“That’s ridiculous. There is nothing wrong.”
“Then why won’t you look me in the eye? If nothing’s wrong, let’s go upstairs and make love.” The panic on his wife’s face brought Sage up short. Christ Almighty, what the hell is going on here?
“I’m not in the mood,” Iris said coolly.
“Since when? You’re as lusty as I am. Do I smell? Am I getting to look my age? What do you want me to do? You’re breaking my heart, Iris, because I don’t understand why you’re withdrawing from me. I feel like I’m losing you, and I don’t know why. Will you please say something?”
“I’m very tired. You sound like you have a guilty conscience and are trying to blame me for something. I didn’t do anything. I sit up here on this mountain and do what I agreed to do when I married you. If that isn’t good enough, then it’s your problem, not mine. If you really want to do something, work on these dolls while I take a nap. I plan to work through the night. I don’t want to let Ruby down.”
Sage’s voice dropped to a miserable whisper, “I guess what you’re saying is it’s okay to let me down but not Ruby. How did this happen? What the hell did I do? I know I must have done something to give you such an attitude. You don’t even want to be around me anymore. Do you want me to move out? If that’s what you want, I’m gone. I won’t beg you to look at me, to smile at me, to talk to me. Where the hell do you get off treating me like this? I hope to hell this bullshit doesn’t have anything to do with Sunny’s kids . . .”
“You’re being ridiculous. Are you trying to pick a fight, so you’ll have an excuse to leave us? If that’s your intention, I’ll pack your bag for you.”
Sage slapped at his forehead. “Where the hell did that come from?”
“You tell me,” Iris snapped. “I’m going upstairs to sleep for an hour or so. You can work on these dolls or not.”
“Do you want me to leave, Iris?”
“Is that what you want to do?”
“Hell no. I just want to know what’s wrong? Why are we fighting? We never fought before. We had discussions, sharp words from time to time, but we never fought like this. You owe me an explanation since I’m not a mind reader.”
“I’m going to bed,” Iris said.
Sage stared at the empty rocking chair for a long time as he racked his brain to figure out what was wrong with his wife. His fingers worked automatically, twisting and tying the yarn on the dolls that Iris had worked on earlier. He thought about calling his mother but nixed the idea almost immediately. Should he call Sunny and burden her with his problems? No. Birch wouldn’t understand, or would he? With a wife like Celia, he doubted it. That left Billie, who was going through her own private hell at the moment and didn’t need any extra problems. Ruby would be a good person to talk to but she was on Iris’s side. Did he have a side? How could something so right go so wrong so quickly? He wished he could cry the way he had when he was a kid. He always felt better after a good cry when his mother gave him a cherry Popsicle. He was off the chair in a split second, rummaging in the freezer for the Popsicles Iris always stocked for the kids. He relaxed immediately.
“Sage.”
“Jake, is something wrong?”
“Kind of. I know it’s late but . . .”
“Want a Popsicle?”
“Sure.”
“Lemon, lime, or cherry?”
“Cherry. I got a letter from my dad two days ago. He wants to know if me and Polly can visit him over Thanksgiving. He wants us to meet his other son. Iris said it was my decision. She told me I should talk to you.”
“Do you want to go, Jake?”
“Yesterday I did. Today I don’t. It was a nice letter. I think he wants me to answer the letter.”
“He’s your dad, Jake. That’s never going to change. Iris and I adopted you and Polly, but that doesn’t change who your dad is. Do you think it would be nice to meet your half brother?”
“I suppose so. Should I mention it to Mom?”
“I think I would. Your mom always gives good advice.”
“I wish Pop Pop were here. He always had the right answers. I didn’t do good on my history test today. I got a C- because I kept thinking about this and couldn’t concentrate. Polly won’t like going on a plane. I know she’ll get homesick. She’ll cry and then she’ll throw up. Four days is a long time. I don’t want to go.”
“Okay. Do you want me to call your dad?”
“No. If it’s my decision, then I have to tell him. Is it okay if I write the letter tonight? I know it’s late, but I won’t sleep unless I do it now.”
“I think it’s okay. You’re sure about your decision?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s what Pop Pop would have decided. Is it okay to invite my dad for a visit?”
“Anytime, Jake. This is your home, and he’s your dad. If it feels right, then you do it.”
“That’s kind of what I thought. The Popsicle was good. Thanks. You look sad. Is something wrong?”
“I have a lot on my mind.”
“Boy do I ever know what that’s like.”
“I talked to your uncle Birch today, and he said your mom went snowmobiling with Harry and they had a great time. They went sled riding and had a real sleigh ride with horses with bells around their necks. Harry never saw snow before. Did you know that?”
“I didn’t know that.” Jake started to giggle and couldn’t stop. “I’m trying to picture Mom and Harry on a sled. Who do you think steered the sled?”
“I think it had hand controls.” In spite of himself, Sage grinned.
“I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I, Sage? I don’t want Mom or you and Iris to be disappointed in me.”
“I told you, if it feels right, then it’s right. Jake, Iris and I will never be disappointed in you. Nor will your mom. Never ever. Not even in a million years. Get going and do your letter. I’ll mail it for you in the morning.”
Sage poured himself a second cup of coffee before he adjusted the volume on the small portable kitchen television set on the counter. He listened to the ominous-sounding words of the weather forecast as his ruler traced the pattern of an approaching storm headed across the plains and up the East Coast, where a second storm, born in Canada, was heading in a southerly direction. The two storms, he explained, would meet up somewhere over the New England states. The ominous-sounding voice became more dire with each passing minute as Sage stared at the set on the counter. To drive home his warnings, the weatherman used his ruler to tap at colored masses floating and swirling on the map in front of him.
A headache started to wage a war inside Sage’s head. He looked at his watch: 9:30. How fast did a storm move? Maybe he should call the station. What kind of weather stations did they have in Vermont? Probably the best, since the ski resorts made their living from snow. Freak snowstorms at the end of October were something to pay attention to. A second war birthed itself inside his stomach.
A snowstorm was a snowstorm. He and Birch had lived through many of them when they were in college in Pennsylvania. The university had been closed on three separate occasions during blizzards. Both of them had considered it a lark at the time. This was different. He and Birch hadn’t been in wheelchairs the way Sunny and Harry were. He’d feel a lot better if the dogs were with his sister and Harry. He continued to watch the colored swirls until his eyes started to ache. What time was it in Vermont? He looked at his watch again: 10:45. It was a quarter to two in the morning in Vermont. He should go to bed since there was nothing he could do. The war in his stomach met up with the war in his head, where they clashed. He should go to bed. He should also stop drinking coffee so late at night. He knew if he went up to bed, no matter how quiet he was, Iris would wake and come downstairs. He could sleep here in the comfortable rocking chair. All he had to do was close his eyes. But, if he did that, the demons that had been plaguing him these past weeks would invade his dreams.
Sage leaned his head back against the padded headrest. He was asleep within s
econds.
Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed, careful not to disturb the covers or to make a sound. He pulled his chair close to the bed and, from long years of practice, hefted himself into the cushioned seat. His eyes still on Sunny, he waited a moment before he engaged the hand control that would allow him to move his chair backward. Satisfied that Sunny’s breathing was normal and that she was sound asleep, he wheeled himself to the window. Mesmerized at the beauty outside the window, he gasped. He’d seen all kinds of beauty in movies and magazines but nothing compared to the wonderland he was now staring at. His shoulders slumped. A single tear rolled down his cheeks followed by another and still another.
Caught up in the beauty of the night, he almost didn’t feel the light touch to his shoulder. “It’s so beautiful it takes your breath away, doesn’t it? It’s okay to cry, Harry. I feel like crying myself. You want out there so bad you can taste it. I do, too. Let’s do it, Harry! I can see us skimming across that snow in those snowmobiles. The snow and wind will be in our faces. It’ll be the best thing in the world, something we’ll probably never get to do again. I’m not afraid. Are you afraid?”
“Petrified would be a better word.”
“I woke up a little while ago and heard the snowblowers. I bet they cleared a path to the utility barn, where they store the snowmobiles. There has to be a path. If the storm gets bad, it will be the only way to travel. The roads will be impassable. The mechanic in charge of the machines told me he gasses them all at the end of the day. We could whiz around for hours on a tank, Harry. No one will know. The mechanic might suspect when he sees the tanks are empty, but he went home with everyone else. I saw him getting into the shuttle bus. It’s just plain old snow. The storm isn’t supposed to hit until tomorrow around noon. It’s two in the morning, Harry.”
“What if something happens? We aren’t like other people, who can get up and walk away. We could get lost.” Harry’s voice and tone said “convince me.”
“The roof could blow off this lodge. The gas fireplace could explode. If there was enough snow, there could be an avalanche. There could be an earthquake. We know how to take care of ourselves. We’ll do it by the book. If we don’t do this, you’ll always regret it. Am I wrong?”
“Probably. You make it sound so logical. If Libby finds out, she’ll fry our asses. She might even quit, and where will that leave us?”
“She isn’t going to find out. We’re going to be very quiet. You and I are the last people anyone in this lodge would think of who would do something like what we’re planning. You forget, Libby is falling in love with Birch, so she isn’t going to do anything. Trust me.”
“I don’t know, Sunny. If we do it, we’ll be flouting everything they taught us at the rehab center.”
“Once. This is one of those once-in-a-lifetime things. Did you ever think you would be able to make a snow angel? No, you did not. You did, though. We can make another one. We’ll be together. Nothing’s going to happen. I thought you said you trusted me.”
“I do trust you. Most of the time. This is different. We could be playing with our lives. What if the storm kicks up?”
Sunny giggled. “Then we kick back.”
Harry’s face puckered in worry. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Damn straight I’m sure. I want to do it for you. It’s your decision.”
“Okay, but we’re going prepared. That means flashlights, our battery-operated socks and gloves. We carry spares. Candy bars. If anything happens, we can eat the snow. Matches. Lots of matches. People always carry matches when they do things like this. And don’t forget our Saint Christopher medals. I’m wearing mine.”
“I have mine on, too.”
“Should we leave a note in case something happens?”
“Harry, nothing is going to happen. Don’t think negative thoughts. A note’s good. We’ll probably both feel better if we leave one. We’ll be back before dawn, safe in our rooms and in bed. We’ll tear it up when we get back. I’m psyched. Are you psyched, Harry?”
“I’m so excited, I can hardly breathe. I want your promise, Sunny, that we’ll stay together. Swear you won’t do anything screwy. I’m in charge. Agree out loud.”
“I swear. I agree. You’re in charge. I’ll stick to you like the peel on an orange. I’ll write the note, too. What should I say in the note?”
“Say . . . let’s see . . . say we went out to play in the snow.”
“That’s good, Harry. It’s the truth, too.”
Harry raised his hand and Sunny slapped it with all the force she could muster.
“To the white stuff,” Harry said.
“To the white stuff,” Sunny said.
11
Ruby stared out the window, seeing but not seeing what lay beyond the windows. The silvery glow from overhead told her there would be a full moon when the clouds released their hold on the sky. A full moon certainly explained the restless sounds of the chickens. For some reason the chickens, even though they were roosting, sensed the moon. The sounds they made spoke of uneasiness and were ominous to her ears. There had been a full moon the night her father was attacked by the turkeys, years ago.
Ruby turned to mix herself a stiff drink as she tried to ignore the barnyard sounds that seemed to circle the house and waft through the cracks in the window frames. The ice clinking in the glass in her hand, she paced the office, walking around the desk, the table holding the lamp, the cracked leather chair that still held an imprint of her father’s form, a form that didn’t fit her slim body. She’d tried cushions, extra padding. Nothing worked. She should have gotten a new chair, but it seemed sacrilegious to do so. It was easier simply to perch on the end of the flattened leather cushion than it was to throw out her father’s treasured chair.
She really should clean up the office, paint the dingy walls, get some modern blinds instead of the green pull shades. She could do little things; hang some pictures, add some plants, refinish the old, scarred desk, put down a new floor, perhaps some slate or tile that would be easy to care for. Maybe a new comfortable chair with a footrest and a floor lamp set in one of the corners where she could read the latest periodicals. She set her drink down on the edge of the desk to make some scribbled notes. She finished the drink and fixed another.
The Wild Turkey, her father’s favorite, went down smooth and easy. One more of these and she’d be swinging from the dusty chandelier shaped like a buck’s antlers.
Ruby walked back to the window. It wasn’t the full moon or the chickens’ restlessness, it was something else that was making her jittery. Maybe she should make some phone calls. Iris might be under the weather. Sage was there. What could she do except hold Iris’s hand? It was better for Sage to hold his wife’s hand. Celia was home in bed, this she knew for a fact. The Chicken Palace’s newest spokesperson had been dead on her feet after a hard day’s work in front of the camera. Billie? It was possible, but unlikely, that the young woman had run afoul of her creditors. Still, it was a possibility.
Not bothering to think, Ruby picked up the phone and dialed Billie’s number. “This is going to sound very strange, Billie, but I have the strangest feeling that something is wrong somewhere. I’ve discounted the full moon. I feel foolish calling everyone, but I won’t sleep until I know everyone in my immediate circle is all right. I’m sorry if I bothered you.”
Scratch Billie. Aside from sounding a little stressed, she was working, doing her best to uphold her end of their business deal. Marcus and Fanny. She called the hospital and was told Marcus’s condition remained unchanged. She was told Mrs. Reed had left over an hour ago.
Ruby freshened her drink and added ice cubes from the small portable refrigerator under the counter. She dialed Sunrise. Sage’s sleepy voice confirmed that things were okay on the mountain. Her list was whittled to Sunny and Birch. With the time difference, they were all probably snug and asleep at the lodge.
Damn, she was acting like a mother hen, and the chicks weren�
��t even hers. Goose bumps dotted her arms as her stomach muscles tightened. Maybe it was Jeff at the casino and something terrible was going on. It was a far-out idea, but she couldn’t discount it. She called Neal Tortolow’s private beeper. A moment later her call was returned. “I’m not out of my mind, Mr. Tortolow, it’s just that I’m having this . . . anxiety attack and can’t pinpoint it. Mark it down to woman’s intuition. Is everything all right at the casino? That’s good. Okay, I’m sorry I took you away from the business at hand. Yes, I know there is a full moon. Fanny told me once all the weirdos in Vegas hit the casinos when the moon is full. I guess it’s one of those little mysteries in life that will never be completely explained. Have a good night.”
Ruby splashed bourbon into her glass. So what if she swung from the chandelier. Who was going to see her? No one. Maybe she should walk up to the house and go to bed. Sleep was out of the question, so why bother. It was easier to sit here and drink. If something was wrong, someone would have called by now. Keep drinking, Ruby, and you won’t know if anyone calls or not, an inner voice chided. She started to pace again, her footsteps sluggish. She gulped at the drink in her hand as she rounded the desk for the sixth time.
Ruby was on her tenth round when the phone rang, startling her. The glass dropped from her hand as she fell over her father’s chair to grab for the phone. “Fanny!” she gasped. “I’m so glad you called. Is everything okay? All evening I’ve had this awful, strange feeling like something is wrong somewhere. I called everyone to see if they’re okay. Sage and Iris were sleeping, Billie’s working, Celia’s in bed, and Marcus’s condition is the same. I knew you would have called if something was wrong. I didn’t call Birch or Sunny because of the time difference. That’s right, you don’t know. They went to Vermont skiing. They left on Friday. I’m babbling here. I’m just so glad you called. You feel it, too? God, I can’t tell you what a relief that is. I thought I was going out of my mind. At first I thought it was the full moon because the chickens are restless, but that isn’t what it is. It’s something else. I can’t shake the feeling. If I figure out what it is, I’ll call you back. One of my workers will pick up the dolls in the morning for shipment. We’ve really made inroads, and I can’t thank you enough, Fanny. My heart swells every time you tell me that’s what families are for. Call me if there’s anything I can do.”
Vegas Sunrise Page 22
