A Strange Little Band

by Judith B. Glad

  "We're going up on the ridge. Charlie says it's lovely up there this year." Her mother looked genuinely disappointed.

  I do want to ride. She used to spend most of her time at the stables when they'd come here during her childhood. But she would miss seeing Clay, would miss her fly fishing lesson. I hate choices.

  If she left him a message, perhaps he would tell her where he would be in the afternoon. She hoped so. She really had been looking forward to seeing him tomorrow. "Okay. But I'll have to let my...my friend know I can't--" She shut her mouth just in time. If her grandmother found out she was meeting a man.

  "I'm glad to hear you're getting out, Annie. It's about time you started making new friends."

  Gran's words struck Annie as being almost automatic, sort of like an old-fashioned record with the needle stuck. She looked at her mother, who simply shook her head, as if in sympathy.

  "He is just a friend," she told herself as she pulled into the Visitor Center parking lot later, an explanatory note to Clay tucked in her pocket. I wish he'd told me where he was staying. But I didn't tell him, either.

  Walter had called friend only those who could help him advance in his career. She had lost touch with many of her childhood friends as a result. Since she'd moved to Boise, she'd kept to herself, not particularly interested in socializing with co-workers, not being neighborly, even though the young couple next door had invited her over for a barbecue just a few weeks ago.

  Maybe that's part of my problem. Maybe I do need to get out more, like Gran says. Make new friends.

  As she was looking for an open space on the crowded message board, she saw her name on a folded note. It was from Clay:

  "Annie:

  No one, it seems, rents waders, and I haven't been able to find anyone who has your size to lend me. Don't despair, though, because I've got an idea or two. I'll see you at the Visitor Center tomorrow about six and tell you what I've found out. We'll get you in the river yet. Take care."

  It was signed with his initials. Annie sighed. She tucked it into her pocket and replaced it with her note to him. She had really wanted to fish tomorrow, but the trail ride was just too tempting to pass up. She hoped he would understand.

  Chapter Nine

  A trail led out from the compound out into the woods. It meandered through the recovering forest, into a fenced-off area that hadn't had cattle on it since the beetle-killed trees had been cleared three years ago. About a mile out, it ended on a small knoll, where a spectacular view of the Tetons was to be had. Hetty perched herself on a rock and patted the space beside her.

  Her cousin Evan shook his head. "I've been sitting too much since I got here." He stretched and bent, twisted and stretched again. "So why'd you drag me way out here to talk? Deep, dark secrets?"

  "I need your advice, and I wanted to get away for a while. Ordinarily I'd have asked Annie, but she's too wrapped up in her own problems. When I told her I'd invited my latest boyfriend up here, she got a little bitchy."

  "Maybe she wishes she'd thought to do the same. I sure do."

  "You're still seeing Richard? I thought the two of you decided it wouldn't work long-distance."

  He grimaced. "It wouldn't. He resented it when I applied to Medic Corps, and matters went downhill from there. There's no one in my life right, now. I just meant I wish there was someone and I'd brought him."

  "Your folks wouldn't have minded, but what about Gran?"

  "When I got the email from her inviting me, she made it clear that I was welcome to bring Richard. I hadn't told her we'd split." The glance he threw her way was questioning. "Didn't she say the same to you?"

  "Of course, but you know Gran. She's still trying to reform my folks. 'Joss and John need to realize this is the Twenty-first century. The trouble with them is they've forgotten that cohabitation without marriage is nothing new. It's just something they never had the courage to do.'" Hetty gave a mocking chuckle. "Can you imagine my parents ever committing such a social gaffe?"

  Evan's laugh was genuine. "Honestly? No, I can't. It's hard to believe Uncle John and Dad are brothers."

  "It's Joss's influence. She's the soul of rectitude. When she's sober."

  His hand on her shoulder was comforting, his silence soothing. Hetty let herself indulge in a moment's self pity before she said, "My parents are going to go ballistic about Frank. I almost wish I hadn't invited him."

  "'I could create a distraction." He got to his feet and faced her. "Hey, listen up, everyone. I'm gay." As if responding to applause, he waved and bowed.

  "Doesn't everyone know?"

  "I'm pretty sure Eric doesn't. Even if he suspects, he'd deny it to his dying breath. And if Jennifer knew, well, can't you just imagine her reaction?"

  "I see your point." Hetty mentally went down the list of family members. "I don't think my parents know either.

  "Do you really want Eric to find out? Evan, he's your brother. Don't build a wall between you." Hetty pulled him down beside her. "How did he come to be such a narrow-minded little prig? When you consider how liberal your parents are..."

  "That may be part of it," Evan said. "Somewhere I read that each generation has to rebel against its parents' values. I think Eric's conservative streak was always there, but when he met Jennifer, he got 'way worse. Dad won't even talk politics or religion with him. He says it's the only way to keep peace in the family."

  "Well, you need to do the same. Besides, I have a feeling there's going to be a blow-up before the week's out, the way Jennifer resents anyone else telling her kids what to do."

  "Count on it. She's really touchy about them being influenced by others. I'll bet she chooses the kids they play with." He stood again, and pulled her to her feet. "For what it's worth, I think it's great that you've found someone you really care about."

  "What makes you think that?"

  "You've never brought anyone home before." Slinging one arm around her, he bumped her with his hip. "So tell me more about this Frank. Is he hot?"

  "Sizzling," she said with a laugh. "And straight."

  "Just my luck."

  * * * *

  Long after darkness enveloped the rest of the campground, Clay sat in a sphere of fading light, watching yellow flames consume the last log. What the hell is wrong with me? It's not like tomorrow could be the end of the world. He rammed a stick into the glowing coals. A cloud of sparks exploded upwards, then quickly faded.

  But it could be. If we can't agree...

  Why wouldn't they? Abe wanted to sell. He wanted to buy.

  The money's right, the location's right. None of the other places I looked at were good fits. This one is.

  He pictured the shabby little cabins, saw them in his imagination as they could be. Still rustic, but comfortable, with peeled-log furniture softened with fat, squashy cushions covered in warm colors of denim or canvas. Efficiency kitchens, roomy bathrooms with tubs long enough for a tired fisherman to soak away the chill of the river. Shed-roofed front porches complete with swings and a couple of brightly painted Adirondack chairs.

  The kind of place to make people want to stay a little longer. To relax, kick back, forget all the stress and strain they were trying to escape.

  The vision in the campfire changed from a comfortable room to a sad face, framed by silky brown hair, dominated by wide, haunted eyes. Fragments of sentences sounded in his mind, spoken in a slightly husky voice. The words were unimportant. It was the timbre of her voice that got to him, making him think of silken sheets, romantic music, and sleek, warm skin under his hands.

  "Shit!" He threw the stick into the fire, scattering coals outside the cement firepit. "Shit!" he said again, as he danced around, kicking them back in. A sharp pain in one toe reminded him that kicking live coals while wearing river sandals was beyond stupid. Carefully he kicked one last glowing fragment, then looked around carefully for more. Although the ground surrounding the firepit was bare, he'd be stupid to take a chance. The fire danger was only moderate, but never comple
tely went away in the summer.

  Clay's last relationship had ended by mutual consent and without rancor nearly a year ago. Since then he'd been too busy planning and preparing for his new life that he hadn't had time for the dating scene. And even if he had, what sense would there have been in getting involved with someone, knowing he would soon be going away for good?

  Still, it would be nice to have someone to share his excitement with. Someone who would say to him, "Well done." Someone with whom he could share his visions of a bright, successful, happy future.

  Oh, God, now I'm getting maudlin. Disgusted with his descent into sappy sentimentality, he tossed the dregs of his coffee, long since grown cold, into the fire. After the eruption of steam had died down, he picked up the poker and stirred the remaining coals. Only a few faint glows remained. A couple of cups of water extinguished those.

  His future was bright and filled with possibilities, he told himself, once he was lying in bed. So he would live, for a while at least, a solitary life. That was probably a good thing, because he wouldn't have time or energy to engage in any sort of mating ritual.

  Later, he told himself. Starting tomorrow, I've a business to build, a future to shape.

  * * * *

  The nightly Bridge game began right after dinner. Annie again refused to join, saying she couldn't give it the concentration it deserved.

  After she helped clean up the kitchen, she escaped to the front steps with her binoculars. The sandhill cranes were grazing in the nearest pasture. Annie watched them until the deepening dusk drove her inside, to sit in a corner, as far away from the Bridge game as she could get, with a jigsaw puzzle, one that showed an angler pulling a fish from a mountain stream.

  A mistake, because she should have known that no one would be able to resist helping. First Uncle Ward came by and looked over her shoulder as she searched for edge pieces.

  "You picked an easy one," he said, after a while.

  She didn't answer him until she'd got the upper right corner and a few inches of the right side locked together. "It was the best of the bunch. Some of the ones in the cupboard were there the last time I was here."

  His arm stretched across and he picked up an upper edge piece and fit it to what she'd just assembled. "There, I've done my share."

  Although he stood watching for several minutes longer, he said nothing more. Annie had most of the fish assembled, was concentrating on finding its tail, when two of the middle boys came to watch--Tommy and Norman, she thought were their names. The younger one bumped the table and some of the puzzle pieces fell to the floor.

  "Now look what you did, you dork," Tommy said. "Don't worry, Aunt Annie. I'll pick 'em up." He crawled under the table.

  Norman came closer. "Whatcha doin'?"

  Although she knew he was Eric and Jennifer's eldest, she'd not paid much attention to him. "Putting together a jigsaw puzzle. Would you like to help?"

  "I don't know how." His voice was close to a whine. "It's dumb, anyhow."

  "Naw, you're the dumb one," Tommy said, dumping half a dozen pieces on the table. "Everybody knows what a jigsaw puzzle is. Everybody but you, dummy."

  The whine became a shriek. "I'm not a dummy!" Norman struck out with both hands. "I'm not. You're the dummy. Dummy!" His skinny arms were flailing, doing little damage, but only because Tommy was deflecting most of Norman's blows. Not all, though, for blood was streaming from his nose.

  Annie leapt to her feet as Tommy shoved Norman. She heard the sharp click of teeth. "Stop it! Right now!"

  Before she could grab either boy, Jennifer was there, her arms around her son. "You little savage. If you've hurt Norman--"

  "He hit me first." Tommy swiped a hand across his upper lip, smearing blood along his cheek.

  "He called me a dummy."

  "You're both to blame," Annie told them. "I don't see why--"

  "I heard, you little savage." She turned to Annie. "I heard it all. My son asked a perfectly innocent question, and that little monster made fun of him. He needs a keeper. I don't know why his father couldn't be here to take care if him. I'd never let my child--"

  "Oh, for heaven's sake, Jennifer," Aunt Louisa said from behind Annie. "The boys were both acting like kids. It's no big deal."

  Since she agreed, Annie kept her mouth shut. The last thing she wanted to do was get into a fight with Jennifer. Besides, how could she know what was normal behavior for boys their ages? Her son would never...

  "I disagree, Mother. Norman knows he's not to call names or get into fights with the other children. We do expect him to defend himself, however. Tommy, I believe you owe Norman an apology."

  "He hit me first," Tommy insisted, with another swipe at his nose. It had stopped bleeding now, but he looked a mess, with his Spiderman t-shirt covered with red splotches.

  Aunt Louisa shook her head. "There's no need for either one of them to apologize. You're attaching too much importance to a kids' spat, Jennifer. The less said the better. Send the boys to bed and let that be the end of it."

  "But--"

  "Jennifer, you're making a mountain out of a molehill. Just calm down." Aunt Louisa clapped her hands. "It's nine o'clock. Bedtime for all middles."

  Since that category included only Angela, Norman and Tommy, the problem seemed solved. It also meant that Jennifer would be going to the Blue House with them, because she refused to trust her children's welfare to anyone else--never mind that Eric was already there with Joey and Barty.

  "Somebody had better go over and let Elaine know what happened. I can just hear Angela's version, can't you?"

  Annie raised one eyebrow. So Aunt Louisa wasn't all that fond of her daughter-in-law. Interesting. And a little sad. "I'll go. Do you suppose it will be okay if I leave this here?"

  "Sure, if you don't mind that the rest of us will all have to see how much we can add to it."

  "If she does, she's living in a dream world," Gran said, as she approached. "Jigsaw puzzles are like solitaire--you have to expect kibitzers when you're doing one. Louisa, do you want me to butt in?"

  "I'd like to say yes, but no. I'll have a talk with Jennifer tomorrow, when she's calmed down. She's just very protective."

  "Balderdash! She's just afraid her children might learn to be less than perfect by associating with the rest."

  A chuckle. "Yes, that too. But she's my problem. I'll deal." She seated herself next to Gran and poked at the loose pieces. "Tomorrow."

  Gran sat down beside her. "Annie, why don't you take some of the cake with you to the Pink House? I think there's a fortune telling session going on over there."

  So that was where everyone had disappeared to. "Sure. All of it?"

  "Leave a few pieces. Enough for all who are here."

  "Okay." There wasn't any hurry. Her nerves still jangled after the boys' fight. That and Jennifer's belligerent interference. What she needed was some time alone.

  She walked past the Big House and seated herself on the big peeled log that lay where the lawn began its slope down to the bunkhouses. She was far enough from the cookshack that only a murmur of conversation reached her through the open windows. Occasionally a loud comment from the Pink House broke the silence, tickling her curiosity. When she was in a good mood, Aunt Joss didn't mind telling fortunes with an audience, and the family wasn't afraid to offer opinions on those fortunes.

  Despite the cicada's song, and the far-off, melancholy howl of a coyote, solitude brought her no peace, nor was she able to find familiar refuge in her grief. Wallow, you mean, she heard Gran say. The ache in her heart was still there, but faint, like the dying memory of something once experienced but nearly forgotten. She looked up at the moon, trying to see Calvin's chubby face smiling down at her, as she had so many times before. All she saw was the mottling of lunar seas and mountains.

  "Maybe," she whispered into the moonlit silence, "just maybe I'm healing. And doesn't it feel good?" She stood in the moonlight, trying to hold to this moment of peace, but it slipped away as g
uilt returned.

  "It does. But do I deserve to feel better?" Annie asked the night. She felt less burdened tonight, though, as if a heavy load had been lifted from her shoulders.

  She picked up the cake pan and walked down the slope to the Pink House.

  The sofa and chairs in the living room were all full. Half a dozen people were sitting around the table in the dining room. Aunt Joss and Kristi were facing each other across it. Aunt Joss was telling Kristi's fortune. Annie stood by the door, half listening to Joss's words, trying to decide if she wanted to go to bed this early.

  "I see your wish, Kristi, within a two," Joss said, examining the cards. "That's two days, two weeks, maybe even as long as two months. And good news. Not much else. A pretty mundane fortune." She reached for the glass and took a long swallow.

  "That's all I want, Aunt Joss. I don't have any craving for drama or excitement." She stood up, motioned. "It's your turn, Elaine."

  They traded places. Annie stayed to listen, even though she knew she should go to her room.

  "I hope my fortune will be a good one, Aunt Joss," Elaine said as she picked up the cards. "Tell me I'm going to have lots of money, travel to exotic places, and do exciting things."

  "Tell her if she's going to have a boy or a girl," Stew said, with a laugh. "She's determined it will be twins this time."

  Everyone laughed.

  Everyone but Annie, who pressed her hands to her belly. Would she ever have another child? And would it matter? No one could replace Calvin in her heart.

  She didn't hear a thing Aunt Joss told Elaine, but she must have said something good, from the smile on Elaine's face as she went to sit beside Stewart on the sofa.

  Annie tried to slip past the group and go to bed, but Hetty stopped her. "Your turn."

  Short of forcibly pulling free of Hetty's restraining hand, she was stuck for a while. "Oh, no, I don't think..." but Annie's soft protest was lost in the chorus telling her that, since she had listened to other fortunes, she must let them all hear hers. Well, at least Gran was not here, for if she had been, she would have surely found something in the fortune that said Annie was going to find a wonderful man and live happily ever after. Or something like that.