by Robyn Carr
“Kind of all alone out here, isn’t it?”
“That’s the part I like best,” Dakota said. “But it turns out I have Wi-Fi. I’m not sure how good it is but if it’s terrible I’ll just spend a lot of time at your place. Or Sully’s. Or Sierra’s. Hey, when is Sierra getting married?”
Cal looked at him in surprise. “Are you concerned?”
“Nah, but I want to make sure she’s taken care of. You know?”
Cal put his hands on his hips. “No, I don’t know. You’ve hardly communicated, now you’re taking care of people?”
“To be honest, I never thought I’d be around family. I don’t hate it,” he added, smiling.
“Why didn’t that occur to you before?” Cal asked.
“Seriously?” Dakota said. “Let’s see. Not only was I in the Army, you were in Michigan! What’s the matter, was the North Pole full? Dad was in the twilight zone. Mom was pretty much there with him, and Sierra was under the influence. Are you suggesting I should have gone to live near Sedona so she could run my life?”
“You have a point,” Cal said.
“Who knew you and Sierra would settle in a cool place?”
“I never saw it coming, either,” Cal said. “I was just hiking. It was time and I was looking for the right place to scatter Lynne’s ashes...”
“And you end up at some old guy’s campground and he has a gorgeous daughter who just happens to be a neurosurgeon? How does that happen?”
“I must be living right,” Cal said. “You need anything? This stuff going to get you by?”
“I don’t need anything, Cal.”
“You don’t start your job for a while. It’s only part-time. If you need a little help, just say—”
Dakota put up his hand. “I left home seventeen years ago. I’ve gotten by without help, haven’t I?”
“I guess I always took it for granted that the Army was taking care of you,” Cal said. “We sure didn’t grow up soft, did we? But if there’s one thing we figured out early—there wasn’t much help available. Talk about training in making your own way.”
“That brings something to mind. Does everyone around here know how we grew up?”
“Everyone? I doubt everyone knows the details. The people we’re close to know. I took Maggie to the farm to meet the folks before we got married, giving her one last chance to run for her life.”
“And she didn’t run?”
“Nah,” he said. “Maggie’s tolerance and compassion far outpaces anything I’ve encountered. That’s one of the things I love about her.”
Dakota didn’t look at his brother but he could feel Cal’s eyes on him.
“You’re wasting a lot of energy still being mad at them,” Cal said.
“They weren’t exactly sterling parents,” Dakota said. “And it’s not because they were poor—there’s something honorable about being poor and holding it together. They were negligent. Jed should’ve been on medication! Marissa should have insisted.”
“Know what Maggie said about that? She said she’s had a lot of people refuse medical treatment for a variety of reasons. Sometimes they find the treatment worse than the disease, sometimes they’re afraid, sometimes they’ve made peace with their dysfunction and know how to live with it. He might not have been the best father but Jed is still a gentle soul. Crazy, but sweet. Scared of his own shadow but kind. He was always so good in his heart.”
“As he talked about his design of Apollo 13, or his Nobel nomination or some other delusion.”
“My favorite was when he was getting ready for a security briefing,” Cal said with a chuckle.
“I don’t want to laugh about it yet,” Dakota said.
“Let’s check out your new porch chairs and see if we can talk about things you find more agreeable.”
They sat and talked for a while about general things, the town, Sully’s place. Cal explained that Sully had had a heart attack a couple of years ago and ever since then those people attached to him—Maggie, Sierra, Cal, Connie—had all been checking on him regularly and pitching in with the chores around the Crossing. Dakota had fallen right into step, often showing up at the Crossing to help out.
In the late afternoon Dakota took Cal home and then headed for town. He parked way down the street and walked to the bar. He sat up at the bar and was promptly waited on by Rob. They chatted briefly while Rob served him a beer but there was no sign of Sid. Dakota nursed his beer slowly and eventually heard another customer talking to Rob. “Sid’s day off?”
“Not usually,” Rob said. “The boys had baseball tryouts and one of us had to take them so Aunt Sid offered. I told her to take the day off. She was just going to leave early, anyway.”
Then Dakota remembered: she left the weekends to the other bartender and waitresses because it got busy. That was good to know because Dakota wasn’t into crowded, noisy bars. But he would have to wait until the following Monday to see her again. He could take a chance on Sunday but he was pretty sure she had said Monday through Thursday was her usual schedule.
Through the weekend he enjoyed himself with his family and their families. Cal and Maggie hosted a big Saturday night dinner at their house because Connie wasn’t working and everyone was available. It was the end of March; the campground general store was still closing early and there were only a couple of intrepid campers. Sully liked to be in bed before nine so he left early, but the rest of them played poker until midnight.
At last it was Monday. Dakota was very calculating. He showed up at the bar between lunch and happy hour. He sat in his usual spot. The place was deserted. He waited for Sid to come through the swinging door from the kitchen. He grinned at her. And it was unmistakable...she smiled back. She slapped down a napkin in front of him. “And how can I help you today?”
“I’ll have a beer,” he said. “How’ve you been?”
“Me? Fine.” She craned her neck to look out the windows. “Are we expecting company today?”
“We are not. I parked behind the diner and walked down. I’m undercover.”
That brought a laugh out of her and she filled a glass with beer for him. “I don’t know why you’re fighting it. Alyssa is perfectly nice. And that other one is certainly beautiful and willing to buy you dinner. And, I suppose, other things...”
“I explained that,” he said. “Trouble. And Alyssa seems awfully young.”
“She’s not that young,” Sid said. “Just something to think about. How about you? How have you been?”
“Good. I thought we’d celebrate my new job.”
Her face lit up. “Congratulations! And what will you be doing?”
He lifted his beer and took a sip. “Picking up trash.”
She laughed and it was a wonderful sound. “Just as you planned.”
“It’s good money. I have to go to a training program first. Apparently there are things to learn about garbage. I hope they let me drive that big truck.”
She leaned on the bar. “That’s probably a senior position.”
“I’m experienced. I’ve driven great big MRAPs. You know—those enormous military vehicles that are resistant to mines and bullets and carry troops around the desert. I could probably parallel park a garbage truck.”
She laughed again. He could make her laugh. That was a start. “I might end up their star trash hauler.”
“After your training,” she reminded him.
“I bet I’m at the head of the class,” he said, grinning. “I doubt you have to be a Rhodes scholar to get through it.”
She seemed to snap to attention. “Why would you say that?”
“Just a joke. That was a strange reaction.”
“What exactly is a Rhodes scholar?” she asked.
“A recipient of the Rhodes Scholarship that includes a couple of years at Oxford,” he said. He judged her expression and it was h
is turn to laugh. “Hey, just because I’m hauling trash...”
“Huh,” she said. Then she wiped the bar. “The Army must have educated you very well.”
“In a manner of speaking. They have this nifty little thing called the GI Bill. When I was in the States, I took advantage.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment. “I guess you’re a little overqualified for the county refuse pickup.”
He raised one brow. “How about you? College?”
She grinned. “What for? I love this job,” she said. “Seriously, it might be the best job I’ve ever had. Except once when I was a babysitter for this rich couple who took the family to France and brought me along to watch the kids. That was pretty sweet.”
“When do you get off work?” he asked.
“Why?”
“Because, Sid, I’d like to buy you a drink or a cup of coffee or something. Because I’m really not interested in Alyssa or Neely with her dinner at Hank’s or Henry’s or whatever, but I think I’d like to get to know you better.”
She looked around. “Well, while it’s not crowded and I’m finishing my chores behind the bar, we’ll get to know each other. I don’t date. I especially don’t date customers.”
“We don’t have to think of it as a date—”
“I like you, Dakota, but no. The answer is no. I’m not interested in dating. Not even just a coffee date.”
“I could tell you about all the times I got in trouble in the Army. You could tell me all your babysitting stories. You could fill me in on the town and I could tell you all about their trash.”
“Seriously,” she said. “Do I have to get my big brother?”
He slammed a fist to his chest. “Oh God! Not the big brother!”
“Don’t be cute,” she said.
He chuckled. “All right,” he said. “Can I have a Juicy Lucy? With jalapeños?”
“Medium?” she asked.
“Yes, please.”
“That’s better. Now, enjoy your beer and don’t give me any trouble.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. What did you do over the weekend?” he asked. “On your days off.”
She ignored him while she keyed in his order. He could tell she was deciding whether it was a good idea to talk with him about personal things. Then she was back. “I did laundry, took the boys to the store for sporting gear, went for a hike, made their favorite Saturday night dinner, watched two movies and read a book.”
“A whole book?” he asked.
She just made a face. “What did you do?”
“We had a family dinner,” he said. “I have family here, did I mention that?”
“A brother, you said.”
“A brother, a sister, a sister-in-law and her father, a potential brother-in-law, a six-month-old niece. We ate, and after Sully went home we played poker till midnight.”
Her mouth fell open. Bingo, he thought. He was going to keep his private life from the town for now, but getting this woman’s attention had been too problematic.
“You’re related to Sully?” she asked.
“You know him?”
“Everybody knows Sully.”
“Then you probably know Cal, Maggie, Sierra and Connie. My family.”
“You didn’t tell me,” she said. “I consider them all friends. Not that we socialize or anything, but we see each other here and there. I see Sierra sometimes since we both work in town. Hmm.”
He smiled. “Now can we have coffee?”
“No,” she said.
“But you like my whole extended family!”
“Right,” she said. “And you’re a perfectly nice guy but you’re looking for a woman. Not a friend.”
“You can’t be sure of that,” he tried.
“I’m sure,” she said.
“What if I gave you my word we could be friends?” he asked.
“I’m getting Rob,” she said, turning as if to leave.
“Okay, I give up,” he said. “So, where’s a good place to hike around here?”
“You didn’t get enough of that in the Army? Sully’s place is sitting in the middle of some of the best trails. When you wear out those, head up to Boulder—awesome views.”
“Your nephews hike?”
“I need handcuffs and leg irons to get them to stick to hiking. They want to run, climb, dangle from cliffs, work out. They’re athletic and at their ages the hormones are just kicking in—lots of energy there.”
“How are they doing in school? You know, academically.”
“Fine,” she said. “As long as they’re doing well, we don’t harangue them. They’re kids. They both help out here and at home. They’re very good boys.”
“So the whole family works in the bar,” he said.
“Well, the boys can’t be in the bar—they’re minors. But there’s plenty to do around here. What about your family? I know what Sierra does. And Connie. I get firefighters and cops in here all the time.”
“We all help out at Sully’s, especially in spring. He’s getting ready for summer when his campground is full all the time. And after a long winter there’s plenty to do. Cal does a little lawyering here and there and Maggie works in Denver three to four days a week. And then there’s Elizabeth, who is brilliant. They keep trying to shame me into babysitting just to watch me squirm.”
“You don’t like kids?”
“Kids are great but I don’t do diapers. If they leave me alone with her I know something like that’s going to come up.”
“You might have children of your own someday. Then what?”
“Well, I’m not counting on that, but if it does happen, the baby’s mother will have to train me. I have no experience in that.”
“So, there are three kids in your family...”
“Four actually,” he said. “Cal’s the oldest. I have an older sister and Sierra’s the baby.”
“Older sister?”
“Wait for it,” he said. “Sedona. Two years younger than Cal, two years older than me. Cal’s name is actually California Jones.”
“That’s kind of...amazing,” she said. “Was there some significance? Something special about those places?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve never been to either North or South Dakota. We did spend some time in California. My parents were... What’s a nice word? Freethinkers. Kind of hippies, for lack of a better description. It got us two states, one city and a mountain range.”
“That’s very cool,” she said.
“I spent most of my childhood on a farm in Iowa,” he said. “The kids in rural Iowa didn’t really find it cool. They found it strange.”
“They must have no imagination in Iowa,” she said. “I think it’s lovely. Interesting and lovely.”
She was such a nice person, he thought. And she was killing those jeans. He was going to have to be very patient. She had something going on in her head.
“Let me ask you something,” he said. “Why the big aversion to any sort of dating? Even the most innocent sort?”
“Are we going to start this again?”
“I’m not looking for an argument,” he said. “But really, it’s such a firm decision. Is there some specific reason? That might help me to get it and not take it personally.”
She sighed. “Ugly divorce. Divorce scars. Now do you get it?”
He shrugged. “Well, of course. But I’ve never heard of a nice divorce. I haven’t heard of anyone singing happy tunes after one, either.”
“Lucky you. You haven’t had the experience,” she said.
“I haven’t been divorced, no. I’ve had a couple of breakups and I agree they’re very tough. I spent a lot of time thinking about how I might’ve known that was going to end badly. Eventually I just moved on.” He drank some beer. “I guess you’re not there yet.�
�
Rob came out of the kitchen carrying Dakota’s lunch.
“Hey, Dakota. How’s it going?”
“Excellent, Rob. How are you?”
Before he could answer, Sid interrupted. “Rob, did you know Dakota is one of those Joneses? Cal, Maggie, Sierra, and by association Sully, Connie and there may be more.”
“Sure,” Rob said. “You didn’t know that?”
“Did you know the Joneses are named after states, cities and mountains?”
“I don’t know if I realized that,” Rob said. “Enjoy your burger. That’s Sid’s favorite.” Then he turned and was gone.
Dakota took a big bite. He chewed and swallowed. “Your brother likes me,” he said.
“It’s not going to do you any good,” she replied.
* * *
Dakota fell into a very uneventful, satisfying routine. He worked three long days a week and had Sunday through Wednesday off. He started at the crack of dawn, punching in at 5:00 a.m. and out at 3:00 p.m. They told him over the summer he might be able to pick up one more day and additional benefits, but he wasn’t too worried. He had the VA and a sister-in-law who was a doctor. There was still plenty of time in that schedule for him to help Sully and he managed to have dinner at the bar and grill at least two nights a week. He saw Cal and Sierra now and then, hung out with Sully sometimes, and although Tom didn’t have all that much time to spare, they managed to have a beer at Sully’s twice.
April was bringing the first blooms and campers, and the blossoming of his new friendship with Sully. First Sierra and now Dakota found in him the sane, philosophical and comical father they hadn’t had. For Dakota it started when he told Sully, “I guess you know we grew up picking vegetables with other migrant workers, living in a bus and getting no proper education.”
“For the life of me, I can’t figure out why that worked,” Sully said, scratching his mostly bald head.
“It didn’t work,” Dakota said. “It was awful.”
“And yet look at the lot of you,” Sully said. “You all turned out good. You didn’t just survive it, you aced it. But offering a manual on child raising that suggested that kind of upbringing as a way of creating a success...” He shook his head.
