She took the deck of cards and, following her aunt's instructions, made a silent wish for a relief from pain. She cut them into three piles. Joss took the bottom card from each stack, put it aside, then went through them one by one, occasionally removing other cards.
"Again." Joss shuffled again and handed the deck back to Annie. "Same thing again. And keep thinking of your wish." Annie complied, thinking that to be free of sorrow was the only wish she could have. She was tired of guilt, tired of sorrow, tired of dreading each new, unpromising day that dawned.
Joss had her cut a third time. By this time, at least half the deck was in the stack of discards at her aunt's elbow. Setting what was left of the deck aside, Joss sorted the discards into six piles.
Turning the first over, Joss looked at the five cards. "This is strange. I see a major change in your house, but it looks as if it has already happened." She looked up at Annie. "I think it refers to your divorce, Annie, because this card," she tapped one, "indicates the past, not the future. You moved to Boise when you left Walter, didn't you?"
Annie nodded. Something in her throat prevented her speaking. She had divorced Walter, with sorrow, but no regret about ending her marriage. Why did she still feel as if she had failed as a wife?
Joss turned over the second pile. "I see a great sorrow. Something devastating."
Annie tensed. She could not face another loss. Not now.
"But again, it looks as if it has already happened." A sympathetic smile. "Don't look so stricken, Annie. It really does, like the change, seem to be in your past. But here. Look here. There's another change coming that will, in some way, compensate. It may be a new job that keeps you so occupied that you don't have time to brood..." Another quick glance, a fleeting smile. "Or something else that will take your mind and heart off your sorrow."
Joss took up the third pile, fanned them out, frowned. "I don't see your wish here."
"I didn't think you would," Annie said softly, but disappointed in spite of her lack of expectations.
"I do see good fortune in connection with your wish." She tossed the cards aside, reached for the fourth pile. "Oh, my, this is interesting. I don't see anything major, but I see a lot of little changes, almost certainly for the better, and even more good luck that will occur within a three. No surprises here, I'm afraid."
"I've been thinking of having my hair cut," Annie said in a dry tone, not wanting to believe Aunt Joss. But her fortunes so often, so uncannily, came true.
"Concentrate," Kristi said, squeezing her shoulder. "Think about your wish."
Joss turned the fifth pile over. "Now, this is more like it!" She smiled broadly at Annie. "Here, a light man is going to bring about a change for the better that you haven't any expectation of. A great change. And it will make you very happy!"
"Have you been holding out on us?" her sister stage-whispered in her ear. "Is there a man in your life?"
Annie shook her head, now concentrating fully on Joss' words.
"Well! Here's more changes. And your wish! Something wonderful will happen to you, Annie, within a three--days or weeks, I think. It doesn't look as if it will be a long time, anyway." She tapped the eight of hearts. "And this is the best luck card in the deck. You're going to have things your way for a while, my dear, and you'll love it." She gathered the cards together, then spread them out on the table, face up. A quick glance at Annie and she picked up the queen of clubs.
"Shuffle again, then pick out five cards, without looking at them."
Annie did so.
Using the queen as a center, Joss wove the five cards around it so that they held together, one card behind the queen and at right angles to it, the others forming a square around them. She expertly flipped them face up and examined them closely. Annie remembered, from previous fortunes, that this construction was called a bed. She was represented by the queen of clubs.
"There, I said the bad luck was in the past." Joss tapped the seven of spades, mostly hidden behind the queen. "Your sorrow is behind you."
Don't I wish.
Joss was silent for a long time, studying the cards. No one else spoke either. Suspense crackled like electricity in the room. Finally Joss spoke.
"It's not common for the same important cards that were in the piles to show up in the bed, Annie. But here are two of them. Here's the light man--he's young, I think, about your age--again, linked with the best luck card in the deck." She pointed to two small clubs. "And here's more change. Your life looks as if it's going to be wonderful and exciting, starting almost immediately. I think you'll like it." She gathered the cards together and shuffled them.
Annie rose, and as if at a signal, so did everyone else. Some drifted to the bathrooms, a few went to the kitchen to get beers or sodas. Joss drained her glass and took it to the kitchen, where she refilled it from a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. Just like a wino, Annie thought, then was ashamed of herself. It was none of her business what her aunt did.
When everyone had reclaimed chairs and sofas, Hetty pushed Evan forward. Annie didn't stay to hear his fortune, but headed for the bathroom, the only place in the house she could be assured of privacy. She stared in the mirror, making faces, until the lump in her throat dissolved and the tears stopped stinging. When she felt in control again, she emerged, just in time to hear Joss say, "I see a long journey here, and a new adventure. Something involving an older man, light-haired, I think." She paused. "hmmm. This doesn't look like anything involved with your work, Evan. It's more personal. As if...no, that's not possible." Quickly she spread the cards across the table.
Annie was directly across the table from Joss, so she saw the color drain from her aunt's face as she held her hands just above them. Slowly her right hand lowered and one finger lightly touched the King of Diamonds, the same red king representing a man who would be involved in Evan's adventure.
She looked across at Evan. Her mouth twisted in an ugly grimace as she pushed the cards away with such force that they flew off the table's edge. "You're queer, aren't you? You're a filthy homosexual."
Her chair fell backwards as she leapt to her feet.
No one moved as Joss stormed to the door and out into the night.
The silence lengthened, until Hetty draped her arms over Evan's shoulders. "I thought I told you not to create a diversion, you dope. But I love you for it."
Chapter Ten
Tuesday
Clay pulled up in front of Abe's Fly Shop just after nine. His was the only vehicle in the graveled parking area. It wasn't hard to see why. The windows were flyspecked and dusty, so that the interior appeared dark and deserted. The board-and-batten siding probably had been stained at one time, but now it was the soft gray of old, weathered wood. A couple of shiny patches on the roof appeared to be flattened tin cans used as patches.
I must be crazy. Modernizing this will be a monumental task.
He sat for a moment, mentally reviewing his research. Abe owned the shop and the seven cabins, along with eighteen acres of riverfront land, free and clear. He was close to eighty--no one seemed to be sure of his exact age. People who knew his reputation returned to stay in the cabins year after year, despite their shabby condition.
Abe was looking for a buyer, but he was being particular. "I don't have to sell out," he'd told Clay in their one telephone conversation, "so I can pick and choose who comes in here after me."
Clay still wasn't completely sure he wanted to be picked, but he couldn't think of a place he'd rather be than here on the Henry's Fork. He grabbed his attaché case and stepped out of the pickup, remembering the excitement he used to feel on Christmas morning, just before he climbed out of bed.
Since Abe had always seemed older than dirt, he hadn't changed much since Clay had been here two years ago. He moved a bit slower, though, and thought a little longer before speaking. He still got around just fine, and insisted on taking Clay along the property boundary, including the six hundred-odd feet of riverbank. They looked into the single
vacant cabin. "Feller's coming' in tonight, late," Abe said. "He flies in to Salt Lake from back East somewhere. I never can recall where. Stays a week, just like clockwork, every year since '68."
"You said you rent the cabins out to skiers in the winter. Have any problems with frozen pipes?"
"Naw. I wrap 'em up good, keep a little trickle runnin' when the cabin's empty. Worst problem is sometimes I get folks in here who want to party. They're likely to leave a mess."
Clay pulled the door closed behind himself. "All the cabins are the same size? Two beds and a kitchen?"
"Got one with two rooms. It'll sleep six, if they're real friendly. Here, c'mon in and I'll show you my setup. I don't do much tyin' any more. Eyes aren't what they used to be. But you're a young feller. You'll build the business back up right quick."
A prickle of excitement swept up Clay's arms and across his shoulders. Does that mean he's willing to sell to me? "I haven't a hope to do as well as you with the flies, but for the rest, I'd like to add some more cabins in time. It seems to me that two or three more for the family trade might be a good thing." He turned and looked back across the grassy area between the cabins, back toward the river. "What a grand place."
Abe opened the back door of the main building. As they entered, Clay said, "Did I tell you I've still got one of your flies my dad bought back in 1961?"
"Well, that does tickle me. A hopper, I'll bet." Abe chuckled. Gesturing at the tidy workbench, with its well-organized tools, he said, "You'll get better, when you're doin' it all the time. Best thing you can do is like I did. Come up with a special fly and convince people it's a sure-fire fish catcher."
"I've got a couple I'm working on. I haven't had much time to try them out yet."
"Plenty of time, when you're livin' here. I used to open at noon, just so I could be on the river all morning." He shook his head, frowning. "I haven't got the balance to wade the river any more and it just ain't the same, fishing from the bank.
"Now then, young feller, how soon you want to settle up on this deal?"
Clay could only stare. Had he heard right?
"Close your mouth, boy. You'll catch flies."
"Yeah. Sorry. I mean... Oh, hell, Abe. I never thought you'd agree so fast."
"You already made me an offer that's fair. Only reason I didn't take it right off was that I wanted to see how you took to the place. And you did fine. Didn't turn up your nose at the way it's so run-down. Didn't talk about how you were goin' to modernize it. Best of all, you look at the place and see how pretty it is. That matters to me.
"I'd like you to move in here soon as we get all the paperwork done. You can park your rig alongside the shop until I get myself moved out." He held out his hand. "It's all yours, boy. Take good care of it."
Clay took the old man's hand in a firm clasp. He swallowed, unable to answer immediately.
* * * *
Once again Annie crept out of the house while everyone else slept. This time she didn't so much want to escape as to watch the sunrise. Alone. There was something soothing...healing about sharing the world's awakening.
A few stars still twinkled in the western sky when she stepped outside, shivering in the chill predawn air. She looked to the east, where a pale glow cast the Tetons into ragged silhouette. From the surrounding woods came the call of a bird, then another, until gradually she was surrounded by a chorus of chirps, squawks and trills.
She walked into the Grove, where the dawning light turned tree trunks into ghostly figures, bushes into faery shapes. Emerging on the other side, she turned and followed the road back past the two houses and into the compact stand of pines beside the Guest House, where she climbed onto an enormous boulder and wrapped her arms around her legs.
The rim of the sun emerged and turned the peaks to gold. Long, dusty streamers of light gilded the forests and woke their denizens. From far off came the bugle of an elk, and from above the shrill keen of a hunting hawk.
I feel good. Alive. Happy?
Yes, she did. She felt happy, for this moment, in this place.
Oh, I hope it lasts.
* * * *
The whole bunk shook. Serhilda, who hadn't slept soundly all night long, opened one eye just enough to see pale lines of light around the blinds. Morning, then, but nowhere near time for breakfast. She wrapped the pillow around her head and tried to ignore the jiggling. Maybe she could pretend somebody was rocking her to sleep.
It almost worked, until something thumped onto the floor and Angela started screaming.
She lifted the pillow just as the door flew open.
"What on earth?"
Serhilda barely heard Elaine over the siren-loud screaming. She started to rebury herself under the pillow, then curiosity got the best of her. Raising on her elbow, she peered over the edge of the bed.
Angela was sprawled on the floor, legs stiffly spread, arms wide and hands knitted into tight fists. Her eyes were squinched shut but her mouth was wide open. How does she do that, without taking a breath?
Elaine knelt beside Angela and tentatively laid a hand on her chest. The brat nearly exploded, kicking and swinging her arms. One fist got Elaine on the chin, hard enough that Serhilda heard teeth click.
"That's enough," Elaine said, grabbing the girl's shoulders and shaking her. "If you can fight like that, you're not hurt." It was a good thing her arms were longer than the brat's, or she might have gotten scratched, because Angela's arms were still flailing, her hands now clawed.
"Need some help?" Serhilda wouldn't mind holding the brat down. Wouldn't mind tying her up and tossing her off a cliff, either.
"I've got her," Elaine said. "What happened?"
"She fell out of bed, I think. I was asleep until I heard her hit the floor."
"Angela! Stop that screaming. Tell me where you hurt."
Kristi came in behind Elaine. "Here, let me." She reached over Elaine's shoulder and dumped the contents of a sports bottle in Angela's face.
The screaming stopped immediately. Angela sputtered and squeaked, then opened her mouth again.
"Don't you dare," Elaine warned.
"I'll get a refill," Kristi said, and disappeared.
The brat stuck her lip out and frowned. "I fell out of bed," she said, in a quavery little voice. "It hurt."
"And just how did you get over the rail?"
Last night, when Elaine had made Angela move into the top bunk so Serhilda could have the bottom one, Angela had whined that she was scared. Elaine's husband, Stewart, had gotten a board from somewhere and fixed it along the outside edge of the bunk. There was no way Angela could have just rolled out of bed.
"I just did. And I fell," Angela whined. "I want my mother."
Sounding disgusted, Elaine said, "Get dressed. I'll take you to her."
Serhilda stayed in her bunk. Angela sniffled and made little sobbing sounds while she dressed. The little girls' bunk was empty, which meant that Kristi had probably taken them out to the kitchen so their giggles wouldn't wake her and the brat.
Kristi was something else. Serhilda wasn't sure she liked her, but she sure didn't hate her as much as she did some of the others. Or like her as well as she did Hetty, who was way cool.
* * * *
"Did you know about Evan?"
Cecile set her cup down with a sigh. She'd come out here onto the front porch of the Big House to drink her coffee in peace. Even though there were no young people sleeping here, there was still far too much confusion in the kitchen of a morning. I've been living alone too long, she realized. Once she would have thrived on the morning chaos of her family all together again.
"That he finally got his overseas assignment? Yes, I knew that. Isn't it wonderful?"
"Cecile, he's a queer. You've got to send him away. All these children--"
"Joss, he is my nephew, and as dear to me as your Hetty. Why on earth would I send him away?"
For a moment Joss's expression went from determined to confused, then it set again into the har
d lines of a woman who demanded her own way about everything. "It's not the same at all. I know Hetty isn't as respectable as she should be, but at least she is normal. Evan's not. And he's a danger to all the little boys. There's just no telling what he might do."
"That's enough! Joss, Evan is a fine young man. He's fond of his cousins and he has no unnatural feelings toward any of them. The children are probably safer from him than they are from that oldest boy of Eric's. He's a bit of a bully." As soon as she'd spoken the words, she wanted to take them back. "Please don't tell Jennifer I said that."
"But--"
"Jocelyn, I said that's enough. Evan is welcome here. If you have a problem with that, you can simply avoid him. But don't be rude or unkind to him, and don't you dare say a word to anyone else about how you feel.
"Now go away and let me enjoy the sunrise."
As Joss's footsteps receded across the porch, Cecile sighed. There was trouble coming. She could feel it in her bones.
Why on earth did I think a family reunion was a good idea?
* * * *
They all loaded into assorted vehicles for the short trip to the ranch headquarters. "Jennifer's afraid dear little Angela will get her dainty feet dusty," Hetty muttered under her breath. Waving Annie into the back seat of the Volvo, she climbed in behind her.
"That had all the earmarks of an unkind remark," Annie said, as she fastened her seat belt. "Did I miss something?"
"Oh, nothing much," Hetty said. "Angela fell out of bed and had a screaming fit. I'm surprised you didn't hear her."
Elaine turned around. "I told Angela last night she had to move to the top bunk. It's just plain silly for someone as tall as Serhilda to be up there. Why I'll bet she couldn't even sit upright."
"And then you took Angela to her folks," Hetty said. "You've more courage than I have. Who won?"
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