Flying Home
Page 26
“My father pulled me off a tractor,” he said. “I hadn’t made the planting rows straight enough.”
“I’m sorry.”
Austin remembered his mother and the way she had cleaned his face. “You don’t have to be.”
“How old were you?”
“Ten or eleven—I think.”
There was a flash of pity in her eyes. “We both have a lot of ghosts to deal with, Austin.” She laid her hand on his arm, squeezing briefly. “It’s not easy.”
“No, it’s not.” He restarted the engine.
To his surprise, she turned on the Kenny Rogers CD. “I’ll never be able to sleep with this racket,” she explained, “much less have a nightmare.”
“I thought you said it put you to sleep.”
“Not anymore.”
“I see.” For all her protestations to the contrary, he suspected she was beginning to like country music.
“How much longer?” She stared at the horizon, where a hint of light signaled the coming of the sun.
“A few more hours,” he said, feeling suddenly wide awake. “But do you mind if we stop for a minute in Rock Springs? There’s someone I need to see.”
* * *
They had to wait half an hour outside the assisted living facility before the doors opened for the day and they were let into the lobby. When a short, round-faced receptionist with close-cropped hair finally unlocked the door, both Austin and Liana were shaking with cold, unused to such early morning temperatures in Nevada. Neither had brought a jacket.
The receptionist smiled at them, her happy face making up for the lack of warmth outside. “Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was out there. We don’t usually get visitors so early.”
“I’ve never been here before,” Austin said. “How does it work?”
“Who are you here to see?”
“My father, Jed Walker.”
She smiled again. “Come over to the desk, and we’ll look up his name. Then I’ll show you on the map where his apartment is located. If you want, I could call ahead to let him know you’re coming.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Better not to surprise the old man.
“It is rather early.”
“He’ll be up. He’s used to rising with the sun.”
Austin glanced over at Liana as the receptionist looked up the name. “I’ll wait here for you,” she said. “Unless you want me to come.”
Austin was tempted to accept her offer. With her presence, neither man would bring up the past, and Austin really didn’t want to go there. But wasn’t that precisely why he’d come? To bring up the past and somehow come to terms with it? Still, he wavered—until noticing the deep shadows under her eyes that warned him she’d had enough to deal with recently. “You’d better stay here and rest. I’m not sure how he’ll react.” He’d heard of men becoming meaner as they grew older, and his father had started out mean. Austin certainly wouldn’t put Liana within the man’s reach, not in her present condition.
She nodded, stifling a yawn. “Okay.”
“Here we are.” The receptionist placed a photocopy of a map on the long desk in front of them. “Just go down this corridor here, turn right, go up one floor in the elevator, and left to room twenty-six. You can keep this map if you like.”
“Thanks.” Austin moved from the desk.
“Good luck.” Liana walked toward a set of couches gathered around a coffee table filled with magazines.
Outside his father’s room, he knocked, and the door was immediately opened. A wrinkled old man Austin barely recognized stared at him. He was dressed in a flannel shirt and denim overalls, the uniform he had worn his entire life, though this particular outfit was much cleaner, less worn. The black hair Jed had given to both his children had faded to a dull gray, and his lean figure was bent and stooped. He was shorter than Austin remembered, a full head shorter than Austin, and his pallor was that of a man who spent most of his days in bed. Only the eyes were the same fathomless black—and yet they were not.
“Hello, Father.” Austin dipped his head with the barest of movements. Though he knew his father was in his late seventies and had long been in failing health, he was surprised to see him so old and sickly.
“Hello, Son.” Jed stepped back. “Come on in.”
The studio apartment was a comfortable size, and Austin was glad to see the money he and Mercedes spent each month for his care had not been wasted. The furniture was no longer new, as it had been when Mercedes purchased it over a decade ago, but it was well cared for and clean. There were a few dirty dishes on the counter and a skillet on the stovetop, but those appeared to be from today’s breakfast.
“Have a seat.” Jed sat in an oversized brown leather recliner, pulling out the footrest. Austin looked at the thin bare feet for a moment, seeming so helpless and frail against the dark leather. These feet did not belong to a man who would pull his son roughly from a tractor or threaten to kick him to kingdom come. Austin’s eyes traveled up to his father’s face. He didn’t sit.
“So you’ve finally come,” the old man said, his voice gruff and hard.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Austin wanted to say that he was forced to come, first by Mercedes and then by his agreement with Liana, but neither was really true. “I want to know why.”
“Why what?”
Hurt welled up inside Austin, so deep and wide that he couldn’t have stopped his words if he had tried. “Why you were so mean. Why you hated me so badly. Why you left Mother.”
Jed’s jaw worked several times, as though chewing a wad of tobacco. He started to talk, stopped, and started again. “I don’t know.”
That made Austin angry. “You don’t know?” he sneered. “Then you admit it, at least. That you were a horrible father and you killed my mother.”
The old man’s jaw worked again. “I was a horrible father. Still am. I know I don’t deserve you or Mercedes. But I didn’t kill your mother.”
“Yes, you did!” Austin was not about to back down on this point. “She loved you—you were her whole life—but you left.”
Jed came to his feet, fists clenched, but he was still only a shadow of his former self. “I left, that’s true. But I did it for her as much as me. I thought with me out of the way, your grandmother would take care of her. I didn’t know she’d go and kill herself.”
“You didn’t know anything about her!” Austin accused. “You didn’t care. You cared only about yourself.”
To his surprise, tears glittered in the old man’s eyes. “I did your mom wrong. And you.” He lifted his head in supplication. “I can’t take it back. I would if I could, but I can’t.” He slumped again onto his chair, his black eyes never leaving Austin’s face.
Austin knew then what was different about his father’s eyes. They weren’t as hard and unyielding as they had once been. They held a deep sorrow.
“I’ve hated you,” Austin said slowly. “All my life I hated you, and I swore I would never be like you.”
Jed dropped his eyes to the shag carpet. “Can’t say as I blame you.”
A part of Austin felt a twinge of pity for him, here all alone, a bitter old man without hope for the future, but the other part wanted to hurt his father as he’d been hurt. Hurt so many times. “I stayed away from drink, found another career—anything not to be like you,” Austin continued. “But I haven’t been able to move on, either. I haven’t married, had a family—I can’t tell you how afraid I am that I might someday treat my son like you treated me.” Austin’s eyes stung with unshed tears. He would not let them fall in front of this man. “I wanted to die too many times to count. Did you know that? Do you even care?”
Jed’s gaze rose again to meet his. “I thought I would make you a man. I didn’t know that it took one to make one.” He shook his head and grunted. “I never was no father to you.”
Neither spoke for a long time, and finally Austin sat stiffly on the couch opposite the recliner.
“I do it for Mercedes.” Austin had been willing to do anything to keep his father away from his sister and her children. Though Wayne had been originally responsible for finding this place for Jed, things had been tough on the farm in the past few years, and Austin had recently taken over the payments completely.
“I know why you done it. I’m still grateful. They have nurses here, and a doctor. A pool and recreation room, too, for those who can use them. And they fix my food if I need them to. I even have a friend or two.”
Austin felt a pain in his chest. His father had friends. He was glad—he was—but the memory of his mother in her casket made it hard to feel anything but resentment . . . and regret. He stood as stiffly as he had sat. “I have to go now. I’ve a friend waiting for me downstairs. We’re on our way to the farm.”
Jed nodded and came to his feet, this time very slowly, as though his body ached. He shuffled to the door to see Austin out. “Thanks for comin’, son.” A skeletal hand touched the sleeve of Austin’s T-shirt, stroking the material. The hand bore no resemblance to the strong ones that Austin had so feared in his youth. Only the knuckles were as big as before, connected to each other by thin sticks under the sagging, wrinkled skin.
“I meant what I said,” Jed continued gruffly. “I can’t never make it up to you or Mercedes, but if I could take it back, I would. Somethin’ inside me broke when your mother died. I ain’t the same. You may not believe me, but it’s true. I swear on my own grave, I’d take it all back.”
As an apology for years of abuse, it wasn’t much, it certainly wasn’t enough, but Austin figured that was all he’d ever get. And somehow, it was at least a beginning.
“Maybe I’ll come another time,” Austin said, though the very idea made him sad and angry . . . and afraid, but he’d still come.
“Thanks,” came the gruff reply. The bony hand slipped from Austin’s arm. “And next time bring your young lady the receptionist told me you come with. I promise not to bite.”
CHAPTER 27
Diary of Karyn Olsen Schrader
Friday, February 16, 1979
There was a new child at the baby orphanage today—Meka. She came from another orphanage that closed down for lack of funds. I have no idea how long she was there. At least six months, though, according to the director here. Of course, they put her in quarantine as they always do when they get a new child. She didn’t even cry at being left all alone but just curled in a miserable ball and sucked her thumb. When I took her out of the crib and held her there was a glimmer of happiness in my heart, as though for that moment I was alive again. She is perfect in every way and beautiful like many of the children here. She is sixteen months old, but she looks much younger. Guenter says she’s undernourished, so I gave her some of the lunch I brought for myself. She devoured everything I gave her.
Unlike many of the others who are also kept in cribs all day, Meka has learned to crawl. But not to walk. I doubt she will learn for a long time, being stuck in a crib all day. The fact that she can crawl indicates to me that she may not have been given up by her family as early as many of the others.
I wish a family would adopt her soon, before she is too neglected here, though I’m not sure how likely that is. A boy would have a better chance. Too many Ukrainians remember the famine of 1932–#150;33, when Stalin forced export of grain, leaving between seven and ten million people here to die of starvation. The horror of that cruelty is not lost on me, but the worst of it is that now people are afraid of taking on any added burden—especially a girl who might not be able to pull her weight. If only the Soviets would allow foreign adoptions. I know many Americans would love to take one of these babies home to love.
Liana eyed the horse with mistrust. Up close it was even bigger than she remembered, and she wasn’t sure she was up for this venture of Austin’s. The sun was high in the sky and the day was bright and beautiful, edged with new green everywhere. Even the mud in the yard outside the barn, caused by rain the previous day, seemed but a cradle for baby plants.
“Maybe we should do this tomorrow,” she said. They had arrived at Mercedes’ in time for a late breakfast, and afterwards both had grabbed a quick shower and slept a few hours. Then Austin had taken her out to the barn and saddled Setzer for her. When she’d seen the muck in the yard she recanted her vow not to wear the boots he’d purchased for her. Her leather clogs simply weren’t practical, and she was afraid they’d fall off. No way would she let pride stand in the way of comfort—and to her surprise the boots were comfortable, much more so than she’d expected from pointed toes.
“But Setzer’s dying for a ride,” Austin said.
Liana petted the horse’s soft brown coat that someone had combed to a glossy sheen. “Setzer can find another rider.”
“That’s Mr. Setzer to you,” Austin said, reminding her of the day she had first met the horse.
Liana tossed her head at Austin, feeling the heavy braid down her back. “That’s what I used to call him. If I’m going to ride, I’m the boss, right? That entitles me to be on a first name basis.”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“If you really are the boss.” Austin’s arm went up as Setzer lifted his head high and down again as though nodding in agreement.
Liana grimaced. “Down, Jellybean,” she told the dog that had put his paws on her jeans. “Okay, how do I get on?” She stepped closer to Setzer, and his scent filled her nose.
“Hold onto the saddle horn, put your left foot on the stirrup, and pull yourself up, lifting your right leg up and over the horse. Normally, you’d have put the reins up around the horn, but I’ll hold them this time just in case.”
“Just in case what?”
“Nothing. Are you going to get on? I can get on first, if you want, and ride with you.”
“I can do it,” Liana said, lifting her chin. She most certainly didn’t need him to ride with her. Things were awkward enough between them without allowing his nearness to cloud her judgment. Adjusting the fanny pack Mercedes had lent her, she grabbed onto the horn and lifted herself onto the horse. “Hey, that was easy.” Setzer looked around at her briefly but held steady.
Austin handed her the reins, making sure they were knotted together so one wouldn’t accidentally slip. “Basically, if you want to go right, pull right, letting the left rein fall against the side of his neck. Do the opposite to go left. Gently, though. He’ll know what you want. Pull back to stop. When you want him to gallop, relax the rein a bit and sort of kick him in the sides.”
“Kick him?”
“Not enough to hurt, but enough to let him know what you want. Think of it as a tap. Mercedes says Windwalker over there doesn’t need much urging—” He motioned to the new white stallion Wayne had bought Mercedes. “But I know from experience that Setzer likes to be sure.”
Liana nodded her understanding, though it really didn’t matter. There was no way she was going to be kicking any horse; she had no intention of galloping.
“Hold steady now while I mount.” Austin walked to a post where he had left Windwalker and swung easily into the saddle. “Ready?” He started off in the direction of the road, followed by an excited Jellybean, whose red tail flipped madly back and forth behind him.
“Setzer,” Liana said, slapping his neck gently. “Anytime now would be good. Come on, boy.” Setzer didn’t move. Liana found herself grateful that Mercedes and her boys had gone into town for groceries. Only Austin would see her disgrace. Austin and Jellybean.
Several yards ahead, Austin stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “Coming?”
Jellybean looked at her quizzically, as though wondering what kept her.
“Yeah, I’m coming,” Liana called. She lowered her voice. “Setzer, I’m the boss. You know how to tell? I’m not calling you Mr. anymore. So get going.” Sti
ll nothing. Gingerly she tapped his sides with her new boots. Setzer began walking, and Liana breathed a sigh of relief.
They rode side by side down to the narrow paved road that ran in front of the farm. Austin turned right onto the pavement and after another ten minutes started up a dirt road into some hills covered with trees. “Best place to ride around here,” he explained.
Liana was too busy trying to find out how not to jerk up and down so uncomfortably as Setzer walked. Already her bottom was growing sore. Finally, she relaxed and let herself sway slightly forward and up with each step. “I get it,” she muttered. “You have to be a boneless fish.”
“Huh?” asked Austin, looking as though he’d been born on a horse.
“Nothing.”
“This is one great horse Mercedes has here,” Austin said. “I can understand why she wanted him.”
“You ride a lot?”
“Used to. Riding was one of my greatest joys when I was a child. It was the one place I felt big—taller than my father—and safe.” Austin shook his head, frowning. “Sorry, that slipped out. I wanted to leave it behind this afternoon, but sometimes the thoughts are hard to put aside.”
She knew exactly what he meant. Christian and that grave in India were never far from her mind. “Thank you for bringing me.”
“You’re welcome.” He glanced ahead at the base of the trees. “This’ll be the last chance to run for a while. We can race to those trees. You up to it?”
“Sure.” She gripped the horn of her saddle.
“Giddy-up!” called Austin, clicking his tongue. Windwalker leapt ahead, a streak of white against a background of green. A barking blur of red shot after him.
Liana pressed her heels gently into Setzer’s sides. “Come on, after them.” Fortunately, Setzer didn’t need further encouragement. His stride lengthened, and all at once he was running. At first Liana bobbed up and down like a piece of meat tied to the saddle.
“Go with the horse,” her daddy said. “Like you’re a part of it. Lean forward, and lower your head.”