Promises: Do You Know Where the Poison Toadstools Crow?

by Lori Beasley Bradley

  Ivy did as he directed and found the ladies’ room, walking through the store past aisles of knockoff native artwork made in China. She stopped at the counter on the way out and bought them two more coffees.

  She passed Carl on her way out, and he winked at her thoughtfulness. Ivy hated setting the cups on the roof of the expensive automobile, but it was the only option that enabled her to get the door open and back into her seat. She transferred the cups of hot liquid into the cup holders and strapped into the seat belt.

  It had been a while since she’d been on a road trip, and she had to admit she was enjoying it. She’d never traveled any farther than from her apartment to a restaurant or a movie theatre with Carl, and she found herself strangely nervous in his expensive automobile. She worried they would run out of topics for discussion and he’d find her boring after all.

  Ivy gave a start when his door opened, and Carl slid into the driver’s seat of the immaculate vehicle. It still had that new-car smell, though Ivy knew he’d bought it almost two years ago. He smoked cigars in it, and she wondered how he kept it smelling so fresh.

  “Thanks for the coffee, baby. I was going to get us some more when I went in.” He started the engine, and the cold air from the fan hit Ivy in the face. They didn’t really need the air conditioning at this altitude in the early morning, and the warm cup of coffee felt good in Ivy’s hands.

  “You read my mind.” He picked up his cup, popped the little access point on the lid, and sipped. “Off we go.” He replaced the cup in the holder, put the car in gear, and returned to the highway.

  The high desert of Arizona, flushed by the rising sun, was beautiful. Potash mountains covered in silver-green junipers made up the scenery to the north of them, and vast expanses of sage-covered fields dotted with herds of elk and antelope lay to the south. Navajo hogans with satellite dishes and new pickup trucks were the only signs of human inhabitants marring the pristine beauty of the high-desert landscape.

  Carl found a news station on the radio that droned on about the latest wrangling in Congress or terrorists in the Middle East. Ivy tuned it out to soak up the beauty of the passing landscape and daydreamed about the days when men and women in covered wagons being chased by wild Indians or desperados first traversed the virgin countryside.

  She wondered what the inside of one of those octagonal Native log dwellings looked like. She’d always dreamed of living in a remote cabin but thought she’d prefer one in the mountains to one in the treeless plains of the rocky desert. Junked tractors and pickups ruined the romance of the Old West when they passed the present-day Native dwellings, and it saddened Ivy to see it.

  The only things remotely Old West about the places were the occasional stockade of horses with saddles draped over the wooden rails of the fencing.

  “What are you thinking about so intently over there?” Carl asked and switched the radio to an easy-listening station. “You haven’t said a word in over an hour.”

  “I was just enjoying the scenery and letting you listen to the news.” Ivy drained her cooled coffee from the Styrofoam cup. “It’s so beautiful up here.”

  “Yes, if it weren’t for the fact it gets so cold up here in the winter and all the land is reservation, it would be built up like the valley.” He cracked his window and lit a cigar. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Of course not. It’s your car.” She did mind, but as she said, it was his car, and she was just tagging along.

  “I know the smoke bothers your eyes and sinuses.”

  “It’s fine as long as you have the window cracked,” Ivy said reassuringly. “What sort of property are you looking at in Tulsa? Student housing?”

  “Oh, Lord, no,” he said with a grimace. “I’m looking at places to rent out to guest lecturers at the university and visiting parents. Student housing is too labor-intensive. They leave the places a mess or get raided by the police for illegal activities, and I don’t need that sort of bullshit.”

  “That makes sense. So tell me about this lecture you’re giving.”

  He cleared his throat. “It’s about the importance of studying the comparable sales in a market area in order to make your best deal when buying or selling a property.” He took a long draw on his cigar. “Do you understand what comps are?”

  “Of course. Is the name of your lecture ‘Studying Comps: Using other people’s good or bad luck in the market to enhance your position’?” Ivy asked, a little miffed that he took her for a moron.

  “That’s a good one,” he chuckled. “You understand real estate?”

  “I’ve bought and sold a few houses in my lifetime, and I’ve been listening to you talk about it for almost a year now.” Ivy opened her purse and popped a peppermint candy into her mouth, self-conscious of her bad breath after drinking a cup of coffee.

  “It has been a year, hasn’t it? I didn’t realize.” Ivy couldn’t tell if he actually felt bad about not having kept track of their time together or if he only wanted her to think he was.

  Am I being unfair to him? Am I being unfair to myself? If I can’t trust how he feels about me, should I even consider continuing a relationship? Am I being ridiculous?

  “It’s okay, Carl. You have a lot of things on your plate.” She watched for a relieved expression on his face. “I don’t expect you to keep track of our comings and goings.”

  “But it’s important to you. I know it is. Women expect men to show up with candy and flowers on anniversaries.” He exhaled a mouth full of sweet white smoke. “I’m sorry, baby.”

  “Do I really strike you as the candy and flowers type?”

  “Wine and jewelry, then?”

  “Yeah, right.” Ivy rolled her eyes, gave him a slight smile, and wrinkled her nose. “I’ve never asked for more than your time and your honesty. Candy would make me fat. Flowers die. Wine would be nice, but I don’t go anyplace to wear jewelry anymore. It would be a waste of money.”

  “You’re my kind of woman, Ivy Chandler.” Carl reached over and squeezed her knee. “We should have done this before. It’s nice having someone to chat with.”

  “I’ve been trying to tell you that. I’m excellent company, and I’m potty trained.”

  He laughed. “Do you have a new project?” he asked, referring to her attempt at a career as an author.

  “I’m still working on that family epic I was telling you about. I’ve got the outline and the first three chapters done of the third book. You know I have the first two finished. I’ve been trying to pitch the project to some agents, but you know how that shit goes.” She shrugged her shoulders in mock despair. “I have a hundred rejection e-mails on file.”

  “Frustrating, isn’t it?” Carl had written two books about real estate investing that he’d paid to have published by a vanity press after he couldn’t find a traditional publisher or agent for the projects.

  “Yes, it is. I’ll probably just self-publish again or go with a small press. I wish I had the money to invest in a publicist.”

  “Yikes. You’re talking big money there, baby.”

  “I know, and it’s why I don’t have one.” Ivy snorted a laugh before turning back to the scenery passing outside her window. “I think I’ve seen more antelope and elk this trip than I ever have.” She watched the twitching tails on several of the white behinds of the graceful creatures standing in the high grasses as they passed.

  “I think they’ve changed the hunting laws on the reservations to conserve the animals.” A strong crosswind struck the Lexus, and Carl’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “Damned winds are always bad across here.” Ivy noted that the speedometer began to fall below seventy-five for the first time since leaving the truck stop that morning. They heard a siren, and a state trooper flew by them on the left with his lights flashing.

  “Must be an accident up ahead,” Ivy said and readjusted her behind in the seat while checking the security of her seatbelt across her breasts.

  “Not uncommon. Big rigs get caught by the
se crosswinds and go over all the time, or fools in motorhomes who aren’t used to driving.”

  When they came upon the accident, it was a large motorhome blown over on its side off the left lane in the median. The squad car and four civilian cars had pulled up alongside and assisted a bloodied, white-haired woman in climbing out through the open door in the center of the overturned coach. Ivy didn’t see any smoke and wondered if the woman had been driving or if another passenger remained inside. An ambulance arrived from the east and crossed the rocky median to park close to the overturned rig.

  “They’ll be alright now,” Carl assured her but kept both hands tight upon the steering wheel and his eyes upon the road for the next several miles.

  4

  Their trip on into Tulsa proved to be uneventful. They stopped for food and refueling in Grants, New Mexico. Ivy was more than ready to stretch her legs by then and relieve her bladder. She welcomed the toasted turkey sandwich and fries at the Denny’s, as well.

  They didn’t stop again until Amarillo, Texas, where they fueled at a Love’s and got some more coffee. Ivy hoped she’d be able to sleep after so much caffeine, but by the time they stopped, she didn’t think it would prove to be a problem.

  They breezed through Oklahoma City well after the rush-hour traffic but began to hit patches of rain. By the time they reached the Tulsa Clarion, it was half-past midnight, and they’d been driving through a blinding, windswept downpour for almost two hours. Both their nerves were shot. Ivy was glad she hadn’t been the one doing the driving. She hated driving after dark, but the addition of the heavy rain and wind would have been impossible for her. Carl met the task stoically, but she tried to keep the conversation to a minimum to avoid distracting him.

  They pulled up under the canopied entrance of the big hotel, and Carl popped the gear shift into park. “Well, here we are,” he sighed with relief. “I’ll go get us checked in if you want to wait here.”

  “Sounds good to me, but I’ll probably step out to stretch a bit. I’ve been sitting here with a clenched asshole for the past two hours. I need to stand up and walk around.”

  “Well, I’ll grab the bags, and you can just come on in with me then.” He sounded tired and exasperated with her.

  Ivy opened the door, and a blast of cool, damp wind hit her face. Lightning flashed, and thunder boomed in the night sky. The sound of heavy rain falling on the pavement around them intensified.

  Ivy joined Carl at the rear of the car and grabbed her smaller bag that sat upon her larger one next to his. He hefted out the two larger cases and pulled up their extending handles to roll across the covered drive and into the quiet, dimmed lobby of the lovely hotel. Large potted plants stood before every window beside modern Southwestern furniture. Ornately framed Western scenes hung on the walls. The bronze bust of a Native sat upon a pedestal between the two sets of elevator doors.

  It surprised Ivy as people began streaming into the lobby from the stairwells, most looking bleary-eyed as if just being awakened and wearing their robes and slippers or hastily thrown-on street clothes.

  “I’m sorry to inconvenience you folks,” a heavy-set balding man in a cheap maroon polyester jacket with a brass tag with Manager etched into it announced, “but we’re under a tornado alert, and I have to ask all of you to follow Joanna back to the pool area until we get the all-clear from the authorities.” He pointed to a slim, young woman of Native American roots, wearing a matching polyester jacket.

  Carl inched his way to the counter through complaining patrons to be told they couldn’t be checked in because the computers were down due to the storm. The girl at the counter told him to join the others heading to the pool area and that he could leave his car under the canopy for the time being.

  They followed the crowd of grumbling men, women, and children down a hall until they came to a broad set of metal doors indicating the pool. Joanna pushed them open and secured them with a wedge. Ivy heard rain and hail pelting the glass ceiling covering the pool area and looked at Carl in the glow of the intermittent flashes of lightning.

  “Why would they bring us here for a tornado?” Ivy gasped, looking up at the glass panels above their heads and involuntarily ducking with every loud crack of thunder.

  “I don’t know, baby.” He took her hand. “It must be set up with the state or something.”

  “It doesn’t feel that safe to me,” Ivy said, warily glancing up at the panels above their heads.

  Others were harshly raising the same questions to their young guide, Joanna, who seemed to be on the verge of tears. Ivy couldn’t tell whether the girl was more afraid of the storm or the crowd of angry people barking at her.

  “I’m sorry, folks, but this is the designated storm safety area for the hotel. We have to stay in here until the all-clear is sounded by the county. We’ve been assured that these Plexiglas panels are set into reinforced steel and are the safest place to be during a storm. This room rode out the last two big ones with no damage whatsoever,” she said in a reassuring tone.

  Ivy looked up as heavier hail pelted the panels, and she stepped closer to Carl when a drop of water fell onto her face from above. “The damned ceiling’s leaking,” Ivy said loudly, wiping the cold drop of water from her cheek. Through the fogging Plexiglas windows around the pool enclosure, Ivy saw trees being whipped around violently, and hail the size of golf balls beat down and bounced off the cars in the parking lot.

  Something big struck one of the panels above their heads. Ivy heard a distinct cracking sound and soon saw and heard debris falling into the water of the nearby pool. Carl tugged her into the planter close to the stone wall as women and children screamed and ran for the doors and out into the hall.

  Ivy watched as grown men trampled on fallen children in their haste to exit the pool area where other panels had begun to fall in a cascading sequence, one after the other, onto the concrete floor of the supposedly safe room. Hailstones, rain, and hotel patrons fell into the pool and over the metal patio furniture.

  Carl pulled her down into a squatting position amongst the banana trees and birds of paradise planted along the decorative flagstone wall. He huddled over her, protecting her from flying shards of Plexiglas and the floundering arms of people as they rushed by, screaming and cursing.

  Carl only left her side once to pull a dazed and bleeding Joanna, who clutched a sobbing little girl, from the floor and into the planter next to them.

  “Get on in here with us, girls, and stay close to the wall with your heads covered.” He took off his sweater and wrapped it around the shivering, sobbing child in Joanna’s arms. Seconds later, a panel crashed to the floor where the two had once huddled, shattering into a thousand jagged pieces. Ivy flinched as a few shards flew up into their hiding space.

  Ivy jumped every time a panel came crashing to the floor. “I bet this will be the last time you invite me on a trip,” Ivy whispered into Carl’s ear as he held her amongst the dripping, beaten foliage.

  “Bullshit,” he said and gulped, tightening his grip. “If I’d stopped when you wanted me to an hour ago, we’d have missed this. I should have listened to you.”

  The storm abated a few minutes after Carl had pulled Joanna and the child into the planter. They stepped out into a mass of carnage and destruction. Joanna handed the wailing child off to Ivy while she and Carl assisted people downed around the pool area. In the glow of emergency lights, Ivy could see blood pooled upon the textured concrete littered with shattered Plexiglas. Men and women sat rocking weeping children and one another.

  The screams and wails of humans gave way to those of emergency vehicles’ sirens, and soon men in the gold canvas jackets of firefighters tended to the injured. Joanna led Carl and Ivy to the front desk, where she found them keycards to a room.

  “You’ll have to take the stairs up because the elevators are shut off, but I put you in a room on the second floor.”

  Carl reached for his wallet. “What do we owe you, miss?”

  Joa
nna pursed her lips. “You don’t owe a damned thing, mister. I’ll take care of it. If that asshole manager of mine says anything, I’ll bust his balls for sure.” She took Carl’s hand. “Thanks, mister. If it hadn’t been for you, me and that kid would be goners.”

  “How is the little one?” Carl asked as he patted Joanna’s shivering hand.

  “They took her to the hospital with a broken arm. They finally found her parents hiding in the walk-in cooler in the kitchen with the manager and some others.” She huffed and furrowed her dusky-skinned brow. “Bunch of real heroes there.”

  “You were the hero here tonight, Joanna. You stayed with your guests when everyone else ran and hid. I’ll make certain the corporate offices know about it, too, I promise you that. Your manager will not be getting an endorsement, by the way,” Carl assured the young woman.

  “From me as well,” Ivy added.

  Before they climbed up the stairs to their room, Carl went out to check on his car. It was okay, but now parked beside it idled a local affiliate’s news van. He took the opportunity to advise the reporter with the van about what had occurred, and as they passed back through the lobby, Ivy saw Joanna being interviewed while paramedics bandaged her head wound. Carl gave her a mischievous wink and a smile as they passed.

  “That was sweet of you, Carl,” Ivy said as she slogged her heavy, damp bag up the stairs.

  “The girl deserved to catch a break after all the bullshit she got from people around that pool while her asshole boss hid away in a damned cooler.”

  “Right, he goes into a reinforced metal box while he sends that kid and us into a leaky glass room. He should be sent to jail.” Ivy stood while Carl opened the door to a room that turned out to be an elegant suite with a fully stocked bar and a large basket of fruit on the coffee table.