“No, I understand. Let’s move on then.” He tossed the can in the garbage on the way out the door.
As they hit the highway Jess pointed at a sign that said Historic Route 66, and started singing, “‘Get your kicks on Route 66.’”
When she ran out of words. Mannie sang the first verse; she joined him on the chorus. By the time he ended the song he was grinning, his feelings of stress from the fire faded. “Mi abuelo, my grandpa, Luís, came out West from Chicago on Route 66.”
“Cool.” An embarrassed smile crossed Jess’ face. “I only know it from Cars, that Pixar movie?”
“Might be hard to believe, but I’m not old enough to remember the original song either.”
They rolled out of the Sandia mountains to a pink and orange sky. Mannie wasn’t sure which was more glorious, the brilliant sunset or the sprinkling of electric lights in Albuquerque. “Okay, first big city. I don’t know what to expect.”
Her head swiveled, her eyes fearful again. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” Keep her calm, Mannie. “I don’t know. We’re, uh, likely to see people. Every place isn’t going to be as nice as San Angelo. Let’s be cautious.”
On the eastern edge of the city they found a bunch of hotels. “Super 8?” Mannie asked. “Beats a Motel 6. Or America’s Best?”
“Just a sec. Let me check my phone.” Her fingers flew. “There’s a Hilton Garden Inn, a bit farther. Twice the price. And more stars.”
“Not sure I can afford it.” It felt good to smile again after a long intense day.
Jess directed him from her phone’s GPS. The place looked like every other mass-produced hotel chain. “I hope it’s more impressive inside.” He pulled up to the valet parking sign.
“Me, too.” Jess snatched her duffel bag and jogged into the well-lit lobby.
Mannie pulled his rucksack from the back and followed more slowly, stretching his legs and massaging his knee.
Jess stood behind the counter. “I got the computer and the key machine going.”
“Think you could get us two rooms adjacent?” Mannie leaned over the counter. “If they’re not too full.”
Her fingers tapped the keyboard. “Better. Here’s a room with two double beds, microwave and fridge. Computer says it has a view.”
He hesitated. “I’m not sure—”
“Mannie. This is a big city. You said yourself that we should be more cautious. And after today I can’t handle another second of being scared.”
“Okay, if it’ll make you feel better. I’m knocked out. Haven’t driven that much in years. I need a bed to collapse into. Where’s the room?”
“Third floor.”
Mannie trudged toward the elevator. The lobby’s fancy tile and woodwork caused him to chuckle, like they wanted you to think the hotel was old and prestigious. He punched the button for the elevator then changed his mind and took the stairs. They were a contrast to the rest of the hotel, painted cinderblocks and pipes. He was going to take better care of himself and get back in shape. How many doctors had survived?
“Boo!” Jess popped out of the elevator.
“Jesucristo!” Mannie had his rucksack halfway in the air to attack. She grinned at him and jogged down the hall.
Just let me sleep. The room was clean, everything perfectly in its place awaiting the next paying customer. Mannie took the first double. He sat on the bed, tossed the note about towels and room service in the garbage. He slid inside the bedding and debated taking off his pants. No. Who cares about messing up this bed?
Jess bounced on the other bed, then went to the balcony and pulled back the curtains. “The mountains are lovely. Sunrise should be nice. Do you mind if I leave them open?”
Mannie turned to look. The light from the setting sun etched the tips of the peaks against the darkening sky. “Nope. Not going to keep me awake.” Evening stars were shining in the blue.
“I’ve never stayed in a hotel this nice.” Jess slipped under the covers. “G’night, Mannie.”
“Good night.”
21
LIZZIE COULDN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT her dad, though he and the nurse both said there was nothing to worry about. The drive south had been quiet, but Saj was getting fussy. He squirmed, whining. She sniffed his diaper, nothing. Maybe he sensed her mood. Or maybe he was tired of riding in the car seat. She didn’t blame him; her butt was sore, too.
“Zach?” Lizzie leaned forward. “Can I get some driving in?”
“Hey,” Nev said, “Me, too.”
Zach glanced back at her in the rear view mirror. “Sure.” He pulled the Tank to the side of the road and hopped out.
“Nev,” Lizzie asked, “you got Saj?”
“Yeah.” Nev got in back. “How’s my little buddy?”
Lizzie climbed up into the driver’s seat, a lot farther from the ground than the CRV or anything else she’d ever tried to drive. “This thing is a monster.”
Zach got into the passenger seat. “It’s a gentle giant. You point it, give it a little gas and it goes where you tell it.”
“Everybody belted in?” Lizzie adjusted the mirrors. She could see Saj focus on Nev, quiet for the moment. “Saji? Sissie’s gonna drive!” She took a deep breath and depressed the accelerator. The motor revved, but nothing happened. She looked over at Zach in the passenger seat, a pained look on his face.
“You’re in park and your e-brake’s on.”
Lizzie nodded, popped the emergency brake release and pulled the shift into drive. She pressed the gas pedal and they rolled forward.
Zach nodded. “Here we go.”
Nev laughed. “I’m glad I went without a driver in the car. I did the same thing.”
A few random cars sat on the side of the road; some had dates in neon orange paint on the windows, now faded in the sun. After a few miles Lizzie had the Tank up to the speed limit. She felt barely in control. The power steering was too loose and easy for such a big vehicle; with a slight delay, it had a sliding bounce. Once going the freeway driving was much easier than stop and go in a city.
Cars rolled north on the other side of the highway in long intervals. Like her group they were full of people. The first one was exciting, a miracle, like the tigers. It felt weird. In the old days the highway would have been full of cars with single people. Now folks were coming together, even if they were strangers. But wasn’t everybody alive kind of family?
In her experience family wasn’t what it should have been: Jerkwad, Mama and her father. Even her little brother was an annoying jerk most of the time. The friends she chose usually treated her better than family. And they didn’t understand why she didn’t trust anyone. Now everybody alive was part of a big dysfunctional family and keeping distance made sense. C.J. was an example of that dysfunction. She kept glancing in the rear view mirror, expecting to see his brother coming after her. But the highway behind was always empty.
Her shoulders were tense and eventually her hands were cramping. “Think I’m done. All tired and achy.” She felt like she’d been driving for hours, but it looked like about 25 minutes. She pulled off I-5 near the Ft. Lewis exit and jumped down from the driver’s seat.
“Relax next time,” Zach said. “You did good. Nev? You wanna drive through Olympia?”
“Yeah, sure.” She climbed into the driver’s seat. She sat there for a minute and then spoke, not to Lizzie or Zach, but to the windshield. “I want to stop in Tumwater. Check in on the folks I stayed with. Tell them I’m okay. Lizzie? You all right with that?”
“Of course.” Why did Nev think she would throw a fit? She understood Nev wanting to check on her temporary family. I’m not that bad, am I? Lizzie was too exhausted to give it more thought.
Nev switched the radio back on, some sort of techno dance station, but at least it didn’t have many words.
She lay the seat back and tried to follow Saj’s lead and take a nap, but every little jog of the Tank pulled her awake. Once her tired brain convinced her that Nev was driving them off a cl
iff. The next time C.J. and his brother were pulling her from her seat. So much for sleep. She played through her messages from Mama and the videos of Jayce.
Saj napped with the peaceful abandon of a toddler, his fist curled around her thumb. She smiled and watched his eyelids flutter at some pleasant dream. Instead of trying to find her own peace she immersed herself in his. She tuned out the passing scenery, the past, and all that lay behind them.
As she finally nodded off, the truck stopped. Lizzie sighed and pulled herself through the haze to reality. She pushed her head away from the window. Had she slept? They must have gotten through Olympia to Tumwater. Nev jumped out and jogged over to a nondescript, brown split-level house.
Lizzie wiped the fog her breath had formed on the window. A middle-aged couple answered the door, a stream of children poured out, bouncing around Nev. Lizzie watched the scene through the smeared wet glass, like something out of a movie—the perfect family reunion.
Then Nev turned and waved at the truck. She ran back and patted Zach’s window. He rolled it down.
“They’ve invited us for dinner,” Nev said, out of breath. “Did you know today is Thanksgiving? Whattaya say?”
Lizzie shrugged. “We gotta eat somewhere.” Maybe this Turkey Day wouldn’t end up with drunk people yelling at each other.
“You know me,” Zach added, “I’m always hungry.” He climbed out and let Spike out of the back seat. Spike squatted staring at all the people.
Lizzie caught Zach’s eye as Nev ran back to the house. Not too long, she mouthed and tapped the back of Jayce’s watch. “I’ll wait out here until Saj wakes up, ‘kay?” He gave her a thumbs-up and followed Nev.
Saj stirred. Lizzie cooed at him and rubbed the bridge of his nose to keep him asleep. Spike cocked his head sideways watching her. “You don’t want to go in either, do you, Spike?” His head changed sides, still staring. Lizzie let Saj sleep. Zach came out with deviled eggs and rolls. She took an egg and swallowed it in two bites, the peppery paprika taste burned pleasantly. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Zach fed Spike an egg. It disappeared in a bite and Spike’s mouth was open again.
Zach placed a roll in his hand. “Dinner’s ready in a few minutes.”
“Great.” Lizzie said. Saj stirred and whined as his eyes opened. “How is it in there?”
Zach gave a noncommittal, “Fine.”
She unstrapped Saj and pulled him out. She tried to put him down to walk, but he clung to her. “Me, too, baby.”
Zach waved another roll at Spike, “Come on, Spike, more food.” Spike followed Zach and the food toward the house.
Lizzie followed Spike inside the house, Zach’s “fine” was chaotic. There were people everywhere. And they were all watching her.
Nev introduced her to the ad hoc parents: Reverends Josie and John.
Were they a couple? Lizzie couldn’t really tell. They seemed like two sweet, forgiving, churchy types. She nodded and smiled, awkward in the sudden overwhelming volume of people. “Nev, could you take Saj? I’ve got to use the restroom.”
In the bathroom she splashed water on her face and ran her fingers through her hair. “Gotta eat sometime,” she muttered and sat on the toilet seat. She took a deep breath. How offended would Nev be if Lizzie took a pass on Thanksgiving dinner? If I was her I’d be very offended.
“Supper’s ready,” a voice called from the other room.
With regret, Lizzie left the quiet bathroom and walked to the front room. There were two tables, a big one nearly full and a smaller table through an arch into the living room. The children clustered around the smaller one.
Lizzie went to Nev and held out her hands for Saj. “I’ll eat with Spike and the kids.”
Nev handed over Saj to Lizzie with a quizzical look. “Okay.”
The adults were still staring and Lizzie didn’t feel like talking about herself.
In spite of her mood, the kids brightened the meal. She asked them their names in between bites. Cristina and Consuela, twins, 12. Joshua, age 9; James, age 6; She could play the painful adult who asks questions. But she couldn’t ask her first question, How had all the siblings survived? Genetic immunities maybe.
“I hate yams,” Joshua said, pushing them onto his brother’s plate.
James screwed up his face. “I don’t like them neither.”
“You eat ‘em or I’ll tell mom about you-know-what.”
James sank down. Lizzie hadn’t taken any yams, so she scooped half of them off James’ plate. His face broke into a grin. She put her finger to her lips. Don’t tell.
“When baby Jesse’s eating solid food,” Joshua said, as if it was the law of the universe. “you can make him eat your yams.”
“This is delicious.” Lizzie had never tasted a turkey with that much flavor.
One of the 12 year-old twins spoke up. “We raised that turkey with my brother Gerardo.” Her sister glared and her mouth pursed. They both looked ready to burst into tears.
What questions are safe? “Well, you did a good job,” Lizzie said, ladling more mashed potatoes in Saj’s bowl. He loved them, but not with the gravy. Spike lapped up the gravy gratefully and ignored the potatoes.
The kids were energized, but subdued. If they got a little loud one of the older ones would shush them. Only one was not talking. A boy, brown-eyed, dark-haired kid about 10 years old, couldn’t keep his deep eyes off her. “What’s your name?” He reminded her of herself at big gatherings.
“He’s Charley,” said Cristina/Consuela in a snide, know-it-all voice. “Doesn’t talk, though.”
“Prob’bly can’t.” muttered a voice at the other end of the table.
Lizzie ignored the rest of the children and spoke to him directly, “Do you like yams?” His yams were nothing but an orange slime trail on his plate.
Charley busied himself with his food.
“My friends and I are going to meet my Dad. He’s coming up from Texas. Where are you from, Charley?”
He continued staring at the food and shoveling it in.
Oh, well. Sometimes you lose.
Lizzie caught him staring during the meal and she smiled at him, but he always shied away. From the other room she heard talk of heading down toward Centralia; there was a church group down there that was sending people out to bring in the flock. Even the chosen don’t know where to go or what to do.
As the kids finished, they took their plates, and politely excused themselves. Charley still stared at Lizzie.
She went around the table and sat down next to him. “Is there something you want to ask me?”
His head nodded. Barely whispering, “Yes.”
She’d gotten a response. Sometimes you win. “Well,” Lizzie said, “Just ask. I’m not going to hurt you.”
He stared at his shoes. Then slightly louder than before, he asked, “Can I go with you?”
“What do you mean? Why would you want to come with us?”
His head came up. His eyes held tears threatening to fall. “My grandpa lives in New Mexico. He’s the only family I’ve got left.”
“Oh.” Lizzie frowned. “Charley, we’re not going that far. Only to Salt Lake City, Utah.”
“But…” He gritted his teeth. His hands turned to fists. “Can you take me part way?”
“How old are you?
“Twelve.”
“Do you know how far it is from Salt Lake City to New Mexico. What city?”
“He lives on the Mescalero Rez.”
Lizzie had no idea where Mescalero was or even how far it was from Salt Lake to New Mexico. “Are you native?”
“Yeah. I know I don’t look it.” His eyes fled again to his feet. “They always tease me at the powwows. I’m half. On my mom’s side.” His lip trembled and his jaw worked. “I talked to Grandpa a couple weeks ago, but he said the power had been flickering and now I can’t reach him.”
Lizzie saw his pain. And like hers, there was a possibility to relieve it. But what if Grandpa is alr
eady dead?
“I only have a backpack of stuff. And I’m ready to go.”
Charley must have seen something slip inside her.
“No promises, Charley. We’ll talk to your par—, the Reverends.”
Charley’s eyes glowed, his stolid silence broken. He pushed his seat back and ran off. Oh my, Lizzie. What are you, the Pied Piper? She stood, steeling herself for the conversation.
Charley had found the Reverends; he was animated, pleading his case. The “parents” looked bemused as they listened to him.
Reverend John said, “Charles, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Charley’s face fell. Lizzie watched him fighting back the tears. She saw John see it, too. John took a deep breath. Josie stepped forward and put her hand on Charley’s shoulder.
“Charley, we,” John said, his head motioned to Josie and Lizzie, “the adults, will talk about it.”
Charley nodded, his countenance serious.
Oh, God, I’m an adult now? Lizzie’s eyes followed Charley as he trudged away.
Josie moved close in to Lizzie. “He seems to connect to you. That’s more words than he’s spoken here in the last three weeks.”
Lizzie nodded, “Yeah. He just opened up.”
“Neveah said you were meeting your father in Salt Lake City?” John asked. “That’s not New Mexico.”
“I know.” Lizzie bit her tongue to keep the tang from her voice. “And his grandfather might not even be alive.”
There was sadness in John and Josie’s eyes. They meant well. She could see why Neveah wanted to leave and why she wanted to come back by. Her thought from earlier returned in a new context. The shepherds don’t know what to do for their flock.
“My father is from Texas. Once we meet him we’ll make sure Charles gets to his family.” What the hell am I promising? “If we can’t find them, he’ll be part of ours.”
She observed the interplay of unspoken words between the Reverends. Living with Jerkwad and Mama had given her skills at sensing others feelings and intentions.
John turned to her, smiling. “We will allow you to take him. If you promise to keep him safe and get him to his grandfather.”
ALL IS SILENCE Page 17