Rett laughed with her, although if someone had asked her to put into words what was funny, she doubted that she could have. “Yeah, I guess he is.”
“Looks fade,” the woman said. “A good heart doesn’t.”
“Thanks,” Rett said, handing back the binoculars. “For letting me use these, and, like, all the information.”
“Stay true,” the woman said, turning back to the seals.
“Let’s go,” Rett said, when she walked up to Dale. “I’ve seen enough.”
“Yeah, okay,” he said. “I mean, seen one seal, seen them all, right?”
She didn’t answer.
In the car, he asked, “Where to now?”
“Back to Morro Bay. Drop me off at the Buttercream Café, and I’ll fetch your banjo for you.”
He nodded, turning on the ignition. “Are we, like, cool on everything?”
She took a deep breath, wishing she could just let go, scream, hit him, force this car into a ditch. But what would that prove? And who would it help? Be true, the elephant seal woman had said. What did she mean? For Rett to be true to herself, to be a true person, to tell the truth? The truth right now was that she wasn’t sure she’d ever forgive Dale. Would she forgive Patsy? If her sister hadn’t known Dale was seeing both of them, there wouldn’t really be anything to forgive. The fault was all his. Somehow, she didn’t believe Patsy knew. For one thing, Patsy was horrible at keeping any kind of secret. And, Rett wanted to believe, she wouldn’t do that to her sister.
“No, we’re not at all cool. What you did was disgusting. I’m giving you your banjo back because it was wrong of me to take it. And me doing something wrong doesn’t even out you doing something wrong. I wish I never had to see you again, but because of Patsy being pregnant, we probably will. Are you going to marry her?”
He held up both hands. “Whoa, where’d that come from? Patsy and I aren’t anywhere close to that kind of relationship.”
At that moment, if Rett had a knife, she swore she’d stick it in his gut. “You make me sick. You’re having a baby with her, you freakazoid! You’d better not let her go through this alone.”
“I never said that. But, Rett, baby, this gig I was offered is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Patsy wouldn’t want me to give it up.”
That’s where you’re wrong, Rett thought.
“Take me back to town,” Rett said, buckling her seat belt. “Then you go back to your hotel and wait for my call. I have the banjo in a safe place. You’ll have it by tomorrow. My word.”
“Why can’t I go with you to pick it up?”
She gave him a look—her Killer Karla look, as she and her sisters called it. One of the valuable things their mom inadvertently passed on to them. It never failed. He instantly shut up.
They didn’t speak the whole drive back to Morro Bay.
When he dropped her off in front of the Buttercream, he said, “Are you sure I can’t—”
“I’ll call you,” she said, jumping out and slamming the door.
The coffeepot-shaped clock above the cash register read four thirty-two. The café was almost empty, with only two old men in beat-up cowboy hats sitting at the counter eating pie and reading the newspaper. Rett could hear a male voice singing in the kitchen, a Gillian Welch song about a man whose daughter had died and who warned listeners that no one gets everything they want in life and until you die and face Jesus, there’s no use wondering why. Rett had always thought it was one of Gillian’s best songs.
Magnolia stood in front of the silver and black Bunn coffeemaker singing along with the voice in the kitchen. Rett listened to them, mesmerized by their perfect harmony. Magnolia’s voice was as good as any pro that Rett had heard in Nashville. She remembered that Love told her that Magnolia had been a professional singer. Rocky had said she still sang in some bar once a month. Did she ever regret giving up her career in Vegas to be a pastor’s wife and a café owner? Magnolia belted out the chorus, still not aware Rett was listening. The words tore at Rett’s heart every time she heard them. Magnolia’s deep, rich contralto had an aching, mountain vibrato that gave the words an authenticity Rett could feel in her bones.
When the last note reverberated in the room, Rett gave in to her spontaneous urge and clapped.
Magnolia whirled around, surprised. “Oh, my land. I didn’t know anyone had come in.”
Rett glanced at the cowbell that had clamored when she opened the door.
“That thing,” Magnolia said, dismissing it with the wave of a red-nailed hand. “It don’t even register in my brainpan anymore.” She picked up a white bar towel and folded it in half.
“I love Gillian Welch,” Rett said, walking up to the counter and sitting down. “I wish I could write like her.”
“She is one talented young woman,” Magnolia said. She wiped the counter, despite the fact it was clean as a dentist’s tray. “What can I get you?”
“See you later, Magnolia,” one old man said, standing up. The other man did the same. “Good butterscotch pie. It’s a keeper.”
“Thanks, boys. Y’all come back.” She turned back to Rett. “So, are you hungry? How about a piece of butterscotch pie? Shug just made it.” She nodded her head at the skinny, bald man Rett could see in the kitchen’s pass-through. He lifted a flour-dusty hand.
“Sure,” Rett said.
Magnolia cut her a piece, poured her a cup of black coffee, then leaned against the back counter. “So, I see that boy dropped you off. Did y’all get your ducks in a row?”
Rett looked down at the meringue-topped pie. Its sweet, buttery scent caused her stomach to rumble. She’d only eaten half her soup for lunch and wondered what Love was going to have for dinner. She took a big bite, then said, “Yeah, I guess so. I suppose my grandma told you the whole pathetic story.”
Magnolia nodded. “It’s a mess. But not unfixable. I’d say you got the raw end of the deal.”
Rett looked up at her in surprise. “I thought everyone would think that Patsy did.”
Magnolia contemplated the folded bar towel in her hands. “Oh, I’m not saying your big sister hasn’t got herself a hard row to hoe. But at least she’ll get people’s sympathy when he takes off. And, trust me, he will. Haven’t met too many young buck musicians like him who were very dependable. She’ll have her some sad, lonely nights. But you have to suffer in silence while you’re feeling pretty much the same humiliation. That’s hard. I’ve been there. My younger sister married the man I was in love with, and I had to be one of her bridesmaids. Let me tell you, that was hard. And the worst of it was the dress was ugly as homemade sin. Aqua and gray satin. I looked like a beached whale. Well, I was thinner then. Maybe a beached seal. I always wondered if Rosie picked those ugly dresses out on purpose.”
Surprise froze Rett’s fork halfway to her mouth.
Magnolia gave a deep laugh. “Girlie, did you think you was the first one that ever happened to? I’m here to tell you, I survived and, frankly, it was darn near the best thing that could have ever happened to me. Hate to imagine where I’d be if I’d’ve married Varner.” She gave a physical shudder. “As it was, their marriage lasted four miserable years. They had three kids, and my sister had to fight tooth and nail for every darn child support penny. Then the flake up and died! Not a speck of life insurance, of course. Whereas I hightailed it out of Chicago to Las Vegas and sang in a variety of nightclubs. I eventually met Rocky, and as they say about history, that’s the rest of it.” She tossed the damp folded towel into a plastic tub full of dirty dishes. “All I’m saying is it looks like a big old jagged mountain now, but thirty years from now, it’ll be a rolling hill.”
Rett lowered her fork, thinking about what Magnolia said. “My grandma said I should use the experience, write a song about it.”
“Not often Love is wrong about things,” Magnolia said. “My advice is you listen to her. She know you were out with that boy?”
Rett nodded. “She was worried, didn’t want me to go. But I knew I’d b
e okay. We drove up the coast and stopped to look at the elephant seals.”
Magnolia crossed her arms over her ample chest. “What about the boy’s banjo?”
“I told him I’d give it to him tomorrow.”
Magnolia raised her eyebrows.
“I wanted to play it one more time. I deserve that much.”
“You can’t get on with things until you give it back.”
“I know.” Rett took a last big bite of pie, then pushed the plate back. “I have to go get the banjo. Mel’s keeping it for me at the feed store.”
Magnolia picked up the plate. “Will you be staying with Love awhile?”
Rett nodded. “At least until I save up some money. I need a job.” She glanced around the café. “Is being a waitress . . . uh . . . hard?”
“Can be.”
Rett stood up. “Well, thanks for the pie.” She reached down into the pockets of her jeans.
“Forget it,” Magnolia said. “On the house. From one scorned sister to another.”
Rett gave a small smile. “That’s a good song hook.”
“Go for it,” Magnolia said. “Write that man right outta your hair. Want me to call Love and tell her you survived?”
Rett knew there was only one acceptable answer to that question.
“Sure. Tell her I’ll be right home.”
Rett walked the three blocks to the feed store, watching the sun set on the Pacific Ocean. With the orange-juice-colored sun glowing behind Morro Rock, the beauty of the moment made her wish there was some way she could capture it in a song. But writing about scenery in a way that people could see it was hard. Relationships were always easier.
It was a little before five p.m., the air that unreal purple blue tint that seemed deeper here in the West, when she crossed the feed store threshold. Mel sat behind the counter leafing through a catalog with pictures of flowers and giant pumpkins. She wore a green B & E Feed sweatshirt and brown cords. Behind her a radio was playing softly. Rett couldn’t make out the artist.
“Hey,” Rett said.
Mel looked up from the catalog. “Hey, yourself. How’d things go with you and the butt wipe?”
Rett grinned. “Is that, like, cop talk or something?”
Mel gave her a half smile and tossed the seed catalog aside. “Nah, that there is scorned woman talk.”
Rett laughed. “That’s the second time I’ve heard that word today.”
Mel lifted her eyebrows in question.
“Scorned,” Rett said. “Magnolia has been scorned too.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a big club. Lots of members.”
“So I hear.” Rett leaned against the counter. “I told Dale I’d give him back his banjo.”
Mel nodded. “Probably best. Want me to get it?”
“Yeah, but I’m giving it back to him tomorrow. Want him to suffer one more night. And I want to play it one more time.”
Mel didn’t reply, just stood up and went through the doorway into the small office behind the counter. Rett heard a closet open and close. Mel came back a few seconds later carrying the banjo case.
“This sucker is heavy,” she said.
“Tell me about it,” Rett said. “I lugged it clear across the country.”
“Next time, fall for a harmonica player.”
Rett giggled. It felt good to be joking with another woman about Dale. It did almost feel like she’d gained membership into a kind of club. The scorned sisters, Magnolia had called them. Membership requirement: one broken heart. She felt her heart beat faster. That did sound like the beginning of a song.
Mel smiled, then like a flash, her expression changed. She stared over Rett’s shoulder, a look that Rett could only discern as fury on her face. Rett turned around and saw a heavy-chested man standing in the feed store doorway. He wore a dark trench coat, like those eastern city detectives on Law and Order. His hair was short and curly, his complexion shiny red, especially around his nose and cheeks. He reminded her of her second stepfather, Roy, who was a total alcoholic.
“I need your help, Rett,” Mel said, her eyes not leaving the man. “Call Brad and tell him I had to leave. Tell him you’ll stay here until he can come close up.” She grabbed a pen and jotted something down on the wooden counter. “I’ll be back soon.” Rett could feel some kind of emotion radiating from Mel, like a three-way lamp switched on bright—it seemed like fear or anger or something else? Who was this man? Why could he rattle someone as unshakable as Mel?
Without waiting for Rett’s reply, Mel met the man just as he stepped through the doorway.
“Not here,” Rett heard Mel mumble. She pushed past him and with a quick glance at Rett, he followed her without uttering a word.
“Okay, sure,” Rett called after Mel, nervous about what just happened. She looked down at the countertop where Mel had written Brad’s phone number. Under it was written the word triggers.
Triggers? What was that? Like on a gun? Was it this guy’s name? Was Rett supposed to tell Brad that? She called the number and got Brad’s voice mail. She quickly told him what Mel said and hung up, wondering what she should do now. She knew she couldn’t leave the store without locking it up, and she didn’t have any idea how to do that. Her grandma. That’s what she should do, call her grandma.
The answering machine picked up after the fourth ring, and Rett left a quick message for Love to call her back at the feed store. Then she tried Love’s cell. Again, voice mail. Why didn’t her grandma answer her cell phone?
What now? For some reason, she knew deep inside that she had to tell someone right away about Mel leaving with that scary-looking man. It didn’t feel right to her, and the burden of being the only one who knew frightened her more than anything ever had.
Magnolia was the next person who came to her mind. She was looking up the number for the Buttercream in the tattered Morro Bay Yellow Pages when a man walked into the feed store. He was an older guy, not as old as her grandma or Magnolia, but not as young as Mel. Forties, she guessed. He wore a fleece-lined denim jacket, Levi’s and muddy roper boots.
“Howdy,” he said in an obvious Texas accent. “Mel around?”
She was silent for a moment, not certain what to say. “Uh, she stepped out for a moment, with a . . . She’ll be back . . . uh . . . soon?”
He cocked his head while she stammered, his brown eyes serious. “Is everything okay?”
She nodded and swallowed hard, not trusting herself to speak again.
Something in his face shifted. He glanced around, taking in the empty feed store. “Are you here alone?”
She hesitated, not wanting to answer a question that would point out her vulnerability. Should she lie and say Brad or Evan was in the back? Would this guy fall for it? Who was he, anyway? She put the banjo case in front of her thinking that if he tried anything crazy she could throw it at him and run.
He walked up to the counter, pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. “My name is Ford Hudson. I’m with the San Celina County Sheriff’s Department. Mel and I are friends. Is there something wrong, young lady?”
She stared down at the badge. It looked real enough, but what if it was a fake? She’d seen on television about how many fake police badges there were out there. She wasn’t an idiot.
“Smart girl,” the man said. “Yes, it could be fake. What can I do to convince you I’m an actual officer and Mel’s friend?”
Before she could answer, the phone rang. It was her grandma.
“Rett, are you okay? What’s going on? Is Dale threatening you?” Love’s voice sounded out of breath.
“No, I’m fine,” she said, keeping her eye on the man. “I’m at the feed store. Did Magnolia call you?”
“Yes, but she said you were on your way home. Then I listened to your message. You sounded scared.”
“I’m okay. You know, like, a lot of people here in Morro Bay, right?”
“I suppose you could say I do. Why?”
She gazed up at the man in the den
im jacket. “Do you know someone named Hudson . . . uh . . .”
“Ford Hudson,” the man repeated, smiling. “People call me Hud.”
“Hud?” Rett said into the phone.
“Of course,” Love said. “Hud’s a sheriff’s deputy. He has a daughter around your age. She was in my 4-H group for years.”
“What’s he look like?”
“Medium height. Short, brownish hair, gray at the temples. Has a Texas twang. Why?”
“He’s here looking for Mel and I wasn’t sure—”
“Where did Mel go? Are you at the feed store alone?”
Rett turned her back to Hud, and in a low voice, quickly told her the story. “I left a message for Brad. I can’t leave the store unlocked. She left in such a hurry with this creepy guy who showed up and just told me to call Brad.”
“Let me talk to Hud.”
Rett turned around and handed the phone to Hud. “She wants to talk to you.”
He listened, then said, “I don’t know what’s going on. I just walked in. Maybe Rett can tell me. Okay, sure. Here she is.” He handed the phone back to Rett.
“I’ll be right down,” Love said. “Sit tight. Tell Hud whatever he wants to know. You can trust him.
Rett hung up the phone. “My grandma said you were okay.”
“Can you tell me where Mel is now?”
Rett nodded. “She left with a man. It was kinda strange. I mean, she was sort of jumpy. The guy was big, like wrestler big. He wore a trench coat. He had curly short hair. And a red face. Like he was a drinker.” She paused. “My stepfather drinks a lot, that’s how I know that.”
He put both hands on the counter. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
She told him everything she could remember. “He didn’t say anything, but it was like she knew he was coming or something.”
“Did she say anything about where they were going?”
Rett shook her head. Then she remembered and pointed at the counter. “She wrote Brad’s number for me and something else.”
He came around the counter and looked at the message: triggers. “How long ago did they leave?”
She glanced at the black-and-white schoolhouse clock that hung on the wall next to the doorway. “Maybe fifteen minutes? Twenty? Do you know where they went? Does it help at all?”
Love Mercy Page 26
