Boomer's Bucket List

by Sue Pethick

  They’d taken the turnoff for Arcadia and were following the signs to one of Oklahoma’s most distinctive landmarks, an enormous round red barn.

  “What are you talking about?” Jennifer said. “This place is perfect. While Boomer and I poke around, you can pick up a few brochures, interview a docent or two, and take some photos.”

  Nathan closed his eyes against the still-throbbing headache.

  “Just kill me now.”

  “Hey, don’t blame me,” she said, pulling into the parking lot. “You gave up your right to complain when you got drunk last night and didn’t find something better to do.”

  “Point taken.”

  “Anyway, the barn is on the National Registry of Historic Places. You can probably find plenty to write about.”

  Boomer was sitting up in the backseat, looking around and panting happily. Nathan got out and attached his lead while Jennifer put on her jacket.

  “That warm weather sure didn’t last long,” she said, taking Boomer’s leash. “It’s really starting to feel like fall all of a sudden.”

  Nathan scrubbed a hand over his face and squinted up at the enormous structure in front of them. The barn was, indeed, very red and very round—even the roof was round. It looked like a big red muffin. Contrary to his previous assumption, the place was also quite busy. He might even be able to glean enough interesting tidbits to build an article around it. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not feeling it.”

  The look she gave him was pitiless.

  “Since when does a professional writer need to be able to ‘feel’ his subject?”

  Nathan had never enjoyed being pushed, and this newfound bossiness on her part was particularly annoying.

  “I can’t write a good story if I don’t like the subject.”

  “That’s because you’re a man,” she said sweetly. “Any woman will tell you, you don’t have to like something to be good at it.”

  There was a moment of hesitation before Nathan burst out laughing. Once again, Jennifer Westbrook had astonished him. The second he thought he had her pegged, she said or did something that reshuffled the deck.

  “Okay,” he said. “I get your point. I’ll go see what I can find out about this place.”

  “Good. You can find us when you’re done. Ta-ta.”

  While Jennifer wandered off with Boomer, Nathan did as she’d suggested. He walked the outside perimeter to get a feel for just how big the barn was, then stepped inside to take a look around. The individual strips of lumber underpinning the domed roof were exposed, making it seem as if he were standing under an enormous upturned basket, and the acoustics were intriguing. Even with several dozen people talking at once, he would occasionally hear a conversation from the opposite side of the barn as clearly as if the person were standing next to him.

  Next to the barn was a museum/gift shop where Nathan found an entire room filled with maps and displays about the Round Barn and its place in the history of Route 66. There was even a replica of the barn that had won a blue ribbon and which the museum kept under a giant plastic bubble—an excellent idea, judging by the hundreds of sticky-looking fingerprints that covered it. Nathan bought a pack of postcards from “Butch the barn man,” the colorful septuagenarian who ran the gift shop, then grabbed a map of the grounds and a couple of brochures before heading back to the barn to take a few pictures and talk to the docent.

  Jennifer and Boomer were standing right outside the door.

  “How’s it going?” she said. “You feeling it yet?”

  “Alas, yes, in spite of myself.” He looked around. “What have you two been up to?”

  “Oh, lots of good stuff,” she said. “We saw the outhouse—a one-holer. It was pretty cool.”

  “Gosh,” he said. “I must have missed that.”

  She pointed. “It’s right over there—”

  “Sorry. No time. What else?”

  “Well, Boomie saw a”—she mouthed “squirrel”—“and that was exciting.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “A couple more kids asked about Boomer, too, and some guy wanted to know if he could take his picture. You’d think the people around here had never seen a dog.” She glanced at his notepad. “So, are you ready to go?”

  “Not quite,” he said. “The docent said he’d be free in a few minutes; I was just killing time in the gift shop. It shouldn’t take too long, though.”

  “Okay. We’ll make a pit stop and get back in the truck. I’m getting pretty cold.”

  Nathan headed back up the steps toward the barn, wondering about the man who’d asked to take Boomer’s picture. Probably just wanted a photo of Jennifer, he thought. Some guys were pathetic.

  Phil, the docent, was waiting for him just inside the front door. A burly man in a CAT hat and overalls, he looked like he’d just stepped out of a cornfield.

  “Thank you for meeting with me,” Nathan said as they shook hands.

  “No problem,” Phil said. “You want the full tour today, or you just need a few questions answered?”

  “Probably just the latter. I’ve got someone with me,” Nathan said, flipping open the notepad. “She and her dog are waiting outside in the truck.”

  “Well, bring her in.”

  “No, thanks.” He shrugged and took out a pen. “Boomer’s a good dog, but I don’t think you want him scratching up these floors.”

  Phil nodded sagely. “You’ve got that right. Most of these boards were put down when the barn was built in 1898. You can’t find old wood like that now. No more old trees around to get it from.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Do you mind if I ask where you three are headed after you leave here?”

  “Hmm? Oh, well, I’m not sure,” Nathan said. “We’re driving Route 66 to the coast, so somewhere west of here. Why? Do you have a recommendation?”

  “As a matter of fact I do,” the man said, grinning. “You all looking for a good steak?”

  Boomer was sound asleep when Nathan got back to the truck. Jennifer had pushed her seat back and was watching the clouds bunch up and then break apart as they floated across the sky. It was so peaceful out there, she thought. No cars, no sirens blaring or horns honking, no phones ringing incessantly, no clients complaining and complaining and complaining.

  The passenger door opened and Nathan got in.

  “That was quick,” she said.

  “I told you it wouldn’t take long.”

  She put her seat back up and started the engine.

  “Did you get all the information you needed to write your article?”

  “Yep. And I got something else, too.”

  “Really? What?”

  “A special place for the three of us to eat dinner.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Nathan took over driving duty after lunch. His headache was gone, he assured Jennifer, and any alcohol he’d consumed the night before had long since left his system. Besides, it was a long way to Amarillo and she needed a break. Boomer was snoring softly on the backseat, his head resting on his paws, and the steady hum of the engine was soothing. As they crossed the Texas panhandle, Jennifer nestled back into her seat and felt a sort of Zen-like calm come over her.

  The countryside there was different from what they’d driven through farther east. The trees and rolling hills had been replaced by a vast plane of sun-bleached grasses that stretched for miles in every direction. They passed a building that looked like a stack of wooden blocks, then two rusting silos and a lone windmill that stood out like beacons on the featureless plane. A dirt road branched off to the right, with no indication as to where it might lead. Jennifer felt as if she was sailing on the open ocean with no land in sight.

  “Your dog’s name—Dobry—what sort of name is that?”

  Nathan kept his eyes on the road. “Polish. It means ‘good,’ or ‘kind.’ ”

  “I like that.”

  “My babcia, Dad’s mother,
wanted my folks to name me Dobry, but Mom thought it sounded too ethnic. These days, parents seem to be looking for unique names, but back then? Nuh-uh.”

  She smiled dreamily. “Maybe there are a lot of Dobrys running around out there now.”

  “I’ve never heard of any.”

  “No, me neither,” she said, as her eyelids closed. “But it’s a nice thought.”

  *

  Jennifer woke with a start. Someone was calling her name.

  “What? What is it?”

  She sat up and looked around, feeling disoriented. There was a town up ahead. Boomer was awake, and Nathan was still at the wheel. Both of them were staring at her.

  “Hey, Sleeping Beauty, time to rise and shine.”

  “Where are we?” she said, rubbing her eyes.

  “Just coming into Amarillo. I thought you’d like to do a little sightseeing on the way to the motel.”

  Jennifer yawned and smacked her lips. Sightseeing was fine, she supposed, but a few more minutes of sleep wouldn’t have been so bad, either.

  “How far away is it?”

  “About five miles and twenty-seven stop lights.”

  They checked in at the front desk, and Jennifer took Boomer out for a walk while Nathan headed to his room—to work, he told her, but that wasn’t the real reason. He tossed his duffel on the floor and dialed Rudy’s number.

  “Hey, big brother of mine. How’s it going?”

  “It would be better if I had my Mustang. Are you back in Chicago?”

  “No, actually, that’s why I’m calling. I’m in Amarillo, Texas.”

  “What? Why?”

  Nathan stretched out on the bed and kicked off his shoes.

  “It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in on the details when I get there.”

  “You change your mind about dumping the Trib? I still need that rewrite.”

  “I need a favor.”

  “So did I, but what have I got to show for it?”

  “Come on, Rude, I need to borrow some money.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “See, I met this girl—”

  “A hooker? Geez, Nate, you should have told me you were that hard up. I coulda set you up with one of the so-called actresses out here.”

  “Will you shut up a second? Jennifer’s not a hooker.”

  “But she wants money.”

  “No. She’s got a ton of money. It’s me who wants it.”

  “Why not borrow it from her, then, if she’s got so much?”

  Nathan sat up. “Look, I’m not asking for a lot. Just enough to pay for a couple nights in a decent motel and maybe a dinner or two.”

  “I thought your editor was picking up the tab.”

  “On the per diem she’s given me? I’d be eating bread and water the rest of the way and sleeping at the Y. Come on,” he wheedled. “You know I’m good for it. I just need a few bucks until payday.”

  There was a long silence on the line while Rudy contemplated his request. Nathan forced himself to keep breathing. If Rudy refused to loan him the money, his only choices would be telling Jennifer what his situation was or getting on a bus and going home. At last, he heard his brother let out a pained sigh.

  “Okay, I can give you six hundred, but that’s all. If it doesn’t get you into her pants, you’re on your own.”

  “Thanks, Rude. You’re the best.”

  “And don’t I know it.”

  Nathan hung up and took out the piece of paper that Phil the docent had given him back at the Round Barn. There was a phone number on it and the name of a steak house that the guy had sworn could accommodate the three of them. All he had to do was tell them he wanted the BBL special when he made their reservation. Jennifer was going to love this, he thought, as he dialed. Taking Boomer out for a steak dinner was about as special as it got.

  *

  “I can’t believe you got the two of us and Boomer into an honest-to-God steak house,” Jennifer said as he drove to the restaurant that evening. “How on earth did you do it?”

  Nathan gave her a smug smile. “I have my ways.”

  The truth was, he was as surprised as she was. When he’d called and asked for the BBL special—whatever that was—the manager himself had gotten on the phone to make the arrangements.

  “Seven o’clock sharp,” the man said. “Use the north entrance with the door marked ‘Banquet Rooms.’ ”

  Jennifer had insisted upon wearing a dress, and Nathan was able to find a one-hour dry cleaner for his sport coat, so at least the two of them didn’t look too mismatched. He reminded himself that this was Texas, after all, the spawning ground of beauty pageant winners; nobody really paid any attention to the men. He drove into the restaurant’s parking lot and headed to the north entrance.

  “Oh, my gosh,” Jennifer said, pointing. “Look, Boomie! There’s a sign up there with your name on it.”

  Nathan stopped the truck and stared at the banner hanging above the north entrance:

  Welcome Boomer!

  “Oh, Nate. That’s so sweet. Thank you.” She leaned across the console and kissed his cheek. “Come on, Boomer, let’s go inside.”

  Nathan sat there, staring at the banner—the balloons, the huge block letters—feeling unnerved. Had he mentioned Boomer’s name to the manager? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t think so, but how else could the guy have known? Maybe it was Phil the docent, he thought. Yeah, that had to be it. Phil must have called and told them that Nathan would be calling and that he was bringing a dog named Boomer.

  Jennifer tapped on his window and Nathan jumped.

  “Are you coming?”

  “Yeah, sorry,” he said, opening his door.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No, not at all.”

  Nathan got out and shook off the lingering weirdness. He was having dinner with a beautiful woman, he told himself. He needed to just go with it. He offered her his arm.

  “Shall we?”

  They were seated at a table for three in the middle of an empty banquet room. It felt a little awkward at first, having all that room to themselves, but it didn’t take long to get used to. How else, they asked themselves, could a restaurant accommodate a dog?

  Nathan opened his menu and looked at the prices, silently totaling up the cost and hoping that the money Rudy was wiring to him had hit his bank account already. His credit card might still have enough on it to pay for his own meal, but if Jennifer was expecting him to cover hers, too, he’d need some backup.

  She reached across the table and set her hand on his.

  “Why don’t you let me get this?”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Really. I’m okay.”

  “I mean it,” she said, tightening her grip. “This is exactly the kind of special thing I wanted for Boomer and we could never have done it without you. Please?”

  Nathan could feel himself wavering. He hated the thought of letting a woman pay his way, but it would certainly be a big relief.

  “I don’t know …”

  “What if I told you I was charging it to those clients of mine who you torpedoed? Would that make it easier to say yes?”

  He laughed. “You can’t do that.”

  “I could. I’d just tell them I was trying to persuade you to issue a retraction.”

  Nathan sobered. “There’s just one hitch. I don’t have a column anymore, remember?”

  “That really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

  “You’re darned right it does. It was like watching my dreams die. My self-esteem went into the dumper, I started drinking, my girlfriend left me …

  “You’ve still got a job,” she said, withdrawing her hand.

  “And frankly, I think the stuff you’re writing now is much better than your old column was. You have a beautiful way with words, Nate.”

  He shook out the napkin and placed it on his lap.

  “I didn’t know you’d read my other stuff.”

  Jennifer reached for her water glass and to
ok a sip.

  “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

  A bottle of sparkling wine arrived “on the house” and a parade of waiters began marching through the room, refilling glasses, giving status reports on their dinner, and constantly checking to see if there was anything else the three of them needed. Even before their steaks arrived, Nathan had counted eight different people who’d come into the room.

  “Must be a slow night,” he said, as the latest one walked out.

  Jennifer nodded. “It’s like eating in Grand Central Station.”

  Then the door flew open, and the manager himself wheeled in a serving cart, followed by a member of his waitstaff. Boomer licked his chops as he watched first Jennifer’s and then Nathan’s plates being set down before them. Finally, the waiter flourished a linen towel, tied it around Boomer’s neck, and picked up the third plate.

  “I had the chef cut Boomer’s porterhouse into small pieces,” the manager told them. “He should have no trouble eating it.”

  “Thank you,” Jennifer said.

  “And, um, would you mind … ?” He took out his cell phone. “As a memento.”

  She looked at Nathan.

  “It’s fine with me, if you don’t mind,” he said. “Boomer’ll probably be finished way before we will.”

  “All right,” she told the manager. “But then we’d like to eat on our own after that.”

  “Of course,” the man said.

  He turned on his phone and signaled to the waiter. The man set Boomer’s steak down, stepped back, and for just a moment, Boomer hesitated, staring at the plate like a man in the desert might stare at an oasis, wondering if it was a mirage. Then he placed his paws on either side of the plate and set to. As the steak began to fly, Jennifer and Nathan shielded their dinners and laughed out loud.

  “Ha-ha, very good!” the manager said as he caught the action for posterity.

  It seemed like only seconds later, the show was over. The manager put his phone away, and he and the waiter bowed out graciously.

  “That was great,” Jennifer said. “I wish I’d thought to take a picture.”

  “Why don’t I see if I can get the guy to send us a copy before we leave?”

  They ate their dinner in companionable silence. Boomer jumped down and searched the floor for any steak bits he might have missed, and Nathan and Jennifer toasted each other with the sparkling wine. Boomer was given some, too—a splash that Nathan poured onto a bread dish—but the bubbles bothered him, and after a single slurp, he stomped on the side of the dish, turning it upside down.