CUTTER'S GROVE
Page 25
He gives me a little smile back. “Well, that’s about how I thought you’d respond,” he says. He seems neither surprised nor terribly upset by that admission. “Guess I’ll be getting along. You take care now.”
“You too. And thanks again … for everything.”
****
Beth has spent the last couple of days packing up her stuff. I drive over to her place and give her the news about my reprieve.
She’s so relieved she can’t even talk. She clings to me in a tight embrace and kisses my face, tears of happiness flowing freely.
After leaving Beth I pick up Victor at the garage and head over to Deborah’s. She and Harold have been inseparable since his return. They’re having lunch on the verandah when Victor and I pull up.
I’m a little surprised to see that Deborah has adopted her former look again. The old-fashioned hairdo, frumpy clothes, and no makeup. But the smile on her face is more vibrant than I’ve ever seen and there’s little doubt that she’s perfectly happy as she is.
Harold even manages a smile. “Hi, Lucas.”
“Hi, champ. How you doing?”
“Not so worse as I used to was,” he says, paraphrasing one of Sonny’s favourite sayings. I wonder how much he really understands about what has transpired with Sonny. In a way I hope he understands very little about it all. It would be so much better to remember the Sonny we all thought we knew.
“Will you join us for lunch?” Deborah asks.
“No, thanks. I’ve got to be going. I just wanted to drop off Victor and say goodbye.”
Deborah shows no surprise at my intended departure. “When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Is Beth going with you?”
“Yes, she is.”
“I’m happy for you, Lucas,” Deborah says. “I’m so glad that everything worked out well for you both.”
“Thanks. And I’m glad everything worked out for you guys, too.”
Deborah looks at Harold as if questioning something. After a moment he nods his head. “Harold and I have talked it over,” she says, “and we’d like you to keep Victor. If you want to, that is.”
It never occurred to me that they might make such a magnanimous gesture. But, the truth is, Victor has more or less adopted me - not the other way around. I look at Harold, questioning with my eyes if he’s sure it’s the right thing to do.
He nods his head again, and points a finger at me, shaking it for emphasis. “You’re a very good dog person, Lucas,” he says. “You’ll always give him a good home, and that’s for sure.”
It’s the longest speech I’ve ever heard Harold make. I’m afraid if I say anything in reply I might start to blubber. I accept their gift with a simple, “Thank you.”
Harold kneels down and gives Victor a long hug. Victor delivers two sloppy licks to Harold’s chin, then looks at me as if to say, ‘Okay, pal, let’s motor.’ He seems no more inclined to long goodbyes than I am.
“Well, I guess we’ll be going,” I say.
Deborah takes my hand and then stands on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek. “Goodbye, Lucas,” she whispers.
55
Just after sunrise the next morning we’ve got the Jeep packed tight - mostly with Beth’s stuff - and we’re on our way out of town. Beth is snuggled in close to me, her arm resting across my back, her fingers gently caressing my shoulder. Every once in a while she leans over and kisses me. It’s a very nice feeling.
Victor is comfortably stretched out on the back seat among all the boxes and clothes, with his head out the window, reveling in the feel of the cool morning breeze in his face.
We’ve got no real plans so far. We know we share a love of hot, dry climates and small towns - but, beyond that, there’s nothing definite.
We’ve got enough money between us to last for a couple of months. Enough time to find a place we feel comfortable with and get settled in. Maybe we’ll try a small town somewhere in Arizona or … who knows. I’ve pretty much decided I’ve had enough of being a mechanic. It was okay for awhile but it’s really not my thing. Maybe I’ll look for something in the security field again. Not exactly a line of work destined to heap huge amounts of money on me but something I did kind of enjoy. We’ll see.
When we get to that stretch of bad road near the spot Anne Marie was buried I pull the Jeep off the road and come to a stop, staring off into the early morning desert.
Beth looks at me, concerned. “You okay?”
I give her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Sure. Just wish I had some clear-cut answers, that’s all.”
“Maybe there are no clear-cut answers,” she offers.
“You think?”
“Who knows? You still think you saw Anne Marie’s ghost?”
“Not as sure as I once was,” I admit.
“So what’s your take on what really happened then?”
“Tell me what you think.”
Beth presses her lips together in a contemplative expression while she mulls over what she wants to say. “I’d have to say the visions you had were probably a result of a combination of things. You were suffering from exhaustion. You hadn’t had much to eat. Then the bump you took on that hard head of yours - it was probably worse than you thought. Put all that together with the swirling sand and it’s not too hard to believe you might have imagined seeing a ghost-like apparition.”
“What about the fact that she looked so much like the picture of Anne Marie I saw later at Bonnie and Paco’s place?”
“My guess is it was your imagination. Your subconscious was reacting by putting your experience in the desert with the fact that you were looking at the picture of a missing girl. You’d probably have thought the apparition was identical to the picture of any missing girl you might have been shown.”
“And the fact that we ended up finding Anne Marie’s bones so near the place I saw … whatever it was I saw?”
“Coincidence.”
“You figure it’s that simple, huh?”
She puts her head on my shoulder. “That’s the way I see it, yeah.”
“Well,” I say, “you’re probably absolutely right.” Actually, it very closely mirrors what I’ve come to accept myself. I fire up the Jeep and we continue on our way.
“But there’ll always be a nagging doubt, won’t there?” Beth says.
Always and forever, I think to myself. “Maybe just a teensy one,” I answer.
We’re quiet for a long spell, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
Then: “Lucas?” she says.
“Mm hmm.”
“Ever been to Dallas?”
“Nope.”
“How would you feel about making a stop there before we settle down somewhere?”
I look at her, a little surprised but very pleased. It’s what I was hoping she’d suggest. “Any particular reason?”
“I’ve got some unfinished business I need to attend to,” she says.
This time I put my arm around her and draw her close to me. “You don’t have to do it for me, you know.”
She turns away and watches the scenery roll by for a minute or so. When she turns back, she says in a soft voice, “Actually, you’re exactly who I have to do it for.”
Someone told me years ago that one should never miss an opportunity to shut up. We do after all have the right to remain silent.
I figure now is as good a time as any to exercise that right.
Also by the Author:
CAME A SHADOW
A SHADOW FELL (Book 2 of the Shadow trilogy)
THE SHADOW'S EDGE (Book 3 of the Shadow trilogy)
DEATHBED CONFESSION *
A WORRIED MAN
THE FOURTH BULLET
THE LIES OF LARA PIKE
*Originally published as THE RENO CONFESSION
s on Archive.