by Lynne Hugo
Eddie’s dark eyes open, and his eyebrows go up. His mouth forms a soundless what? before he says, “You did? Did you, um, see your parents? I thought you wouldn’t …”
“God, no. I told you, I’m not giving in. I parked way down at the end of the fence line and came in through the pasture. I’ve got to find a way to check them regularly, though. Somebody’s got to be there when the farrier comes. I worry about them all the time. Maybe I can if I—”
“You didn’t tell me you were going there.”
“I’m telling you now. Why?”
“Are you thinking of, you know, taking your job back? Taking care of your parents?”
I sigh. Here we go again. “The agency has filled my job long ago, I’m sure. Cal is still there because my parents haven’t called me, not once. They’ve made their choice.”
Sometimes someone says something that is exactly right, whether or not it’s a good idea, whether or not it will work. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, patting my hand. “Cal’s not there forever. He’ll leave, they’ll call you, and maybe then you’ll be willing to take your job back. I mean, I know they screwed up bad, but they are your parents. We’ll get by.”
I don’t tell him that the agency won’t just fire someone else to give me the job. For a foreman, sometimes Eddie says things that are very naive. I’m not going to start something, though; this is the first time he hasn’t been all over me about how we’re behind on our bills.
“How about I go check on the horses for you?” he says. “Will they bite me if I try to give them carrots for you? No reason I can’t see how they’re doing and take care of ’em, is there? I can be there when the furrier comes.”
“Be serious. A can of creamed corn knows more about horses than you do. And it’s farrier, not furrier. Which is a blacksmith. He puts shoes on horses.”
“Furrier, farrier, whatever. You’re always sayin’ I’m not supportive. This is me. See? Supportive. You can tell me the basics, can’t you? You always used to want me to get to know the horses. Yours is that black one, right? So I give her extra stuff, right?”
I laugh and take hold of his hand, the one that was patting mine. “Him. Spice is male.”
“Even better. See, I’m a guy, we’ll get along.”
The cherry table is cool against my forearm, and I let the wood take away the heat and burden of my body as I lean forward, shaking my head in surprise. “This is so … nice of you. But … who are you, and what have you done with my husband? My husband doesn’t even like horses.”
Eddie mimes horror. “Don’t like them, you say? Have you forgotten what a fine rider I am? I think perhaps we need to retire early so you can have a riding lesson, in fact.” He withdraws his hand from mine and uses it to slowly circle my breast as he draws out the words suggestively.
Eddie’s white T-shirt shows the workday, and his belly bulges at the top of his jeans. I saw these things earlier, in the better light of the kitchen, the exhaustion on his face, how he’s looking older around the jowls. He could use a shave. Here, though, we’re seated, and the twilight and candles are forgiving. Maybe it’s making me look good to him, too. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to make love, it’s been so long. But right now I want to remember.
Creek Crossing
EDDIE FELT LIKE HE’D aged at least a year, and he, Cal, and Carley had only pulled it off for a week. On the other hand, they’d survived a week without any of them killing each other, and the old people and the horses were still alive. That was the good news. Carley was still wanting her car. It didn’t help that it was sitting out in Hack and Louetta’s driveway where she saw it constantly, a wreck poxed with bird droppings under the Osage orange tree. The misshapen green fruit were starting to drop on the car too, and the ones from high branches would be like falling missiles, not that anyone would notice a few more dents. But he thought he’d get Cal to help him push the car out from under the tree; Carley would probably appreciate it even if she didn’t say so. Between acorns and Osage oranges, the approach to the house was a minefield in the fall.
The yard mess was nothing compared to indoors. The place was still a Red Cross disaster area because Carley had gotten into it with Cal the very first day. At least that was Eddie’s best guess. When he’d arrived to fetch Carley late that afternoon, she was on a giant brown horse with a black mane and tail, riding big figure eights in the oval ring with the soft dirt. An X of hoofprints was etched in the middle. The barn, paint sporadically peeling, loomed behind it, the driveway and house to the side.
When Eddie drove in, Carley didn’t even look his way. Her back and head were ruler straight, and she moved with the horse as if they were all one thing. How did she do that?
“Hey,” he called from the fence, standing on the bottom rung. She didn’t hear him or was ignoring him. He thought the latter was more likely. “You finished here? We gotta go.”
Carley reined the horse in and jogged across the corral, stopping two feet from Eddie. The horse’s head was disconcertingly close to his face now. He forced himself not to recoil, imagining she wanted to intimidate him.
“Whoa, girl. Nice. Good girl.” She patted the horse’s neck. “I gotta cool Charyzma down, Eddie. I gotta walk her out and brush her. And I’ve got to put another ice pack on Spice’s leg.”
“What?”
“I was pretty sure he has a bad tendon. Well, not bad, I mean strained. I got Grandpa out to check, and that’s what he said. He had me cold hose it, and then he put a standing wrap on it. He thought I wouldn’t remember how, but I do, I did the next one, and he checked it. Follow me into the barn, and I’ll show you. I’ve got to give him his bute. That I didn’t know, but Grandpa taught me how, which wasn’t easy since Spice doesn’t exactly like it, and you have to—”
Eddie made a show of looking at his watch. “What the hell are you thinking? Do you know what time it is? What can I tell your mother about where we were? You’ve gotta be in the house before she gets there.”
“I guess if I had my car it would be my problem and I’d have to tell my own lie now, wouldn’t I? But we need a vet. Grandpa says we should have an ultrasound to make sure he’s—”
“Hurry it up, will you? Do they need anything from the store tomorrow?” He ignored her dig about the car and motioned toward the house with his head.
“How should I know? And did you hear me? A vet! We need a—”
“Didn’t you clean up in there?” His hands went up in disgust. Talking to Carley was sand through the hourglass. It would be easier to find out from Cal. “I’ll be back in a couple. Be ready, we gotta get a move on.” He threw the last over his shoulder as he climbed off the fence and lumbered toward the house.
The screen door slapped behind him. Once his eyes adjusted to the lumpy disarray in the kitchen, he knew. “Cal!” he called over the noise of the television in the living room. At least Meals on Wheels had come. But the disposable food containers were piled on the table, curdling the kind of small remains Eddie and Jewel always gave to Copper. That meant Hack and Louetta had eaten the food at lunchtime instead of Cal or Carley having made them lunch and saving the Meals on Wheels for dinner, so they’d have a real dinner, like Jewel said they should. The whole system was falling apart, like a fan with blades breaking off here and there until there’d be just the center, the old people, alone in the end. His eyes watered, and he felt sick. He’d really thought he could make this work.
He sniffed and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Cal!” he called again, starting into the short hallway.
His brother-in-law appeared shirtless and barefoot, thin legs poking out from beneath cutoffs. He was picking sleep from the inside corner of one eye as he shambled out. He scratched his scalp with both hands. “Yeah? Where’s the fire?” he muttered. “Mom and Dad are napping, so I was, too.”
Eddie pointed toward the living room. “Not hardly. They’re both in there.” He could see the tops of their heads. He thumbed the kitchen, behind him. “
Not one thing is done out there. What the hell is going on?”
“Yeah. Carley didn’t do squat, did she. Thanks a heap for the useful maid service. Spent the whole day fussing over the black horse with Dad.”
Two minutes ago Eddie had been ticked off at Carley. Now he blew at Cal, gesticulating, face reddening. “Goddammit, Cal, she’s out there doing exactly what she’s supposed to. The horse that’s got a bad leg, she’s got it all iced down or something in the barn, doing what your dad told her to. She’s tendin’ to those horses. You’re supposed to have a grocery list ready for me, check t’ see if they need any medicines or anything, and get this place cleaned up. Are you high?” The last suspicion had come over him suddenly, an explanation.
Cal rolled his eyes. “Don’t I wish.”
Eddie stuck his face close to Cal’s, trying to check his breath. He peered at Cal’s eyes, not entirely sure whether he was looking for oversized pupils or tiny black stones in the pale blue pond. Cal leered back. There were dark circles under his eyes but nothing that looked weirder than the usual gape of that missing tooth.
Eddie pulled away. “Sheesh. Ever heard of a bath and a toothbrush? I’m about at the end here, man. The end. I’ll give you one more day. You got something to give them for dinner?”
“Stuff in the freezer. I dunno. I been asleep. I’ll look.”
Eddie got out a trash bag and began clearing the table and counters of refuse. He organized the dirty dishes next to the sink since it was already full. The room was small, old-fashioned, and gloomy, but as he picked things up and moved around, Eddie felt the cabinets sticky to the touch, the linoleum floor tacky underfoot. “Jesus,” he muttered, wrinkling his nose. “The place stinks. Has the floor been mopped since you’ve been here?” He peered out the back door. Carley was no longer in the ring. “What happened, man? She said she’d clean up in here when I dropped her off this morning. Then she was going to do the horses. You were supposed to see to the food and make a list.”
“Girl’s got a mouth on her.”
“And you don’t?” Eddie was fuming now. “Look, here’s how it looks to me. She’s out there working the horses. At least she’s holding up some of her end. I know I’m doing my part. Right now you look entirely dispensable to this operation.” He stopped where he was, a black trash bag dangling from one hand, the other hand on his hip, glaring.
Cal held up a hand. “All right, okay. Back off, already. They’re gonna hear you ranting. I’ll get ’em something to eat. Not time yet. Gotta eat with the pills, y’know.”
“Oh really? I had no idea, Cal.” Eddie’s voice was thick with sarcasm. He dropped the bag on the floor. “One day you got. Think disposable. Think toilet paper, Cal. Think disposable as used toilet paper, because that’s what I’m thinking. And don’t think I can’t get you gone.” He leaned into the hallway then and followed his ear a few steps toward the television’s manufactured laughter. Louetta was snoring. Cal had been right about that much, but Eddie was unmollified.
He left through the kitchen door saying, “Have a damn list ready for me when I show up with Carley tomorrow. And check to see what cleaning supplies you need.” To the extent that a bear can stalk, Eddie stalked across the side yard toward the barn. None of the horses was in sight. Carley must have finished with the big brown horse and turned all of them back out to pasture.
The large barn doors were open, which meant Carley was inside. He crossed in front of his truck and went in, his eyes having to adjust all over again. When he looked down the center aisle, he saw that she had the black horse, Jewel’s, in one of the stalls and was inside with him, crooning. The sound made him unaccountably angry, riled up still and again.
He threw his voice to the stall. “Goddammit, Carley, we gotta go. And tomorrow that house better get cleaned up.”
“I can’t leave Spice yet,” she called back over the door. “Come look. Well, you can’t see because I’ve got a polo wrap over the ice pack now, but he’s got a little bit of heat and swelling on his tendon, right here, right foreleg. It’s got to stay on for twenty minutes, and then I just need to redo the standing wrap.” Her voice muffled as she bent over again. “Grandpa says Red had this happen once and other horses he trained. We’re giving him bute, that’s like horse aspirin. Oh, I told you that already. We’ve got a supply. Grandpa and Mom keep it in the barn. Grandpa said to put him on stall rest, and I’ll have to keep doing the cold hose on it and the bute for almost two weeks, and then I start walking him on a lead rope. Grandpa says it’s not bad, but we should have a vet ’cause it’s Mom’s horse. Come see …” She stood and gestured over the stall door, a wave forward. “Grandpa thinks he either stepped in a hole or he was just romping in the field on his own—”
She sounded just like her mother with the annoying horse jargon that normal people don’t know and don’t want to. Eddie cut her off. “What don’t you get, girl? We have to go. Your mother …”
Still standing, her voice edged with belligerence now. “My mother would shit a brick if she knew her horse was hurt, and you know it. I need the vet to look at him. They’ve got portable ultrasounds, see—”
Just hearing her say the word ultrasound made Eddie sweat. He’d been married to Jewel long enough to have some idea of what horse vets cost. “No vet. You think I’m made of cash? You said it’s not bad. Hack can tell you what to do.” He tapped his watch with the forefinger of his other hand, glaring his impatience.
The black horse made a soft snortlike sound. Eddie saw a bobbing movement behind Carley, and her arm, pale in the musky light of the barn, went up and caught something. Eddie took steps forward until he distinguished the horse’s head and red halter in the dark recess of the barn.
“It’s okay, boy, okay, okay. I’m here. I’m right here,” Carley said, her face against the horse’s, her arm on his neck. Eddie could scarcely make out the words; it was another voice entirely than the one she used to him, one he’d not heard from the girl before. Gentle. Kind. Unhurried. It set him off. Goddamn, he’d clocked out instead of staying to fix the broken gear, leaving his boss mad at him, all to keep this house of cards standing up.
“Carley! Now!”
She almost roared out of the stall, the wooden door banging back on its hinge as if Carley herself were a small explosive device. Eddie saw the horse startle against some sort of rope contraption.
“I told you. I can’t leave right now. I need to leave this ice pack on for at least twenty more minutes. Go call Mom. Make up whatever lie you want.” As she approached, Carley’s voice got louder. “Tell her we’re riding go-carts and bonding. Tell her that I have you at gunpoint because you’re too dumb to live. I don’t care what you tell her. I’m not leaving yet.”
“The horse can wait until tomorrow morning.”
“I am not going to fuck up taking care of my mother’s horse.”
“So now you owe your mother? Last I knew, you were barely speaking to her. I’m the one got you out of rehab, remember?”
“Get me my car, and maybe we’ll talk about how goddamn much you do for me.” Carley spit the words, her neck red.
Eddie wanted to lash her, and he couldn’t have said why. It had something to do with hearing her soothe the horse. She’d never had one kind word for him, a damn decent stepfather. At least he’d tried, unlike her real father. “I’ll tell you one thing,” he growled. “You’re so hot for the keys to your car so you can sneak off to see Roland The Stupid, but uh-oh. Too bad. Your mother called the cops on your personal drug lord right after he took you on your little junket-from-rehab. It’s not like you weren’t warned.” Eddie chuckled for effect, ignoring Carley’s widening eyes, how her mouth was opening in a child’s shock. “Yep, she tracks his residence in jail with great delight on the Internet. You didn’t think anybody would post bail, did you? Bet you’ve had a bit of trouble reaching him.”
He didn’t even have time to react. Carley threw herself at him in a rage, pummeling and sobbing, shouting, “Bastard! Fucki
ng bastard liar!” Eddie staggered backward, unprepared. Her weight wasn’t enough to knock him over, but she did land several good blows. There was noise in the stall, something banging.
“Quit, quit,” Eddie yelled, fending her off.
Then someone else was there, pulling Carley off him. Cal. He put himself between Eddie and Carley, with his back to Eddie, holding his niece’s shoulders. “Hey, hey, girl, whatsa matter? Settle down.”
Carley tried to jerk away. “Liar,” she shouted at Eddie.
“Ask her,” Eddie retorted.
“Will you two stop shouting? Even I can tell the horse is getting worked up,” Cal said.
Carley looked over her shoulder to see the gelding’s head straining against the crosstie, the whites of his eyes visible. She wrenched herself from Cal’s grip and hurried to the stall. “Whoa, boy,” she said softly, opening the door and taking hold of the halter. “Easy now. You’re fine. I’m sorry, boy. Easy. Okay, you’re okay. Good boy, easy, easy.” As she spoke, she stroked the horse’s neck. Eddie heard that she was crying.
Cal slugged Eddie’s bicep, not hard, and gestured with his head, meaning outside. Eddie pointed to his watch, as he had to Carley, and put his palms up for emphasis but followed Cal out the wide barn doors into the thinning autumn afternoon. Their shadows led them.
“So,” Cal turned once they were clear of the barn, using righteous indignation to get in Eddie’s face. “According to you, I’m disposable as used toilet paper, and Miss Carley is Miss Perfect, but two minutes later, I hear her screeching like a banshee and I have to tear out to break up a fistfight. And buddy, I think she coulda taken you out.”