Nocturne

by Heather McKenzie

I practically had to run to keep up with her long, determined strides toward the barn. The structure stood not far from the house, and it was painted the traditional red and white. Wide doors on the bottom and loft windows made it look like a face, ominous and spooky under the full light of the moon. Moths were circling the lanterns. Inside, hay, freshly tossed into the horse stalls, made it smell clean and green. The air was at least ten degrees colder, and I was instantly chilled to the bone.

  “So, what’s with you and Ben?” I asked, shivering.

  Marlene went to stand before one of the stalls. A beautiful white horse reached for her, and she stroked its muzzle. “He caught Hank and me smoking pot a couple of years ago.”

  That wasn’t the answer I was expecting. “You and Hank? Hank doesn’t seem like the type—”

  Marlene turned to face me, the dim light in the barn making the purple side of her face almost black. “Oh, Hank is the type, but believe it or not, I’m not. Never touch the stuff.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Marlene peered around to make sure we were alone. “I was just hanging out with Hank to watch over him because he does such stupid things all the time. I took the blame for it because Ben hates the kid enough as it is. I told Ben it was my weed.”

  “Whoa. That was pretty nice of you Marlene.”

  Her affection for the boy was obvious. “Hank gets treated badly sometimes because he’s, well… you know.”

  “Special?”

  Marlene gulped. “Yeah. I know what it feels like.”

  “Of course.” I nodded, feeling horrible for her. The heels of her boots clicked over the barn floor to the stall where a massive Clydesdale horse was penned. The sheer size of the beast was terrifying, but I suspected there wasn’t much that would intimidate Marlene. “Is that the only reason he dislikes you so much?” I pressed.

  She sighed. “No… I shot Zander in the butt with my slingshot once.”

  “What?”

  “While Ben was riding him. He got bucked off.”

  I pictured that in my head and stifled a laugh. “When was this?”

  “A long time ago.”

  “And… why would you do that?”

  Marlene’s face grew stern. “I was trying to help him and Dad with branding. Ben told me I was in the way and to get back to the kitchen where I belonged.”

  I laughed. He’d pretty much said the same thing to me. “Well, he deserved it then.”

  “He also called Hank an idiot.”

  “Well, that’s not very nice.”

  “No, it’s not. So I may have put a decaying fish under the seat of his new truck. It was hot outside. He was pretty mad.”

  “Oh?”

  “And once, when the vet was taking horse piss samples, I may have served some to him as apple juice.”

  A snort of laughter almost escaped, but Marlene’s serious expression kept it contained.

  “I also buried his favorite hat next to the raspberries. And replaced his shampoo with the grease Mom keeps under the sink. Oh…. and I might have sprinkled an entire package of turmeric onto his pillow and sleeping bag one night before a rodeo.”

  My face contorted as I tried to contain my laughter. “Turmeric?”

  “Yeah. The spice. Ben went to bed drunk and sweaty and woke up the color of mustard. It didn’t wash off.”

  “Marlene, remind me to stay on your good side!”

  She grinned, but there was sadness behind it. “He deserved it.”

  There was something she wasn’t telling me. “So, you did all that because he told you to go to the kitchen?”

  “Uh, yeah. But I’m over it. I won’t torment him anymore.”

  But she wasn’t over it. I could tell by the way she twirled a lock of hair with flared nostrils and gritted teeth. There was more to this story, but I wouldn’t press. I’d give her the same respect she’d given me.

  “Yeah. I think you got him back,” I said. Reaching for a horse’s nose, I forgot about my stupid arm and winced from the pain.

  “I told you something. Now it’s your turn… What’s with the arm?” Marlene asked.

  The cold was making it ache even more than usual. I wandered to the stall where Zander was, his regal black coat shining, nose tipping to my hand for a treat. I wrestled to get control of my voice. “Well, since we are being truthful with each other… I was in the mountains. When I tried to save a friend from getting shot, I fell into some rapids. I got impaled on a tree, and then my boyfriend—” The thought of Luke almost doubled me over, the longing for him so painful. “—my friend rescued me and had to cauterize the wound with the blade of a knife he’d heated up in a fire.”

  Marlene was completely unfazed. “Cool,” she said flatly. “You’ve been branded. Does that mean you belong to your, uh… friend?”

  Her eyes met mine, and I instantly knew I’d made a wise decision in choosing her for company. “Yeah. You could say that.”

  “Where is your friend now?”

  Luke. Thinking of him made every part of my body ache more than a million of those puncture wounds all at once. It stole my breath.

  “Kate?” Marlene prompted.

  I cleared my throat, hoping my voice wouldn’t sound pathetic. “I had to leave him to keep him safe. My family is nothing like yours. If we stayed together, he would probably end up dead because of them. I couldn’t take that chance.”

  “Tell me about him. What does he look like?”

  I couldn’t stop myself. I described him head to toe, recounting every detail as if to confirm in my mind that he was real. When I was done, Marlene didn’t say a word.

  The oats in her hand remained at her side while the Clydesdale bobbed its head impatiently. My mind spun madly. Had I said too much? Of course I had. Why on earth had I told this strange girl I barely knew my secret? Hadn’t I already made this mistake with Angela? Angela… my first female friend who disappeared because I got caught sneaking out of the estate to see her at the Derrick Bar. What happened to her? And why was I putting Marlene at risk, too?

  I couldn’t trust anyone with who I was.

  “Hey,” Marlene said fiercely, demanding my attention. “Your secret is safe with me. I would do anything to protect those I love. I get it.”

  I stood before this strange girl in the freezing barn, suddenly wanting to cry my eyeballs out. I sniffed back the onset of tears.

  “Buck up, buttercup. A girl like you has to stay strong,” she said.

  “A girl like me?”

  “Yeah. Viewed as weak. Pigeonholed into some stereotypical bullshit because you are pretty and delicate looking. If you can be selfless enough to leave the love of your life for his own good, you can do anything. That is strength. That is power. Pull from it to get you through. Don’t do none of that darn cryin’ nonsense. That doesn’t do anybody any good.”

  Marlene’s gruff advice startled me into standing a little taller. She was right.

  Zander put his nose to my ear. His hot breath made little clouds of steam around my cheeks. With a huff, he seemed to convey he agreed with Marlene.

  “Let’s go get some cake,” Marlene said, finally giving the horse the treats in her hand. “My mom makes the best angel food, and if that doesn’t make ya forget your troubles, nothing—”

  She didn’t finish. Suddenly, the power went out. We were instantly enveloped in the thick black of night. The air in my lungs caught.

  “Ah, crap. Not again,” Marlene said.

  My heart rate quickened. The music that had been reaching us from the fire pit had abruptly ended, so did the buzzing sound of overhead lights. I swallowed hard when I realized I couldn’t even see my own hands.

  “Ya okay?” Marlene asked.

  I mumbled something as my eyes adjusted to see moonlight making silvery waves on a few tufts of grass just outside the open barn doors. In the eerie quiet, Mr. Carlson’s booming voice almost made me jump out of my skin.

  “Marlene…” he yelled. “Try flipping the breaker
in the utility room.”

  “I’m on it, Dad,” she called.

  I remained frozen where I was, relieved when Marlene’s rustling produced a flashlight. The comforting flood of light reminded me to breathe.

  “Dad’s gone and rewired the whole ranch just so those darn mini-pigs can live in the Taj Mahal,” she said. “The power is always going out now. C’mon, the utility room is just outside the back of the barn.”

  I tentatively followed her past the stalls of horses, their eyes lighting up in the flashlight beam like pairs of floating aliens. My chills multiplied, and I paused at the exit.

  “You’re not scared of the dark, are ya?” Marlene asked intuitively.

  She shoved open the heavy barn doors, leveling her flashlight on a small coral where a metal shack stood in the corner. Ominous and creepy.

  “No,” I squeaked.

  “Ah, heck. Yeah, you are. It’s just dark, Kate, that’s all,” she said confidently. “Nothing is gonna happen. Here,” she said, putting a cell phone in my hand. “Use the light on this, ya scaredy cat.”

  I eagerly switched it on and followed Marlene toward the shack. The metal door squealed loudly when she pulled on the handle, which brought forth a few restless sounds from the horses in the barn. I followed her into a small square room filled to the rafters with bottles of cleaning supplies, boxes, and shelves of scary-looking metal instruments. Marlene headed to the back where there was a massive panel on the wall covered in buttons and snaking multi-colored wires.

  She cursed under her breath. “I don’t remember which breaker it is.”’

  I reached for a white plastic bottle, one of many on the shelves. It was decorated with skulls, crossbones, and warnings of every sort. Next to the words weed killer, it said, safe and effective.

  Marlene kept muttering. “If I flip the wrong switch again, Dad will have my head. Last time this happened, I turned on the sprinklers and the irrigation system…ruined his new stereo.”

  I wasn’t listening. I was about to put the bottle back on the shelf, but words on the side of the container caught my attention. Eronel Pharmaceuticals. I felt sick. Dad’s precious company name was proudly emblazoned on this jug of poison. I recalled Regan patiently explaining to me how Eronel offered a cure for the very disease it had created. The company responsible for some of the most damaging toxins in history, specifically pesticides linked to infertility.

  I knew that now, but I’d yet to have concrete evidence of it in my hands.

  All Henry’s ranting over eating organic and never letting me have red meat burst into my head as I held the jug in my hands. He most surely knew the connection between plant, animal, and human, and how it affected the chain of events that prompted childless couples to seek out his medicine. Regan had explained it all to me, and I’d understood it then. But now, being here in a place where I’d seen the cattle grazing on the pesticide-covered grass and watched the people chow down on those cattle, the connection snapped so vividly in place it was like a slap in the face. The lights came on—in my head that was—bright as the sun on a summer afternoon.

  And then they came on in the metal shack.

  “Got it,” Marlene said triumphantly. A wide smile stretched over her face, which caused her right eye to almost disappear against the purple birthmark. The smile was short-lived when she caught a look at me. “Geez, you look like you seen a ghost, Kate. What’s up?” she asked, turning off the flashlight.

  I put the poison back on the shelf, and then moved to pick up another jug of something with a long name I couldn’t pronounce. I recognized it from the table where the twin sisters had been delivering vaccinations earlier. It had Eronel Pharmaceutical prominently displayed on the lid. “Does your dad use all this stuff?”

  “Well, yeah. That’s why it’s here.”

  “Do you put the pesticide in your garden?”

  Marlene grew defensive. “Well, yeah. I don’t need bugs and weeds taking over. Besides, it says it’s safe.”

  I nodded, not wanting to upset her. “Right. Of course.” I did my best to mask the hatred and disgust I had for my father. It was all I could do not to let loose a scream of rage from my throat. He was killing people, and he knew it.

  “I’m cold and tired,” I said.

  Marlene asked no questions as she led the way to the bunkhouse. I was thankful for not having to fully explain my sudden need to go hide under blankets. With a pat on my shoulder, she left while I climbed onto the top bunk bed I’d claimed and continued to shiver, mostly in anger over the horrid things my father had done. I wondered what else he was up to. I couldn’t possibly imagine what his power-hungry mind, endless resources, and love of genetics was stirring up now.

  I tried to sleep, but my mind raced. I was still awake hours later when the boys came in. Hank, being loud, was promptly scolded by Ben and told to shut up. I felt the metal structure shake when Thomas silently flopped onto his bed, and I was grateful it wasn’t Ben beneath me. Twisting in and out of a fitful sleep, I continued to shiver into the wee hours of the morning. It was only when Thomas got up and placed an extra blanket over me I fell fully asleep. Our eyes met when he pulled the grey wool up to my chin, but I was too tired to thank him.

  The day was a blur; pulling weeds, digging holes, delivering food out to where the men were still branding cattle, sweeping out the barn, trying to catch a horse in the pasture that didn’t want to be caught, and washing the prized mini-pigs that squealed so loudly my ears would probably ring for days. I gave my mind over to the tasks, doing exactly what Marlene asked. By the time supper was over and the bonfire was lit, I realized I hadn’t shed one tear the entire day. But now that the chores were done, the pain of missing Luke came back with crushing force.

  “Beer?” Thomas said.

  The sky was twinkling and clear, the evening air cool. He plunked down between Marlene and me on a wobbly bench, and flames from the bonfire reflected in his dark eyes. He’d shaved and changed into slim blue jeans and a soft grey sweatshirt, the smell of soap and spicy cologne on his skin mixed nicely with the wood smoke.

  “I don’t really drink,” I said.

  He grinned. “Maybe you should. What do you think, Marlene? Should Kate have a beer?”

  Marlene’s eyes grew wide, flattered Thomas was talking to her. “Personally, I think drinking is stupid. But if it prevents her from working herself into the ground as a distraction from what’s bothering her, then I say go for it.”

  “Am I that obvious?” I said miserably.

  Thomas laughed. “Here.” He put a silver can in my hands. “You look like you need one.”

  One beer turned into two. When I started on my third, Mr. Carlson opened a bottle of what he called ‘his finest hooch’ and passed it around. It was disgusting. It was worse than the gin Angela had shared with me in her apartment.

  Angela… She’d been fiercely independent with her wild-colored hair and tattoos. What advice would she give? And, what happened to her? After that night at the Derrick Bar, she went missing. Davis had tried to find her and came up empty-handed. I had to put all the scenarios I could imagine of where she ended up out of my mind. Because the outcome of each one ended with her dead.

  Country music blared, the booze kept flowing, and when a freshly cracked bottle of liquid fire landed in Ben’s hands, Mr. Carlson tried to take it back but Ben held on to it for dear life. He guzzled it greedily despite glares from Thomas and Mr. Carlson’s pleading. I recalled the vodka bottles rolling out from under the front seat of his truck. It became glaringly apparent Ben had a drinking problem.

  The wind picked up. We pushed the benches back from the flames and tried to rescue the roasting marshmallows. I’d never had one before. I thought they were disgusting so the pigs got the ones I didn’t eat. People milled around, chatting, laughing, dancing, and among all the merriment, I felt horribly alone.

  “Are you one of those sad drunks?” Thomas asked, taking the half-empty beer can from my hands and setting it on
the grass.

  “I don’t know what that means,” I said, noting the slight slur of my words.

  “Some people get sad, some get happy. That’s all.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I dunno. Which are you?”

  “Well, first, I’m in too much control to get drunk, but if I did, I would be happy. I’ve got nothing to be sad about.”

  The music was turned up. Hysterical giggles came from somewhere behind me in the trees, but it was what Thomas said that captured my attention. “Really? You’ve got nothing at all to be sad about?”

  “Nope. Why, is that shocking?”

  “I just didn’t think that was possible.”

  Thomas looked puzzled. “Sure it is.”

  “C’mon. Do you have a parent you mourn? A girlfriend who dumped you? Did something horrible happen in your childhood that haunts you? Did you ever lose lots of money? Or suffer from debilitating athlete’s foot? There must be something.”

  He moved closer, his muscled thigh now touching mine on the bench. I should have cringed or inched away, but I didn’t.

  “I mean, there are things in the world to be sad about, hungry kids… war… you know, that sort of thing,” he said, firelight in his eyes. “But for me, personally, I got nothing. My mom and pop are alive and well, and so are all my sisters and their kids. Mick is great… a best friend and a brother. I had a storybook childhood growing up on a ranch with lots of friends, and I’ve never had a girlfriend long enough to feel anything but relief after a break up. And athletes foot? That’s funny, Kate. Look at me; I am perfect. Rock solid, strong as an ox, and drop-dead gorgeous. But I didn’t have to tell you that, did I? So really, with everything I’ve got going on, what would I have to be sad about?”

  He was being serious. He really was that happy. “That’s amazing,” I said, silently agreeing he was gorgeous—but certainly not my type. “It’s refreshing and rare to meet someone like you.”

  “It is? Look around …” Thomas made a sweeping gesture.

  There wasn’t a sad face on anyone. Even Marlene was grinning as Hank’s hands flew to emphasize some story he was telling her. Out of the thirty or more people partying in the Carlson’s front yard, there wasn’t one sad face.