“Yay!” Natalie jumped up and generously asked her sister, “Which one do you want?”
“I don’t care. What do you want?”
“You don’t want Cinderella?” Jade liked the part about getting a dress made from flowers.
“No, you can pick.”
“Even The Sound of Music?” Natalie loved the singing children. “Only up to the part where they sing ‘So Long, Farewell.’”
“Okay.”
For once it seemed like everything would be just nice. Disaster didn’t strike until it was almost time for bed. In between, all four of them—Grandma, Natalie, Jade, and Hannah—piled onto Grandma’s big corner couch with all its fancy places to put drinks. They made bowls of popcorn, and Grandma let them have some Sleepytime tea without any sugar. Sasha sat by the couch, all alert, and waited with happy, bright eyes for them to throw her kernels of popcorn.
“That dog lives for popcorn,” Grandma said.
“She lives for food,” Natalie said.
“Just like you,” Hannah said. If Jade had said it, Nat would have got mad, but Hannah was only telling the truth.
“At least I like good food,” Natalie said. “Sasha eats cat poop!”
They all cracked up at that. They sang along with the songs from the movie—even Hannah, who didn’t really know the words, and Natalie was so, so glad that the lady at 100 Breakfasts had stopped her from stealing the salt shaker, because if she had it in her drawer or her pocket tonight, it would be like a great big giant noise roaring over everything until she got used to it. Instead, she got to just lie here on the couch and sing along with her sisters and eat popcorn.
Just before the song when all the children sing good night for the guests at the party, Pedro whined to get outside and do his business. Grandma got up to let him out and came back to sing the last song, then used the remote to click off the TV. “That’s it, girls. Time to brush your teeth and get to bed. I’ll come hear prayers in a few minutes.”
Outside, Pedro yelped, really loud. Nat felt it right in her gut and ran to the door. Grandma grabbed her from behind and hauled her away. “Stay right here. You don’t know what kind of animal he might be tangling with.”
She flung Natalie away, practically throwing her, and flipped on the porch light so she could see. Natalie ran to the window to peer out, putting her hands to the glass to block the inside light. Her heart was pounding.
“No coyotes, no coyotes, no coyotes,” she chanted. One of the boys at school last year said coyotes could sing your dog out to play, tricking them, and then they would tear out their throats.
But there was Pedro, racing for the door, making a weird, high yelping noise. He streaked up to the porch and Grandma opened the door. He barreled in, then came right over to Natalie, making a deep, sad whine that made her know he was hurting.
“Oh, no!” she cried, grabbing him by the ruff so she could look at him. “He’s got long stickers all over his face! And one is right by his eye!”
Grandma swore and knelt down beside him. “Porcupine.” She looked at her watch. “Get my phone, Jade. He’s probably going to have to go to the vet.” She sucked air over her teeth, touching the one by his eye. “That’s really close.”
Natalie blinked back tears. Pedro was crying, waiting for them to do something, and it made her heart feel like somebody was holding it in a tight fist. “Why can’t we just pull them out with tweezers?”
“Because there’s a little hook on the other side of the quill, and we don’t want to break it off.” She rubbed Natalie’s knee. “He’s going to be fine, honey, don’t worry.”
Natalie leaned in and kissed him on the neck, where it wouldn’t hurt him. “You hear that, Pedro baby? You are going to be okay.”
Jade rushed the phone over and Grandma called the vet, who promised to meet them at the office in ten minutes. She also tried to call Daddy, but he must have been high in the mountains, because he didn’t answer. Grandma left a message.
“Get your shoes, girls, and a blanket. We have to take Pedro to the doctor.”
Natalie was the oldest, so she got to help, sitting by Pedro. The big dog whined all the way to the vet, which wasn’t very far, but it seemed long because of the scariness. She leaned her head against him, rubbing his throat and his side, trying to make him feel better. He kept shaking his head and sneezing, making a sound like a horse, and finally Natalie started to sing the songs from The Sound of Music. Jade joined in, nodding, putting her hands on his other side, and he seemed to feel a little better at least.
The vet let everybody come in while she looked at Pedro, and then she took him away to get an X ray, though Grandma said she didn’t really know why.
When the vet came back, she had a strange look on her face. “We’ve been seeing this dog since you got him, haven’t we?”
“Yes. What’s wrong?”Grandma asked.
She shook her head, rubbing her hands along Pedro’s back, down his legs. “His pelvis was obviously shattered at some point. But I—I don’t know how he could walk after being damaged that way.”
“No, he’s fine.”
“He is,” she said. “There might be something wrong with the machine, but I’d like you to bring him back and take some more pictures with my assistant, if you don’t mind.”
“Is he okay?” Natalie asked.
The vet knelt down. “Yes. He’s great. He’s going to be your crazy dog for the next ten years if you take good care of him. Keep him away from porcupines.”
“And skunks,” Jade said, petting his tail. “My friend’s cat got sprayed by a skunk, and it was bad”.’
“I’m sure it was.” She shook Grandma’s hand. “Bring him in to me, if you will. No charge.”
In her small room, Annie took a nap after work and awakened just before full dark. She puttered around her apartment, tidying things up for the morning, making herself some supper. Her legs were tired, not used to the long days in the kitchen yet, but it seemed like a good thing to make some kind of food for herself. Feeding herself the things she liked, the way she fed other people what they liked, as Vita put it. It made her happy. She wasn’t a good cook, not yet anyway, but it was easy enough to make peanut butter crackers and chicken noodle soup, which was something that made her feel happy and content. As the soup heated, she made five saltine-and-peanut-butter sandwiches, then set the table using a place mat and new cloth napkin she’d bought on sale for four dollars at the ritzy kitchen store on the plaza. A lot of money, but not if you had to buy only one, and since there was only her, she didn’t have to worry about anyone else. One of the counselors at prison used to tell the girls that: “Try to worry about just yourself. What do you want? What would make you happy?” Not some man, which was why most of them were in jail, anyway, for trying to please some man. Most of them were so used to doing for everybody else they didn’t even know where to start. They practiced imagining how to spend ten dollars on themselves—what would they buy?
Annie never thought she’d buy a cloth napkin, but she liked the table in the corner with the window over it, and she liked having nice things, since she had so very rarely had anything in her life. The napkin was pale yellow, to match the flowers on the table, with a cheerful, embroidered edge in red and white, very simple and pretty.
Her other indulgence when she got paid was a set of oil pastels and a pad of decent paper from the drugstore. She had bought the small set of pastels, and the paper was really just a tablet of blank paper, but it was very white and a good weight. She couldn’t wait to play with them. Maybe she would be brave enough to go out to the church and sketch the graves or even sit on the plaza and sketch the tourists on her day off.
As she sat at the table, eating, a cat jumped up on her narrow strip of second-floor porch and meowed at the screen door. It was a little white thing, not very old, and Annie had been feeding her sometimes because she looked like a cat Annie had as a child. The cat rubbed on the screen door now.
“Oh, okay,”
Annie whispered. “Come in for a minute.”
She went to the door. Standing against a wall across the plaza was a man with long dark hair, loose on his shoulders. For a second, Annie’s heart went cold, as it always did until she remembered.
Oh, yeah. She was safe now. Smiling to herself, she pushed open the screen door and the cat trotted happily inside. “I bought you something, too.” Leaving her soup on the table, she opened a can of super-cheapy cat food and put it in a little saucer. The cat crouched over it delicately, politely. When she tasted it, she started to make a growling meow meow meow noise that was so cute Annie sat down on the floor with her, eating her own supper while the cat ate chicken-flavored mush. When they were both finished, Annie washed their dishes and put them away, then folded her napkin neatly for next time. She found an old comb and used it to smooth out the knots and tangles in the poor thing’s white fur. The cat liked it, swirling back and forth under the comb, purring so loud you could probably hear it in Nebraska. Afterward, she climbed up on Annie’s lap, and they watched television until it was time for bed. Annie was strictly not allowed to have pets, but she didn’t have the heart to put the cat out. One night couldn’t hurt, surely.
Breakfast #4
Our homemade raisin toast, thickly sliced, served with coffee or tea and jam of your choice.
HEARTY CINNAMON RAISIN BREAD
2 loaves
1½ cups water
1 tsp vanilla
1 cup raisins
1¼ cups milk, scalded
1 stick butter
1 cup rolled oats
3 T sugar, divided
1 packet yeast (¼ oz.)
2 cups white flour
2 cups whole-wheat flour
1 T salt
1 T cinnamon
1-2 cups white flour for kneading
To prepare for the bread, begin by soaking the raisins in 1 cup of water and 1 tsp of vanilla. Set aside. Scald the milk and let the butter melt in it; let cool and pour over raw rolled oats.
When raisins and oatmeal have soaked for 30 minutes, pour ½ cup of lukewarm water into a small bowl along with 1 T sugar and stir until sugar is dissolved. Add yeast to proof, set aside.
Combine the 4 cups of flours, oats-and-milk mixture, yeast-and-water mixture, remaining sugar, salt, and cinnamon in a large bowl until the dough holds together (it may be sticky at this point). Generously dust a work surface with white flour and begin the kneading, adding flour as needed. Knead for at least five minutes, and then mix in the drained raisins until they’re evenly distributed through the dough. Put in a large oiled bowl, turn the dough so it is entirely coated with oil, and cover with a thin, damp cloth. Let rise in a warm place for 1 hour.
When the dough has doubled, turn it again onto a lightly dusted work surface and punch it down. Divide the dough in two, shape into loaves, and dust off as much flour as you can. Nestle into greased bread pans to rise for another 90 minutes.
Bake at 375 degrees for approximately 40 minutes. Bread is done when it is nicely browned and you can hear a hollow sound when you thump the bottom.
SIXTEEN
Vince and his partner, Jason Martinez, found the three teenagers at the bottom of a ravine—cold and hungry, a little banged up, but otherwise fine. They delivered them home and checked out and it was still only a quarter to ten.
Ten o’clock was the cutoff with his mother. If he worked until ten, he left the girls with her. If he was finished before that, he called to see what state they were in. Tonight, he was going to let the girls stay with Judy. It made him feel a little guilty, but if Tessa was leaving in a week, he wanted to see her as much as possible.
A voice mail on his cell made him waver. It was left at 9:37 p.m., only a few minutes before. “Pedro tangled with a porcupine,” Judy said. “We’re going to the vet, but he should be fine.”
He held the phone in his hand. A porcupine. Damned dog.
If he was a good man, Vince thought, he would go rescue his mother and his girls and his dog. But he’d buy his mother something really sweet to make up for being a heel tonight. Not that he intended for her to ever find out. No way. She’d kick his ass, and he honestly did need her help.
Before heading into town, he stopped at his place and showered away the sweat of the past few hours, put on a crisp, clean shirt, and shaved. He told himself it was just good to escape his life for a few hours, to have some relief from the heavy responsibilities he carried.
And then he felt like an ass. Tonight his mother was taking on his responsibilities. Not only his children but the care of his dogs, and all of them at the vet at once would be no fun. If it wasn’t for Judy, he’d have to hire a nanny, and while he was sure there were plenty out there who were great, none of them would be Judy. Over the past few days, she’d had his daughters more hours than he had.
As he headed out again, he punched his cell to check the time—10:23. Definitely in the safe time slot, but, just to be sure, he didn’t return her call until he got all the way into town. Her voice mail picked up. “Hey, Mom,” he said. “Sorry to miss the excitement. I’m headed to town for a little while if you want to give me a call.”
He put the phone down on the seat beside him. A CD played on the deck, System of a Down, good solid rock and roll, and he turned it up, singing along in the darkness, feeling good. Hopeful. Young.
Hungry.
At the hotel, he parked in the lot in the back and walked around to the plaza. It was quiet here. A single couple ambled along arm in arm, talking quietly. On the patio by the hotel restaurant, a few late diners lingered over coffee and dessert while a woman sang torch songs in a sultry voice. From beneath the tree somewhere came the sound of a woman weeping softly, inconsolably, but peer as he might, he couldn’t see where she was.
On the second stories around the square were lights burning in apartments and hotel rooms. Vince saw it all in excruciatingly perfect detail, as if it mattered. As if he would remember it later.
He found Tessa’s number in the history of his cell phone and punched the talk button. It rang once, twice, three, four times, and Vince began to wonder if she’d gone to bed when she picked up. “Hello?”
“Hi, Tessa. Did I wake you?”
“Not at all. I’m sitting on my balcony having a glass of wine. Where are you?”
“In the plaza.”
“You are?” The phone made noise as she moved around. “I’m looking at the plaza and I can’t see you. Can you see me?”
Vince looked at the row of balconies bound with heavy vigas. A woman was outlined against the light of French doors. He said, “Lift your hand above your head.” The woman lifted her hand, and Vince moved toward her. “I can see you.”
“I still don’t see you at all,” she said.
“Keep watching.” He walked to a spot right below her, and now he could see her leaning on the railing, her long curly hair falling over her arms. “But, soft!” he said quietly into the phone, “what light through yonder window breaks?”
She laughed. “Quoting Romeo and Juliet doesn’t seem very auspicious.”
“They had a good time while it lasted.”
“True. Would you like to come up?”
“Yes,” he said. “I think I would.”
When Vince knocked on her door, Felix leapt up protectively and gave a serious warning bark. Pleased, Tessa bent and gave his chest a vigorous rub. “Good dog.”
She peered through the peephole, to be safe. When it was indeed Vince, she changed her voice, opened the door, and said happily, “Friend!” spreading her hand to indicate Vince. Felix wagged his tail and came over to sniff Vince’s knee.
To her surprise, Tessa felt shivery. Shy. His hair was freshly washed, too long, but that deep molasses shine was even more emphatic. Very good hair. And eyes, she thought, that dark-brown glitter. And his face, all broad lines and solidness.
“You make me think of an elk,” she said, leaning on the door-jamb, looking up at him.
He rai
sed his eyebrows. “I hope that’s good.”
Tessa nodded. She stepped back and let him in, and suddenly the room seemed minuscule, with the bed taking up most of the room and Vince filling the rest. “What can I get you?” she asked, picking up her wine from the dresser where she’d left it. “We might have some time before the bar closes. I can order something.”
“Are you nervous?” he asked, that very small, very sexy smile playing over his mouth.
“No.” She gestured so broadly with her wine that she spilled some on her thumb. “Yes.”
“I won’t bite you.” His voice rumbled so deep, it seemed to come from his chest instead of his throat. “Get me a beer out of the minibar and let’s go sit outside. Sound good?”
Tessa nodded and bent down to look inside the fridge. “Heineken, Coors, Budweiser.”
“Whatever. Grab one.” He moved around the bed and stood by the French doors. He held out his hand. “I’m here for the woman, not the refreshments.”
For one long minute, Tessa felt literally dizzy, as if she would remember something, but then she realized it was just that she had been thinking about him all day. His kind, deep eyes and wide mouth and powerful thighs. Now that he was here, it seemed dangerous, something way too big to be playing with. The thought gave her a sharp feeling in her ribs.
He stood there, solid and patient, waiting for her, his eyes steady on her face. “Let’s just sit outside, Tessa,” he said. “No pressure.”
She nodded and gave him his beer, and they stepped out into the darkness, lit only by stars and the twinkle of Christmas lights across the way. Felix trotted out with them and collapsed by the wall with a sigh. The silky sound of Carla Bruni rose to polish the hard edges of their slight awkwardness. Vince took her hand as they sat down, side by side. His thumb moved on hers, softly, and in a moment Tessa took a breath and let it go.
The Secret of Everything Page 20
