Cal smiled. He knew that the silly joke meant she was settling her nerves. If there was no laughter at all, you really had reached rock bottom.
Her laugh was brief. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s not funny.”
“I know it’s not funny. But you’re right about having to live with it, just like everyone’s got something rotten they have to live with.”
“Not everyone. You don’t.” She was thinking of what she’d seen at the C-Bar—a happy home, loving parents, a successful life.
“What makes you think I don’t have anything really rotten to live with?”
“Like what?”
“Never mind what. We can talk about my stuff some other time. You think I came racing up here tonight, didn’t even get my dinner, just to talk about my problems?”
“Why did you come?”
He needed to let a cautious beat or two pass before he answered. He needed to let her keep some distance. There’d be time enough, later, to let her know that his heart would crack and never heal if she were hurt. That the thought of her pain was enough to make him tear down mountains. So he chose to keep it simple.
“I came because I have some information for you. Would have gotten to it after I ate some of Ellie’s stew if I’d had a chance, but when Harv said he’d seen you and said he could see something was wrong, well, I just decided to get right on up here and tell you what I found.”
“What you found?”
“I took a little ride out in the desert. It’s a long story, but the bottom line is, I’m pretty sure I know what your ex-husband’s been up to. It’s drugs, Jamie. It’s too soon to tie it to him, for sure, but I can feel it in my bones. And if I got it right, it’s not any little two-bit stuff he’s doing, either.”
Then he gave her all the details. The burn marks in the sand. The tire tracks. The bits of burlap.
“Someone’s using that desert to run drugs, Jamie, and from your description of him, I’d bet anything Ray’s the one.”
She chewed thoughtfully on her thumbnail. “It figures,” she said. “He’s got an auto dealership over in Butcher’s Fork. Where would a young guy like him get the money for that? And what a great cover for hiding cash—all those big-ticket sales. And what a great excuse for traveling all over the state, delivering vehicles. Come to think of it”—she was getting excited now—“that explains what he was doing at the Big Buy today. I was in the housewares section, buying towels, and that’s right over by the auto supply section. Where they sell road flares.”
She shook her head, finding it hard to get a handle on this revised picture of her ex-husband. “I’ve known Ray since we were in kindergarten together. I thought I knew him pretty well. Hell, I was married to the guy, after all, and he is Mandy’s father, for God’s sake. I mean, I finally realized how slimy he’d become, but I never thought—I mean really, a big-time criminal?”
“But it’s possible?”
She stared out into the distance. “Well, you know, Cal, I think it could be.” She was seeing a number of things for the first time. “He was always sort of wild, in trouble in school, that kind of thing. I know that doesn’t make him a criminal, and I always thought he’d get over it, you know, when he grew up, but Ray never mellowed out, the way the other boys did. It’s as though his meanness just got more organized. Maybe it was that mother of his. He really hates that old witch and I wouldn’t be surprised if all that phony righteousness of hers made him kind of crazy.”
She snapped her fingers. “And another thing, tell me, what’s Ray Nixon, in a little town like Sharperville, doing with a ‘really good lawyer’? And that’s not all. What about all this money he’s flashing around. Big silver belt buckles and fancy boots, and I’ll bet that ring on his finger is a real diamond. I don’t care how good the auto business is, it’s not that good. And what’s more, I bet that’s why he’s stayed in that crappy trailer. With all that money, he could be living in a regular house. But the trailer’s way out there, maybe a mile from town, where he can do what he’s doing and folks won’t notice.”
She was talking faster now, putting things together. “Often he’s away for days at a time. Why should an auto dealer need to be away so often? And what’s Orrin Fletcher doing back in town? If that ex-con is around, you can bet he’s hooked up somehow with Ray, and not in a good way.”
She was connecting all the links. She remembered what Mandy had told her about the party at Ray’s trailer. Here, kid, sniff some of this stuff. Of course!
“I think you’re right, Cal. He’s not just a small-time user, with Tina and their friends. I’ll bet he’s got a regular distribution going, flying the stuff up from Mexico and Central America.”
Cal nodded. “That makes sense. The pieces fit. I’d seen burn marks like those in the sand months ago, but I didn’t connect it up till we were in Elaine’s office. I think she had a notion about what Ray’s been doing and when she talked about getting evidence, that’s when everything came together.”
“Why didn’t you say anything then?” The question hung there for a minute. In the excitement about Ray’s activities, they’d both forgotten. Now they were each embarrassed.
Cal looked down at his hands. He waited a long time to answer
“I was mad,” he said, finally. “I’m not used to being told to shove off—leastways, not by a woman. But I acted like a jerk. No excuse for that. I just wasn’t thinking how hard it is for you.”
She caught her breath. He was giving her a chance—for the first time since she was very little—to put a timid toe into the unfamiliar waters of trust.
But it was so hard. Did she dare?
“I acted like a jerk, too,” she confessed softly. “We could have talked. We could have figured out what was going on.”
With these words, she set aside, for the time being, all her other problems, set aside Mandy and Ray and drugs and Edna and everything else. “And afterwards, I was so miserable. I thought you were really gone. When Harvey said you’d left, I figured you’d just saddled up and ridden off into the sunset. I figured I’d never see you again. I thought, after that one night at the C-Bar, at that beautiful spot you took me to, your special, secret place—oh, Cal, you don’t know. Everything I’ve ever wanted . . . I saw it there in that house you’d grown up in—good parents, everything so perfect, so good—like life can really be like that. I could feel the love all around. Cal, you don’t know how precious it is. And then, after what happened between us—all my fault—I figured you’d had enough of me and my problems. And I was so scared. It’s all gotten too big for me, and I can’t handle it on my own.”
Cal recognized the pain of her vulnerability, acknowledged at last after so many years of punishing self-control. Involuntarily, helplessly, as though with a will of its own, his hand touched her face and, with careful fingertips, turned her gently to look at him.
And, although she stiffened at his touch, instantly wary, she understood his gentleness. She understood that he was trying not to frighten her. And perhaps, because she was exhausted by all she’d been through, because her defenses were exhausted, too, this time, she didn’t resist. But she could hardly breathe as his hand stroked softly through her hair and all her nerves were on high alert. He moved closer to her and she knew she wanted him to kiss her, even as she was terrified that he would.
Behind him, the black treetops were being whipped by the wind, and his voice was barely more than a whisper, caught up in the harsher whisper of the trees that now were bending, fighting against the rising wind.
“Why, shoot, honey. Don’t you know? Nobody can make it on their own. That’s why the good Lord makes people need to be together.”
He took her protectively into his arms, careful not to frighten her even as he drew her close against him, and suddenly there was the warmth of his body and the faint scents of leather and soap and of some scent of his own, something masculine and exciting. She could feel the smooth skin of his face against hers, and his heart was beating
hard against her own.
“Did you hear what I said?”
He was so close now.
And then his mouth touched hers and his kiss was as gentle as a baby’s.
What was it he had said? Something about being alone? But everything had slipped away, evanesced into the electric air that surrounded them. She knew only that in the midst of the threatening thunderstorm, his gentle kiss was like the quiet center of her own emotional storm, and against all her sad experience, his kiss was a safe haven.
She knew what Cal wanted and she knew that now she was going to let it happen. But she had long ago shut down the words of consent, lost them from her vocabulary. Instead, silently, she let her gaze answer the question she saw in his eyes. She was frightened, excited, and eager, all together, but his gentleness gave her courage, and she would not listen to the demons that were laughing at her, scolding her for giving in. She smiled—such a small smile—and nodded.
He understood, and he, too, smiled—a smile that was its own thank you.
“You’re not alone, Jamie. I’m here. And I’m not going away.”
And he kissed her again, and she allowed herself, timidly, as though this was the first kiss of her life, to return his kiss.
She knew what was about to happen, she knew she wanted it to happen, and she prayed that it would be all right.
But even as he began to undo the top buttons of her shirt, her hands reflexively, nervously, covered his.
He spoke so quietly. “Don’t be afraid, Jamie.” He opened the first buttons. “It’s going to be all right.”
She was afraid, but she took a deep breath. Then a second deep breath. She relaxed a little and, with a nod, let him know she wouldn’t stop him.
He slipped the shirt back from her shoulders. He kissed the base of her throat. And she knew she would not stop him. He undid all the buttons and let her shirt fall to the ground, and she didn’t stop him. She even surprised herself by reaching up and taking off his hat. She dropped it onto the ground and touched, with timid fingers the black waves of his hair that fell over his brow. His arms tightened around her. She slid her hands timidly across his shoulders, across the soft fabric of his shirt, across the hard muscle underneath. And then it was her own hands fingering the pearled snaps of his shirt, ready to pull them apart. Suddenly she couldn’t get enough of him, she wanted his bare chest exposed. Then he was in her arms and she was in his and neither one of them knew the air had grown cold around them. Only as the first raindrops fell did they slowly realize that while they had been oblivious to all of nature except themselves, the storm had arrived with its lightning and thunder and they were in a downpour. The rain was pelting them hard and even as they grasped what was happening, small hailstones began to clatter against the rocks, bouncing slightly, raising little dusty puffs.
And suddenly it seemed terribly funny. It was nature’s force and not Jamie’s fears that stopped them—and they were laughing, grabbing their clothes and running for their vehicles. Cal encircled Jamie’s body with his own, one hand holding her steady as they ran across the quickly-muddying, suddenly slippery dirt, and propelling her at the same time toward her car.
“We better get out of here.”
As they ran, the lightning flashed repeatedly, brilliantly, turning the road and the trees and the rocks around them arc-light bright. The crashing thunder was now directly above them, violent in its intensity, and in the midst of another lightning strike, just as Cal’s hand grabbed at the door handle of Jamie’s car to pull it open, just as everything turned brilliantly green-white, they were both stopped dead in their tracks.
From somewhere in the rocks high above them, the air was doubly split by the scream, lost instantly in the midst of the thunder, of an animal in sudden pain. At the far-off sound, Cal’s head turned quickly and Jamie saw his face in the white light. He looked stricken, as though the lightning blow had fallen on him also. His rain-soaked face, his black hair plastered down, his half-bare body tensed, frozen in mid-stride—in the airborne electric light, she saw his own terrible pain, his own awful loss. She felt an unaccountable sorrow wash through her, and she touched his face. He turned to let his mouth rest against the palm of her hand momentarily. Then his face changed, and he smiled at her.
“That damned lightning’s going to fry us, too, if we don’t get out of here,” he said, and together they struggled awkwardly into their wet clothes.
And on a rock ledge, far out of sight above them, the stricken animal writhed in pain, its beautiful pelt scorched by the lightning strike from shoulder to paw.
* * *
He followed her down the canyon in the pickup and when she arrived in her driveway, he pulled in behind her. He got out and ran through the rain to her car and got in quickly next to her.
“Well, I don’t see any smoke coming out of there,” he said. “Looks like we won’t have to save his life just yet.”
She looked toward the house.
“No, it looks like all’s quiet in TV land.”
“Would you like me to come in and meet him?”
“No. I couldn’t bear that. Anyway, he’s probably passed out, this time of night.”
“I’m going to have to meet him some time, Jamie.”
“Not yet. Not tonight.”
“All right then.” He leaned over and kissed her, lightly. “Will I see you tomorrow?” He kissed her again. “Seems to me we forgot about something back there.” He gestured vaguely up the road behind them. “We need to make some plans.”
She smiled at him. “Sure. Tomorrow night.” She kissed him, a token kiss. A promise. Then they both got out of her car and she went into the house and he got into his truck and drove away into the drenching rain.
Chapter Seventeen
Saturday morning broke clean and quiet. The storm had moved on east and Sharperville’s valley was returned to its ordinary, peaceful rhythms. The hawks and turkey buzzards patrolled the dark blue skies and the cattle grazed contentedly, their customary forage freshened by last night’s rains. Jamie slept late—and well—and awoke as contented as the grazing cows, with secret, private smiles as last night replayed itself in her memory. But she could not remain contented for more than a few minutes. The harsh realities of her life were waiting for her, as full of unrelenting menace as an army of monsters. And her sense of a possible turn in the tide of her fortune was as fragile as the new growth that had sprung with last night’s rain. But at least she felt sure that when tonight came, Cal would not have disappeared.
Gradually, as all the sleep cleared from her head, the day ahead of her took shape, her energies began to flow. It was to be a day of chores for Cal and for her, there were errands to take care of. Later on, they would meet and start making their plans.
In fifteen minutes she had showered and slipped into a pair of clean jeans and a fresh white shirt and gathered her hair quickly into a colorful ribbon at the back of her neck. She stepped barefoot into a pair of loafers and ran downstairs to make a fast cup of coffee before leaving. Her first errand of the morning was to take Mandy’s gift—the sachet she’d bought in Salt Lake—over to the Nixons’ house. It would normally be a day of Saturday errands for Edna Nixon, too, and Jamie wanted to be there before Edna left the house.
On her way out, she paused at the front door only long enough to look at her father, who was asleep on the couch. One arm dangled from the couch and his hand rested limply on the floor. His other hand was half-way tucked into the top of his pants, pants that were baggy and worn, frayed at the cuffs. Jamie looked at the sleeping man and felt only sorrow.
How thin he is.
She sighed as she turned to open the door.
And Cal’s right. Of course I’d try to save him.
She closed the door quietly so as not to wake him.
* * *
By ten o’clock, she was waiting on the Nixons’ porch, holding Mandy’s gift in her hand. She poked at the pink bow, puffing it up, wondering what was keeping Edna. Someon
e must be at home. Their car was parked at the side of the house, and she could hear movement in the house, feet shuffling, doors opening and closing. She knocked again, harder this time.
At last the door opened, and Ervil was there, a pair of Edna’s shoes in his hand. He peered at Jamie as though he wasn’t sure who she was.
“Jamie?”
His eyes were narrowed at her, suspicious, as though trying to figure out a puzzle.
“Is Mandy here, Ervil? Or Edna? I know it’s not my regular Saturday, but I have a little gift for Mandy,” she held up the box, pretty in its fancy, flowery paper and bright ribbons, “and I wanted to leave it off for her.”
“No, Edna’s not here.” Ervil’s eyes looked funny, as though they suddenly got empty. “Edna’s sick. Real bad sick. Doc Wallis had me take her up to the hospital in Salt Lake last night. I just got back.” He looked like he wanted to put the shoes down but couldn’t think where to put them, as though he couldn’t remember where he was.
Jamie forced herself to say the proper thing. “I’m sorry to hear that, Ervil. I hope she’ll be feeling better soon.”
She wondered why she didn’t have the nerve to speak her real thoughts. Why couldn’t she say, maybe that means the good Lord has finally pointed His finger of judgment at the old witch.
“She’s not going to be getting better.” Ervil said blankly. “The docs up there in Salt Lake say she isn’t going to make it. They say it’s her heart. It’s real bad.” Ervil was looking around him, confused. “I gotta go back. I just came down to get some things for her.”
“But where’s Mandy?” Jamie was suddenly alarmed. “She’s not in Salt Lake, is she?” She tried to look past Ervil, into the house, seeing no sign of the child.
“No, she’s here in Sharperville, I guess. I had Ray take her. Probably she’s with him. I called him last night to come get her, but he wasn’t home. That girl friend of his was there. Tina? She came and picked the kid up.”
He turned away and went into the front parlor, with Jamie right on his heels. She was trying to get the distracted man to pay attention to her and the words were spilling frantically out of her.
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