“But, Mommy—that was my daddy?”
“Yes, honey.” She sighed—and then hoped it wasn’t the same world-weary sigh of her mom. The last thing she needed today was to turn into her mother. “I loved him very much once, but then he had to go away. He joined the army.”
“He left us,” Mikey said, tears spilling down his cheeks.
Tammy winced to hear her words coming out of her son’s mouth. “I know, honey. But we did okay. You have me and Aunt Tara and Grandma and . . . and Clarence.” Mikey gave her a look of uncertainty. “And if Daddy comes over tonight—” She couldn’t bring herself to say when because she couldn’t bring herself to put any stock in a promise that Ezra Johnson made, not even a small one about dinner. “Well, if he comes over we’ll just . . . get to know him. You should know your daddy,” she added, sounding more sure than she felt. “He’ll always be your daddy, even if he’s not always here.”
That was the best promise she could make him. It wasn’t fair to ask a four year old to understand a concept as foreign as that, but he was going to learn that one way or the other.
Mikey yawned and stuck his thumb in his mouth. Tammy thought he might nod off but then he said, “Will Cwarence be here?”
“I don’t know, honey. This isn’t his regular night,” she half-lied. Because he’d said he’d be here in such a way that made it pretty damn clear that wild horses wouldn’t keep him away.
But then, at the same time, she’d said no, he was not coming over. The talk in the parking lot had been tense enough and as much of a coward as Ezra was—warrior or no—he deserved a chance to get to know his son without Clarence sitting in judgment of him.
Mikey’s eyes began to drift shut. “If you marry Cwarence, will he be my daddy, too? He’d be a good daddy.” The last part came out as a barely intelligible mumble.
Tammy’s heart began to pound. If she married Clarence? “Let’s take a nap,” she said in her calmest voice when she felt anything but calm. “Love you, honey.”
“Love you, Mommy.” And then, miracle of miracle, Mikey closed his eyes and started to breath regularly.
Tammy lay there, watching her son sleep. Would Ezra show up tonight? She wanted to think he would, that he’d seen the light and wanted to get to know his son and maybe even be a part of his life.
But she didn’t think so. Something in the way he’d said, “Yeah, okay,” when she’d told him to come to dinner . . .
She’d seen that cornered look in his eyes before, five years ago, when she’d told him she was pregnant and scared and he’d made that final promise to her. “I’ll take care of you, babe,” he’d said. The words had sounded great—the very thing she needed to hear—but it’d been the way he said it, rubbing the back of his neck as he backed away from her.
She wanted to be over the pain of abandonment but seeing him again today and knowing, deep down inside, that he was the same boy he’d been before . . .
When she was sure Mikey was asleep, she slipped out of their room and went to the phone. She called the Clinic. She’d tell Clarence she’d changed her mind, that he should be here tonight because if Ezra didn’t show and Clarence wasn’t here, she wasn’t sure she could keep Mikey from losing it. She wasn’t sure she wouldn’t lose it.
“Clinic,” Tara answered.
“It’s me,” Tammy replied. “Is Clarence there?”
“What did you say to that dickbag? Please tell me you told him to go to hell, Tammy. Please.”
Tammy sighed. Her sister could carry a grudge like nobody’s business. “I invited him over for dinner.”
“You what?” Tara gasped in true horror. “How could you?”
“He’s Mikey’s father,” Tammy replied as patiently as she could. “And if you could please not call him a dickbag in front of Mikey, that’d be great.”
“You’re not seriously thinking of taking him back, are you? Tammy, I thought you were smarter than that!”
“Tara,” Tammy snapped. “I’m not. This is about Mikey, not me. I want to talk to Clarence. Please.”
“Well, he’s not here. He cut out early, said he had something to do. Is he coming over for dinner tonight, too? Gosh,” Tara said sarcastically, “this is going to be all kinds of fun, isn’t it?”
Another spike of terror hit her in the stomach. Clarence did not cut out early. He was reliable and trustworthy and not the kind who just up and disappeared.
And she’d never seen him as mad as he’d been when he’d thrown Ezra out. Oh, God. “Did he say where he was going?”
“Nope. But I have to tell you, him kicking Ezra out was the highlight of my week.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Tammy said as she hung up. She dialed Clarence’s home. No answer.
This was not like him. They’d gotten to a point where she knew his schedule and he knew hers. Neither of them had a habit of disappearing—which was something she liked about him. She’d had enough of a boyfriend vanishing off into the night. Knowing where Clarence was and when, more or less, was a comfort.
So for him to suddenly vanish like this—it couldn’t be a coincidence. He wouldn’t have gone looking for Ezra, would he?
She dialed his number again and let it ring. Pick up, she thought. Please pick up. Please still be there.
He didn’t.
She stared at the phone. This was not the same thing, she tried to tell herself. It’d been a bad day for everyone and Clarence probably just needed . . . some time to think, that was all.
She’d been wrong to say he shouldn’t come tonight, she knew that now. She’d been trying to keep the peace at the time . . . but now that she’d thought about it, she knew she needed him by her side.
Where was he?
And then there was Mikey, asking if she was going to marry Clarence and if Clarence would be his daddy.
She’d known this would happen, after all. Clarence had been wonderful to her and to Mikey and she’d fallen in love with him. She’d risked her heart, which was one thing, but Mikey . . .
Mikey loved Clarence, too. And Clarence didn’t seem to mind that the boy was another man’s child. He got Mikey thoughtful little presents and made sure that he was taken care of when the three of them were together and seemed to enjoy the silliness that went hand in hand with a four year old. And all of that had made Tammy love him more.
Maybe she’d call again, just to be sure.
But no. Clarence did not answer the phone.
Once again, she was on her own. How disappointing.
Luckily, she was used to it.
*****
Clarence was not, as a rule, a real spiritual guy. He didn’t sit in sweat lodges and talk to spirits, nor did he attend Sunday services with any regularity. He’d seen too much war and pain and suffering to put a hell of a lot of stock into Higher Powers and gods and God.
Which did not explain why he was driving out to see a medicine man during working hours, except he had no other good options at this point.
Besides, going to talk to Rebel Runs Fast wasn’t exactly a religious experience. Clarence was sure that, if he wanted to go into a sweat lodge, Rebel would start heating the rocks. And the man would be happy to discuss any visions Clarence may or may not have.
But that’s not why Clarence was here.
He’d bailed on work early, which made him feel lousy, so that he could talk to Rebel before his wife—and Clarence’s boss—Dr. Mitchell, got home from work.
If he didn’t know Rebel so well, Clarence might have been surprised to see the man sitting around a campfire, despite the fall chill in the air that went with earlier and earlier sunsets. But Rebel had a way of knowing when someone was on the way to see him. What did surprise Clarence was that Nobody Bodine was also sitting at the fire.
Nobody was the night janitor at the Clinic and he did a good job, but the man was little more than a vigilante with an underdeveloped moral compass. It wasn’t that the men who had the misfortune of meeting Nobody Bodine in the shadows of the night didn’
t deserve what they got—they were often men who sold drugs or beat children or worse. Clarence would know—he’d sewn more than his share of bad men back together.
But Clarence was a Navy man. He liked his order and he liked his rules. Shipshape and Bristol fashion, as his old commander used to say. And Nobody didn’t follow either directive.
“Hiya,” Rebel said as he added more wood to the fire.
“Hiya, Rebel. Nobody,” Clarence added, just to be polite. He didn’t often see Nobody—the man was a shadow. Even now, it was hard to resist taking a long look at the man some people believed was really a ghost.
But when he focused on Nobody the shadows seemed to . . . bend toward him, like it was darker where he sat. He nodded at Clarence.
Clarence sat on the far side of the fire from Nobody. No one spoke for a few minutes as Rebel got the fire blazing enough that it put out some actual heat.
Clarence knew he needed to get talking—he only had so much time before Dr. Mitchell got home—or, for that matter, Melinda Mitchell came looking for Nobody. Or worse, both sisters showed up together. Clarence wasn’t sure he could handle that level of feminine onslaught right now.
But there was something about the flames that pulled him in. The fire wasn’t—well, it wasn’t like watching television. No shapes formed and acted out a scene from his past, present, or future. But there was something about the way the fire flickered back and forth that didn’t seem like a regular fire burning a regular log. That something made him think of his first year in the Navy, of being a young punk who was scared shitless by all that water but who was desperate to get off the rez and do something with his life.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, watching the red dance with the orange, so when Rebel said, “I heard Ezra Johnson was back,” it made Clarence jump.
He shook back to himself and whatever’d been in the flames seemed to go up in smoke. “Yeah. He showed up at the Clinic today.”
Rebel chuckled. “And you threw him out just for that?”
He shouldn’t be surprised. This was not a matter of Rebel and his habit of having ‘visions.’ Everyone on this entire rez probably knew about the almost-fight today. “He said things he shouldn’t have said to Tammy and I wasn’t going to stand for it.”
Nobody snorted in appreciation of this, which did not make Clarence feel a hell of a lot better because picking Ezra up and giving him the old heave-ho was exactly the kind of thing Nobody would have done.
Rebel grinned at the fire, as if the something that might or might not be there was clearer to him than it was to Clarence. “And that explains why you’re here, then? Not that it’s not great to see you and all.”
Clarence sighed. “She told Ezra to come to dinner and me not to. She didn’t want me there.”
“You did throw the man out,” Rebel pointed out.
“He deserved it. Left her high and dry for years and the first thing out of his mouth when he sees her isn’t an apology—it’s a crack about her body? No.” And just like that, Clarence wanted to throw that dickbag across the threshold all over again. He deserved that and more for what he’d done to Tammy.
Which, to be honest, was the reason Clarence had been forcibly un-invited from dinner.
“And . . .” Rebel said, as if the all-seeing Rebel Runs Fast wasn’t actually sure why Clarence was here.
He didn’t really want to have this conversation with Nobody. But he didn’t have a choice, as the shadow wasn’t moving from where he sat. “She told me, back at the beginning, that she didn’t want to talk about the future. Just the now, that’s what she said. Didn’t want to plan ahead, didn’t want to get her hopes up.”
“Understandable,” Rebel said agreeably, his gaze still fastened on the flames. “But . . .”
“I was going to ask her to marry me. At Christmas.” He’d been counting down the days with the kind of excitement that hadn’t possessed him since he was six. How many more days until Christmas? How many more days until he could propose? Until he could move Tammy and Mikey into his house? Until he could get on with the rest of his life, a family by his side and a good woman in his bed?
“Excellent idea,” Rebel agreed. Clarence glanced at Nobody, who nodded. “So what’s the problem?”
“That dick—I mean, Ezra. I didn’t . . . I didn’t plan on him. On her defending him. I can’t—I mean, I’m an old man. And if he comes back, if he decides he wants her back and he’ll do what it takes—I can’t compete with that. He’s Mikey’s dad. I’m just . . . nothing.”
A silence that pained him settled around them because what could Rebel or even Nobody say to that? Those were the cold, hard facts. Clarence had known it from the beginning—he was too old for her and there was no way he could win a battle for her heart against a younger man she already was tied to through Mikey.
“Ask her.” The sound of Nobody actually talking—out loud—made Clarence jump again.
“What?” Had he ever heard Nobody talk before?
“Ask her,” he repeated, as if that were all Clarence needed to know.
“He’s right,” Rebel agreed. “Ask her anyway. You’re only, what—forty?”
“Forty in three months,” he replied. Ask her anyway? After his behavior today? Yeah, he hadn’t done himself any favors there.
Rebel started to laugh and even Nobody cracked a smile. “Shit, man. That isn’t old. Not when you can still haul a man’s ass and shot-put it across a parking lot. You’ve got a claim. Stake it.” He turned a kind smile to Clarence. “Don’t be a dick. It’s really that simple.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean? “Yeah, okay.” He looked over at Nobody—but the man was gone. Seconds later, headlights cut through the dusk from far down the road. Dr. Mitchell was almost home.
“You better go,” Rebel said. “She’s not too happy with you right now.”
“Can’t blame her.” After all, getting into a fight and then bailing before his time was up was kind of a dick move. “See you,” he said as he hurried to his car.
He passed Dr. Mitchell on the road and was unsurprised when she glared at him. He gave an apologetic shrug of his shoulders and then drove on.
Ask her anyway? Don’t be a dick. How was that simple? Rebel was usually better with the advice thing than that. He didn’t leave things unfinished—
Then realization hit Clarence so hard that he almost drove off the road.
Don’t be a dick.
Like that dickbag had been.
Oh, hell—he had to get to Tammy right now.
Chapter Ten
Of course Ezra didn’t show. That part didn’t really surprise Tammy any more than it surprised her mom and Tara. The only person who had the capacity to be upset by this development was Mikey and he was going to make them all pay for his daddy not being there yet again.
When Mom said, “Dinner’s ready,” Mikey insisted that they wait for Ezra. After fifteen minutes, Tammy was forced to say they should eat without Ezra, which was not what Mikey wanted to hear. Raging with a fury that only a four-year-old boy was capable of maintaining, he threw his toys, nearly hitting the T.V. with a toy car and clocking his cousin Nelly in the head with a stuffed animal. Tammy had to wrap him up with both her arms and legs to keep him from breaking something. She just held him while he sobbed and she cried, too.
Of course Ezra hadn’t come. She’d expected that, expected the tantrum Mikey would throw at having his world knocked out from under him.
“I want Cwarence,” he wept at one point.
“Me, too, honey. Me, too.”
She hadn’t expected Clarence to abandon her. And that was what hurt.
Eventually—after about an hour—Mikey calmed down enough that she could release him from her python-like full-body hold. He refused to eat any of the dinner that Mom had saved for him. No one tried to push it. No one wanted another round of hysterics. So Tammy helped him get into his jammies and put him back to bed. She didn’t even argue about brushing his te
eth. They’d start over—again—tomorrow.
She was reading Goodnight, Moon to him when she heard it—a knock at the door. She tried not to react—Mikey was calm—but she tensed. The boy shot up in bed. “Who’s here?” he demanded, already fully awake.
“Honey, I don’t know,” she told him. Ezra? Clarence? Someone else? “But I’ll find out,” she promised. “You stay here. You’re supposed to be going to sleep.”
She hurried out as calmly as she could. She wouldn’t get her hopes up one way or the other. She would not.
But then she saw Clarence standing there, his brow furrowed with worry as Mom and Tara stared at him as if he were a buffalo that had wandered into the living room. No, not even a buffalo. Something rarer—like a wooly mammoth.
He was here. He’d come back. Oh, God. Please don’t let this be a dream, she thought, because if she’d fallen asleep while reading to Mikey and this wasn’t real, she wasn’t sure she could take another loss, even one that only happened in her mind.
Tammy must have made a noise when she saw him there because he looked up and everything about his face changed into a mix of regret and fear and need. “Clarence!”
“I missed dinner,” he said in a soft voice, like he was afraid he’d spook her. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t sure if you wanted me here or not.”
“It’s okay.” Which wasn’t true, of course. “I tried to call you, but you weren’t home.”
“I know.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but then a small, Spiderman-clad ball of energy came flying out of the bedroom and launched at Clarence.
“Where were you? Daddy didn’t come and I was sad,” Mikey said in as scolding a tone as he could pull off while smiling. “And Mommy was sad, too.”
“Hey, little man,” Clarence said as he swooped Mikey up into his arms and hugged the boy. “I got here as soon as I could. Didn’t want you or your mom to be sad.”
Even though he didn’t say the words to her, the sentiment still managed to put a small smile on her face. He had been thinking of her.
But more than that, he’d come back.
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