“I never thought of that.” Grace paused. “But I’ve been so self-centered I haven’t thought about what other people are going through. I kinda hate myself.”
“Don’t.”
They sat, looking out the window together as the kids came back with the boarders from the trail ride.
“Cig, do you really believe you rode back in time?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“What was it like?”
“That’s a long story for a winter’s night, but I’ll tell you one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I think for the most part they were better people than we are. There was a lot of love in those long-ago hearts.”
44
As Cig accompanied Grace back down to the stable, she noticed Harleyetta’s black Saab turbo pulling into the driveway. After parking next to Roberta’s car, Harleyetta got out and walked into the barn. Cig flinched. She was in no mood to deal with Harley’s marital problems. Glacial fatigue was setting in after all that drama with Grace.
Laura called from the center aisle, “Aunt Grace, Kodiak just threw a shoe. You better come have a look.”
Harleyetta, bent over Kodiak’s left hind hoof, grunted when Grace and Cig arrived. She put the hoof down.
“Hi,” Grace said.
“Hi.” A cool tone crept into Harleyetta’s voice. “How you doing, Cig?” She warmed.
“Worn out but okay.”
Grace bent over, picked up the hoof. “Hey,” she admonished Kodiak, who thought it would be sweet revenge to lean on his mistress. He twisted his big head, looked her up and down then looked away.
“He’s got your number, Aunt Grace.” Laura giggled.
“My number is I pay his grocery bill. Isn’t that right, you big brute?”
Kodiak sighed, not looking back again. Humans could be so very rude sometimes.
“It’s not too bad, but a little hoof wall did come off.” Laura handed Grace the shoe, twisted like an iron pretzel
“How could he do this to me, right before the hunter pace?”
“Sheer meanness.” Cig leaned against the wall.
Roberta moseyed over. Not that she had much to suggest as Roberta was a novice, not a horsewoman, but she was curious. “Will he be lame?”
“No.” Grace put the hoof down. “I just want to get a shoe on that as soon as possible because I can’t miss any practice time and neither can he,” she said to Laura as Hunter walked into the barn from the other direction. “Call Nick Nichols, do you mind?”
“No.”
“Ask him if he’ll make a special trip. He’s the best, and I don’t want anyone else fooling around with Kodiak.”
“Already did.” Hunter joined them.
“You should have left a note on the board.” Laura pouted.
“Chill out. I just did it. Like two seconds ago before I threw hay out to the field boarders. I was coming in to tell you.”
“Oh.”
“Thank you, Hunter. Will Nick be coming on out?”
“Oh, sure.” Hunter climbed the ladder to the hayloft.
“Don’t throw down hay yet. I want to brush out Go To in his stall. He’ll be a pig.”
Hunter hunkered down, peering over the edge of the hayloft. “Only for you will I alter my schedule, run with military precision. And if you’ll lend me ten dollar.” He emphasized the singular, dollar.
Instantly suspicious, Laura growled, “You spent your money already?”
Cig jumped in, too. “Hunter, this better be good.”
“I lost my physics book and had to buy a new one, no kidding.”
“Bullshit, Hunter. You took out Beryl Smith for lunch, I heard about it.” Laura spoiled for a fight. She needed money, too, and she was mad he’d gotten extra from their mother.
“I didn’t take her out. I went over to the No Name Café for one whole minute after school, and she was there. I really did lose my physics book. Go look in the truck. There’s a brand new book. I thought you liked Beryl Smith?”
“Bow-head,” came the tart reply.
Grace held up her hand as if asking a question. “What in the world is a bow-head?”
Hunter slid down the ladder, his heels on the outside.
Laura explained. “A girl, usually blond, who wears bows at the back of her head. Prep you to death. Of course at Christmas they wear red-and-green bows. Just Hunter’s type.”
“Jealous.” Hunter sailed by, picked up a bucket and filled it with water. “I know they’re not yours, you like jockettes.”
“I like girls with brains.”
“That’s quite enough.” Cig glared. She wasn’t ready for lesbian banter.
Harleyetta and Roberta observed this exchange with fascination.
Grace patted Kodiak on the rear, took him out of the crossties, and led him back to his stall.
Harleyetta followed as Roberta returned to Reebok, whose mind was concentrating solely on the fact that it was close to feeding time.
“So who are you doing the hunter pace with?” Harleyetta asked Grace.
“Agnes Clark and Carol Easter.”
“Good team.” Harleyetta sucked on a piece of straw. “Binky and I were going out with Bill Dominquez but now I don’t know if Binky will do it. He’s being a prime grade one asshole. Well, I’ll see if Jack Eicher will ride in it if he can get off work.”
“Guess you heard Binky wrecked your Harley,” Grace bluntly replied.
“I heard. I can’t remember what I ever saw in him. There must have been something good about him. What was it?”
“The blind lust of youth. I mean, when you fall in love your brains fall out your underpants. Ask David Wheeler.”
Harleyetta stopped then said, “Did his brains fall out of his pants?”
“No,” Grace replied. “See if he wants to do the hunter pace with you—or try Jim Craig. He’s always good company.”
“That’s an idea.” Harleyetta took Kodiak’s halter and lead shank as Grace handed it to her from inside the stall.
“I’m going with my gruesome twosome.” Cig pointed to her offspring.
“Gruesome? You’re the one who threw the television into the trash,” Laura came back at her.
“Laura.” Grace shot her a stare.
“Well, she did.”
“Next to go will be the goddamned fax machine,” Cig said.
“Three cheers for you.” Harleyetta shifted her weight, then asked, “Think I could board Gypsy out here?”
“You sure can.” Hunter stepped forward. “Stall board or field board?”
“Field board. I don’t think I can swing stall board on a nurse’s salary.”
“Oh, soak that son-of-a-bitch for all he’s worth,” Grace advised as Roberta peeped through the bars of her stall.
“You getting divorced, Harley?” Roberta asked.
“Yes, and I don’t care who knows it. The way everyone talks in this town they’ll have me pregnant by four different men by nightfall.”
“I’m sorry,” Roberta sympathized as Cig took a bridle off a tack hook to clean.
“Over the divorce or the gossip?” Grace closed the stall door behind her.
Hunter and Laura watched. They were learning how petty divorce could get.
“Neither. If they’re talking about me they’re giving someone one else a rest. Like you, for instance.” Harleyetta winged one straight at Grace.
“I never said I walked on water.” Grace sniffed. “But at least I was sober when I committed my sins.”
“And close to home, too, Grace.” Harleyetta’s voice had an edge.
Roberta, frozen in delight, watched.
“Shut up, Harleyetta,” Grace warned.
“Give it a rest, you two,” Cig wearily said.
“Why should I shut up? Grace has flounced around like Miss Mother Superior since I was in grade school. So my father loved Harleys. We weren’t white trash, and you weren’t Grace of Monaco.”
“If you weren’t
white trash you gave a passing good imitation,” Grace growled through her teeth.
“You and Will were kind enough to accept Binky’s money for the children’s wing at the hospital. You take the money and then make fun of me behind my back.”
“It was never your money, Harley. The Wests have been working on that fortune since the earth was cooling. I think Binky married you to get even with his father, who wanted him to marry a—a bow-head.”
The others watched, dumbfounded.
“Well, I’m taking your advice. Some of that West fortune will be mine. Now that you put it in those terms I really will fight for it, but you can take your arrogance and shove it up your butt. I was in the E.R. the night they brought Blackie in. Besides which—the whole town knew.”
“Will you shut the hell up!” The chords stood out on Grace’s neck because she was sure that Harleyetta had forgotten about Hunter and Laura.
She had.
Cig, however, had not. “Harley,” she reached out and tapped Harleyetta on the back, “you might want to have this discussion somewhere else.”
“Discussion! This is character assassination,” Grace snapped.
“You don’t have enough character to assassinate, Grace.”
“Harley, have you forgotten that Hunter and Laura are here? There’s no call for them to hear this.” Roberta, trying to help Cig, tugged on Harleyetta’s sleeve.
Harleyetta blinked for a minute. The message wasn’t filtering through her anger.
“We knew Harleyetta was in the emergency room,” Laura said, amazed at this flameout between her aunt and Harleyetta.
“And that’s quite enough.” Grace sounded like a Sunday school teacher who found out the kids had peashooters.
If she’d not said that, in such a grating tone, Hunter and Laura might have let it go, figuring it was a personality clash between two people who never did cotton to one another.
“Aunt Grace, what do you mean?” Laura’s eyes looked deep into those of the woman who could have been her older double.
“Nothing. I’m going home.”
“Forget it, Laura,” her mother advised, her heart racing even though she was almost too tired to stand up.
Laura fired back, “What are you worried about?”
“I’m not worried, you are,” came the unconvincing reply.
“Coward.” Harleyetta spit out the word.
“Ladies, this serves no useful purpose. Maybe we should all count to ten and make an apology.” Roberta squeezed between them.
“And let her sit in judgment of me? She was probably loaded when Blackie came into the E.R.”
Harleyetta lunged for Grace, who sidestepped her as Cig, feeling a surge of adrenaline, grabbed her. “I have never, ever been drunk on the job.”
“That’s not what I heard.” Grace mocked her in a singsong voice.
“You slept with your sister’s husband and you think you can sit in judgment on me? ON ME!” Harleyetta took a swing at Grace, now bone white.
Cig, heart sinking fast, literally pulled a shrieking Harleyetta out of the barn. She pushed her into her Saab, shutting the door. Harleyetta slumped over the wheel for a moment then turned on the ignition and squealed out of there.
Hunter and Laura, dumbfounded, looked at Grace, who exploded in tears, collapsing on a hay bale, her head in her hands.
“Guess it’s true,” Hunter muttered to Laura.
Laura, shocked at her idol’s downfall, said, “Aunt Grace, Aunt Grace, tell me the truth!”
45
The fire crackled as Laura sobbed on her mother’s shoulder. They sat on the sofa. Hunter sat on the other side of his mother.
“She’s horrible. I never want to see her again.”
“You’ll see her at the hunter pace.” Cig patted Laura on the back.
“How can she show her face in public after what she’s done?”
“Honey, everyone’s known about it but us.”
“That means they’re all laughing at us.”
“No, they’re not. Most people have the sense to know it’s no laughing matter. The only people who would laugh at a situation like this are hateful, spiteful shitheads.”
“Well put, Mom.” Hunter fought the lump in his throat. He swallowed. “Does everyone go through stuff like this?”
Cig nodded. “Same meat. Different gravy.”
“Then I’m never going to bed with anyone. Not even Parry. Not if it ends like this.” Laura wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck.
“I didn’t mean that everyone goes through something exactly like this, only that terrible things do happen. You deal with it.”
“Dad didn’t deal with anything,” Hunter said.
“His way was to be a playboy, for lack of a better word. I’m not sure it solved anything, but it made him feel better. Hey, I’m not saying everyone learns how to handle pain or hardship, your father wasn’t alone in escaping or trying to escape. A lot of folks start sucking on that bottle like Binky, or jam themselves full of drugs like Elvis.”
Laura leaned against the pillow on the armrest. “Mom, why did Dad whore around? Do all men whore around? Is that the right word?”
“It’ll do.” Cig noticed how drawn Laura’s features were, giving her a flash forward to Laura as an old woman. “I don’t know why. He needed conquests. Some people, men and women, are like that.”
“He had you.” Hunter’s jaw clamped shut.
She sighed. “We can analyze this and pull it apart. We can talk about it until the cows come home but it won’t change anything. It doesn’t matter anymore why your dad slept with every pretty woman he could lay his hands on. It doesn’t even matter that he had a fling with Aunt Grace. He had his reasons and maybe he didn’t even know them, I hope they made him happy.”
“Mom, how can you say that?” Laura was amazed.
“Because there’s so little real happiness in life, I can’t see what good it does for me to begrudge him what he may have found.”
“What about you, Mom?” Hunter’s cheeks filled with color. “He was happy at your expense.”
Cig cocked her head and considered that. “Conventional wisdom says yes. I’m not so sure.”
“He was screwing around and you were home feeling miserable.” Hunter sat up straight.
“How could I be miserable when I had you?” She reached over and touched his cheek. He fought back the tears. “You two were my happiness, and I don’t mean that you’re responsible for making me happy. I loved watching you grow up and I’ll love watching you all my life.”
Laura flung herself at her mother again, crying all over her shirt one more time. “Oh Mom, I love you.”
Hunter didn’t say anything. He nodded yes.
“Now look. Learn from my mistakes and your father’s mistakes. It is true when you marry someone you take vows. You vow to forsake all others. You vow until death do you part. You vow in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer. Most everyone standing in front of the altar taking those vows means them but life plays tricks on you, tests you. If you hurt someone you pray they forgive you. If they hurt you, you forgive them.”
“Did you forgive Dad?” Laura wanted to know.
“Not until, uh, yesterday.”
“Why didn’t you just punch his lights out?”
“Hunter, your father was six four.”
“Coulda used a frying pan,” Hunter replied.
‘What good would it have done?”
“You would have hurt him on the outside as much as he was hurting you on the inside.”
“Know something? That doesn’t compute. Inside pain and outside pain have nothing in common.” She took his hand. “Your father and I didn’t make a good marriage. I was part of the marriage, too. I wasn’t a pure victim. Maybe I drove him away or maybe I should have stood up to him long before I did. But I didn’t. I kept to myself and I never asked for help. Don’t make that mistake. If you feel terrible or you don’t understand something, come to me or
go to a friend. A true friend will listen and not tell you what you want to hear.”
“I thought Aunt Grace was your true friend.” Laura frowned.
“In her fashion—she was—is.”
“I don’t believe it.” Laura crossed her arms over her chest. “I wouldn’t forgive her and I wouldn’t forgive Dad either. I mean, if Parry slept with someone else I’d never speak to her again.”
“Thought you hadn’t slept with her,” Hunter noted.
“I haven’t—I mean, if I did.”
“Don’t,” Cig bluntly said.
“You can’t tell me what to do. I’m an adult now.”
“Oh God.” Cig sighed. All animals needed to force the young to go out on their own. For humans, having a teenager fueled that process. You wanted to get rid of them even though you loved them.
“I am!”
“Laura, this isn’t about you. It’s about the fact that Mom’s been stomped first by Dad and then by Aunt Grace.” Hunter punctured her balloon.
“Don’t pull that on me. You’re not Mr. Mature. I know you carry condoms in your wallet.”
He lunged for her across Cig’s chest. She elbowed him even as she placed her hand on Laura’s head.
“Enough!”
“He does—”
“You shut up. I mean it. Your brother’s sex life is his own business.”
“You’re telling me not to sleep with Parry. My sex life is public. Oh great.”
Count to ten, Cig told herself. “Laura, we’ve endured three hairy days. If you want to sleep with Parry, you will. I can’t say that I understand this passion but we’ll all work it out. Just please, go slow, calm down, and give me a break. All I need right now is for Lucinda Tetrick to roar through my front door and tell me my daughter has seduced her innocent flower.”
“Huh?”
She reached for Laura’s hand. “The Tetricks are not liberal people. When a family like that has a gay child they’ll have to believe it’s because someone made her that way.”
“If Hunter gets Beryl pregnant it won’t be a pretty picture. Her mother will buy an Uzi.”
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