Isabel's Daughter

by Judith Ryan Hendricks

  “See, he likes you.” Will urged me forward. “Talk to him. Call him Driver. Blow in his nostril a little bit.”

  I looked at him strangely. “Blow in his nose?”

  He nodded. “That’s like saying hello. He can get your smell.” He slipped a blue halter over the horse’s head, grabbed a rope off a hook, and clipped it to a ring on the halter.

  I took a couple steps backward. “What are you doing?”

  He slid the wooden gate back. “I’m bringing him out so you can look at him.”

  I backed up some more. “I can see him just fine where he is.”

  He ignored me, and suddenly this giant animal was walking out of his stall, right up to me. Like he might walk right over me.

  “Hey, not so close.” I tried to laugh. “He’s a lot bigger than me.”

  “Move over here to his left,” Will said. I was so nervous I started to the right, then corrected myself, and stepped over next to him. “That’s good. Now he can see you. Pat his neck.”

  “What do you mean, now he can see me? I was standing right in front of him.”

  “He can’t see what’s right in front of him. Because of the way his eyes are on the sides of his head. He can see almost a hundred eighty degrees on both sides, but right there in front is his blind spot.”

  When I looked dubious, he added, “It’s because horses are prey animals. They need to be able to see predators sneaking up on them.”

  He took my hand and put it under his on the rope, and we walked Driver between two posts. Will fastened him with what he called cross ties that clipped to the halter.

  I was having a hard time thinking of this massive, muscled thing next to me as prey, but I just asked, “Where’d he get the name Driver?”

  “Actually it’s Taxi Driver, but that’s too much trouble.” He reached down into an open box that looked like a toolkit and pulled out a brush. He handed it to me. “Brush in the direction the hair grows, start here up on his neck. Yeah. Hold the mane up so you can get under it and just work your way down.”

  The heat of Driver’s huge body reminded me how close I was to about a thousand pounds of horse. “What if I hurt him? Will he kick me? What if he decides to lay down?”

  “He can’t lay down. He’s cross tied. And you’re not going to hurt him. Just make nice short strokes. He likes it.”

  Little clouds of dust rose off the black coat as I brushed, and the horse stood quietly. I did his left side, then crossed under his head. Somewhere between mane and tail on Driver’s right side, I stopped being afraid. I quit thinking about how he could squash me like a bug, and I started to enjoy the power I could feel under my hands, almost a vibration. I don’t know what I’d expected, but I couldn’t get over how warm he felt. At some point I found myself standing with my face pressed against the horse’s neck, breathing in the wild, earthy scent of him.

  “Damn,” Will said softly. “You put a spell on him, too.”

  He showed me how to clip the rope to the halter and release the breakaway clasps on the cross ties, and then he let me lead the horse back to his stall. “Walk him in and turn him around before you unclip the lead rope.”

  When Will took my hand and led me out of the barn, I felt like I was floating. He showed me the arena, the turnouts, another barn, and the house. When he started up the front steps, I stopped. “It’s okay,” he said. “Nobody’s here.”

  “I know, but I just don’t feel right.” I looked over at the blue pickup truck with the horse trailer parked by the pipe corral. “Somebody might see us. Your parents wouldn’t like it.”

  He sighed. “You know, you’re making a big deal out of nothing. They don’t hate you.”

  “Maybe not, but they sure as hell don’t like me. And they don’t want you hanging out with me.”

  He laughed then. Picked me up and spun me around till I was laughing, too. “Hanging out,” he said. “Is that what we’re doing?”

  “Of course. What else?”

  He stopped and his face got very serious. I could see the little bits of hay that stuck to his shirt. I started to pick one off, and he covered my hand with his and said, “Avery, I love you.”

  For one second I believed him, and the world stopped while I squinted into the glare of shining possibilities.

  Then reality intervened like clouds across the moon.

  Because I hadn’t said anything, he asked, “Do you love me?”

  “I don’t think I can.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t know how. I don’t even know what it means.”

  “You love Cassie, don’t you?”

  I looked straight ahead. Did I? I never really thought of her in those terms.

  She took me in when all my choices were for shit. She taught me to survive. She accepted me exactly as I was, never asked me for any more than I could give. But did she love me? Did I love her? We never talked about it. Maybe if I’d come to her sooner. Letting another person get close enough for love has to happen first when you’re a child. Before your heart gets fossilized like those little fish in the rocks.

  When I still didn’t say anything, he sighed and pulled me against him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say it.” But disappointment was thick in his voice.

  We’re out.” He gave me a sheepish look. “That was our last one.”

  We were lying on the blanket he carried in the back of the Bronco, looking up at the startlingly blue sky. I wasn’t too surprised that we had no more condoms. We’d been going through them at an amazing rate.

  I rolled away from him. He tortured me with a trail of kisses down my arm.

  “Will, stop it.”

  “When was your period?”

  I pulled away sharply. “I said no, and I mean it. I have no desire to get pregnant.”

  He flopped back down and exhaled very slowly. “Would that be such a terrible thing?”

  “Maybe not for you.” I jerked myself to my feet, pulling his shirt around me, glaring down at him.

  “Avery, I told you I love you.” He got up, still hard, and reached for me. “Worst-case scenario is we get married.”

  I stepped away. “Will Cameron, use your head for something besides a Stetson holder. We can’t get married.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Wouldn’t your parents just love that? Their precious Willis marries some little no-name white trash—”

  “Stop it!” He grabbed my arm roughly. “Don’t say stupid shit.”

  “It’s true and you know it.” I pulled a strand of hair out of my mouth. “They’d disown you so fast your head would spin. Besides, I never want any kids.”

  “Okay. Then it’ll just be you and me. Happy ever after.”

  “Stop it!” I put my hands over my ears. “It’s not going to happen, so just shut up about it.”

  He put his hands over mine and pulled them away from my head. “You’re pretty smart, girl, but you don’t know everything.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I talked to my dad last night.”

  “About what?”

  “What do you think, about what? About us. You and me.”

  “Jesus, Will. What on earth possessed you?”

  “You.” He kissed my knuckles. “I told you I love you, Avery. I know you didn’t believe me, but my dad did.”

  “You told him that?”

  He nodded, never looking away from me.

  “Was he pissed off?”

  “He was kind of upset at first, but I just kept talking. I told him all about you. I told him I couldn’t be happy without you.” He laughed. “I reminded him how Gram and Grampa acted when he brought Mom home.”

  “What did he say about that?”

  “Nothing. But he thought about it for a while.” His voice got husky as he pressed against me. “He said he’d talk to Mom. He said maybe it was time they got to know you.”

  I wanted to believe it. I knew he did. I could tell by the way he held me that he actuall
y thought we could make it work. “Tell me you love me,” he said.

  I bit my lip. “I do, Will.”

  He held me away and looked in my eyes. “Not like that. I want you to say it.”

  I took a deep breath, holding it to steady myself for a minute, and then I said, “I love you.”

  His smile sometimes was like sunrise in the desert. You could see the light on the horizon forever before the sun finally showed up.

  It was nearly dark when we got home, and there were no lights on at Cassie’s. I didn’t worry; she was probably out back or with Amalia. Or tending someone sick or working one of her charms somewhere. I said good-bye to Will on the portal and went inside, trying to think what there might be for dinner.

  The first thing I noticed was the smell. On my travels with Cassie around to her clients, I’d come to know the stale, flat scent of illness in a house. My chest contracted slightly. Cassie’d been fighting off a cold for the past couple days, but she’d been all right when I left. Or had I just been so intent on going off with Will that I ignored the obvious?

  I lit a kerosene lamp and went to her doorway.

  Cassie lay in her bed, blankets pulled up under her chin. I stood there quietly, wondering if she was awake, till finally she seemed to sense me and her head turned a little. The soft glow of the lamp lit her face—strangely smooth and sweet. Her eyes were questioning.

  “Momma?” she called softly.

  The plaintive sound of it made my scalp prickle. “Cassie, it’s me.”

  She frowned. “Who are you?”

  I stepped into the room. “It’s me. Avery.”

  “Where’s my momma?”

  “She’s…not here.”

  “Where is she?” Her voice curdled into tears.

  Fever. She must have a high fever.

  “She went to get herbs, Cassie. To make medicine for you.”

  “Then she’ll come back?”

  I swallowed. “Yes. She’ll come back. How about I make you some tea while we’re waiting?”

  “Okay.” She rolled over on her side, her back to the door, and I went to the kitchen, ran water in the kettle with my hands shaking. I didn’t know what to do. I wished for Amalia. I thought about going to get her, but I was afraid to leave Cassie alone. For the first time ever, I wished we had a phone.

  I thought about how Cassie took care of me when I got bit by the snake. Now she couldn’t take care of anybody, even herself. She was a child in an old woman’s body. I was going to have to try to take care of her, but I didn’t exactly know how.

  Everything. I would just do everything I knew to do, and maybe something would work. But other than filling the kettle and lighting the stove, I was paralyzed with indecision. What should I give her? I knew that a lot of her remedies had one or multiple uses, some had side effects. Some were even poisonous in large enough quantities.

  I tried to make my brain kick in, to think about the different herbs for fever. Some would induce fever and sweating for cleansing. I didn’t want those. I knew she kept quinine in the kitchen. It would reduce fever, but even a slight overdose could cause dizziness and diarrhea and a lot of other problems.

  Borraja was pretty harmless, but only moderately effective. The same for linden. Oh God, why didn’t I pay more attention when she was talking about all this stuff? By the time the kettle was whistling, I had decided on álamo sauco, the narrow-leaf cottonwood tea. Cassie always said it was good for lots of things and nearly impossible to OD on. I put a little honey in the cup, let it cool slightly, and then took it to her.

  She drank most of it, never saying another word to me, but she kept looking around the room, like she was expecting someone. Like her momma. I tried to remember some of her charms to drive away illness. I thought about the one she and Amalia had chanted over me when I got bit by the snake, but it seemed like a different kind of thing.

  Then I thought of a really simple charm that she did for a little girl with chicken pox. I remembered the words—more or less—and all I needed was blue cord, like the kind she kept in one of her many boxes in the kitchen. I had to rummage through three boxes before I found it, and then I cut three equal lengths of it and sat cross-legged on the floor. Cassie always went through some cleansing thing in the area where she worked, but I didn’t really know how to do that, and I was hoping that good intentions would count for something with whatever powers were listening.

  I tied the three pieces of cord together at one end, and I began to braid them, repeating “In these cords send healing power, let it grow with every hour.” I said it over and over while I braided slowly, not allowing myself to think, because my natural skepticism would no doubt ruin everything, and I couldn’t take any chances right now.

  When I finished, I tied the two ends together and tiptoed into Cassie’s room.

  She was asleep, her mouth open, breathing heavily. I could hear the congestion in her chest and it scared me. Gently, so as not to wake her, I put the necklace around her face. I didn’t want to raise her head because it would wake her up, so I just laid it on the pillow and hoped she wouldn’t strangle herself with it.

  I brought in one of the chairs from the kitchen and sat there watching her sleep, listening for any change in her breathing. I could pray. Yes, for Cassie I’d even do that. Couldn’t hurt, might help, as she always said. The only words I could think of were, “Please don’t let her die.” I sat in the chair by her bed and repeated them endlessly till I fell asleep.

  At some point I opened my eyes in a gray daylight. I was twisted in the chair like a screwbean. Then I remembered what I was supposed to be doing and I looked at Cassie. She was looking at me, eyes wide open and clear.

  “Scared you, didn’t I?” she said weakly.

  “Yeah, you did.” I felt like the horse that had been standing on my chest all night had got up and gone to pasture. “I don’t want you to get up today,” I said sternly.

  “Who’s gonna take care of the medicines?”

  “I will. You just tell me what to do.”

  “You got school,” she said.

  “No,” I lied. “It’s a teacher workday. We don’t have class.”

  She looked skeptical. “Every day’s a teacher workday.”

  “Not like this. They get together and yak about curriculum.”

  The way she immediately caved in let me know she must be feeling worse than she let on.

  twelve

  At lunch the next day, I told Will I had to study. I took my peanut butter sandwich and a carton of milk and my history notes down to the far end of the football field, where Jimmie John and I used to eat. I never would have guessed I’d think of him as much or miss him as much as I did. He’d been gone for two months, and sometimes I still expected to see him standing patiently at the end of Cassie’s road.

  Even though it was early May, the sun was high and white, blazing down out of a clear sky like some giant misplaced star. A couple of young cottonwoods just the other side of the home bleachers made a little pool of shade, and nobody ever went there except me and JJ. So I wasn’t expecting it when I rounded the corner of the bleachers and I heard voices. Not words exactly, but moaning and laughing—that kind of tight, sharp laughing that you do when you’re scared or excited.

  Kevin Gonzalez and Randi Klein were sprawled in the grass, playing tonsil hockey. I just stood there in the shadow of the bleachers, too surprised to move. It wasn’t like I’d never seen kids making out back here, but Kevin was supposed to be going with Stacey. Kevin got to his knees, fumbling with the big ugly belt buckle at his waist. That’s when he looked up and saw me. “Goddamn son of a bitch—what the fuck are you doing here?”

  Nothing came out of my mouth. Randi rolled over on her stomach and stared at me. “The witch girl.” She pulled her skirt down and got to her knees. They looked so stupid, kneeling there side by side, like at the altar.

  I didn’t want to get physical with Kevin. He was lots bigger than me. Meaner, too. I was trying to fig
ure out if I could outrun him when, Randi said, “Oh, shit,” and burst out crying.

  “Don’t tell, Avery. Please don’t tell.”

  She had black eye makeup all over her face now, and snot dripping down her upper lip. Little pieces of grass stuck out of her shiny dark hair. “Promise, Avery. Don’t tell Stacey. She’s my best friend.”

  I just looked at her, not hiding the fact that she made me sick. “I don’t have to tell. She’ll find out anyway.”

  Kevin leaped to his feet, trying to look menacing, and succeeding pretty well, in spite of his king-size stiffie. “You listen to me, you little bitch. Nobody’s gonna find out anything. You keep your damn mouth shut. If I hear anything, I’ll know it was you, and you’ll be real sorry. You hear me?”

  I turned, walking away on rubber knees, kitty-corner into the middle of the football field so I’d be in plain sight if anyone cared to look.

  He didn’t follow me.

  Two weeks later on a Friday morning I went out early to water the garden and when I came back, Cassie was dead. I knew it before I opened the door.

  She was curled up on the sofa in the early pinkish light like a sleeping child, one arm hanging awkwardly over the edge, fingers slightly cupped. The garden basket was tipped over, filthy canvas gloves and rusty trowel spilling onto the floor. The scene looked like one of the black-and-white photographs Miss Paz liked to show in art class. This one would’ve been called Dead Woman with Basket.

  At first I couldn’t move. I watched the dust floating in a shaft of new sunlight between the edge of the curtain and the window frame. The herb bundles suspended upside down from the rafters gave off their pleasant, dry-grass smell. There was another scent in the room. Familiar. Flowery.

  Finally I got down beside the couch, and my knees cracked in the stillness. Her face looked the same as always, except her eyes were about half closed.

  I rubbed the tiny fingers with their swollen knuckles, the protruding blue veins, brown spots. She seemed delicate and papery, like the skin discarded by snakes, ready to crumble and blow away in the dry spring wind.