River Walker

by Cate Culpepper

  “Inez, listen to me.” Grady fumbled in her pocket and drew out a small card. “I went to the Mesilla marshal’s office. I spoke to a deputy who knows Elena. His name is Larry Or—”

  “Stop wasting my time! No stupid deputy is going to help us.”

  “This one might. Larry Ortiz knew Elena in high school, and he thinks highly of her. He gave me his number, and I want both of you to have—”

  “I don’t care what he gave you.” Inez was crying now, angry, reluctant tears. “Those men are all in it together. They all hate us. I can’t believe a big educated college teacher like you can be so dumb to think they would do anything.”

  “Inez.” Grady closed her eyes. “Believe me, I want to help. Tell me what to do.”

  Inez didn’t answer. The sobs rolled out of her now, and Grady could only listen to her harsh and helpless weeping. Finally, she heard Inez blow her nose, and the clatter of her lifting the phone again. “I’m the stupid one, for believing any outsider would help us. Maria trusts only her daughters. She will punish us for bringing in strangers like you.”

  Grady leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the window. “You still have my number, right? Will you promise to call me? If anything at all happens, I want you to call.”

  “Oh, sure I will.” Inez sniffed. “I’ll call you. The minute the mob pitches their burning torches into our shop, I’ll run right to this phone and call you. We can have a nice little chat. Then you can come rushing over here just in time to toast marshmallows over our smoking bodies.” She slammed down the phone.

  Grady stood looking out her window. The view caught a corner of the Mesilla Valley, where the setting sun cast the desert in a warm red glow. It was a postcard image of a benign and beautiful land, surely blessed by heaven and watched over by all the saints. Grady watched until the sun sank over the western hills and the land went dark.

  *

  Dr. Lassiter phoned two nights later, her voice clipped and formal. “Dr. Wrenn? May I ask what you could possibly be doing at your office at this hour? It’s well after midnight.”

  Grady checked her watch. “Just finishing up that syllabus for you, ma’am. Sounds like you’re working late tonight yourself.”

  “I am sensibly home and ensconced in my cushioned recliner, thank you, as any civilized woman should be in the middle of the night.” There was a pause, and in that short space of time Grady heard Dr. Lassiter’s considerable sensitivity and restraint. She had known Grady long enough to know when not to push into private territory. Her tone remained businesslike.

  “I can’t possibly make time to review your syllabus until the middle of next week, at the earliest. Go home, Grady. Try to rest.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She hung up, and her eyes fell on the calendar over her desk, featuring fair reproductions of Georgia O’Keeffe’s paintings. She noted the date. Sleep would prove even more elusive tonight than most nights, but she would try to abide by her mentor’s command.

  Grady’s truck trundled across the sleeping campus and through the silent streets of Las Cruces. She turned up the driveway leading to the condominium complex that contained her supposed home. Her unit was sparsely furnished, but included the queen-sized bed that Grady loathed on sight. She pictured it waiting for her, that useless, mocking waste of a mattress. Then she braked, backed down the driveway, and turned west, toward the Rio Grande.

  Most nights found Grady at the river eventually. It didn’t matter which part of it she tried to search, she never saw Elena. She sometimes bargained with Elena’s goddess, the one Grady didn’t believe in, through these long, lonely drives. You can keep me up all night, in exchange for Elena being safe. If I see her, I promise I won’t try to talk to her. I’ll just park where I can keep an eye out to make sure no one bothers her. You could at least intervene enough to make Elena return one of my goddamn calls.

  Either her blasphemy displeased the goddess or she didn’t exist, because Elena never called and Grady never found her. She pulled up by a stretch of the river she hadn’t visited before, at the far edge of the valley. The water that flowed past this spot was leaving Mesilla and New Mexico behind, and she doubted Elena would choose to go any farther in her quest for Maria.

  She got out of her truck, flexing her shoulders to loosen the tightness in her neck, and began to walk. The quiver of anxiety went off in her stomach before she’d gone ten feet, another price Grady paid in her search for Elena. The fear that she might hear the wailing of Llorona begin at any moment was constant during these night walks. She wanted so badly to hold Elena’s hand in her own that her palm itched.

  It was a barren, featureless stretch of the river, with no trees and only patches of knee-high grass and brambles to break the monotony of the dirt bank. Grady walked carefully, keeping an eye out for a small pack horse or Elena’s decrepit car. Either would be easier to spot than the curandera herself, if she was river-sitting.

  A bomb of bells went off over Grady’s heart and she staggered, clutching her shirt. It was her phone, she knew that, but her pulse shot skyward anyway. She had set the volume as high as it would go so she wouldn’t miss a call from Elena. Breathing hard, Grady yanked her phone out of her breast pocket and fumbled with it, trying to open it before it went off again. She stared at the display. It wasn’t Elena’s number. She didn’t know this number, and she didn’t know who else would call her at two o’clock in the morning. “Hello,” she snapped.

  “Grady?”

  The voice was cultured and soft. Grady remembered the date, and the strength went out of her legs. She sat heavily on the riverbank, and watched the implacable dark ribbon of water flow by. “Hello, Leigh.”

  She heard the distant click of a lighter, and then a long, slow exhale of smoke. “Were you asleep?” Leigh asked.

  Grady smiled sadly. “I think you know me better than that.”

  “Yes, I do.” Leigh’s voice was fond. “I can’t sleep tonight either.”

  Grady closed her eyes. “Are you with your parents?”

  “I’m visiting them for a week, yes.”

  Grady could picture Leigh in her childhood home in Portland, sitting curled in an armchair before the bay window, her fingers combing back her fine blond hair. She liked Leigh’s folks and wanted to ask her to give them her regards, but the words died in her throat. She doubted the mention of her name would be pleasant for anyone in Leigh’s family, especially today.

  “I’m living in Seattle now.” Leigh coughed, a short, harsh bark. Her voice was slightly rougher than Grady remembered it. “I took that opening at UW. It’s working out pretty well. How about you?”

  “He would have been six today.”

  Leigh was silent. Grady wondered if there was some small mercy in having a child die on his birthday. Most parents had two excruciating days to survive each year; she and Leigh had only one.

  “We’ll visit his grave in the morning. Mom says the butterfly bush we planted is beautiful.”

  Grady couldn’t find any words.

  Leigh exhaled smoke again, long and slow. “I called tonight because I wanted three things,” she said at last. “Are you listening?”

  “Always.”

  “I wanted to hear your voice again. You do have the most extraordinary voice, Grady. It can still make me feel calm, quiet inside. You remember all the times I told you that?”

  “I remember.”

  “Second, I need to know that you’re all right. We haven’t spoken in several months, and we may never talk again. I can’t say good-bye to you, I can’t move on, unless I know you’re okay.”

  “I am, honey.” Grady cradled her phone against her cheek. “I will be, I promise.”

  “You always keep your promises. I’m counting on that.”

  Grady watched the river wend its way gently out of the valley until Leigh spoke again.

  “And down to my bones, I want you to be happy, Grady. You deserve it. Of all the things I’ve ever said to you, before we lost…
and after, that’s the message I want you to take to heart. I said things that hurt you, and I want you to forget them all. When you remember me, I want you to remember only my wish for your happiness.”

  “I will. Thank you, Leigh.” There was something in the sensation of smiling while tears ran down her face that captured Grady’s feelings for this woman perfectly. She was still keenly attuned to every nuance in Leigh’s voice, and she meant what she was saying. Grady also heard the farewell in her tone, and knew that this would be the last time they spoke.

  “I’ll never regret them,” Grady said. “The years we spent together.”

  “Me either, babe. Please take good care. Good night.”

  There was a pause, then a small click, and she was gone.

  Grady folded her phone carefully and slipped it back into her breast pocket. She rested her elbows on her knees and watched the small eddies at the river’s edge, carrying twigs and grass away from the bank. Her tears continued to fall easily, and that was new for Grady. She remembered how her eyes burned the last time she had cried, the miserly tears she had shed lying next to Elena. She touched her breast, remembering the soft circling of Elena’s hand at the base of her throat. She didn’t understand how that night in Elena’s arms loosened the vapor lock that usually gripped Grady’s throat when she cried, but she was grateful for it now. Saying good-bye to Leigh and Max again rated a few tears.

  “I don’t think you’re there,” she said quietly to the night. “But Elena does. And Leigh does, or at least she used to. She told me she had Max baptized, and his memorial service was held in her parents’ church. So thank you, for looking after Leigh. Thank you for looking after Max.” Grady lowered her head, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “Please, take care of Elena. Please, man. Don’t let anything happen to her.”

  After a few minutes, Grady climbed stiffly to her feet. She slid her wallet out of her back pocket and opened the flap that carried her family pictures. She had three of them—one of her parents, a posed photo of Leigh, and one of herself and Leigh together, tickling Max.

  Grady replaced the other pictures and studied the one of Leigh for a long time. Her smile was polite and rather stiff, but her genuine kindness was clear in her eyes. Grady stepped to the edge of the bank and dropped the picture into the river, placing her first real love safely into the ancient care of the Grande. She watched the small square swirl away on the slow current, then looked up into the starry sky.

  “Happy birthday, buddy,” Grady whispered. She headed back toward her truck.

  Chapter Twenty

  Maria will not come to me. Night after night, I search for her. My prayers to You have become a new rosary, mi Diosa, repetitions of the same plea, over and over. Let me find Llorona before another man dies. Let her hear me. Let the killing stop.

  I’ll keep going to the river every night. That’s all I can do. I’ll trust You to put me in Maria’s path. And I admit I would probably leave my house every night, even if You hadn’t charged me with the task of finding Maria. Forgive me, Diosa, but I need the time away from Mamá. She grows more afraid, and less reasonable, every day. She knows I will not discuss Grady with her. So she has taken to playing all the messages Grady leaves on our old answering machine, again and again, with the volume turned all the way up. It’s partly my fault. I can’t bear to erase those messages. They are all I have now of Grady’s voice.

  It was her three nights ago, at the river, I know it was. I recognized her truck. I ducked down below the surface of the water until she passed. It was only by Your grace that I found the will to do this. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and besides, Grady drove so slow I almost drowned.

  I can’t return her calls, Sweet Mother. Please do not think this is just my pride. All right, don’t think this is only my pride. You have pointed out more than once that my stubbornness often leads to grief. But the hang-up calls have started again. The same long silence, before whoever is there slams down the phone. These cowardly calls terrify my mother, and they piss me right off.

  I can’t bring Grady back into this now. Maybe the River Walker was always supposed to be only our burden, the many generations of daughters of Maria. I don’t care what my mother says, it isn’t fair to ask Grady to share our danger again. She could have broken her skull when we were chased off the road. She could be shot if one of those pendejos—I’m sorry, Diosa, but You know they are—came around with a rifle. Grady has made sure her students don’t take any more risks, but I know she would be willing to face them herself. I can’t let that happen.

  The tension in Mesilla is growing. I can feel it, like spiderwebs on my face, and so can Mamá. It’s been more than a month since the last suicide. I wish I could believe that Maria is finished with Mesilla for another century, but that doesn’t feel true to me. Grady needs to stay as far away from us as possible. She might think I need her macha self to protect me, but You know me better. You made me strong, and You made Mamá’s shotgun even stronger, if we need it.

  Let me find Maria before it comes to that. Please, mi Diosa. Grant Your stubborn, loving daughter that one boon.

  Mamá is stirring, I must go to her. As always, I end by asking You to guard Grady’s sleep, and please, go with me tonight.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  If Grady was very lucky, she could catch a brief nap when she came home from her nightly wanderings, before the clock radio beside her bed blared its alarm. Those naps were deep and dreamless and desperate, as if her body was pulling hard for as much real rest as possible. Grady hoped no more nightmares would ever break through to disrupt that inadequate escape.

  And no nightmares did, but a week after she spoke to Leigh for the last time, a dream of uncommon sweetness wended through her exhaustion and touched her sleeping heart. She rarely dreamed of Max at all anymore, and when she did, it was just quick, painful sightings of his hand letting go of her own. But tonight, Max was dancing.

  Some vintage Creedence tune was rocking in the background, and Max was doing the delighted spinning-arms jumping thing that constituted quality choreography in his small world. He bounced in circles, his high-pitched yelps of laughter bringing a smile to Grady’s lips. She felt it, even asleep. And nothing horrific happened. Max didn’t suddenly disappear into a cavernous hole in the floor. He just jumped and spun and laughed.

  But Grady recognized the song he danced to: “Bad Moon Rising.”

  A rattlesnake’s deadly buzz cut through the music. Now in the dream herself, Grady blanched at the teeth-rattling hiss that filled her ears. She turned quickly toward Max, but he was gone.

  Grady jerked awake and sat up. The clock’s glowing green numbers showed it was still fully night, only two a.m. It was her damn phone again. She had left it on the metal filing cabinet beside her bed, set to vibrate, and the clatter could wake the dead. Her heart pounding, Grady snatched it up.

  “Grady, another man is dead.”

  “Who is this? Janice?”

  “Yes, it’s Janice.” She was speaking clearly and fast. “Another man is dead. I just heard it on the news, another drowning.”

  Grady scrubbed her hand across her eyes.

  “They found the body this afternoon. I tried to call Elena just now, to be sure she knew. I think her mother answered. She screamed at me. I’m scared Elena’s out there by the river tonight, and if those thugs are looking for her—”

  “Thanks for calling me, Janice. You did the right thing.” Grady whipped off her blanket. “Stay home. Don’t leave the dorm. I’ll fill you in when I can.”

  She snatched her boots and slammed out of her condo thirty seconds later.

  *

  By day, the streets of Old Mesilla were slightly shabby, but quaint. By night, at least this night, they seemed secretive and sinister, and Grady raced through the twisting neighborhoods much faster than caution allowed. Speeding and tapping keys was a precarious combination, but she tried twice to reach Deputy Marshal Larry Ortiz as she drove, and was
sent straight to voicemail each time. She gave up and flung her phone to the floor of the truck in frustration.

  Her stomach soured with the quick adrenaline of alarm, and she couldn’t stop cursing herself for the nights she’d let Elena await Maria at the river alone. It took all of her intellectual muscle not to imagine what might be happening to Elena now.

  The streets and cracked sidewalks were empty, which was not too unusual, even for a Friday night. But for the lateness of the hour, bright lights burned in the windows of entirely too many houses. Mesilla was awake, afraid and watchful.

  Elena’s shop and the home she shared with her mother was the only dark building on the block. Grady pulled up fast in front of it and jumped out of her truck before it came to a full halt. She leaped the two steps to the boardwalk and knocked hard on Elena’s door. “Elena? Open up!”

  The curtain above her twitched. Grady saw a flash and a blast rang out, shocking her stupid. A loud crack sounded at the base of the boardwalk, dust puffing inches from her boots. Grady’s heart trip-hammered in her chest. “Inez!”

  Inez Montalvo swept the curtain aside with the stock of her shotgun, her hair wild and streaming. She looked seriously crazy, and Grady instinctively held up a hand to calm her.

  “I’ll blast a hole through anyone who comes to my door tonight, pendejos!”

  “Inez, it’s me! Please just calm the fuck down! Where is Elena?”

  “They were just here!” Inez clawed back her hair and spat the words down at Grady. “Hector Acuña, and two of his pinche friends! They came looking for my Elena!”

  Grady’s throat went dry. “She’s at the river?”

  “Just go, gringa!” Inez screamed.

  Grady jumped into her truck and tore down the street.

  *

  Second only to the ride from Max’s memorial service to the cemetery, it was the longest drive Grady had ever endured. She would start with the Picacho Bridge, Elena’s most frequent river-sitting site, and work her way south. The three miles to the bridge took an eternity to travel, no matter how hard she gunned it through the dark and sinuous streets.