“I’m so glad you’ve come,” she said. “We’ve missed you, haven’t we, boys?” She drew back to let Darrel hug his uncle, but the other two boys remained sitting in the straw. “They’re still sick,” she explained.
“And I thought they just weren’t excited to see me,” Austin teased.
“Mom said we couldn’t touch you,” Joseph complained.
“Nonsense.” Austin crossed the stall and gathered the skinny boy into his arms.
“Me, too! Me, too,” shouted Scott.
“Boys, you’re too old to be carried.”
“But they’re sick, Mercedes.” Austin bent and picked up the other boy.
“Two at once!” Mercedes raised her eyes heavenward. “Well, it’s your back. And your health if you catch something.” Her eyes now fell on Liana. “I’m sorry about all this,” she said, motioning to the goats. “But nature is one thing you can’t ask to wait.”
Liana shook her head. “It was wonderful.”
“This is my sister, Mercedes,” Austin said belatedly. “And these little scamps are Joseph and Scott. Joseph has the red hair like his daddy. They’re eleven or twelve or something.”
“I’m only eight,” corrected Joseph with a big grin. “And Scott’s seven.”
“I’m eleven,” said Darrel.
“Oh, yes.” Austin turned toward his oldest nephew. “This is Darrel. He’s the oldest and keeps everyone in line.”
Mercedes rolled her eyes. “More like teases them to death.”
“And this lady here is Liana Winn,” Austin said, dipping his head toward Liana, who was leaning her elbows on the short gate of the stall. “She’ll be working on the charity accounts for HeartReach.”
“About time, too,” Mercedes said, offering her hand. “I mean, it’s about time he found someone to help out. Glad to meet you.”
Liana, her eyes wide and face white, didn’t respond to Mercedes’ greeting. Austin stared at her, feeling puzzled and more than a little annoyed at her reaction.
Mercedes took back her hand. “My hands might be a little dirty,” she said, examining them.
“It’s not that.” Liana made a face. “I’m really pleased to meet you, but something’s eating my hair!” Sure enough, the horse from the next stall had his nose curved around the wall of the stall, stretching toward Liana.
The boys began hooting, and even Austin couldn’t stop himself from smiling.
“Oh, that’s old Setzer,” Mercedes said. “Wouldn’t hurt a flea. He just wants some attention.” She came out of the stall and began scratching the bay’s white-striped nose.
Hoisting her purse higher on her shoulder, Liana turned and gingerly reached out her hand to stroke the horse. “Hello, Mr. Setzer. Nice to meet you. But didn’t anybody ever tell you that you shouldn’t chew on a stranger’s hair? You should only chew on the hair of people you know. It’s more polite.”
The boys laughed again, and Darrel went over to examine her hair. “Don’t look chewed to me. Just a little wet. Next time, I think you should wear a braid like Momma.”
Liana smiled at him. “I think I will.”
Mercedes went back inside the stall to pick up the old bucket that held her gloves. “Let’s go on up to the house. We should leave Buttercup alone now. Come on. Darrel, leave on the lights. I’ll need to get her something to eat, so I’ll come back out after dinner. Hope you’re all hungry.” She waited until everyone left the stall and then shut the gate.
“Believe me, I’m hungry.” Austin loved his sister’s cooking. “If I could find a woman who could cook like you, I wouldn’t be a bachelor.”
Liana gave him a teasing glance. “I have a meal bar in my purse if you can’t wait.”
Mercedes laughed. “Oh, those things are awful. Wait till you taste my fried chicken and potatoes. You’ll never eat another of those bars again.” She linked her arm through Liana’s and began to share her recipe.
Austin followed his sister and Liana up to the house, carefully balancing the weight of the two younger boys. “Hurry,” urged Joseph. “You’re letting them—” The rest of what he was going to say was choked off by a bout of coughing.
“You’re letting them beat us,” Scott finished for him.
“That’s because you guys must have gained about fifty pounds since I saw you two weeks ago,” Austin told them, pretending to stumble. Screaming and giggling, they clung to him.
Ahead, Mercedes and Liana had reached the covered back deck that Austin had helped them put in when Scott was born. Mercedes had wanted to sit in comfort with the new baby and watch the other boys play on the swings or in the yard while Wayne was working in the fields. Mercedes was still chatting away as Liana listened politely, looking as if she were enjoying herself.
Coming here was a good idea, Austin thought, remembering the feel of her soft hand in his. A very good idea.
CHAPTER 10
Diary of Karyn Olsen
Monday, February 15, 1966
My father died yesterday. He’s really and truly dead. Dead. I never noticed before what a terrible-sounding word that is. I wonder how it feels to be dead and what he might be doing now. I feel really odd about him dying—not like I want to die myself, but really, really sad. There was so much we missed. After he left Mom for Lydia, I never saw him that much. I remember that time he didn’t come to my fifth grade play, and I was mad at him and wouldn’t visit him and Lydia for a whole year. Then when I was a teenager I was too busy for him. Now I regret that. Still, he didn’t try hard, either. Mom says he was the same kind of father that he was a husband—a careless one. But he did pay for college. He left me money for the rest of my education in a trust fund. Good thing, too, because Mom couldn’t help, and I didn’t think I would get good enough grades if I had to work. Besides, if Travis and I get married right away, we’ll have to live frugally for a while.
Travis has been very nice these past weeks. He took me to see Dad practically every day at lunch, and he helped me study for my tests last week, too. I don’t know what I’d do without him. Mom and Clari have their own grief to deal with (believe it or not, Mom still loves him after all these years). Travis says he’ll go with me to the funeral on Saturday. I really love him. He makes me feel as if everything is going to be okay. I can’t believe that three months ago I didn’t even know him. My whole life has changed.
For Liana, dinner at Walker Farm was a strange sort of organized confusion. After a heartfelt prayer of thanks, offered by the oldest boy, Darrel, the food was served in the pans it was cooked in, set in the middle of the sturdy wood table. Everyone helped themselves, including the younger boys, who had begged to stay at the table for dinner with Uncle Austin even though they were sick. The older dogs sat beneath the table, watching eagerly for bits of food to drop. Jellybean stood, walking from one person to the next, his mournful whimpers occasionally gaining him a surreptitious morsel from one of the boys. Jellybean didn’t leave Liana out of his begging, though she had already given him the rest of her mints while Mercedes was setting up dinner.
The conversation had not stopped for an instant. Liana had never been one for making small talk, but Mercedes didn’t seem to notice. She included Liana in her dialogue as though they had known each other for years. The boys were also vocal, especially Darrel, who had appointed himself spokesman for his sick brothers. Growing up, Liana and her brothers had not been encouraged to speak at the dinner table unless spoken to. Not so Mercedes’ boys. They inundated Liana with questions. “Where are you from? Do you live on a farm? What’s a CPA? How did you meet? What is your favorite food?” Austin fired questions right back about every aspect of their lives, including whether or not they’d been up at the swimming hole yet this year (no, their mother hadn’t let them). Try as she might, even Liana couldn’t sit back and observe. She found herself answering questions and even asking a few herself.
After dinner, she and Austin volunteered to wash up while Mercedes put the younger boys to bed. “Can’t we sleep
with you, Momma?” asked Scott as they stood up from the table.
“No, your dad’ll be home tonight after finishing in the north field. In fact, he should be here any minute now. But I’ll set up a cot for me in your room in case you need me during the night. Your cheeks are too rosy—I think your fever might be coming back.” She sighed. “Too much excitement for sick boys.”
“It’s just a cold, Momma,” Joseph said. “We’ll be better in no time.”
“Thank the Lord for that.”
The voices faded, leaving Austin and Liana alone. “So are we staying here?” she asked. Though they hadn’t discussed their sleeping arrangements, she had assumed they’d use a hotel, or perhaps stay in his grandmother’s vacant house.
“Is that a problem?”
“No, I just assumed your grandmother’s place was empty.” She picked up several plates, scraping the remains into the dogs’ dish as Austin was doing.
“Finally rented it last month. To a nice couple. She lived about seven miles south of here.” He shook his head, a hint of a smile on his mouth. “I can’t believe I used to walk out to her place a couple times a week when my dad was using the horses. It was worth it, though. She was some lady. My mother never had half her drive for life.”
“I never knew either of my grandmothers. They both died before I was born.”
He made a sympathetic noise in his throat. “I assume one of your grandmothers was American, but if you lived in India, was your other grandmother from there?”
She wondered how he knew all that. “Christian must have told you about India.”
“A little. But he’ll shoot me if he knows that you know that I know.” He grimaced. “Or something like that. I promised not to bring it up.”
She snorted. “You didn’t; I did. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Christian.” She put the dishes into the sink of soapy water he’d prepared.
He washed a plate and handed it to her for rinsing. “You were going to tell me about your non-American grandmother?”
She ran the dish under the tap, smiling slightly. “I wasn’t, but I guess I will now. She was Romanian. She married a German soldier, and they had my father—my real father. I mean, birth father. There’s not much other information about her. My dad grew up in Romania but was educated in Germany. He became a doctor and went to work in a charity hospital in India. Several years later that’s where he met my mom, when she went to India. She was a nurse who delivered babies. They died in a plane crash on their way to help poor people in a village. That’s all I know.”
“I’m sorry, Liana. I really am.”
She looked over and found him watching her. “Thank you.”
They washed the dishes in silence for a moment, and then he said, “You were lucky to have a father who dedicated his life to helping others. My father dedicated his life to becoming rich, and when that didn’t happen, he dedicated the rest of his life to making others—well, never mind. It’s enough to say that he was a disappointed old man.”
“And your mother?”
“She dedicated her life to him. He threw it away.” He stared down into the soapy water without further explanation, washing dishes quickly, the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching. Liana was curious about what might have happened, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask. Let him keep his secrets, she thought. She wanted to keep hers.
“At least you know who they are. Or were,” she said, not knowing if his mother was still alive. She had stopped rinsing, and his washed dishes were piled up in the sink under her still fingers. “I have to admit that not knowing more about my family makes me feel that something’s missing, something that might make a difference in my life. Yet at the same time I find I don’t really want to know it at all. Knowing more might make losing them more difficult.”
“Maybe it wouldn’t.” His eyes bore into hers once more, and she found she couldn’t look away. “Maybe knowing more would help.”
Liana stared at him. Why had she opened her big mouth? She had never confessed her curiosity about her birth parents to anyone since the horse incident in the first grade. She had even stopped wondering about them privately—or had she? Maybe burying thoughts of them had only been a matter of survival.
With effort, she dragged her eyes from his and began rinsing dishes again. “Well, real parents are those who raise you,” she said, forcing her voice to be light. “That’s what’s important.”
“Yes, but in a case like yours . . .” He sighed loudly. “Don’t mind me. I’m too curious for my own good. My mother always used to tell me that.”
Liana detected a trace of bitterness in his words, but she pretended not to notice. There had been too much confession as far as she was concerned. She was relieved when Mercedes returned to the kitchen, her step slower than before but still energetic.
“Goodness, you’re all but finished,” she said. “That’s just great. I really appreciate your cleaning up.” She grinned at her brother. “What, no complaints about not having a dishwasher, Austin? You must be coming down with something. You’ll be running a fever before long. And don’t say I didn’t warn you about getting too close to the boys.” She took out a dish towel and rapidly began to dry and put away the dishes Liana had set in the dish rack. “Now, about sleeping arrangements. Liana, you’ll have Austin’s room. He comes to visit so often that we keep it clear for him. Of course, it’s not the one he used as a child. Once he got old enough to leave Momma’s bed, he slept in here by the old wood stove. Long gone now, thank heaven. I do like some modernization.” She grinned at Austin pointedly.
“If I’m sleeping in Austin’s room, where will he sleep?” Liana asked.
“Why, in the barn.” Mercedes laughed when she saw Liana’s expression. “Don’t worry, there’s actually a bunkhouse connected to the barn. Small but useful for our seasonal help. I keep the place up.”
“I’ll go get our suitcases.” Austin let the water out of the sink and dried his hands.
“Good. I’ll set out the apple pie. I didn’t mention dessert before because that’s the last thing the boys need right now, getting over this bug. I made the pies this morning so Wayne could take one with his lunch.” Mercedes set out three small plates and from a cupboard took out a pie covered with a white cloth. “Liana, why don’t I show you to your room while we wait for the suitcases?”
Austin’s room, Liana corrected silently. So strange that he had a room here and a house or apartment back in Nevada. Was there a room in India that she would recognize as once having belonged to her?
“The kitchen, this alcove here where I used to sleep as a child—you can see I use it for my sewing now—and my Darrel’s bedroom is what used to be the old house,” Mercedes was saying. “In the early seventies, Dad finally built an indoor toilet and an additional room. The little boys sleep there now. Over the years Wayne and I’ve added two more bedrooms and a living room.”
Liana looked around as Mercedes talked. She could see that each addition had been created in the design of the times, making a mishmash style overall but one that was comfortable and welcoming. One that didn’t mind if children talked without first being addressed and where dogs ran free, begging for scraps under the table.
“Here’s Austin’s room.” Mercedes swung open a door. “I opened the window this morning for a few hours and gave it a dusting, so it should be okay. There are fresh sheets on the bed. The bathroom’s right down the hall.” She pointed.
“Thank you. It’s great.” Here and there, Liana could see snatches of Austin—both the boy and the man, though he reportedly hadn’t used this room as a child. Mercedes must have saved some of his things and put them here. There were old posters of country singers, photographs, a rusty piggy bank, a rock collection, books, a tape recorder with a stack of country music tapes, and a computer. Liana could see Austin in almost every item, as though his permanent mark was on the room. She wondered idly if she had left any permanent mark in India, or if the graves of her parents were
all that remained.
“In here are most of the records from the charity.” Mercedes opened the closet door to reveal three tall stacks of boxes, one topped with a brown cowboy hat. “I didn’t know what to throw away when I moved it from my grandmother’s last month, so I kept it all. There’s more in the hall closet. Austin’ll know about the current records. He was talking about putting it all on computer. Grandma didn’t use computers.”
Liana raked her hand through her hair. Organizing the documents would be a big job, but then she needed a job—any job. Maybe she should volunteer to do more than just the accounting. She was good at organizing. Yes, she’d volunteer to computerize the records—but for a paycheck, of course. After all, she had to get her car fixed and pay the mortgage.
Mercedes laughed. “No need to look so enthused,” she said with a laugh. “I know it’s a disheartening mess.”
Liana took her hand from her hair. “Actually, it looks interesting. I like working on accounts. They’re so . . .” Liana didn’t finish. Accounts were predictable, and numbers never lied. They didn’t expect things from you. They didn’t die and leave you alone. But she wasn’t about to share that with Mercedes. “Hey, I’ve been wondering—how’d you get your name?”
“Oh, that.” Mercedes laughed again. “My father had big dreams when I was born. He wanted to drive a Mercedes.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Yeah, and he also wanted to move to Austin, Texas, and become a cattle rancher,” Austin said from the doorway. “He was sure he could find his dream there. It certainly wasn’t in Wyoming.”
Mercedes’ laughter died at the resentment in her brother’s voice. “You should go see him,” she said.
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