“Why not?” he asked, before she had a chance to say no.
“Because you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t forget Aloma, your family and job and friends. You sure wouldn’t forget that baby. It wouldn’t work. What you’re thinking… that’s not the way it would actually be.”
He knew she was right. He wouldn’t even make it past the city limits sign before he’d be eaten up with guilt.
He dropped her hand, feeling like a fool for even suggesting it.
She shrugged. “See, the romantic nomadic life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it?”
He didn’t know what to say. “I’m really, really sorry things worked out this way, Dusty. We would have been great together.”
The light from the door cast her face in a warm yellow glow, and she cocked her head and gave him a sad smile. He felt in that moment that he’d seen the real Dusty, the Dusty she didn’t allow anyone else to see. He knew it was only because whatever they had was ending here, that she allowed herself to nod.
“Yes, we would have. We would have been great together.”
She walked back into the room, picked up her guitar, and left him standing alone under the stars.
CHAPTER NINE
The next morning Luke and Toby sat in the jail office when the phone rang. Toby looked at Luke, who shook his head. Toby picked up the phone.
“Sheriff’s Office.” He leaned back in his chair. “Hi Melinda. No, he’s not back yet. Can I give him a message?” He looked at Luke and raised an eyebrow. “I see. Sure. I’ll tell him. No, I’m afraid his radio must be busted, ‘cause I tried to get him the other two times you called, and he’s not answering. He probably doesn’t even realize it. We’ll have to fix it when he comes in.”
Toby picked up a pen. “Okay, give them to me again. Yeah. Good one. That sounds real nice. Yeah, I can see your dilemma there. I’ll get ahold of Luke as soon as I can. Hmm, what time will he be back?” He looked at Luke again.
Luke shook his head so hard he got an instant headache.
“I don’t think he’ll be back for a while, Melinda. But I’ll try that radio again right now.”
When he hung up, Luke said, “Sorry about that.”
“No problem. You know women and weddings.”
“What’s the big decision this time?”
“While the guests are being seated, would you prefer a string quartet or a harpist?”
“A harpist? Where in the world am I going to find a harpist?”
“She said there’s one in Lubbock, and she just had a cancellation, but she’ll get booked again quick if you don’t hurry up and call her. Or, you can go with the string quartet. They’re college students from Abilene.”
Luke groaned and rubbed hands over his face. “Which did she want?”
“She said she didn’t care, that she was leaving it up to you. But if you want my advice, get the harp lady from Lubbock. She seemed to be leaning that way.”
“Thanks.” Luke sighed again, wishing there were a chance Melinda would be willing to go for a Justice of the Peace ceremony. “We’re supposed to get together tonight after the Jubilee to pick out colors and stuff. Maybe after that she’ll quit calling so much.”
“Yeah,” Toby said solemnly. “That’ll happen.”
The front door opened and Wayne Schotts poked in his head. “You guys busy?” He laughed, his mouth so wide Luke could see his molars. “What am I saying? You guys, busy? Keeping the streets of Aloma safe from the criminal elements?”
“Come on in, Wayne.” Luke narrowed his eyes in warning to Toby as Wayne walked through. Toby was a trifle sensitive to people making fun of his job and his town. “What are you up to?”
Wayne stood with his head tilted back, and took in the room. “I’ve exhausted all the entertainment and culture Aloma has to offer.” He curled up his lip in what even Luke couldn’t pretend was a real smile. “That didn’t take long, even with the glamour and excitement of Rain Fest.” He spread his hands and said the words with melodramatic flair. “So I thought I’d come by and catch up on old times.”
Luke cast another quick glance at Toby, who was leaned back in his chair and glaring at Wayne like he’d just as soon put him on the next Greyhound back to Seattle.
“Great,” Luke said, before Toby could get too riled. “How about a Coke?”
Wayne dropped into the chair beside Luke’s desk. “I assume you’re like most Texans and say ‘Coke’ for any and every carbonated beverage.”
Luke stopped in the doorway and reminded himself that he was responsible for what had probably been one of the most humiliating moments in Wayne’s life. That made it easier to take when Wayne gave another sanctimonious smile and said, “I’ll take a 7-Up, if you have it.”
As he left the room, he heard Toby say, “You say ‘Texans’ like you’re not one.”
Luke grinned and shook his head, looking in on their guest as he walked past the cells on his way to the break room where the fridge was. Kenny stood at the edge of his cell, his hands wrapped around the bars, craning his neck to see into the front room even though Luke knew good and well he couldn’t see anything but door jamb.
“You want a Coke?”
Kenny nodded woodenly. “You have company in there?”
Luke bent over the small fridge and pushed aside the Diet Coke that Corinne brought for Toby – which he didn’t drink – and took out two regular Cokes, which he did. There were two 7-Ups toward the back, and Luke grabbed one. “And old friend from high school,” Luke said as he took the other 7-Up to Kenny. “You want me to bring you another magazine or something?”
Kenny shook his head, still looking toward the front room, then gave Luke a brief look as he took the cold can. “No thanks. I’m still working on the Oprah book you brought me.” He turned and sat on his bunk, his back straight.
“Let me know if you need anything. Lunch will be here soon.”
Luke walked back into the main office and handed cans to the other two men, then popped the top on his own. “That’s the most nervous guy I’ve ever seen. You’d think he was awaiting extradition on a murder charge or something.”
“Wayne was saying I shouldn’t worry about IND’s stock going down on Friday. That happens a lot of times right before a big product comes out. People get nervous.”
Wayne nodded. “In fact, I’d buy up as much as you can while it’s low. That company’s going through the roof any minute now.” He took a long drink of his 7-Up. “Mind if I look around?” Without waiting for a reply, he set the can down and walked slowly from the front office through the hall. “Two whole cells, huh?” He gave that loud laugh again. “One more than you need right now, though.”
Luke followed Wayne and stood silently by as he poked his nose into everything. He walked past Kenny and smiled at him like he was a puppy in a pet store window. It didn’t take long to make the circuit of the office. At the back door, Wayne turned to Luke with raised eyebrows. “This go out the back alley?” He tried the knob.
“It’s locked.” Luke didn’t offer to open it.
“Of course.” Wayne smiled and took a deep breath, patting his hands to his chest. “It’s funny how your mind builds things up when you’re a kid. I used to picture this place like Alcatraz or something. Miles of cells, degenerates banging tin cups against the bars.” He looked at Kenny and gave that loud laugh. “This place is hardly more than a trip to the principal’s office.”
Luke could practically feel Toby bristling in the next room. He changed the subject and led Wayne back to the front. “So, how long have you been in Seattle?”
“A while. I went to San Francisco after I left Aloma, then down to L. A. for a while, then up to Seattle.” He looked from Toby to Luke. “You two never got out, did you?”
“Got out? Like escaped?” Toby said.
“You make Aloma sound like quicksand,” Luke said.
“Maybe because I felt so trapped while I was here, and felt like I’d escaped from a slow,
torturous death when I got out.” He laughed and shook his head. “The melodrama of youth, huh?”
But it didn’t seem like Wayne had left melodrama in his youth, Luke thought. He chewed his lip, still wondering if the jockstrap incident had anything to do with Wayne’s bitterness. He took a deep breath. “Yeah, well, I hope your feeling that way didn’t have anything to do with me. But just in case, I apologize for ever doing anything to make your life difficult.”
Wayne froze, and his eyebrows rose. “What are you talking about?”
“Well…” Luke frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, wishing he hadn’t brought it up. “Nothing, really. Except that one time… when we – I – um, accidentally pushed you out of the locker room and you were – um – wearing just your… you know. Jockstrap.”
Wayne laughed, louder and higher than before. “That wasn’t me. You have me mixed up with someone else.”
Luke looked at Toby, who just shrugged. “I’m pretty sure –”
“Yeah, I remember that. That was Terry Rister, poor slob. He was the laughing stock of the whole school after that.”
Luke opened his mouth to disagree, but something about the brightness of Wayne’s eyes stopped him.
Wayne put his can down and moved toward the door.
“It was great seeing you two again. Thanks for the Coke.”
“Anytime,” Luke said faintly, feeling as if he’d missed something important. He was talking to the door, at any rate. Wayne was gone.
The room was silent for a long time. Luke blew out a long breath. “That was weird.”
“When did he get to be such a jerk?”
“Why did he insist that was Terry Rister? Did he really think he was fooling us?”
“I don’t know. But at least I got a good stock tip. I’m going to put in my order now so it’ll go through first thing in the morning when the market opens.” Toby turned back to the computer.
Luke sat back at his desk, still staring at the door. “Weird.” He shook his head and picked up the phone. He had a harpist to book.
Luke pulled into the grassy lot. His mother stood beside her car, and she motioned him over and lifted the trunk lid.
“How’s my favorite grandma?” he asked as he walked up, looping an arm around her shoulders.
“I was going through some of your old stuff and I found some things you and Melinda could use for the baby.” She closed the trunk and set a cardboard box on top of it. “These are all blankets. You think you’re not going to need them all, but believe me, you can’t imagine how many receiving blankets you’ll go through. And this being a winter baby…” As she talked, she pulled things out of the box and stacked them on the trunk. “These are all your little dresses. They’re blue, but even if it’s a girl –”
“I wore dresses?”
“Well, they’re not dresses, exactly, they’re little dressing gowns –“
Luke held up on tiny cotton gown. “Good Lord. You made me wear dresses.”
“Oh hush. That’s what people put on babies, back then. It’s not like you wore them to football practice. You were just a baby.”
“Did you take me anywhere in them? Did any of my friends see me in this?”
She slapped him lightly on the belly. “Would you stop? Look at these little shoes.”
“Now this is more like it.” He took the blue denim shoes with baseballs stitched into the sides. “Now these are manly shoes.”
His grin froze when he heard another engine and looked up to see Dusty pulling into the space beside them. She gave them a solemn nod as she killed the motor, then climbed out of her pickup and pulled her guitar out behind her.
The baby shoes in his hand suddenly felt like lead weights. He wanted to say something to stop her. To tell her it wasn’t what it looked like; that he wasn’t celebrating the impending birth of his child. And that thought froze him, because there was no reason to stand here feeling guilty. He’d done nothing wrong. He hadn’t been caught in any transgression, no matter how he felt when she looked at him with that closed-face look.
So he kept his mouth shut. He nodded and didn’t say anything, because nothing he could say made any sense at all.
“I’m going to set up,” she said as she walked past, looking at the items piled on the trunk lid.
“Be there in a minute.” He watched her long legs carry her away, watched her straight back and bright golden head as she worked her way through the gathering crowd. He watched until she was no longer in sight, then watched for her to come back into view.
When she didn’t, he turned back to his mother, who was looking at him just as intently. She put her hand on his arm and opened her mouth to say something.
“Don’t, Ma,” he said softly. “I’ve been all through it. There’s no point.”
She gave him a sad smile and patted his arm. “Well…”
She began packing the things back into the box, and a snapshot fell out.
He bent to pick up the black and white picture of him sitting on the hood of an old car, a hand propping him up from the side.
“This is me, right? Man, was I a chubs. What did you feed me, entire sides of beef?”
“You did like your groceries,” Helen said, looking over his shoulder. She took the picture from him with a smile.
“What’s this?” He reached for the picture again. “There’s another one stuck to the back.” He peeled it carefully away. “Who are these people?”
“That’s me and your father, silly. We haven’t aged that much.”
He stared at the picture of the young couple locked in an embrace, their cheeks pressed together and wide grins on their faces, mugging for the camera. She was right; obviously this was his mom and dad. And yet he couldn’t believe the two people he knew had ever allowed themselves to be this close.
“That’s the day we bought that car. It’s the same one you’re sitting on in the other picture.” She shook her head as she looked at the earlier version of herself. “We were so goofy. You’d have thought we were the first people to ever buy a new car.” She laughed and shook her head at the memory. “I remember we wanted to go out to dinner after we bought it, but we were out of money, after the down payment. So I made sandwiches and we ate them in the front seat, parked in the driveway.”
“You look so… happy together.”
Helen shrugged and began again packing the box. “We were happy.”
“You’re touching.”
She cocked her head at him. “Of course we were touching. It’s okay. We were married, you know.”
“I know, I just never…”
“Luke.” She stopped her packing. “How do you think you got here? Freak accident? Divine intervention?”
“I’m just surprised to see you two looking so happy together. You’ve always been so mad at each other, as long as I can remember.”
She took the picture from him again and studied it. “I’m not mad at anyone.”
“What happened? I asked Dad and he said it was none of my business. But I’d like to know what happened to make you two hate each other.”
“We don’t hate each other.”
The words were automatic and not exactly heartfelt, Luke thought.
She narrowed her eyes, then studied the photo a little closer. “We really were happy.” Her features softened and her voice held a hint of wonder at the notion.
“What happened, then?”
“I don’t …”
Claude appeared at their side. “What are you doing, dragging out all this stuff? He doesn’t want all this old junk.”
Instead of her automatic retort, Helen looked up at him, then at the picture, then back at him.
“What?”
Helen frowned, shook her head, and turned back to the box, dropping the photos inside. Without a word she turned and walked away.
“What’s with her?” Claude asked as he watched her go.
“You two are like a couple of kids, you know that.” Luke shook his head
in disgust. “Do you even know what you’re fighting about?”
“We’re not fighting. Hell, she wouldn’t even say boo to me. Hard to fight when you’re not talking.”
“This is not a marriage.” He waved a hand at his dad, then in the direction his mom had left. “Two people constantly at each other’s throats.” He picked up the picture out of the box. “This is a marriage. These people are happy.”
Claude looked at the picture and made a face. “Of course we were happy. The young and ignorant are always happy. They have no idea what’s in store for them.”
“So? What was in store for you? What did she do that was so awful you can’t forgive her?”
“She didn’t do anything. She’s just impossible to live with, that’s all.”
Luke turned away, disgusted with them both. He put the box in the floorboard of his pickup, then turned back to Claude. “You fight because you like to fight, don’t you? This probably started over something as simple as burnt toast. And it’s been going on for thirty-five years!”
“What’s it to you?”
“What’s it to me?” Luke threw his hands in the air. “What’s it to me? You two juveniles are my example of marriage, that’s what it is to me.”
He grabbed his guitar and stalked off.
“Well, tell me which one you like better? The white swans or the clear swans? Or angels instead of swans?”
“Let me see.” Luke held the fat catalogue and pretended to study it, pretended to actually give a damn about swans or angels. “Whatever you think” hadn’t gotten him out of choosing invitations, napkins, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to get him out of picking out table decorations, either.
“I like this one.” She pointed to one design with a chocolate-brown tipped nail. “The only problem is, I don’t think it will go with the purple pansies. So if we go with it, we’ll have to go back and review our color choices and our floral choices.”
Which they were not going to do, Luke decided. He was already on the third level of hell, and going back to the fifth – otherwise known as ‘choosing colors for you wedding’ was not an option.
Cowboy Sing Me Home Page 15