Dark River Road

by Virginia Brown

  They sat in silence for a while longer, listening to crickets and bullfrogs, and off in the distance, classical music drifted on the breeze. It was pleasant. Peaceful. Almost enough to make him forget the friction of earlier. Almost.

  Quinton had made his point with the police harassment. He’d have to watch his back every minute. Like he hadn’t already known that anyway. If the cops had found anything to charge him with, they’d have done it in a heartbeat. He knew that. He’d just have to walk a fine line to stay out of trouble. Not much different than he’d had to do when he was a kid.

  Only now, it could be even more dangerous.

  CHAPTER 31

  Tansy was back in Mississippi. Chantry found that out from Dempsey when he stopped by to see him one afternoon. The clinic had closed and he didn’t want to go home and read over the textbooks he knew he should, so he drove over to Liberty Road.

  “Hey, son, glad you came by. I was just gettin’ ready to drive to Tunica. Want to come with me?”

  “I’m not much into gambling,” Chantry said. “For money, anyway.”

  Dempsey grinned. “I hear that. Not why I’m goin’, though. Tansy’s singin’ at one of the casinos this week.”

  Tansy. Chantry had a flash of her as he’d last seen her, face pressed against the screen of his bedroom window, confusion and anguish in her eyes. He’d been so dumb. Why hadn’t he seen there was more to it than just the usual adolescent turmoil? He’d been so immersed in his own misery he hadn’t seen past it to what Tansy was feeling. It was one of his biggest regrets. Maybe he could have changed things. Maybe not. But he’d not been there for her when she needed him most.

  “Sure. I’ll go. I’d like to see her.”

  On the way, driving up 61 Highway past flat cotton fields and curtains of kudzu, he kept thinking that Tansy may not want to see him. It’d been so long, and he’d be a reminder of all that had happened. Of Chris. Damn. His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

  “What casino is she singing at this week?”

  Dempsey, sitting in the passenger seat of the Rover, looked over at him. “Not Quinton’s. I know what you’re thinkin’. She’d never get hired there, and wouldn’t go if she did.”

  “I don’t know about Quinton not hiring her. Chris is in charge. He would. None of them would ever let personal preferences come before making money, and Tansy will bring in a lot of business. She’s local. People would come for that even if she wasn’t in the top Billboard artists.”

  “Mebbe. Mebbe not. Don’t matter none anyway. She’s performin’ at The Grand Isle.”

  He’d only been to Tunica once, and that’d been years before when his grandparents insisted on bringing him and Mikey down for a headliner show. He’d played a few slot machines before the show and a couple of hands of blackjack, but other than that, hadn’t found much to interest him. The food was excellent, Harvey Korman and Tim Conway funny and entertaining, but it wasn’t enough to bring him back for any reason. He already pretty much knew where he stood with Lady Luck, and there was no point in tempting fate.

  Tunica always looked odd to him, smack in the middle of nowhere, fields all around it and the river nudging against chewed banks, while the tall hotels and elaborate casinos jutted up like incongruous reminders of human foibles. Elegantly-clad women stood next to pudgy housewives with bubble hair and sweat pants. Farmers in overalls placed bets beside businessmen in Armani suits. It was the epitome of kitsch and class. And a perfect breeding ground for men like Bert Quinton to flourish.

  “Is she expecting you?” Chantry asked when they stood inside the lobby next to a fountain made to look like a mermaid.

  Dempsey looked mesmerized by his surroundings as he nodded. Lights flashed, bells rang, conversation was a muted roar. Carpets were dark green and gold, and a full size replica of a pirate ship bobbed in a bay of water meant to simulate a tropical harbor. A bare-breasted mermaid figurehead adorned the prow. The older man stared at it with something like skeptical amusement.

  “She said go to the front desk and ask for her and she’d come out to get me,” he said. “I reckon she’ll be surprised to see you, too.”

  That would be an understatement. It’d been nearly fifteen years. God, it didn’t seem that long. And yet it seemed an eternity since he’d last seen her.

  They waited for another few minutes, watching people come and go, listening to the loud chink of coins going into and coming out of the slot machines that lined almost the entire floor in between displays of pirate-oriented decoration. Chantry glanced toward the bank of elevators just as one of them opened, and saw Tansy.

  He didn’t know what he’d expected. For her to look a lot older, maybe. Or to look like the publicity photos he’d seen in magazines, with hair all loose and flowing around her shoulders, short denim skirts and midriff baring tops, the ultimate rock star. This Tansy looked fifteen. No makeup. No short skirts. A loose sweat suit and her hair pulled back in a ponytail.

  She saw him and faltered, eyes getting big and her mouth opening. Then she ran toward him, arms outstretched, and leaped on him. He opened his arms just in time to catch her, pleased and embarrassed at the same time to be engulfed in enthusiasm and sharpshooter questions.

  “Chantry Callahan, is it really you? Where the hell have you been? What have you been doing? And why did you wait so long to see me?”

  Half-laughing, he gave her back a fierce hug, aware that Dempsey was smiling and people were staring. “Hey, Tansy.”

  “Talkative as always, I see.” She pulled back slightly to peer into his face, gold eyes searching, her arms still around his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist. “Damn, you grew up fine. All sharp angles and muscles. I always knew you would. Put me down and we’ll go to my suite.”

  She gave Dempsey a hug and held on to his arm, looped her other arm around Chantry, and they took the elevator to the top floor and a corner suite that looked out over the river.

  “Nice, huh,” Tansy said, and gave them a smug smile. She stood with both hands on her hips, looking from one to the other. “Okay, so tell me what’s up.”

  Chantry sprawled on a deep leather couch, just watching Tansy, trying to figure out just how she could still be the same after so long and so much had happened. He’d never asked, didn’t know what she’d done with the baby or if she’d even had it. It’d never seemed right to ask, and he had always thought it must be something too painful for Dempsey to discuss since he’d never said anything about it.

  “Nothing much,” he said when she gave him a pointed look, and shrugged. “Only back for a little while to do my preceptorship with Doc.”

  “Pre what?”

  “Intern as a vet.”

  She grinned. “Whatever happened to Shadow?”

  “He’s with Mikey.”

  “Still alive? You gotta be kidding me. That’d make him—what?”

  “Sixteen. Pretty old for a big dog. So what have you been up to? Besides getting famous and rich.”

  “Oh no, I’m not that easily distracted. You owe me some answers. What are you really doing back in Cane Creek? And remember who you’re talking to. You could do that vet stuff anywhere you wanted. Don’t think I’ll buy a load of crap, either.”

  “I liked you better when you weren’t as mouthy.”

  “Yeah? Well, I liked you better when you at least knew what you really wanted and went after it.”

  That surprised him. He stared at her, then glanced at Dempsey who stared at a wall. Oh yeah. They’d been talking.

  “I don’t know what it is you think I want,” he said after a minute, and she laughed at him.

  “Oh yes, you do. But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine with me. I talk enough for both of us.”

  “That much hasn’t changed.” He grinned when she made a face at him.

  “So,” she said, moving to the wet bar to get Dempsey a soft drink, “what can I get you? I think there’s a little bit of everything in here. Here, Daddy. I know you li
ke your Coke.”

  “I’m good,” Chantry said, and watched as Tansy went through the hostess ritual that women used when stalling for time, putting ice in a glass, pouring in a Coke, wiping off counters and generally doing the domestic thing. Her sweat shirt slipped off her shoulder a bit so that the strap to a sports bra showed, and she shrugged it back up when she turned around to look at him again.

  “So I’m here for a couple of weeks. Long engagement. My manager said it’s one of those deals I couldn’t refuse. Got a concert up in Memphis, gigs here on the weekends, a few shows during the week. Pretty lucrative, and I’m between recording sessions. Thought I’d go to Ardent Studio while I’m here, lay down some tracks with the Memphis blues sound.” She flicked a glance at Dempsey. “Maybe even do some gospel.”

  Dempsey looked up with a pleased smile. “You really gonna do that, baby?”

  “As if you haven’t been nagging me to death about it. Yeah. Thought I would. Does that make you happy?”

  “Baby, you just don’t know how happy. It’d be like hearin’ your mama sing again. You’ve got that God-given talent. A shame to let it go to waste.”

  “Waste?” She put her hands on her hips. “Three of my CDs went platinum.”

  “More to life than money.”

  Tansy rolled her eyes. “Right. So, do you want to order room service?”

  “No, I want the buffet. No point in payin’ too much money just to have somebody carry food on a tray.” Dempsey shrugged. “‘Sides, you two got some talkin’ to do without me in the way. You’ll be here a while, baby girl. We got lots of time. Stay here with Chantry. I’m gonna eat my way along two or three tables downstairs.”

  “And play the slots?”

  Dempsey grinned. “Might. I allow myself twenty dollars ev’ry now and then. Just to see if my luck’s changed any.”

  When he was gone, Tansy reached in the bar and snagged a couple of bottled waters, then came to plop down on the couch next to Chantry. She gave him one of the bottles and twisted off the cap to hers, drinking a bit before saying, “Do you think he looks okay?”

  “Dempsey? Yeah. He looks fine. Why?”

  “I don’t know. I worry about him. He won’t leave that stupid house. Says he likes it there where he’s got land around him, says it’s what he’s used to. I tried to get him to move onto a bit of land I bought, build him a nice house looking over the river—he won’t do it. Hard-headed as a damn billy goat.”

  “Must be where you get it,” he said without thinking, then paused.

  Tansy looked up at him with lifted brows. He smiled. Then he reached out to push a strand of loose hair off her forehead, tapped her lightly on the nose with his finger. “See? Things aren’t so bad now. You did what you said you’d do.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Have people saying There goes Tansy Rivers. Isn’t she something? And you are. You’ve always been something. I knew it even when you didn’t believe it.”

  She flopped against the back of the couch. “I can’t believe you remember that. What’s happened to me, Chantry? I know you’re right, but I still feel like that little girl inside. Wandering in dark tunnels. Lost. Remember the night I tried to win that contest?”

  “You did win that contest.”

  “Yes, but I lost something else for a while. It’s so hard to think of that now.”

  He didn’t say anything, let her talk or not talk, just content to be with her again like they had been as kids. Knowing what the other was thinking without saying it, understanding the emotion if not the reason for it. Or the solution for it.

  “I was so scared that night,” Tansy said softly, stared off across the luxurious suite with its wet bar, big screen TV, and bank of windows looking out over the Mississippi with Arkansas on the far side. “There you were, in the middle of a fight while I just crouched down on that stage and watched, sick they all saw me for who I really was instead of who I was pretending to be. After Chris told me what Beau said, I knew I’d only been kidding myself. I have to be who I am. Just like you’ve never been afraid to be who you are. I wanted to be brave like you Chantry, and ended up being a fraud. I was so ashamed.”

  “Ashamed of what? Being strong enough to try? Hell, Tansy, you did just what you set out to do. Maybe you never got the prize money, but you won that contest. You beat them.”

  “But not as myself. That’s what shamed me.”

  He understood then. “Most of us put up that front, Tansy. We want people to see us as we wish we were or think we have to be. It’s self-defense.”

  “You mean, ‘Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain,’ right? That’s my favorite line from the Wizard of Oz, when the professor’s pretending to be the great and powerful wizard, but they find out he’s really only a sad little man who’s just as lost as they are.”

  “So, most people are illusions. That’s nothing new.”

  She smiled. “Still the cynic, I see. Don’t you ever want it to be different?”

  “Sure.” He shrugged. “But what I want and what happens is usually pretty different. I’m used to disappointments.”

  “Still not letting anyone get close to you? Even me? Even—Cinda?”

  He didn’t know how to answer that so didn’t, just looked away from her. After a minute she sighed and said, “Sorry, Chantry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  It got quiet between them, not uncomfortable, just both lost in thought; then Tansy said in a small voice, “I lost the baby, you know.”

  “No,” he said, “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “So am I. It was—a terrible time. I think I would’ve been a good mother. I’ll just never know. My auntie said some awful things, about me, about my mother—I couldn’t bear staying there anymore when they all knew, when they all looked at me like I was some kind of freak or . . . or whore. I ran away, went to New York to stay with some girl I met on the streets in Chicago. I was so naïve and stupid. Got stuck in a situation that anyone else would have avoided right off. If I’d stayed, I’d probably be dead by now. As it was, the baby died before he was even born. When I left the hospital, I went to a halfway house. It was what saved my life, I think. I found music again. Found myself again. It took a long time, though. Maybe I should have come home, but I could never stand the thought of being within reach of what I wanted and what I’d never be able to have.”

  “Yeah. Reckon I know how that feels.”

  She turned to look at him again, put her hand on his arm. “Yes, I know you do.”

  After a minute, she sighed and leaned against him and he put his arm around her, holding her close, smelling the sweet, clean fragrance of her hair, felt the warmth of her body against his side, the trust in the way she put her head on his shoulder. If he closed his eyes, he could almost smell the peachy scent of the mimosa tree, the dust in the air, and the summer heat on that day she’d come to help him save a Catahoula pup. And he had the sudden startling thought that this was as close to coming home as he’d ever felt in his life.

  Maybe that’s all coming home really was—not to a place, but to someone who accepted him as he really was, not the illusion. Someone who’d already seen behind the curtain and didn’t care.

  They sat that way for a while, not saying anything, just content to be together again. Few women of his experience ever got that, that he didn’t want to discuss details of the day or life or if he did or didn’t love them, or why or why not. Tansy understood. Cinda had understood. Maybe that was why he felt closer to them than any woman he’d ever been with since. They were the only two women besides his mother he’d ever told he loved. And he’d meant it each time.

  Dempsey came back upstairs, satisfaction in his eyes and with a full stomach and pocket. “Won nearly four hundred dollars,” he said. “Ate enough shrimp to fill a five gallon bucket.”

  “So now you’re ready to go home.”

  He grinned at Chantry. “Yep. Pretty much.”

  “Honestly,” Tansy said, “I
don’t know if you came to see me or the buffet.”

  “It was close, but you won, baby girl.”

  “Yeah, don’t try to sweet talk me now. Too late for that. Go on home, you ornery ole mule, and I’ll see you at my show. And don’t think you’ll get out of it either, Chantry, because I’ve got a ticket for you as well. I expect you to be here next Friday night. No excuses.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it. And I can buy my own ticket.”

  “Not this one. I get freebies and I know where I want you to sit. Get here a half hour early at least, okay?”

  “Don’t guess I have much choice.”

  “Nope. You sure don’t.” Tansy gave them both a hug, held onto Chantry a moment too long, whispered fiercely that she’d missed him, and then let him go. “See y’all Friday.”

  He’d missed her, too. He hadn’t realized just how much until he’d seen her again. It wasn’t anything he’d be able to explain to anyone else, or even to Tansy, but he felt easier with her than even Mikey because she had no big expectations of him. She didn’t want anything from him except that he be there. She didn’t demand answers he didn’t have. Didn’t press him on why or what he intended to do. She accepted him like he was—as Mikey would say, just one big neurosis. Yeah, that was pretty close to the truth. Not a comforting thought.

  Herky had left him a remote for the garage door and he parked his car inside, careful not to disturb anything. Cinda’s car was gone, probably at the airport or her parents. It was a three car garage anyway, with plenty of room in each bay.

  The carriage house was quiet, only a small light burning in the kitchen, one of those with an electric eye that came on when it got dark. It felt still and empty. He flipped on the overhead light and a bank of fluorescent tubes hummed into service. A ceramic tile floor in rich terra cotta gleamed underfoot. Copper pots hung from some kind of rack over the island stove, reflective and slightly twisting in the draft from the central air ducts. He hadn’t done much cooking, probably wouldn’t. It was easier to eat out, keep just enough in the house to take the edge off if he didn’t feel like leaving. Beer, milk, sandwich stuff. Military and Mama’s home-training saved him from being a slob. If not for that, he wouldn’t have noticed or cared if six inches of dust coated all the furniture. Domesticity wasn’t his thing.