boy.”
Steven shook his head as if trying to shake away the memories of the last eight months. “They never will. It’s always going to be a mystery.” He turned to her. “We don’t have much time left. Let’s not talk about it anymore, okay?”
She was happy to let the ugliness go. They stretched out on the thin bed. He was naked under his jeans, which slid off his narrow hips onto the floor. He lifted her dress up over her head and tossed it on top of his pants. Reaching behind her, he unsnapped her bra. It joined her dress and his jeans.
They rolled around on the bed. He kissed her swollen nipples. As his hand slid under the band of her panties, she began stroking his erection. “I have to tell you something,” she whispered into his ear.
“What?” The hand snaked lower, caressing the moist curliness of the top of her pubic hair.
She should have told him earlier, but she had been afraid he would withdraw, not want to be with her. “I’m having my period.”
He stopped moving. She felt him tense up.
“It’s almost done.” There was no one around, but she was whispering. “I’ll be finished by tomorrow. “We can have regular sex tomorrow night.”
He pulled away. She raised up on her elbow. “Come on, Steven. I can’t help it.” She put her hand on his chest and pushed him back. “Let me do you.”
She put both hands on his shoulders and pushed him down onto his back. Leaning over him, her swaying breasts grazing his chest, she held her hair back with one hand, braced herself with the other, and took his cock in her mouth.
She started sucking him, her head bobbing up and down on his shaft. He pushed up into her mouth, his penis ramming against the back of her throat. She gagged and pulled away.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I couldn’t help it.” She took a deep breath and started to go down on him again.
He pushed her away and sat up. “Roll over onto your hands and knees,” he ordered her.
Sophia shook her head. “I don’t want you in me, Steven,” she protested. “Not while I’m on my period.”
It was as if he hadn’t heard her; or more truthfully, that whatever she said and wanted didn’t matter. He grabbed her and spun her around so that she was on her hands and knees, facing away from him.
“Steven,” she cried softly, “I don’t want to.”
He jerked her panties down past her knees. “I’m not going to fuck you in the pussy, Sophia,” he breathed into her ear. His breath felt like fire on her skin. He grabbed her hips and started to push into her anus.
“No, please,” she whimpered.
“Don’t fight it,” he told her. “You’re going to like this, I promise.”
He pushed her down, onto her stomach. She tried to punch at him, but he was on top of her, straddling her. She managed to turn her head and bite his hand.
He yanked it away. “You bit me!” He stared at his hand. “It’s bleeding!” He grabbed her by the neck and shoved her down. “Stop fighting me,” he roughly told her again. His breath was scorching her face. It smelled like gasoline, he had so much alcohol in him. He pulled her up, so that she was in the doggie position. “This how all you high school girls like it, isn’t it,” he said, his voice low and thick.
She felt herself becoming hysterical. “I don’t want to do this,” she wailed. “Don’t do this, please. Please, Steven, don’t!” she screamed.
Before she could cry out again, he forced himself into her. His thrust was hard and fast, no gentleness, no easing his way in—the opposite of how they normally made love. Incredibly, in some deep recess of her mind she was excusing him: it was the drinking and the dope that was making him act this way. This wasn’t the Steven she knew. But the pain, not just the physical pain, but the humiliation and helplessness to stop him because he was stronger obliterated all that, and also the flash that went through her mind again, about what he had said—that high school girls liked it up the ass.