Green Lake

by S. K. Epperson

  As he left the drive he realized Renard's truck was in the garage and Madeleine's Audi was parked out front. So where was Renard? And how did he get wherever he was?

  Suddenly he remembered Renard's mother. He bet she was gone, too, and Renard was probably with her, leaving Madeleine temporarily alone.

  Dale had the urge to turn around and go back, just to see if Renard came home. Dale was certain he was right, and he wondered suddenly if the puffy eyes and sad face were because of Renard's absence.

  He drove down to Diamond Bay and was nearly run over by a Jaguar speeding over the bumpy road. Dale's lip curled when he saw who was behind the wheel.

  Bruce Beckworth smiled and flipped him the bird as he sped away, and Dale flipped it right back at him.

  Goddamned criminal, he thought to himself in disgust.

  Bruce wasn't supposed to have the Jag. His old man had forbidden him to drive it, ever. Bruce didn't care. He had no wheels and the Jag was there. If the old man wanted to go somewhere, let him drive his wife's Lexus. She never went anywhere but the tanning salon, anyway. And the nail place, where she had those long fake nails put on, the kind that curled under slightly and looked really spooky under the right kind of light. Bruce hated her. She hated him, too, and did everything she could to stay away from him.

  She was pissed because she had gotten drunk once and done it with Bruce. The old man had passed out upstairs, and she had come downstairs looking for some. Bruce gave it to her and she had hated him ever since. Couldn't stand to look at him.

  He loved to taunt her with it, but it wasn't so much fun anymore. Her repugnance didn't stem from guilt so much as disgust, and Bruce knew enough to feel insulted. The more she avoided him, the more he felt the need to seek her out.

  Earlier that day, when he got home from jail, he heard her screaming at his father to just get rid of him. Send him away or let him go to prison, but get him out of the house and out of their lives. Bruce had listened long enough to hear his father tell her everything was going to be all right. He would work things out. Those words sent him down to his father's office to find the keys to the Jag. Beside the desk was a paper sack, and after he opened it Bruce had to sit down.

  The sonofabitch was going to do it. He was going to pay Bruce off and tell him to get out.

  Bruce carried the sack out to the Jag with him. He spent the next six hours just driving, finally ending up at the lake and in search of a party. When he couldn't find anything that suited him, he drove to the home of one of the guys who had been with him in the SUV the evening before. His friend seemed shocked to see him, and Bruce laughed as he sat down in a lawn chair and opened his first beer of the day.

  “Is it me you're surprised to see, or the Jag?”

  “Both, man. You really screwed up yesterday.”

  Bruce laughed again. “I'd say the guy that's dead screwed up more than I did. You realize who that was? That was the guy who freaked everybody out when he said his little girl was missing.”

  “I heard. You out on bail or what?”

  “Yeah. I ain't worried.”

  “Your old man.”

  “My old man is an expert at workin' things out. He's gonna work me out next.”

  Bruce's buddy looked at him, and Bruce said, “She can't handle me in the house no more. Can't look at me without thinking about me sticking my dick up her ass. She wants me out.” He drank down the beer and looked at his friend. “I got a Jag and a sack full of cash. Before I leave here I'm gonna burn down a house and kick the shit out of the CO who cuffed me yesterday. You comin’?”

  His buddy shook his head. “Too much for me, man. Whose house?”

  Bruce opened another beer. “Read about it in the paper tomorrow, puss.”

  He picked up his friend's twelve-pack of beer and carried it to the Jag. His friend said not a word. When Bruce was gone the friend went into the house to call Wes Beckworth and tell him everything that was said, everything but the part about Mrs. Beckworth.

  Bruce drove to the swimming beach at Vista Bay and sat drinking beer and watching swimmers until the light faded from the sky and the beach became deserted. When the moon was high and the stars were bright, Bruce started the Jag and purred slowly over the road toward Briar's Cove and the cabins on the hill.

  Dale Russell squinted and blinked when he saw a lone figure skulking around outside Renard's cabin. At first he thought it was the man he had seen walking his dog up the road, but this person was bent over in a crouch and carrying something large in his hand. Dale looked for a car parked somewhere near but saw nothing.

  A burglar, he wondered? He immediately pictured himself rescuing Madeleine from a thief.

  No, he decided, as he sat in the dark interior of the truck's cab and watched. This guy was splashing something around the front and sides of the house.

  What the hell was he up to? Dale wondered. Was he trying to kill Renard's plants?

  He eased himself out of the truck to get a closer look, and a second after the door clicked, a loud whooshing sound and a bright splash of light made Dale jerk his head around.

  Flames engulfed the entire house. Dale spied a figure to the side of the house, saw his smiling face clearly, and the man saw him at the same moment. Beckworth pointed his finger and then rushed Dale, charging with furious intent.

  Dale's bladder leaked when he saw that face, but his hand reached for his gun, and before he realized what he was doing he had emptied his firearm into the chest of the man running toward him. He heard shouts that sounded very far away, and his head lowered as if in slow motion to look at Beckworth, still twisting on the ground in front of him.

  Dale dropped his gun and forced himself to lift his head. A man was yelling in a high, whiny voice, and another huge man, as tall if not taller than Renard, came running up the road to throw himself at the door of the burning house. It seemed he was inside for hours, but it was actually only a minute before he came carrying Madeleine out the door. She was coughing and choking and gasping for breath, and Dale suddenly remembered himself when he saw her. He strode over to check her condition, and then he walked with purpose back to his truck to pick up his radio and call the fire department. And the police.

  Manuel Ortiz ran down to see what was happening, and he appeared stunned to find Madeleine on the ground, gasping for air. He checked her over and instructed the huge man to carry her up to his cabin. Madeleine protested, but Manuel insisted. Dale watched her go and wanted to rush over and tell her what he had done, how he had saved her, but he had other things to worry about at the moment, like justifying the use of deadly force to the hordes of official personnel soon to descend upon him.

  He didn't know what the hell he was going to tell his aunt.

  Farther up the hill toward the cemetery, no one saw the man get out of the Lexus and slide behind the wheel of the Jaguar. The woman behind the wheel of the Lexus heaved a huge sigh of relief as she looked in her rearview mirror at the scene below.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Madeleine protested when Manuel wanted to sedate her, but he told everyone it was for her own good and did it anyway. She slept for twelve hours, and when she awakened she found Manuel standing over her.

  “What did you give me?” she asked.

  He gave a small shake of his head, as if to say it was not important.

  “I'm pregnant,” Madeleine said. “It better not have been anything that will hurt the baby.”

  Manuel lifted both brows in surprise. “I'm sure it will not. Who is the father?”

  “Eris.” She raised herself. “I have to call him. I'm not even sure what happened last night.”

  “Renard,” said Manuel, his voice thoughtful. He nodded his head then. “He is a good choice for you, Madeleine.”

  Madeleine blinked and looked at him. He was the last person on earth she would have expected to recognize that.

  ”A person named Beckworth was responsible for the arson,” Manuel told her. “He is now dead, shot and killed
by Dale Russell, who has been suspended pending an investigation.”

  Madeleine swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I have to get in touch with Eris. He's in New Mexico.”

  Manuel extended his cell. “Feel free to use my phone. I’m guessing yours burned.”

  She paused, suddenly wary. “Why are you being so nice to me, Manuel? You don't even like me.”

  He smiled. “Of course I like you, Madeleine. My anger was only momentary. You cost me much and I reacted.”

  “You cost yourself,” Madeleine replied, and he nodded in agreement.

  “I did, yes. But I will win her back, if I so choose. She is not like you, Madeleine.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that Jacqueline will be willing to forgive.” He turned and left her then, and Madeleine heard the door to the cabin open and close. She was alone.

  A couple of minutes later she was listening to the ring of the phone at Bent Horn Gallery. It was the only number listed, her only means to contact Eris, and no one was answering. She cursed softly. She went to the window to stare down at the blackened house below. The sight of it made her squeeze her eyes shut and shake her head. She could not imagine Eris's reaction. She tried calling for another two hours and gave up as Manuel came back.

  “Any luck?” he asked. She shook her head.

  “Where is your girlfriend?” she asked.

  “She is just a woman I know, who preferred not to stay when I told her who you were.”

  Madeleine quirked a brow, and before she could comment, there was a knock on the door. Manuel answered and she saw Dale Russell outside, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.

  “Hello. Just checking to see how Madeleine is today. I thought I'd go inside the house and see what can be salvaged, if anything.”

  “Is it safe?” asked Manuel.

  “Should be,” said Dale. “Is Madeleine all right?”

  “I'm fine,” Madeleine called from the living room. “Wait for me.”

  “Madeleine,” Manuel cautioned. “It is not wise for you to be in the house.”

  She paused and thought of the possible fumes. “You're right. I'll stay outside and use the hose to clean anything that can be saved.”

  'Tm going out in the boat,” Manuel told her. “I'll leave the cabin door open for you.”

  Madeleine glanced at him, and though it was difficult for her to say, she thanked him for his generosity.

  Dale was full of tender concern and gentlemanly conduct as he walked her to Eris's blackened house.

  “Were you able to reach Renard?” he asked.

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Is he with his mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “When's he coming back?”

  “Soon.”

  “Going to be a shocker,” Dale murmured.

  The rest of the day was spent sorting clothes and other items into piles that were salvageable and piles that were not. Most of the new furniture had been ruined beyond repair. The fire trucks and huge hoses had destroyed the yard. Madeleine's throat thickened in dismay each time she thought of Eris coming home to see the place.

  Dale worked hard all day and didn't want to talk about it when Madeleine tried to ask about his suspension. She dropped the subject. Her stomach was growling and she was just beginning to think about eating when she saw Denise Lansky come driving down the road. Madeleine stepped out and waved, and Denise stopped the car.

  “Good lord, what happened here?”

  Madeleine briefly told her and they discussed it for several minutes before she finally asked what Denise was doing back at the lake.

  “Here for the Fourth. Brought a few of the kids with me again. But I'm not here to talk about that. Have you heard word on a grant yet?”

  “Nothing,” said Madeleine, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Dale Russell inconspicuously watching and listening to them.

  “Any other offers?” asked Denise, and Madeleine lowered her voice to tell her about the community college.

  “Don't go there,” Denise said immediately. “I've got something better. Something you are absolutely perfect for. It's grant money, all right, but not the kind you're used to.”

  Madeleine took her arm and walked away from the house with her, out of Dale Russell's earshot.

  Denise went on to tell Madeleine about an acquaintance in the city that was having a slight problem in keeping a director for a revitalized Head Start program.

  “Head Start?” Madeleine was already shaking her head. “I'm not qualified for that.”

  “It's a program for Indian children. They can't find a director willing to work with the parents. They can't find anyone even remotely familiar with the various cultures. I told them I knew just the person.”

  Madeleine found herself smiling. “You thought of me. Because I helped you with the kids.”

  “No, I thought of you because of your extensive background in Native American tribes. The way you handle kids was only a plus. This job is perfect for you. You've got so much to offer.”

  Madeleine couldn't stop smiling. She was more than interested. It would be an opportunity for her to make her knowledge of language and culture available to any who were interested in learning. She was so excited she wanted to grab the smiling Denise and hug her.

  “When do they want me?” she asked, and Denise began to laugh.

  “Are you serious? Are you really interested?”

  Madeleine nodded. “Very much so.”

  “I told them I'd call after I talked to you, but you could walk right in there Tuesday morning and tell them you're ready to start.”

  “I'll do that,” Madeleine said, and her firm tone made Denise laugh again.

  They chatted for a bit longer then Denise made Madeleine promise to come see her and waved as she left.

  When Madeleine walked back to Dale he smiled and asked if she would be leaving the lake soon.

  “I will, yes,” she said.

  “Did I hear her say you were getting a grant?”

  “That's right.” Madeleine wasn't going into it with him.

  “Well, that's good news, isn't it?”

  “It is,” she agreed. “I appreciate everything you've done here today, Dale, but I don't think there's much more we can do.”

  He looked at the piles on the grass. “What do you want to do with those?”

  “I'll take care of it. Thank you, really, for coming out to help. Eris will be grateful, I'm sure.”

  Dale lifted his hands. “Okay. I'll get out of here now. Need to clean up and get something to eat. Can I buy you some dinner?”

  Madeleine's growling stomach was tempted, but she shook her head. “No, thanks. I'm fine.”

  “All right. Be seeing you.”

  She waved to him and watched until he was in his truck and heading up the road toward the cemetery. She felt someone watching her and turned to see Sherman Tanner come sauntering across the grass.

  “What are you going to do with those?” he asked, pointing to the piles of ruined clothes and other items.

  “Call someone to come and haul them off,” she said. “The rest I'm going to load into my car and Eris's truck.”

  “Where is he?” asked Tanner.

  “Away,” said Madeleine and excused herself.

  Madeleine returned to the cabin and tried the gallery again. Then she called information and begged for the unlisted number of Sara Bent Horn. “This is an emergency,” she insisted. “His house burned down and he doesn't even know.”

  “I'm sorry,” the voice told her. “I can't release the number.”

  Madeleine slammed down the phone just as Manuel walked through the door.

  “Still no luck,” he surmised. He went to the refrigerator and drew out a bottle of beer. “Have you eaten, Madeleine?”

  “No,” she said, and she looked at herself. Her clothes were grimy. “I'm too dirty to go anywhere.”

  “Jacqueline has some extra clothes in the closet,” he told her. �
��I'll cook the fish if you prepare a salad.”

  Madeleine exhaled. His kindness to her was driving her crazy.

  They ate dinner together and talked more than they had talked in the entire time Manuel and Jacqueline were married. Manuel told her of his family, nine brothers and two sisters, and of his father, a politician in Mexico.

  She got up from the table and put her plate in the sink. Manuel brought his plate and she swiftly washed up while he sat and watched.

  “Are you staying tonight?” he asked.

  “No.” She needed to get what clothes she had to the nearest washing machine.

  “Will you be seeing Jacqueline?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you tell her you spoke with me?”

  “Yes, Manuel. And I will tell her of your many kindnesses. I’ll be back tomorrow to pick up Eris's things.”

  “Come and tell me how she is. Will you do that?”

  Feeling slightly like a traitor, Madeleine agreed. She picked up her singed purse and fished around inside for her keys. Then she left him to his silent cabin and walked down the hill to get in her Audi.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Sara saw to it that Eris didn't have a chance to call Madeleine until Monday morning. From the moment they landed in Albuquerque's airport she and Clint took command of his existence and chauffeured him around in the back seat of a red Mercedes. In the first twelve hours they introduced him to dozens of people who all struggled to hide the same look of shock Sara had worn the first time she saw him. As for Sara, she presented him as if he were a piece of dark but reaching artwork she had recently completed.

  Sara put together a small dinner party Sunday evening and Eris met several more people, all of them Indians, all of them terribly concerned with Sara's injuries, and all of them wondering why Eris was still living in Kansas. Everyone assumed he either aspired to move to New Mexico or was already in the planning stages.

  “We're creating a new West,” a woman from the Institute of American Indian Arts Museum said to him. “We're seeing a resurgence of pride and spirituality unsurpassed in this century. It's important we band together and keep it alive.”