Clearly Dodge did not comprende.
When his cell phone rang, Joseph was thrilled. Any call was preferable to another game of ball. “Ya’at’eeh,” he said, in case it was Juniper. He was trying to enlarge her knowledge of languages.
“Joseph?”
He heard the catch in Glory’s voice and knew it was bad news. “What happened?”
“It’s Juniper’s father. He’s come out of hiding.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Probably not. He left her once already. What if she gets her hopes up and he disappoints her again? What if he wants to move her someplace like Baltimore or Scranton or Milwaukee? What if I never see her again?”
“Go get in your truck,” he said. “Drive to the Woodpecker Café. I’ll buy you lunch.”
“I can’t eat.”
“You can watch me eat. What did Juniper say when you told her?”
“That’s the problem. I haven’t told her yet. Besides, I don’t want to leave her alone here. I’m out here in the barn calling you so she won’t hear me.”
“Juniper’s ready for a chance to prove herself. Woodpecker Café, fifteen minutes.” He ended the call before Glory could come up with another reason to stay stuck in her pickle and felt his own heart sink. Poor kid.
He’d forgotten that the café’s mantel was Dan Solomon’s woodwork, but it was the first thing Glory noticed. She walked right by the table Katie Jay led them to and placed her hand against the chiseled oak. Joseph watched her while he waited at the table for her to return. When she did, he said, “I like the BLTs here.”
“What’s the soup?” Glory asked the waitress.
“Vegetable barley.”
“Guess I’ll have the BLT.”
“Sounds good to me, too,” said Joseph.
Katie Jay shook her head. “Watch yourself around this one,” she told Glory. “Wheat, white, or sourdough?”
“Sourdough,” they answered in tandem, then laughed.
“Tell me everything,” Joseph said when their drinks arrived.
Glory related Caroline’s phone call. “Unless they’re members of the Manson family, biological parents win out over foster care. The courts don’t overlook abandonment or abuse, and they insist on counseling, but he could take her away, this very week.” Her face was impassive. She wouldn’t look directly at him, but her gaze kept returning to the fireplace mantel. “Dan was a great carpenter.”
“Yes, he was.” Joseph folded his hands and placed them on the table. “Maybe I have something you can use.”
“What?”
“Juniper’s homeschooling. She’s getting caught up with high school requirements. I’ve been to family court dozens of times. I can go as her guardian ad litem. The judge will agree it would be a shame to interrupt such progress. He could be swayed.”
“I doubt it. Anyone can homeschool. And there are good schools everywhere. Thanks for trying, but I think I’m sunk. I’m a coward, Joseph. I can’t tell her.”
“Yes, you can.”
“How?”
He reached across the table and took her hand. “Let’s walk around the lake. Sometimes when you let your mind go blank, your subconscious comes up with solutions.”
Probably it was Joseph’s taking Glory’s hand that changed things. The hug she gave him when they walked along the familiar path around the lake was also part of it. Then they both spotted the pair of herons wedding-marching their way through the horsetails, and that was it. Maybe the connection began way back when she found that arrowhead, but Joseph was pretty sure that what tipped them over was the pain in his back that stopped him. “I have to rest a minute,” he said, and leaned over a boulder, both arms bracing him.
“Of course.” She whistled for Dodge and practiced a few dance moves with the dog until Joseph could straighten up. He leaned on her shoulder as they walked slowly back to his cabin.
Indoors, she helped him to his bed, brought an icepack, and handed him his pills and a glass of water. “I can stay awhile,” she said. “What else do you need?”
She needed to tell Juniper; he needed to tell Glory he was leaving and that he no longer wanted to. But first he needed the painkiller to hit his bloodstream, and he needed to count down the minutes until it did. “Talk to me. About anything. After thirty minutes, I’ll be okay.”
“No, you won’t,” she said. “After today, nothing will ever be okay again.”
He watched her tidy his cabin according to standards a woman found necessary that a man did not. Dusting, for example, when the house was slated to be torn down. And then Caroline called and it was like this hole in my heart was waiting for Juniper … Putting the clean dishes back into the cupboard when the cupboard and the dishes were destined for the Dumpster outside. Cadillac, saying he took to her is putting things mildly, and what if he won’t let her take the dog? … Giving Dodge a good brushing, which sent hair flying, which didn’t matter, but then she swept up with a broom and dustpan. Maybe I’m drawn to difficult people … He’d never noticed the broom in the closet. Because his back wouldn’t allow the movement necessary to sweeping, the broom stayed in the shadows, invisible. And it isn’t like this is forever, she has three years and change before she’s legally an adult, we could e-mail, right? … When there was nothing left to do, she washed her hands, then came to sit beside him on the bed. “How’s your pain?”
“Better.” He felt the bed give to accommodate the extra hundred pounds. The weight was nothing. It didn’t change anything, but it changed everything. “Either way, whether she goes to her dad or she doesn’t, I want you to come with me to New Mexico.”
“I can’t travel.”
“Why not?”
She raised her arm and gestured widely. “The farm, the weddings, and who’s going to take care of my animals? The dogs are on special diets, Edsel’s seizures are what landed him in the shelter in the first place—”
“How about asking one of your foster sons? They’re old enough, reliable, and they know the place. You said Robynn was sweet on Gary. I’m sure they’d welcome the opportunity to be alone together. If you’re worried about Edsel, bring him with you.”
“How can I leave California? It’s my home.”
“I don’t think they revoke your license for an out-of-state visit. A week or two. When’s the last time you had a vacation?”
“A couple of years ago Dan and I drove to Yosemite. Dan wanted to see the giant sequoias—just like you, he loved the trees. We stayed at the Ahwahnee hotel, which was incredibly expensive, even off-season. It was fall, the leaves, my gosh, were they pretty. Did you know that Ansel Adams used to show up there every afternoon to practice the piano? So many people came to listen, the hotel started serving high tea.”
She was operating on raw nerves, close to stammering. Their mutual attraction was expanding. The elephant in the room. High voltage if they dared touch. His heart, which he was certain had hardened to steel, unfolded one wing. If things caught fire, he’d have to let them burn … Joseph reached out and took her hand. He pulled her fingers to his mouth and pressed his lips against them. “Like sparks,” he said, “under your skin.” When he took both her hands to pull her toward him, she hesitated, but only for a second. Then she lay down next to him, murmuring, “This is such a bad idea,” while he kissed her shoulder, which tasted of salt, and the hollow in her neck, which didn’t, and her cheek and finally her mouth and said, “Give me one good reason to stop and I will.”
Whether she could or couldn’t hardly mattered because she didn’t. For a while she kept her eyes shut, and he wondered if that was her way, or if were she to open them, the connection would shatter. Either way, right when their breath was coming the faster, he had to stop her. “This is terribly embarrassing.”
“More embarrassing than a rag rug?”
“Yes. If things go any further, I have to ask you to be on top. My back.”
“Is that all? I thought, oh, no, Joseph’s going to tell me he’s not
that kind of guy and call me a picarona.”
He laughed. “A hussy? Where the heck did you learn that word?”
“Lorna.”
They locked eyes and giggled, then laughed nervously, then full out, until they both had tears in their eyes that were an equal mix of sadness and happiness.
From that moment forward, every time he looked at her there was more bare skin to explore. He admired the gentle rounding of her breasts, her flat, muscular stomach, and the sharp hip bones to either side, which were the warmest parts of all. As first-time lovers they were clumsy, bumping heads, saying “Ow” and “Sorry,” and his stupid back limited their positions. Every time he grimaced, she moved a few inches and asked, “How’s this?” and he could not help laughing. So much to be learned, when all parties were willing. “Hussy,” he said again, then he was inside her and nothing else mattered.
A Farewell Dinner Party Menu
Spaghetti
Romaine salad with blue cheese dressing
Diet Vanilla Coke over crushed ice
Red-velvet cupcakes with chocolate buttercream frosting
Vanilla pudding/flan
Glory broke the news to Juniper over dinner. “Your father wants to see you,” she said, holding on to Joseph’s hand under the table.
Impatient, sarcastic Juniper put down her fork and listened until Glory finished the particulars, then said, “What if I don’t want to see him?”
“Well, it doesn’t really make a difference,” Glory said. “Legally, he’s still your father, and he could go to court to make sure everyone knows that.”
Juniper looked from Glory to Joseph. “Do you think I should give the loser a second chance?”
Joseph said, “Whatever happened in the past, he’s still your father.”
Of course he didn’t want her to meet with the man. In the short while Joseph had known Juniper, the teenager had grown as fast as the baby goats. She was developing curves and her voice was kinder; she asked questions now, before blurting out her opinion. In their homeschooling, she put herself out there a little more each day. She made educated guesses and spectacular mistakes, but she was so excited about learning he wanted to write John Holt a fan letter, only to remember that the man died in 1985. On the other hand, maybe the father didn’t deserve her, but family was family. He thought of Rico’s kids so often. What they would give to see their father again. “You should see him,” he said.
“What if he wants me to move back in with him?”
“Let’s see how the meeting goes,” Glory said.
Juniper looked down at her favorite dinner, but didn’t move to pick up her fork. From that angle someone might think she was praying. Joseph took the opportunity to study that bluebird tattoo on her neck. The artist was professional. It was good work, not a cartoon, yet not entirely realistic. He knew that armed with a photo he could track down the guy who did it in hours—three at most—and smack him around for taking advantage of a young girl who’d spend the rest of her life trying to forget it.
“May I be excused from doing the dishes tonight?” Juniper asked.
“Sure.”
She scooted her chair back, then stood. She pushed the chair back in until it touched the table. She folded her napkin and set it alongside her plate and headed for the back door, Cadillac behind her.
“Where are you going?” Glory asked.
“Out to the barn to check on Nanny. I want to pet the babies.”
“That’s a good idea,” Glory said, forcing cheer into her voice that wasn’t fooling anybody. “It’s cold, so take a jacket.”
“I’ve got one in the barn.”
They listened to the screen door swing shut and looked at each other. Sex made a person absolutely crazy, Joseph thought: the goofy looks they tried to hide, the way he cherished muscle aches in places he didn’t normally feel anything, and the heat her skin gave off when they came within five inches of each other. It blotted out common sense. When he thought of her face, inches above his, he was pretty much useless.
“I feel guilty,” Glory said.
“We didn’t do anything wrong.”
Glory looked away, and when she looked back, her eyes brimmed with tears. “I can’t help it. In my heart I feel like I cheated on Dan.”
“Come here.” Even though it wasn’t comfortable, Joseph held her on his lap. He leaned his head against her breast and listened to her pounding heart. “Right now in New Mexico, the lilacs are blooming. For a few short weeks, the smell in the air is spellbinding. Then on its heels comes the blasted juniper pollen. The UPS driver has to wear a dust mask to make deliveries. Every day the sun shines a little longer; the sky is a little bluer, and the clouds that scud across the prairie are prideful and never the same twice. On my dad’s farm, the onions are in. He’ll stay outside so long my mother will threaten to give his dinner to the dogs if he doesn’t come inside.”
“It’s your home and you miss it,” Glory said.
“Just a week. I meant what I said, I won’t touch you again if that’s what you want. Come for one week. Perspective. It’ll clear your head.”
It was a long time before Juniper came back into the house, and by then Glory had retreated to her own chair. Without a word Juniper headed to her room, Cadillac right behind her.
JUNIPER
When Mrs. Solomon woke me, Joseph was with her. I figured, here we go, I’m gonna catch hell for oversleeping again. But something about the way they stood next to each other—almost touching—made me wonder if he’d spent the night.
Mrs. Solomon said, “Today is all ours. We’re going to drive the back road to the coast, have a picnic, and take photographs and beachcomb. There will be no talk of fathers. We’re going to live in the moment.”
“Can Cadillac come?”
“All the dogs are coming. Now go take a shower and get dressed.”
I washed my hair, and when I looked at it in the mirror, I thought maybe I’d get it cut short so the brown and black didn’t look so stupid. Mrs. Solomon trimmed Ms. Proctor’s hair, so she could do mine. But with my hair cut short, my tattoo showed, and I hated when people asked me why I got it, what it meant, did it hurt, and do you have others and in what places?
The minute I came out of the bathroom I smelled chicken frying. Mrs. Solomon wrapped it in foil while it was still warm, and even though it was early morning, I wanted to eat it right then. That apple, carrot, and raisin salad I loved was already in Tupperware. We put on T-shirts, long-sleeved flannels, sweatshirts, and packed raincoats and hats, because the coastline here is always foggy.
Joseph brought the cameras.
Edsel had to wear a coat. I hoped he didn’t have a seizure at the sight of the waves. Cadillac and Dodge loaded into the back of Joseph’s Land Cruiser all excited because dogs are clairvoyant when it comes to going somewhere. I brought towels, a gallon jug of water, and two bowls because when it comes to food and water, Cadillac doesn’t like to share.
Joseph drove. When Mrs. Solomon found something interesting, she read out loud from a book on marine mammals. Before we drove through the oak trees, we passed the road where my family once lived in a green house with white trim and a gray shingled roof. The houses were torn down as part of the Dragon Lake planned development, but other than a billboard saying how great everything would eventually be, there weren’t any houses. G18 is an old road, cut in 1971, way before I was born, and paved only a while back. It travels through microclimates, like oaks and scrub to ferns and rain-forest kind of plants before it ends at the Pacific Ocean. I guessed Joseph didn’t know that this route took us past the place where my sister’s trail ended. Mrs. Solomon was busy staring at the book in her lap when we passed it, reading elephant-seal facts so we could pretend this was homeschooling, not some last best day before my dad came to get me and ruined everything.
“One bull weighed a record eleven thousand pounds,” she said.
“Wonder how they convinced it to get on a scale?” Joseph said.
> Mrs. Solomon laughed at that, but today, she was laughing at pretty much anything he said. How could she, when he was leaving? Whenever I thought of never seeing Joseph again, it felt like someone was stabbing me.
A jay flew across the front of the car and I thought of Casey’s blue sweater and felt sick to my stomach, but I kept it to myself because I could tell Mrs. Solomon needed this day to go perfectly.
“Animalia, Chordata, Mammalia, Carnivora, Pinnipedia, Phocidae, Mirounga. Hey, listen to this. Elephant seals molt every year, but instead of growing new fur on the same old skin, they grow entirely new skin, pushing cells from the blood vessels through the blubber and outward. That has to hurt,” Glory said.
“Probably not if you grow up that way,” I said. “Probably you get so used to it that it feels like peeling after a sunburn.”
The drive seemed to take forever, but when I checked the odometer, it turned out we’d only gone about twenty miles before we reached the sand and surf and so many seals lolling on the beach that I said, “From here they look like a box of spilled cigars.” A simile.
“Six-thousand-pound cigars made for a giant’s fingers,” Joseph said.
A metaphor.
The dogs wanted more than anything to jump the chain link and give the seals the business. Edsel barked the most of anyone. I pulled up the hood on my sweatshirt and tucked Edsel inside the pocket for my hands, his head peeking out to make sure nothing good happened to anyone else unless he was a part of it.
“Is anybody going to eat my chicken?” Glory asked.
Joseph ate two pieces, then said, “This is the best chicken ever. Of course, you haven’t tasted my green-chile chicken ench-i-la-das.”
Inch-ee-la-thas. He said each syllable distinctly, just like our Spanish dialogues. Mrs. Solomon pretended to smack him, but at the last minute her hand was more like a pat. “All these mythical recipes. I have yet to see proof.”
“Turn me loose in cocina Solomon and I will prove it to you. But first I need to go to New Mexico for provisions.”
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