“He became violent,” Tallent explains. “He threatened your daughter.”
“Does he have a gun?” G.W. demands. “Is he armed?”
“No, sir. But…”
“Put the fucking gun away, Darvell. And let the son-of-a-bitch get up.” The two men who are holding Akaso down look at Tallent for confirmation. He nods. The guards rise slowly, leaving Akaso, disheveled, sprawled out on the neatly cut lawn.
Akaso pulls himself up to his knees. Then, slowly, he rises to his feet. “I have been beaten by professionals, many times,” he says to G.W. as he brushes himself off. His face is covered with crisscross patterns where it was forced into the grass, his shirt is rumpled and slightly torn, but, as far as Jillian can tell, he appears to be uninjured. “By comparison, your lackeys are puny amateurs.”
“You want to tell me what this is all about?” G.W. asks, calmly. Attracted by the commotion, a small crowd of partiers has drifted over, gawking and whispering like rubberneckers at a fire. “You mind telling me where you get off thinking that you can come to my home, uninvited, trespass on my property, and disturb me and my family? You feel like sharing that information with me?”
“I owe you no explanations,” Akaso snarls, advancing toward G.W. “This property is not yours. It belongs to the poor people that you exploit all over the world. They built your precious house with their sweat and their blood. You take bread from the mouths of their starving children so you and your friends can eat caviar. You stand on the backs of people who have no homes, crushing their faces into the dung, so you and your family can…”
“Buddy,” G.W. says evenly, “I don’t know what your problem is, but you’re starting to piss me off.”
Oh Jeez, Jillian thinks. Akaso better shut up, right now.
“…can bathe yourselves in luxury,” Akaso continues, oblivious. “You suck the life-blood from the earth. You steal the birthright of entire nations. You pillage and plunder with your blood-stained hands. You think that you…”
“Okay, you’ve made your point,” G.W. says, quietly. “That’s enough.”
“…that you can escape justice, but there is no place to hide from the wrath of the people. You will be punished for your crimes against humanity. You must answer for…”
“That’s it, buddy. Can it.”
“…for the deaths of millions. You must pay for the… for the…” Suddenly, Akaso seems confused, spent. He turns his head to look into the circle of faces that stare back at him blankly. Some people whisper and point, others just gawk at him like he’s a freak.
“Are you through?” G.W. asks.
“For now,” Akaso says, bitterly. He turns to Jillian. “You may get the better of me this time, but I promise you, we will meet again, Jill Kendal. And when we do…”
“You’re through,” G.W. announces, and his fist crashes into Akaso’s jaw. Akaso’s head snaps back. He crumples into a motionless heap on the lawn.
“Get rid of him,” G.W. says quietly to Tallent. “Show’s over, folks,” he announces, over the buzz of the small crowd. “Sorry for the disturbance.”
“Daddy?” Jillian says tentatively, wondering if she’s in trouble. “Are you okay?”
“Sure, no problem,” G.W. laughs. “My hand’s a little sore,” he adds, wincing as he opens and closes his fist, “but it’s no big deal. I must be getting soft in my old age.”
“Daddy, I’m so sorry,” Jillian says, as she watches Tallent hoist the limp Akaso over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “I should have let Darvell kick him out like you wanted him too.” Hugging her father, she kisses him softly on the cheek.
G.W. pats her head gently. “Never apologize for giving someone a second chance,” he says. “Your heart’s in the right place, Jill. Your friend’s just too much of a hothead to appreciate it.” He kisses her on the forehead and puts a big arm around her shoulder ever so gently.
Jillian stifles a yawn.
“Let’s you and me mosey on back to the old homestead,” G.W. says. “It’s time for all the little fillies to settle down in the corral for the night.”
“Oh, Daddy,” Jillian says, smiling up at him. “You used to say that to me when I was a little girl.”
“You’re still my little girl, precious,” G.W. says. She snuggles closer to his shoulder, warm and secure. “And it don’t matter how old you are or how many gold medals you win. You’ll always be your daddy’s little girl.” He smiles and strokes her hair. “Always.”
2.5.10: Dallas
They stroll together in a comfortable silence on a narrow gravel path that leads up the slope toward the house. Even in the darkness, the Texas heat is oppressive – nearly an hour after sundown, the temperature still hovers at around eighty degrees, perhaps a little cooler by the lake.
A gust of wind ruffles the grass at their feet. Up the slope, hidden by the darkness, the tent flaps crackle in the breeze. Eddies of litter – plastic cups, napkins, paper plates – swirl in tight circles, then settle languidly to the ground.
“Wind’s shifting to the north,” G.W. observes. “Front’s coming through. Weatherman got one right, for a change. I don’t reckon it’ll cool off much, but it might dry things out some for you tomorrow.”
“I like the heat,” Jillian says, drowsily. “It’s not so much that I actually like it,” she clarifies, “but I’m so used to it. It slows everybody else down, but it doesn’t bother me at all.”
“Let’s put you to bed, little lady. You got you a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”
“I’m not tired, Daddy,” Jillian says, but she yawns even as she says it. “And the party’s still going on.” And besides, she thinks, I don’t sleep so well the night before a race, anyway. But I’ll never admit that I’m nervous to anyone, not even to you, Daddy.
“Don’t you worry about the party none,” G.W. says. “Looks like just about everyone’s gone home already. And Lord knows I’m paying enough people to take care of everything.”
“Jill! Jill, wait!” Someone is trotting across the grass, waving and shouting, trying to get Jillian’s attention. The floodlights that light the path cast a soft glow on the surrounding lawn, but they don’t provide enough illumination for Jillian to figure out that it’s Sunshine until she’s just a few yards away.
“Jill, I’m so glad I found you,” Sunshine gushes. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Well, you just did catch me,” Jillian says. “I was just about to go to bed.” Maybe she’ll take the hint and not hold them up for too long.
“I… I need to ask you a favor,” Sunshine says, glancing uneasily at G.W.
“Where are my manners?” Jillian asks, playing the gracious – albeit somewhat reluctant – hostess. “Sunshine, I’d like you to meet my father, G.W. Kendal. Daddy, this is Sunshine – Sunshine O’Malley, isn’t that right?”
“It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kendal,” Sunshine effuses. And Jillian thinks that of all of the many times she’s heard that phrase, this is the first time that the person who said it sounded like they really meant it.
“Likewise,” says G.W., extending his hand. “Pleased to make your…” He stops in mid-sentence, a curious look on his face, a half-frown. His eyes are far away. “Sunshine?” he asks. “Did you say Sunshine? Sunshine O’Malley?” He studies her face intently.
“Yes, sir, that’s my name!” Sunshine says brightly, but she’s a little flustered by G.W.’s unexpected interest. “I just use ‘Sunshine’ now, but Sunshine O’Malley was my full name before I stopped using O’Malley. Well, actually, Mary Margaret O’Malley is the name I was born with, but I’ve been called Sunshine as long as I can remember. And now it’s my spiritual name, too.”
G.W. continues to stare at Sunshine quizzically. She looks uneasily from him to Jillian and back.
Jillian breaks the silence. “You said something about a favor…”
“Oh, yes, I almost forgot,” Sunshine says, gratefully. “I was wondering if you knew someplace
that I could sleep tonight.” She looks at the ground, a little abashed. “I don’t seem to have anyplace to stay.”
“Have we met somewhere before?” G.W. still looks puzzled. “I mean, I can’t say that you look familiar, but that name… Sunshine O’Malley. Sunshine O’Malley.” He swirls the name around in his mouth, savoring it like an unfamiliar wine. “I could swear I’ve heard that name before. Somewhere.”
“I… I don’t know. I don’t think we’ve met.” Sunshine smiles hesitantly. “I think I would remember.”
“Sunshine O’Malley,” G.W. says. And again: “Sunshine O’Malley.”
“What about Nathan?” Jillian asks. Sunshine’s obviously wrangling for an invitation to stay here, she thinks, and I’m sure we can put her up – but what about Nathan? Is she going to want me to put him up, too? I sure could do without that. And Mother would have an absolute fit. “Where’s Nathan staying?”
“I don’t know. He left a while ago. I mean, I didn’t actually see him go, but some people told me that they saw him leave.”
“Sunshine O’Malley,” G.W. says yet again, but there’s a little more life to it this time, as if a thought is struggling its way toward the surface.
“You mean, he just skipped out on you without saying anything?” So, Jillian thinks, despite the white robes and the mystic gobbledygook, Nathan is just as inconsiderate as other men. “He didn’t even have the decency to tell you that he was leaving? Or where he was going?”
“Oh, no, Jill, you don’t understand.” Sunshine is aghast. “Nathan comes and goes as he pleases. It’s not our place to understand his ways.”
Jesus, Jillian thinks, he’s sure got you snowed. But she smiles and says, “Why don’t you stay here? We’ve got plenty of room. That’s okay, isn’t it, Daddy?”
“Sunshine O’Malley!” G.W. roars, and he slaps his thigh. “By God, now I remember!” He smiles and nods. “Yup,” he says, “I reckon you’re about the right age.”
“Daddy, what are you…”
“You didn’t happen to live on a farm outside of Boston when you were a little girl, did you?”
Sunshine’s eyes grow wide. “Why… why, yes, as a matter of fact, I did.”
“And if I’m not mistaken, your folks ran a little food stand by the side of the road, didn’t they?”
“Yes! Yes they did!” Sunshine says, excited. “How did you know that?”
G.W. chuckles and shakes his head. “Well, don’t that beat all,” he says. “Ain’t that the horse’s tallywhacker.”
“Daddy!” Jillian is mystified. “Tell us!”
But G.W. smiles an impish smile, and Jillian knows that he’s not about to reveal his secret, not yet, anyway. “How long do you two girls figure that you’ve known each other?” he asks.
“Daddy, come on. What does that have to do with anything?”
But G.W. will not be diverted. “How long?”
“Honestly, Daddy,” Jillian sighs. She’s dying with curiosity, but she’s obviously going to have to play his game. “Let’s see, I guess about… I don’t know, about three weeks or something? Isn’t that right?”
“I think so.” Sunshine nods in agreement.
“Well, you’re both wrong,” G.W. says, his eyes twinkling. “But you’re only off by about, oh, let me see now…” – he counts on his fingers, making a show of deep concentration – “…fifteen, sixteen, seventeen… no, sixteen years, I think that’s right. Sixteen, or seventeen, maybe.”
“Sixteen years?” Jillian is incredulous. “Sixteen years?” she repeats. “Daddy, what are you talking about?”
“Mr. Kendal, I’m only eighteen now,” Sunshine points out. “I would’ve only been a couple of years old sixteen years ago.”
G.W. nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, I reckon that’d be about right.”
“Daddy, really!” Jillian, arms akimbo, feigns annoyance. “Are you going to tell us what this is all about, or are you going to keep us in suspense?”
“Keeping you in suspense sounds like a good idea to me,” G.W. laughs. “But I’ll tell you all about it. In a few minutes. Right now I gotta go and do one last check to make sure everything’s under control.”
“Daddy!” Jillian stamps her foot with impatience.
“You’re staying with us tonight, aren’t you?” G.W. asks Sunshine.
“Well… um…” Sunshine looks at Jillian, confused; as far as she knows, the issue has not been settled. “I guess so. I mean, I don’t have anyplace else to stay, and I was hoping…”
“Good.” G.W., clearly enjoying himself, smiles an enigmatic smile. “Jillian, take Sunshine up to the house, and y’all get ready for bed, and meet me in the den in about…” – he glances at his watch – “…oh, say, half an hour. That’ll give me time to get everything straightened up out here. And then I’ll tell you the whole story.” He winks. “If y’all are still interested, that is.” Without waiting for a response, he turns and ambles off.
“Daddy! You come back here!” Jillian shouts after him, exasperated. “You tell us right now!”
“Jill?” Sunshine says tentatively, when G.W. has been swallowed by the night. “I hope I’m not imposing or anything. I’ll try not to be any trouble.”
“What do you think he’s talking about?” Jillian muses. “Have you ever been to Texas before?” She takes Sunshine’s arm, they leave the trail and begin to cut across the lawn to the house.
Sunshine shakes her head firmly. “No. No way. I’ve never been out of New England before, until today.”
“Well, I’d never been to New England until a couple of years ago.” Jillian sighs. “Oh well, we’ll find out soon enough. Where’s your stuff?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Jillian is puzzled, Sunshine must not have understood her. “I mean, where’s your gear, and your bicycle, and your clothes, and stuff like that?”
“I don’t know, Jill.” Sunshine sounds unconcerned. “Really. It’s not important.”
“But… I don’t get it. Where did you leave everything?”
“Nathan’s looking after it,” Sunshine explains. “He told me that he’d take care of it for me.”
“But where’s Nathan?”
Sunshine shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“Aren’t you even a little worried about it, Sunshine?” This girl gets stranger by the minute, Jillian thinks. I can’t figure her out at all. “What if he doesn’t show up in the morning?”
“He will.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that he would purposely bug out on you,” Jillian says – although she does consider that to be a real possibility. “But you really ought to keep a closer eye on your stuff. What if he gets tied up or forgets about it or something?”
“He won’t.”
Jillian shakes her head in disbelief. “Boy,” she says, “you certainly have a lot of faith in him.”
Sunshine beams. Even in the dark, she appears to glow. “I have absolute and complete faith in Nathan,” she says, her voice tinged with reverence. “He is a perfect being. He doesn’t make mistakes. He has complete control over what happens to him.”
Jillian suppresses a laugh. “Well, for your sake, I hope you’re right. I’d hate to see him let you down now.”
“Never,” Sunshine says, with solemn assurance. “Nathan will never let me down.”
And she wears a look of such placid certainty that, for a fleeting moment, Jillian actually believes her.
2.5.11: Dallas
“Can I get y’all something to drink?” G.W. walks into the den and saunters over to the bar. “Me, I could use a cool one right about now. Sunshine?”
“No thank you, Mr. Kendal. I don’t use alcohol.”
“Jill?”
“The night before a race? I don’t think so”
“Well, I hate to drink alone,” G.W. says. “But I will if I have to.” Opening a small refrigerator behind the bar, he pulls out a twelve-ounce longneck bottle of Lone Star, twis
ts off the cap, and downs a third of the bottle in one, long gulp. Then he belches loudly.
“Daddy!”
“Sorry sweetheart,” G.W. says, not sounding at all apologetic. “Didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of your old friend, here.”
Looking strikingly out of season, a fire blazes in a large, stone fireplace in the corner of the wood-paneled room. Two loveseats sit catty-cornered, at right angles to each other, facing the roaring fire. Jillian lies sprawled on one, her head resting on the armrest close to the other, where Sunshine sits.
“Jill,” G.W. says, “sit yourself up like a normal human being and give me a place to set my old bones.”
“I’m tired, Daddy,” Jillian says. “I’d be asleep by now if it weren’t for you and your dumb old story. It better be good,” she warns.
“Well, Sunshine, if you’d scoot over just a tad…”
“Oh, sure, Mr. Kendal.”
“Just call me G.W. Even the people who work for me don’t call me Mr. Kendal.”
“Okay… G.W.”
He settles down on the loveseat next to Sunshine, who slides down closer to the fire. Gulping down the rest of the beer, he wipes his lips with the back of his hand.
“Mr. Kendal?” Sunshine inquires tentatively. “Oh, I mean, G.W. I’m sorry…”
“No problem, little lady. I’ve been called worse things than anything you can come up with, believe you me.”
“Can I ask you a question before we get started?”
“Oh, Sunshine,” Jillian moans, “Don’t. We’re never going to get out of here.”
“I’m sorry, Jill. It’s not important.”
“No, no, no, no,” G.W. says. “Fire away. Anything.”
Jillian groans.
“No, it’s okay,” Sunshine says, distressed. “I’d much rather hear the story.”
“Good girl,” Jillian says.
“Well,” G.W. says, mischievously, “just to show you that I’m every bit as stubborn as your old friend Jill here, I’m not gonna start the story until you ask me your question.”
“Daddy, I don’t believe you!” Jillian says, exasperated. “Sunshine, go ahead and ask him, for God’s sake, if he’s going to be a horse’s patootie about it.”
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