A Strange Little Band

by Judith B. Glad

  "Not a bit. I'm looking forward to having Tommy and CeCe entertain me all the way home." Nothing could be further from the truth, but Thea and Gib had been planning their trip to Glacier for a long time. How could she be so selfish?

  Annie stepped up to hug her. "You were right, Gran. It does get easier."

  "In time," she agreed. "And with the right sort of help."

  Annie blushed, but said nothing. With a final squeeze, she let go and opened the Rover's passenger door, offering a hand to help Cecile up the high step.

  All the car doors closed, sounding like an out-of-tune steel band. Suddenly Elaine's popped open and she scrambled out. "Jeremy left his teddy bear on the porch. Be right back."

  Everyone laughed, but they all seemed to share her feeling that it was time. Ben pulled slowly away from the house. Cecile looked back and saw Annie doing the same. Maybe I should have asked her to take me as far as Boise. No, I shouldn't have. She needs the time alone, to think, to sort her feelings. Driving had always been for her a contemplative experience, and Annie had once said the same thing. She'd let all the thoughts and memories and experiences of this past week stew in her mind as she drove. By the time she got to Boise, God willing, she'd be ready to pick up the frayed edges of her life at last.

  And by next year, she'll be the Annie she used to be. Cecile was sure of that, particularly when she saw the slicker-clad man watching from the opposite roadside as they turned onto the highway. Clay Knight had been a strong force in her healing. Only time would tell if he was to be something more.

  * * * *

  Clay parked at the fishing access and walked along the secondary road past Osborn Bridge. The rain had started again, but it was more like a heavy mist, instead of the fat drops that had freckled the surface of the river this morning. His slicker sat on his shoulders like a portable steam bath and his sneakers squished with every step.

  "You're crazy," he muttered. "You've got a nice, dry trailer, and a good book." Instead of returning to them, he leaned against a fencepost and fixed his gaze on the gate to the Floating Nought, about a quarter mile away.

  Annie had said she was leaving about two, and it was nearly that now. He wasn't sure why he wanted to see her one last time, but it had seemed important an hour ago.

  Two vehicles emerged from the wide gate. A Dodge minivan and that big SUV the veterinarian drove. Had he missed her?

  No, here came another. Even in the rain, its bright yellow paint gleamed. The vintage Corvette. A pang of envy went through him. He'd had a chance to buy one, once, but as with everything else, he'd counted it less important than saving toward his dream.

  No more vehicles appeared for a while, then the Land Rover came into sight, leading a convoy of three. The middle one was a green Neon. Clay stood upright. Stepped to the edge of the road. He raised his arm.

  Each of the cars came to a full and complete stop, then turned onto the blacktop. The Land Rover passed him. So did the Neon, then the Volvo. At the highway, they all turned south.

  Had she not seen him? Or had she deliberately ignored him? Feeling like he'd been gut-kicked and left to die, Clay turned to walk back to his pickup.

  He'd crossed the highway and was only about a hundred yards from his pickup when a vehicle approached from behind. Slowed, then sped up and turned into the parking area.

  Even in the rain, its color and make were unmistakable. A green Neon.

  Her window was down when he stopped beside the car. "I wasn't sure it was you," she said.

  "I wanted to say good bye."

  "So did I. If it hadn't gotten so late..."

  He reached through the window, touched her cheek. It was warm, soft. He wanted to kiss her, but knew if he did he'd want more. Too late. Too damn late. "Annie, please write."

  "I will. And you'll answer?"

  "Absolutely. Cross my heart." He did so.

  She bit her lower lip. "I've got to go."

  "Yes, I know. Drive carefully."

  "Clay, I..."

  "Me, too." He stepped back. "Go. Now."

  Without another word, she rolled up her window and drove away.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Autumn

  "There. That's it." Annie dusted her hands, happy to be done loading her car at last. Poor thing, It was stuffed so full she was going to feel claustrophobic. All she had to do now was drop the Boston fern off at The Bakery and give the keys to her landlord, and she'd be on her way to the Floating Nought.

  Knowing she'd locked all the windows and turned off the water heater, she went inside for one last check, anyway. The rooms seemed smaller now, with her furniture gone, and dreary. She'd been comfortable here, if not happy, but it was time to move on.

  "But am I moving on to the right place?" she wondered aloud as she locked the door for one last time.

  "Where am I gonna sit?"

  The keys dropped from her hand when she jumped. Although she recognized the voice, her stomach didn't stop fluttering as she turned around. "What are you doing here?"

  Hildy, looking every bit the punk, leaned nonchalantly against the side of her car. A well-stuffed backpack sat at her feet. "I'm going with you."

  Annie held on to her temper as she descended the stairs. "Since when?"

  "Since Gran fell last week. She didn't break her hip, but the doc said she could have. Ward's looking for a place where she doesn't have to climb stairs. I figured he didn't need to worry about me too."

  Biting back the questions, Annie did her best to match Hildy's cool. "You told him, of course."

  "Nah. He and Gran were already in bed. I left a note." She peered into the well-packed car. "So, where do I sit?"

  "Do you mean you just walked out without saying goodbye? What is wrong with you? Don't you ever give a thought to anyone but yourself?"

  Hildy pushed herself upright, the light of battle in her eyes. "Hey, I left a note. Told 'em not to worry, that I can take care of myself. What's the big?"

  Her hands itching to shake the girl, Annie stepped nose-to-nose with her. "The big, you thoughtless brat, is that Gran loves you and is probably sick with worry. Ward too--if he's not thinking of ways to kill you." At the flash of fear that crossed Hildy's face, she added, "Figuratively, anyhow. He'd never lay a hand on you, I promise. Look, I know you've never had any reason to learn this, but you need to know that one thing a family does is worry about each other. Even if she didn't care about you, Gran would worry. As it is..." She shrugged. "Let me get my phone."

  When Gran answered, she said, "She's here. She's fine. Just a minute." Holding the phone out, she said, "Your turn."

  Hildy recoiled as if it were a venomous snake.

  "Talk to her. You owe her."

  Hildy slowly reached out for the phone, put it to her ear. "Gran?" Her voice was thin, uncertain.

  She listened, her body tight, her mouth soft and trembling. After a while she said, "I know you told me... No, I didn't really believe--" Tears streamed down her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I--"

  Her mouth worked and she looked pleadingly at Annie. "I can't--"

  Annie took the phone. "Gran, can I call you back? I have a hunch she'll make better sense when she's had breakfast."

  "Make sure she understands that I want her back with me. Oh, Annie, I thought... I was so afraid."

  Annie knew exactly what Gran had thought. She got mad all over again. "I'll take care of her. Let me talk to Uncle Ward."

  When her uncle came on, she said, "I've got an idea, but I want to talk to Hildy first. Is Gran really all right? Why didn't you tell me she'd fallen?"

  "Because she wouldn't let me. If she'd had her way, I wouldn't have been notified. Thank God her neighbor had better sense."

  "She's all right, though?"

  "She's fine, but still pretty stiff and sore. The fall was a good wake-up call for her. I've been telling her for months she needed to get out of this house, into a place with no stairs. Now she's listening."

  In the background A
nnie heard Gran say something, It sounded like a denial.

  "Yeah, Ma, I know you're still able to take care of yourself, but wouldn't it be easier if you could do it all on one floor? Annie? Be gentle with Hildy. She's been through hell, these last couple of months. Once she got back to Champion, nobody was going to pry her loose. She was with him until the end."

  All Annie had known was that Hildy had been in California until last week. "Oh, no," she breathed, but bit back the words of pity that the girl would have hated. "We'll look at options and I'll get back to you," she said, in as even a tone as she could manage. "Give Gran a hug for me."

  "Will do."

  She turned off the phone. "Set that fern on the porch. Then let's see where we can cram this other stuff. You'll have to hold your pack."

  "You're taking me with you?"

  "I'm taking you as far as The Bakery. We'll have breakfast and talk about what we're going to do."

  "Cool." Hildy had obviously regained her aplomb.

  * * * *

  Clay picked up Annie's latest letter from where it lay on the table and read it again while he sipped his coffee. What the hell was she saying anyhow? He was confused as hell.

  I've decided we're not getting anywhere this way. You're going to be too busy to come to Boise this winter, and I can't get enough time off to come over there. Getting to know each other by mail isn't working. I need to talk to you, Clay, to see your expressions while you say things off the top of your head. If you're like me, you plan each sentence in a letter, and so you only write what you've given considerable thought to.

  I'm reasonably sure about my feelings for you, but reasonably isn't enough. I want to be absolutely certain before we take that next step. I'm just not a person who can be casual about sex. Sorry, but I've realized I need a commitment before I go to bed with anyone. It doesn't have to be lifelong, but there has to be some prospect of a relationship based on more than how good the sex is between us. I'd like to say that we've got that, but I can't. A week just wasn't enough. I was still too wrapped up in my own grief and self-pity, and you were stretching your wings and feeling out your new freedom. Those aren't good bases for life-altering decisions.

  I'll let you know when I've got it all together. Until then, believe that I do care for you, that I want to explore what we have, and I truly believe that we'll be more than friends for the rest of our lives.

  The last paragraph had obviously been written in a hurry, as if she was rushing to get it into the mail. He wished she'd taken her time and been more clear about what she was considering.

  Maybe he should take some time off and go to Boise. Trouble was, he wanted to get all the cabins' roofs fixed before winter. The more money he could save by doing it himself, the better he'd like it.

  Six weeks into his new life and he was sure it was what he was meant to do. Despite the difficulty of finding dependable housekeeping help, he was enjoying the whole experience. Of course, this time of year, most of the visitors were hunters, and spent little time in their cabins or shooting the breeze with the innkeeper.

  Life was as close to perfect as he'd ever known. The only thing missing was someone to share it with.

  Annie?

  The longer they were apart, the more convinced he was that she was indeed the missing element.

  And the more he asked himself if it wasn't just loneliness speaking.

  * * * *

  "Have you noticed how quiet it is around here lately?" Louisa set the piece of pie before Ben. "Almost spooky."

  He picked up his fork, but didn't dig in. "Are you telling me you miss that scamp?"

  "I do." She leaned across him to refill his coffee cup. "I was relieved when we sent him back to Stephen, but now..." She sighed and sat down across from him. "Ben, what if...?"

  Used to her convoluted way of saying things, he leaned back and waited.

  "CeCe said something last summer that got me to thinking. According to her, Stephen would like to sell the house, get away from Denver. He's only stayed there because he believes it's best for the kids. But CeCe would give anything to move here. She says Portland's the best bicycling city in America. Trouble is, Stephen won't listen to her. He thinks it's best for Tommy to stay there with his friends."

  Ben snorted. "He's got a bunch of friends here, now. That kid makes friends like a puppy does. But I don't know about CeCe. She probably wouldn't like living out this far."

  "No, probably not." She poked at her pie, took a small bite. Made a face. "Not sweet enough," she said. "I'll get the ice cream."

  Since Ben liked nothing better than Louisa's apple pie with ice cream on it, he just smiled.

  They ate in silence, except for Ben's occasional hums of appreciation. When he'd scraped the last bit of good from his plate, he shoved it aside. "So, shall I write to Stephen and see if he'd like to board Tommy with us?"

  "Let's call him instead. I've got his cell phone number."

  "Don't you think you'd better see what Tommy wants first."

  "Already have." She reached into her pocket, pulled out a letter. "Here. You read it."

  Deer Ant Luoise and Unkle Ben,

  I reely miss you guys. I wish there was a way I cood live with you all the time. Dads' gone again. This time until almost Thanzgiving. CeCe says she wants to live in portlin too, and Dad says maybe one of these days.

  Missus Jorgensen says shes going to quite at Chrismus, becuse she's gonna have a grandbaby. I dont want Dad to get somebody else. I want to go back and live with you. I miss Snickers and the kittens and Puff and even Rootsie.

  Luv,

  Stephen Thomas Lewis (thats my whole name)

  Ben cleared his throat, which had inexplicably acquired a frog. "Somebody ought to teach that boy to spell."

  "Shall I call Stephen?"

  "Yeah. Let's hope he's west of us and not east. I'd hate to wake him in the middle of the night."

  "I wouldn't. Serve him right, going off and letting someone else raise those children." She consulted her phone list and punched out a number.

  * * * *

  While the water for tea was heating, Hetty changed into sweats and pulled on a pair of thick wool socks. This damn cold had her firmly in its clutches. Her head was stuffed, her chest was tight, and her throat felt as if someone had sanded it. The worst part was that her nose was running a stream, and no amount of blowing seemed to help. Not for the first time she wished her reaction to most cold medications wasn't so extreme. One dose of anything available over the counter and she was out like a light. She had about ten minutes to get herself settled before she went into her usual drugged stupor.

  She wiped her nose again, and tossed the tissue in the general direction of the kitchen wastebasket. "Damn! Missed again." If she hadn't grabbed the counter, she would have tipped over when she kicked it nearer its target.

  She poured tea into a heavy stoneware mug and made her slow way into her living room, keeping one hand on a wall as long as she could. Why am I so dizzy? Tea slopped over the mug's rim when she managed two unsupported steps to the sofa. Fortunately the drips fell on the tile floor and not on the pale green Chinese rug. Once the tea was safely set upon the glass-topped coffee table, she piled all the small pillows at one end before letting herself collapse into the sofa's embrace. With one foot, she snagged the afghan that lay along its back and pulled it within reach.

  A shiver went through her before she got herself covered, and again when the afghan was tucked under her chin. She reached for the mug and brought it to her mouth. Miraculously, she managed to take several sips without raising her head higher and without spilling.

  The tea warmed her from within, but shivers still shook her every few minutes. When the mug was empty, she thought about getting more, but the kitchen was too far away.

  Sometime later the doorbell rang. "Go away," she muttered, without moving. It rang again, and again, until she'd lost count of the times. After a while the irritating clamor ceased and she slept again.

 
She woke to paralyzing fear as an earthquake shook the house.

  No not an earthquake, she realized when she forced her eyes open and looked up into a fierce, frowning face. Frank.

  "Wake up, damn you! What's wrong?"

  Shit, I hate it when I hallucinate. She tried to clear her mind so she could sleep again, but hard hands held her upper arms and shook her.

  "Hetty, I swear if you don't wake up, I'm going to get a pitcher of ice water."

  She peered at the blurry face above her. "F-f-frank?" Now I know I'm hallucinating. She hadn't seen him since he'd brought her home after that hellish trip back from Idaho. Two days of chilly politeness, broken only by fist-clenching tension every time he shifted gears at the wrong RPM.

  "Are you sick?" he shook her again, not as gently this time. "Talk to me, Hetty. What's wrong with you?"

  "Cold, just a cold. I took...took..." for the life of her, she couldn't think of the name of the medicine she'd taken. "Always makes me sleepy." Her mouth was dry, her lips cracked and sore. "Thirsty."

  He was gone, then back again, raising her head so he could hold a glass of cool water to her lips.

  "'Nuff. Good." She fought the clinging fingers of sleep, felt herself losing. How did you get in?

  When she awoke the first thing she did was look at the clock. Eleven-thirty. Just like always, the med's effect had lasted a bit over four hours. In a minute she'd get up and make herself another cup of tea.

  In a minute.

  Unable to decide whether she preferred a streaming nose or more drugged stupor, Hetty groped on the floor for the tissue box she'd left within reach. It wasn't there and she turned to look for it.

  That's when she saw him, sprawled in her overstuffed leather chair, stockinged feet at the ends of long legs propped on the needlepoint cushion of her Queen Anne footstool. He wore his usual faded Levi's with a plaid flannel shirt. A billed cap decorated with a Porter Cable logo lay on the table beside him, next to a coffee cup and an empty plate.

  She hadn't been hallucinating. "Frank?" It came out a whispery croak. Hetty licked her lips, sucked saliva into her cotton-lined mouth. "Frank?"