“I wouldn’t have gone far.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” He grinned that boyish and charming grin she so loved and scratched his head. “I’m just a little mixed up this mornin’, wakin’ up with a dog in bed with me, and those bedspreads and curtains that are at war with each other. I thought maybe I was ten years old again.”
She gazed at him, wondering how he could think so much first thing in the morning. “Are the children still asleep?”
“Yes, ma’am, they are, so we have a few minutes alone.” He put his arm around her shoulders and faced the golden glow shining on the horizon. “Another day in paradise.”
“It is paradise here, isn’t it?” she said, running her eyes over the land that stretched in rolling hills and green pastures on the other side of the black-topped highway. It was something like a mystical drawing. “It’s a good place to be.”
“Hmmm…sure is.”
He nuzzled her neck, sending little jolts of electricity through her body. She wanted to give in to the feeling but was frightened by the force of it. They were in no position to go anywhere with the passion, and she didn’t feel up to dealing with it.
Her mind was distracted by her concerns over Willie Lee and finding a new place to live that would ease Tate’s worries and helping the children deal with the trauma of the tornado. That was a lot to be concerned with.
Then Tate said, “I sold the article last night to the Houston paper. Good money.”
“I’m glad for you.”
“It’s for us.” He sounded a little hurt.
“I know, and I’m proud of you…and I’m grateful that you are looking out for us, too.” She smoothed her hand on his, bringing her attention fully to him. “Why do men always get so excited about making money?”
Tate, who always had a logical answer for everything, replied, “It’s the provider instinct. Togetherness, peace and love are good, but it is also nice to eat in this real world.”
A sudden and very immense appreciation for him swept her. She smiled at him, and he hugged her happily. It seemed to take so little to make Tate happy. She should apologize to him for her erratic behavior the previous night, but while she was thinking of doing this, he spoke.
“You’re beautiful in the morning,” he told her.
“I’m sleepy in the morning,” she said.
“And sexy as hell with it, too. If the children were not in the bed in there, I would drag you in there and show you how you make me feel. I guess I’ll settle for a kiss right now.”
The next thing she knew he kissed her in a way that made her feel hot and cold at the same time, and caused her to go limp against him.
“There. Did that knock your socks off?”
“Do it again,” she whispered, and did not wait for him to move, but pressed her lips hard to his, seeking to give back the passion he had imparted to her.
When they finally broke apart, he told her that they had better slow down. “I won’t be able to go in there in my condition. I don’t think I’ll be able to stand up.”
The apology was still on her lips but wouldn’t come out. She closed her eyes and felt herself safe in his arms, the scent of him around her and the warmth of the sun dawning on her face.
Then she said, “Willie Lee wants so much to be like other boys. I want to give him that, as much as I can. I want him to have a normal life. That’s why I don’t want people to think he’s a healer.” She needed to explain.
“You’re doin’ great at giving him a normal life, darlin’,” he said, “but I think we need to face that what will be a normal life for Willie Lee isn’t going to be exactly like that of other boys. He’s an extraordinary boy. Maybe he is some sort of special healer, or maybe he is simply so pure with love that that horse felt it and took hold of the will to live. This is not the first healing heard of in the world, and it won’t be the last. And if Willie Lee is a healer, I don’t think there’s anything we can do about it. But I can tell you what a really wise woman who talked to me yesterday told me.”
She twisted around to look at him.
“She said to me that what we would do is the best we can.”
Tate had not known he was going to say all that until the words came out. He was amazed to find that the advice was quite sound. He liked it.
He watched her sigh and accept, at least in some measure. He felt satisfied at having said the right thing.
But then she was frowning again.
“What about Stuart?” she asked. “What if he asks Willie Lee to heal him? That’s fine, if it works, but what if it doesn’t? What if it’s as you say, just somehow Willie Lee’s friendly presence helped that horse but won’t be enough for a man dying of cancer? How will Willie Lee feel then?”
Tate saw immediately that his future wife could think of all possible contingencies. He felt a little foolish not to have thought of this one. In fact, this entire thing about the healing had not struck him as all that big a deal, but now, seen in the light of Stuart and the problems Marilee kept bringing up, he could understand how emotions could run deep on this.
He said slowly, “Well, I guess we’re all just going to have to have a talk about this thing. An honest talk with Stuart and with Willie Lee.”
Marilee gazed at him, then looked away.
The sun was now almost totally up. Gazing at it, he thought: another day in paradise, in which anything could happen. Tornados came, even to paradise. In an instant life changed. What person among them knew if he would be alive that night? Mostly what they had all been doing was ignoring the fact of Stuart’s impending death. Death was embarrassing to people. It was like digestion problems. Messy. No one wanted to talk about constipation, diarrhea or dying, all basic and common difficulties in life; they were whispered about as if they were some secret sin.
He could get a good editorial from this. He needed his notepaper.
“Tate.” Marilee entwined her hand with his. “I’m sorry about the way I acted last night…getting so upset and wanting you to stop what you needed to do in order to go speak to Stuart. I’m sorry I got so crazy.” Her blue eyes were large and watery in her pale face. “I wish I could promise that I won’t get crazy again, but I don’t think I can.” A tear over-flowed and dripped on her cheek. “Parker and Mother say I’m too emotional…that I get far too upset. It’s just that sometimes I get worried and fearful and carried away.”
“Oh, darlin’…” He hugged her to him, feeling a fierce love in his chest. “Don’t you change. Don’t you dare change. Of course you’re emotional, and that’s what I love. I love you just the way you are. I love you crazy, I love you sane. I can’t promise you I’ll always understand or agree, but I can promise to always do my best to love you.”
He got so choked up that his voice got hoarse. He wanted to hold her forever and protect her forever, and she clung to him and told him in a ragged whisper, “I won’t let a day go by that I don’t tell you I love you, Tate Holloway.”
It was, he thought, the angel of death who had taught them how to live.
Just then the door of the cabin opened, and Willie Lee stepped out, with Munro right beside him. “There is no schoo-ool, Mo-ther.”
“There isn’t?” Marilee would have pulled self-consciously from Tate’s arms, but he held her. She blinked and did her best to appear her normal self for her son.
Willie Lee shook his head. “It was on the television. Corrine said. There is no ’lect-tric-ity.” He struggled with the word as he regarded her closely. “Are you cry-ing, Ma-ma?”
“Just a bit. It’s from happiness, though.” She smiled at Tate, and he smiled at her.
He was the most handsome and wonderful man in the world. And he loved her.
“Oh. Look.” Willie Lee pointed to the motel office.
It was Mr. Goode coming out with the Valentine City flag to put in the holder on the side of the building.
He hollered over to them, “Y’all want doughnuts, we got ’em. Complemen’ry.”
“I am hun-gry,” Willie Lee said and started away toward the office.
“Willie Lee, you come get some shoes on,” Marilee ordered, immediately thinking of a sharp rock possibly cutting his foot, or him catching cold.
But Tate jumped to his feet, grabbed up Willie Lee and hoisted him to his shoulders, saying, “I’ll carry him! We’ll get chocolate, if we can,” he called back to her.
“You don’t have any shoes on, either,” Marilee hollered, just because it seemed required on her part.
As she stood there, gazing at them and pressing the precious sight of the man and boy she loved into memory, Corrine stepped out beside her. Marilee put her arm around the child, who watched the man and boy, too. Marilee knew suddenly and deeply that whatever came their way in the days and weeks and years ahead, they would face it together and do the best they could. And it was enough.
Marilee and Corrine sat cross-legged on the bed, and Tate and Willie Lee took the two chairs at the rickety table, while Munro lay down between the table and the bed, twisting his head hopefully back and forth, anticipating chunks of doughnut that might come his way.
Eating doughnuts and milk seemed a perfect time for the discussion of an important matter. Marilee asked, “Willie Lee, what did you do to the horse to stop her bleeding?”
Willie Lee, studying the candy sprinkles on his doughnut, said, “I do not know. I just did it, and then she was bet-ter.”
“You laid your head on the horse,” Tate said, pouring more milk into Willie Lee’s glass.
“Yes, I did,” Willie Lee said in his helpful manner, then used both hands to drink from his glass.
Marilee looked at his hands, small, with dimpled fingers and not quite the cleanest fingernails.
“Have you done this before, with any other animals?” she asked, when he finished drinking his milk.
Willie Lee looked at her. “It is a se-cret.” His gaze slid to Corrine.
Marilee and Tate looked at Corrine.
“Do you suppose you two could tell us this secret?” Tate said. “We won’t tell anyone.”
Corrine’s expression said she did not appreciate being placated like a child. She said, “Beau. Ricky Dale’s black dog,” she added, when Marilee looked puzzled. “That day, when the mare kicked Beau. Willie Lee told you. Beau looked dead. Willie Lee hugged on him, and Beau got back up.”
Marilee remembered the day they had come home from Winston’s house, and how Willie Lee had said something about a dog getting kicked.
Corrine went on to tell about Miss Minnie’s cat— “It was ver-y old,” Willie Lee said—and the tit-mouse, which Ricky Dale had brought down as an experiment, and Corrine reminded them about the kitten.
“My kit-ten,” Willie Lee put in. “He got deaded, but then he got bet-ter. And so did my frog.”
“Frog?” Marilee, Tate and Corrine said in unison.
“Yes. But he went away. I have not seen him in a long time.”
Marilee, feeling a little dizzy, ran her gaze from Willie Lee to Tate.
Tate asked, “How do you do this, Willie Lee? How do you make the animals better?”
Willie Lee looked thoughtful as he licked chocolate icing from his fingers with the tip of his pink tongue. “I hold them, and I…I think a-bout good stuff. Some-times I see the sky, or maybe sunshine. ” He swung his legs back and forth, and lowered his voice, looking shy. “I think it may be an an-gel. Sometimes she sings to me.” He looked downward, then peeked back up. “Can I have one more, Mo-ther—the cher-ry one?”
Just like a normal boy, she thought, leaning over to kiss his head. “You can have one more, my sweet son.”
Tate handed him a cherry-filled doughnut, asking gently, “Do the animals always get better?”
Willie Lee looked closely at the jelly hole. “No. Only if I see the light big. Miss Min-nie’s cat did not get bet-ter. He was old. He said he was tir-ed. And I do not think the rab-bit did, either.”
Corrine said, “You mean Mrs. Yoder’s rabbit at school? She’s the fourth-grade teacher and has animals,” she explained to Tate and Marilee. “The rab-bit was losing his hair.” She made a face.
“He was old, he told-ed me and Mun-ro,” said Willie Lee, and then he bit deeply into the jelly doughnut, sending cherry filling onto his chin. “But the horse got bet-ter, and I am glad,” he said, with his cheeks full.
“We’re all glad, sugar.” Marilee took a napkin and wiped jelly off the healer’s chin.
“Does anyone else, other than Ricky Dale, know about Willie Lee’s…way with animals?” Marilee asked Corrine.
Corrine shook her head. “Ricky Dale won’t tell.”
Marilee reflected on her niece’s answer and attitude. Corrine had already been protecting Willie Lee, whom she loved. Already it was in Corrine to watch the ways of the world, and this was sad, and yet a blessing, too.
It was a sticky wicket to encourage a child to hide the truth. The best Marilee could offer was to say that while in normal circumstances honesty was the best policy, sometimes discretion was kinder and more prudent.
“That’s one of those things I’ll understand when I’m older, right?” Corrine said.
“Oh, I think you understand it full well right now.” Marilee looked into the heart-shaped face of her niece and smiled.
Corrine smiled back.
She was going to be too beautiful by far, Marilee thought, experiencing a pang of worry. Thank you, God, that you gave her uncommon common sense.
When they passed Tate’s house on the way to Marilee’s bungalow, they saw a gathering of people and a van from a television station up in Lawton.
“Don’t stop, Tate.”
“Have to.”
This was because Everett Northrupt flagged them down by running into their path.
“News folks are coverin’ the tornado damage, Editor. This is him,” Everett called over his shoulder.
A man with a ball cap bearing Channel 2 News and a microphone came hurrying up. “Could we get a comment from you, sir? Just take a couple minutes. Folks say you were in your house, havin’ a bachelor party. That’s great stuff.” He grinned.
Tate gave the steering wheel over to Marilee and told her he would join her later. She hit the accelerator with more pressure than she had intended and headed on to her bungalow, wondering what else folks might say to the newspeople.
It was a little difficult, getting out of the car and going into the bungalow, where she would see Stuart. She told herself her trepidation was silly. There was nothing special for her to do or say; she must simply let this all play out.
The children raced ahead, happy to be home. Marilee saw a rare broad grin on Corrine’s face as she took the stairs to the porch two at a time. Even without her things here any longer, this was still home to Corrine, the only real stable home she had ever known.
Franny greeted them just inside the door with hugs, saying, “Come in, come in! No school? Aren’t you the lucky ones?”
Stuart, wearing lounging pants and a sweatshirt, came ambling out from the kitchen, a cup in hand. Never a man for mornings, he obviously had not been up long. He needed a shave. She thought he looked thinner, if that was possible.
Willie Lee greeted him, gave him a hug, then wanted to know where his kitten was. The kitten was found, and the children took it out to the tree house, where they went to locate Willie Lee’s bird. “I hope Bird-y did not get blown away.”
Franny disappeared to take a long bath, she said, and Marilee and Stuart were left alone.
“I can offer you a cup of this tea Franny makes me drink,” Stuart said, lifting the cup in his hand. “It’s growing on me. There’s some left in the pot.”
“That’s her own brew to stimulate the blood, isn’t it? I need some this morning.”
When she would have gotten it, he told her, rather sharply, “I’ll get it for you.” With a self-deprecating grin, he added, “I’m usin’ your house. The least I can do is get you a cup of tea.”
She
followed him into the kitchen. “You don’t owe me for the use of the house, Stuart. You aren’t taking anything away from us. It is the best thing, you being here. The house isn’t big enough for Tate and me and the children, but it is just right for you and Franny right now. I don’t want to get rid of it. I love this house,” she said rather wistfully.
“Where are you going to live, since your roof was lifted?” he asked her, passing her the cup.
“We’re going to find somewhere to rent until details can be worked out.” She saw no need to tell him about Tate’s house not being insured. “We don’t know if the big house can be repaired or will have to be torn down and a new one started from scratch. And we rather like it out at the Goodnight,” she added with a grin. “It’s quiet, and we get free doughnuts.”
He smiled softly, not looking at her, but at the floor. Childish laughter floated in through the open window, and he turned his gaze outside. He was thinner. His skin was getting paper-thin.
“Stuart, about what happened with the filly and Willie Lee…” She had begun, the words tumbling out, but she didn’t know how to continue.
His head jerked around, and his eyebrows furrowed. “What about it?”
“What did you think of it?”
He thought several seconds before he answered. “I think it was quite remarkable to see, the boy holding the dying horse, and I got some great shots. And I think the boy kept her from dying.”
Marilee nodded. “Only he isn’t the boy. He’s your son. He’s our Willie Lee, who wants more than anything in the world to be considered a normal boy. He won’t get that if you do a story about it and spread his name and picture in a magazine and paint a picture of a boy with healing powers.”
They gazed at each other. She saw the questioning and considering in his eyes before he looked away out the window.
Seeing he didn’t intend to comment, she said, “Willie Lee has a way with animals. He always has had. I’ve known for a long time that he talks to them, and they talk to him. He said they did, and after a while we all just accepted it. Certainly he can do things with animals that we can’t. It seems that he can, on some occasions, have a healing effect on them.
At the Corner of Love and Heartache Page 33