Cold Skies

by Thomas King

  Along with a carton of eggs, half a loaf of bread that still looked to be alive, and a jar of peanut butter that had been in residence during his last visit and that appeared none the worse for wear.

  Claire stood in the middle of the room, looking defiant. “You want something to eat?”

  “No.”

  “Are you going to give me another kitchen lecture?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good,” said Claire, “because I’m not in the mood for it.”

  Thumps set the bag on the table. He wondered where his blood sugars were and if eating a chocolate might be a danger or a necessity. Which is when he realized that his testing kit was back at his house.

  Brilliant.

  So he’d have to guess, and since he was guessing, he decided that one chocolate wasn’t going to be the end of the world.

  He turned back to share this piece of wisdom with Claire.

  “Are you crying?”

  Which was a truly dumb thing to ask, since Thumps could clearly see that she was indeed crying.

  Claire wiped her eyes. “You didn’t do anything.”

  “Do you want me to hold you?”

  “I don’t want you to ask.” Claire poured a cup of coffee, stalked over to the table, and helped herself to a chocolate. “We should talk.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Thumps took his coffee to the table and waited.

  “Sit down.”

  Thumps sat.

  Claire took a sip of her coffee and then pushed the cup away. “What do you know about breast cancer?”

  Thumps stopped breathing and waited.

  “Now’s your chance,” said Claire.

  He could feel her eyes searching his face. He tried a supportive smile that wasn’t particularly successful.

  “Stay or go.”

  “Stay.”

  “That’s the easy answer,” said Claire. “I need you to think about it.”

  “Stay.”

  Claire’s face softened. “Okay,” she said. “You’ll change your mind later.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “Then maybe I will.”

  Thumps found himself hoping that a deus ex machina would suddenly appear and push the conversation off to one side. Stick arriving home. A phone call from the sheriff. A sudden snowstorm.

  “So, Roxanne didn’t tell you.”

  “Roxanne never tells me anything.”

  “And the flowers and the chocolate weren’t because you were feeling sorry for me.”

  “No.”

  Claire stood. “I’d like to be held now.”

  Thumps came out of his chair and gathered Claire in his arms. And as he stood there with Claire pressed against his body, movie clichés began to play in his head. Hero saves fair damsel. Sensitive man comforts dying heroine. Knight slays dragon.

  Claire pushed away. “I’m still going to kill Roxanne.”

  “Can I help?”

  Thumps would have preferred to continue holding Claire. Holding someone who was upset was like standing in the eye of a storm. So long as you were able to stay in that calm place, you were safe.

  Claire went to the sofa. She was composed now. Not happy. Not dejected. Thumps stayed standing and at a distance.

  “About four months ago, I had a mammogram. They called the next day and had me come back in for a second test. There was a suspicious area. The second test wasn’t conclusive and they gave me two options. We could wait and see and monitor the area, or I could get a biopsy.”

  “You went for the biopsy.”

  “No,” said Claire. “Not right away. I decided to wait. Watchful waiting is what they call it. There was a third mammogram. The area had gotten larger.”

  “That’s why you were in Great Falls.”

  Claire nodded. “That’s why I was in Great Falls.”

  Thumps knew there was a question, probably several, that he could ask that would keep Claire talking and that would keep him from making a mess of the situation. But he couldn’t think of any.

  “Which breast?”

  Thumps thought he saw a smile flash on Claire’s face. “Why?” she said. “You have a favourite?”

  Okay, so it hadn’t been a smile.

  “Sorry.”

  “Not your fault.” Claire wrapped her arms around her. “I get the results back in about a week.”

  “So it might not be cancer.”

  “Why are you standing?” Claire put a hand on the cushion next to her. “Could you sit with me?”

  Thumps liked standing where he was, but now that was no longer possible.

  “I’m going to have some decisions to make.” Claire stretched out and put her feet on Thumps’s lap. “How would you feel if I lost a breast?”

  “Me?” Again, a wrong answer.

  “I know how I’d feel.” Thumps could hear the snap in her voice. “I want to know how you would feel.”

  “I wouldn’t like it.”

  “Duh,” said Claire. “I don’t know many men who go looking for a woman with one breast.”

  Claire’s feet were in his lap. They were warm and that should have been mildly erotic. But it wasn’t. In fact, the proximity of her heels to his testicles was slightly alarming.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  Claire’s eyes flashed. “Then what did you mean?”

  “It wouldn’t make a difference.”

  “Bullshit!”

  Thumps remembered that Claire liked having her feet rubbed. He quickly eased both hands under her heels and began softly kneading her instep. Safety first.

  “Okay,” he said. “I don’t know how I’d feel.”

  “Better,” said Claire.

  “I don’t think you know how you’d feel.”

  “No,” said Claire. “I can’t imagine how I’d feel with one breast. How eager I’d be to have sex. How keen I’d be to spend money on fancy lingerie.”

  So far as Thumps could remember, Claire’s taste in underwear consisted of white and cotton. White cotton bras. White cotton panties.

  “You want to see?” Claire began unbuttoning her blouse. “After the biopsy, I went shopping.”

  The bra was not white cotton. In fact, so far as Thumps could tell from his end of the sofa, it wasn’t cotton at all.

  “It’s silk muslin,” said Claire, opening her blouse completely so Thumps could have a proper look. “And lace.”

  The bra was purple. Not a flat, dull purple. A rich, shimmering purple like ripe plums or wet grapes. He tried to find a word to describe the colour, but all he could come up with was “engorged.”

  “It’s a set,” said Claire. “The panties match.”

  And she got up and walked to the bedroom.

  Thirty-One

  When Thumps woke the next morning, he found Claire’s purple silk bra stuck to the side of his face. The night had been a lovely mix of gentle touching and passionate coupling. All conducted in complete silence. No mention of mammograms. No talk of dead bodies. No allusions to rich Texans and muscular lawyers.

  Everything pushed aside. The world forgotten.

  Claire hadn’t said and Thumps hadn’t asked, but there was a flesh-coloured bandage on the side of her left breast. It didn’t look dangerous. Yet each time his lips stumbled against the dressing, he could feel Claire tense.

  So he concentrated on holding her.

  Thumps set the bra next to the pillow. Claire’s panties were somewhere in the bed as well. He remembered sliding them down her thighs. He just couldn’t remember where he had put them. Tangled up in the covers, no doubt.

  It might be fun to rummage through the bedding to see who could find them first.

  Thumps stretched but kept his eyes closed. No sense rushing the day. Here he was safe in Claire’s bed, safe in Claire’s house. Safe with Claire. The perfect morning after a perfect night. He had nowhere to go, nothing to do. There was no Archie calling him. No surly cat wanting to be fed. No sheriff with job opportunities. No Beth and
her medieval basement.

  Thumps rolled over and went sorting through the blankets and the pillows, looking for Claire’s warm body. He could still feel the gentle aftershocks of the evening, and he hoped that Claire might be interested in taking up where they had left off.

  But first he had to find her.

  No Claire.

  Thumps opened his eyes and propped himself up on an elbow. The bed was empty. Claire could have slipped out to the bathroom to freshen up. She could be on her way back. But now that he was sitting up, he could smell the faint aroma of coffee. And fried onions. And bacon.

  Okay, no morning encore.

  Worse, now he had to face one of Claire’s breakfasts. It wasn’t that she couldn’t cook, it was just that he would prefer she didn’t try. She had a trick for microwaving eggs in a cup, and a fire-hazard technique for cooking a basket weave of bacon in a toaster oven. She didn’t make much use of the stove, and when she did, she liked to set the burner on high because she believed food cooked faster at higher temperatures.

  Which was true so far as it went.

  Still the coffee and the onions and the bacon smelled remarkably like coffee, onions, and bacon. Maybe if he was fast, Thumps could get to the kitchen before the meal began to blacken and smoke.

  But what to say? Last night had been easy enough. He had had sex to hide behind. Now Claire would be waiting for him, expecting that he’d say something profound without being clichéd, something sympathetic without being maudlin, something inspirational without being trite.

  And all that came to mind was Monty Python and that silly song about always looking on the bright side of life.

  Thumps went back to sorting through the covers. Forget Claire’s panties. Where were his?

  THUMPS HAD CONSIDERED wandering into the kitchen with just a towel wrapped around his waist and reprising that commercial for men’s cologne. “Anything is possible,” he would have said, tightening his stomach and lowering his voice an octave, “when your man smells like Old Spice.”

  But he didn’t.

  And just as well. Moses was at the stove, scrambling eggs and frying bacon. In a separate pan were about a dozen sausages. Cooley was sitting at the table, waiting expectantly for food to arrive.

  “Ho,” said Moses, “you’re just in time. Cooley was concerned he was going to have to eat everything by himself.”

  Claire was nowhere to be seen.

  “Claire had to go to Buffalo Mountain,” said Cooley. “To get ready for the water conference.”

  “You want bacon and sausage with your eggs?” asked Moses. “There’s orange juice too.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Claire said to tell you that she’s staying two nights at Buffalo Mountain,” said Cooley. “In one of those fancy condos.”

  “We bought some pastries from that new bakery,” said Moses, “but Cooley was worried that you would be tempted, so he ate them on the way here.”

  “I think she was hinting that you could stay with her,” said Cooley. “But I can’t be sure.”

  There was coffee in the pot, food cooking on the stove, bread in the toaster. Even fruit in a bowl. Thumps had to remind himself that he was standing in Claire’s kitchen.

  “Claire doesn’t believe in food,” said Cooley, “so we brought our own.”

  Moses carried the meat and eggs over on two large plates. “Yes,” he said, “Claire needs a good man to shop for her. She needs a good man to cook for her.”

  Cooley nodded as he took half of everything. “A healthy diet is the key to a healthy life.”

  Moses returned with the coffee pot. He settled in his chair, sat back, and sighed. “The women have been talking.”

  Cooley nodded. “And you know what that means.”

  Thumps didn’t know what that meant, but a feeling of panic rippled through his body.

  “And when the women are talking,” said Moses, “people need to listen.”

  “That’s why we’re here,” said Cooley, and he reached across and helped himself to one of Thumps’s sausages. “To help you listen.”

  Thumps pulled his plate out of harm’s way.

  “The Magpies,” said Moses.

  “The women’s society?”

  “They want you to look after Claire.”

  “Sure,” said Thumps. “I can do that.”

  Moses pursed his lips. “Yes, I told Roxanne that you would do that.”

  The panic ripple was back. “Is Roxanne still head of the Magpies?”

  “But,” said Cooley, “Auntie wasn’t sure that you would know what to do.”

  Moses reached into his jacket pocket and put an envelope on the table. “Instructions,” he said. “Roxanne’s real good at organizing these kinds of things.”

  “It’s true,” said Cooley. “Auntie has things on the list I would never have thought of.”

  Thumps lifted the edge of the envelope with a finger. It was heavier than it looked. “A list?”

  “Yes,” said Moses. “Of things that will make Claire happy and help her through the difficult times ahead.”

  “How long is the list?”

  Moses shook his head. “I didn’t have the courage to look.”

  Cooley fished the last piece of bacon off Thumps’s plate and swallowed it whole. “Auntie has her doubts that you’re up to the job, so I’m supposed to report back on how you’re doing.”

  “You’re supposed to spy on me?”

  “Observe,” said Cooley. “The word Auntie used was ‘observe.’”

  “But in the meantime,” said Moses, “we need your help on that second thing.”

  It took Thumps a moment to remember the promise he had made Moses when he was at the old man’s place.

  “Remember,” said Cooley. “You said you would help us with two things.”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  Moses stood and waited for his body to straighten itself. “We have to go for a drive. The thing we need help with is not here.”

  Thumps took the plates to the sink, cleaned them, and set them in the drainer. He was still hungry, and he wondered if this was a side effect of diabetes. Being hungry and not being able to eat. He was sorry the pastries from the new bakery hadn’t made it to the house. He wouldn’t have eaten one, of course, but a small taste wouldn’t have hurt.

  Cooley put on his coat and checked the refrigerator in case there was something he had overlooked on one of the shelves.

  The three men had started for the door when Moses stopped suddenly and went back to the table.

  “Holy,” he said, holding up the envelope. “You almost forgot your list.”

  Thirty-Two

  The day was surprisingly cool and there were no signs of clouds to help break the high glare. Cooley drove north through the heart of the reservation. Thumps didn’t ask, but he was sure that they were headed to Bear Hump.

  “When Orion Technologies got their lease, they put in twenty wells,” said Cooley, as he negotiated the dirt track with its ruts and washboards. “When we get the land back, we’ll probably sell the wellheads for scrap.”

  This part of the reservation was rolling hills, heavy greens and burnished golds, with dark mountains in the distance and a steel sky set along the horizon like the edge of a knife. From the cab of Cooley’s truck, the land seemed untouched and forgotten by the clamour and destruction of modern existence.

  “These days,” said Cooley, “you can get pretty good money for scrap.”

  “Lots of the people have been coming up with good ideas about the monitoring wells,” said Moses. “Raymond Horse Capture wants to paint them so they look like politicians with their heads buried in the earth.”

  Cooley concentrated on skirting the larger potholes. “How we going to know they’re politicians?”

  “No idea,” said Moses.

  “’Cause with their heads buried like that, they could just as well be voters.”

  “Yes,” said Moses. “Someone should mention that to Ray
mond.”

  Thumps hadn’t been looking forward to a morning conversation with Claire, but now that there was no conversation, he felt as though he had let her down, and he hoped that Roxanne and the rest of the women in the Magpie Society didn’t hear of his poor beginning.

  Still, it hadn’t been his fault. Claire had left before he was awake. And the conversation they should have had had just been delayed, put off for the time being. He was still going to have to figure out what he would say to Claire and how he would say it.

  Moses put a hand out the window to catch the wind. “But first we have to help Claire.”

  “We?”

  “Yes,” said Moses. “The women are hoping that three men will be enough.”

  “Auntie says it normally takes at least four men to do the job of one woman,” said Cooley, “but she’s willing to count Moses as two.”

  “You got to feel good about that,” said Moses.

  “I don’t need any help.”

  “Everybody needs help,” said Moses. “We just forget to ask.”

  THE TOUR OF the monitoring stations was more boring than Thumps would have imagined. At each one, they got out of the truck and walked around the wellhead and the fence. Then Moses and Cooley would wander off into the prairie grass and explore the surrounding area. As though they were trying to find something they had lost.

  And then they got back in the truck and headed for the next station.

  “When I was a child,” said Moses, “the grass was over my head. My brother and sisters and I would hide in it and try to scare each other.”

  “Being scared,” said Cooley, “can be fun.”

  “When I got older, the grass wasn’t as high,” said Moses, “and it was harder to hide. That’s how they caught me.”

  Thumps turned in his seat.

  “Residential school,” said Cooley. “I never had to go, but I hear it was scary.”

  “It was,” said Moses. “But it wasn’t much fun.”

  The road rose steeply as the land opened up onto a broad swell. In the distance, Thumps could see another monitoring station.

  “There’s the last one,” said Cooley.