Loving Chloe

by Jo-Ann Mapson

  Chloe pushed Reed’s stroller up the bumpy stretch of cinder path and sat with her sleeping daughter on the back porch. She had given Junior her word, but just this once, was it a crime to go back on a promise? It was the moral thing to do. Face it, there was never going to be a “right time” to cheat on Hank. The man kept her too yoked for comfort, but he worked like a draft horse. He deserved nothing less than hot suppers and adoration at the end of every day. He was such a decent, loving father in a world full of deserters and deadbeats. These feelings she had for Junior weren’t true love, they were that word Ann Landers was fond of throwing around: “infatuation.” Sure, that’s what it was. Besides, as much as she might feel electricity down to her toes when Junior kissed her, her heart quietly owed Hank the same amount. This whole situation was crazy—imagining you could love two men at the same time—who could manage that? A good question for Ann might be: How on earth did shit like this happen? Love ought to boil down to a choice: This one will last, that one won’t. At night Chloe got into bed next to Hank, lost herself in his arms, then fell asleep and dreamed about Junior Whitebear. She heard his voice calling to her so clearly in her dreams that she woke up expecting to see that dark hair spread across the pillow next to hers.

  Reed awoke and started to cry. She flailed her arms and scrunched up her pretty face, sucking in a breath like it might be her last. When she exhaled in a scream, Chloe’s heart felt like it was cracking down the middle.

  “What’s the problem here, little girl? You’re not wet. Did your mother let you get too much sun?” She unstrapped the stroller’s restraints and cuddled her daughter in her arms. “Shh, don’t cry. You haven’t got anything to be sad about. The sun is shining, and there’s a whole lifetime ahead of you for picking the wrong man and feeling real sorrow. Tell you what, we’ll go inside and have a bath. A bath always makes a girl feel better.”

  In the kitchen sink, she watched her daughter pat the water’s surface, amused by soapsuds. Chloe lathered Reed’s slippery little body, which was plumping up now that she was trying some solid foods. Reed was growing out of infancy into the mysterious future of her own life. Chloe powdered her, dressed her in the little red sleep suit she’d bought at the Wal-Mart in Flag, tucked her feet into mismatched booties. Red would always be a good color on Reed. She wasn’t Gerber pretty, but her brown eyes were deep and soulful, her gaze sometimes so piercing it was unnerving to look up and find her watching you. Hank said that kind of scrutiny proved she was a searcher, that she would become a scientist, but Chloe knew Reed watched people for reasons that had squat to do with book smart. Deep in her genes, same as her mother’s, she was afraid of being abandoned. For the millionth time since her birth, Chloe got mad all over again that the Olivers hadn’t wanted to see her badly enough to overcome their uptightness. They didn’t approve of Hank’s choice in women, so what was the big deal about them not being married, and what in hell did that have to do with their son having a child? Well, those questions were neither here nor there, and it was getting on time to start dinner. She let Reed entertain herself in her crib, shaking her rattle and drooling on her stuffed toys, and set about making a pan of cornbread and some enchiladas. She put the pans into the stove, then spread a blanket on the floor in front of the woodstove. Hannah stood guard duty while Chloe played with the baby until Hank walked in.

  He stopped in the doorway, smiling. “Hey. There are my girls.”

  “Hey yourself. Come kiss your daughter quick while she’s all clean and happy. Be glad you weren’t here a couple hours ago. What lungs. What temper. If we thought Kit was bad as a teenager, I think we’re in for a rude surprise.”

  Hank’s expression seemed forced, and Chloe’s heart began to pound uncomfortably. “I figured this day was too good to be true. Did you get fired? Wreck the car? Did some asshole country start a new war?”

  “My father called me at work.”

  “Oh, no. Your mom? Did she die?”

  “Not yet, but she’s in the hospital. They’re saying it’s only a matter of days. So I really have to go. To California. Tonight.”

  She got to her knees. “Of course you do. I’ll help you get your suitcase packed.”

  He bent down and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I want my mother to meet Reed. Even if she thinks she doesn’t want to. I just think she should. Whether it means anything to her is beside the point. It means that much to me.”

  “You mean, take Reed with you?”

  Hank nodded.

  “Okay. I’ll get all our stuff packed, and you go grab a bite of dinner. Then we’ll drive straight to the airport. We can just leave the car in the lot. Or do you think we should call Oscar, ask him to drop us off? Somebody needs to look after Hannah, not to mention feed Thunder.”

  Hank took the baby from her arms. He looked down at the floor for a moment, then into her face. “I’ve thought about this a lot. I’m going to take Reed by myself.”

  “Oh.” Chloe stepped back and looked out the window. The horse was staring up at the house. Hannah, who had fled out the dog door as soon as the tension surfaced, was digging a hole. There’s a place I could fall in, Chloe thought, make everybody happy.

  “My father’s a wreck, Chloe. One minute he’s drunk and raving, the next he cusses me like the cancer is my fault. He’s likely to take his grief out on whatever unsuspecting target’s put in front of him.”

  “Well, I think I’m fairly tough. But if you want me to stay behind, I’ll stay.”

  “It’s for the best.”

  She had been shut out of the Olivers’ lives from day one, and when they didn’t embrace the birth of their grandchild the hurt had seemed almost too large to bear. Jesus, get a grip here, Chloe, why should you expect anything different now? He’s an Oliver, too. Blood sticks with blood. Quickly, she swiped at her eyes and steadied her voice. “I have a bunch of breast milk in the freezer. Let me pack it in that small cooler for you to take along.”

  “You’re okay with this?”

  “Sure.” Blindly, she pulled bottles from the cupboard, took down the box of rice cereal they’d begun trying, mentally calculating how many diapers he’d need. “We’d better get a move on. Did you call the airline?”

  She turned to look at him, and he nodded mutely. In his arms, Reed looked like one of those babies from a Third World country who get adopted by wealthy, infertile couples.

  She sat on the couch hugging a throw pillow, her enchiladas uneaten and dried out in front of her. The cabin was full of its usual creaks and odd drafty spaces, but it had never before seemed lonely. Now, when she looked at Reed’s empty crib, panic rose in her chest. She didn’t trust airplanes. What if something happened to them, or Hank decided to stay in California? Nonsense, he’d take wonderful care of Reed. He knew how to make her stop crying better than Chloe did. Nevertheless, here she sat, alone and expendable. She wandered outdoors, stopping a few feet from the house. In the utter dark, she listened to the sound of the horse moving around the corral. She felt Hannah’s head come up under her hand. Animals sensed restlessness; they knew. Chloe stayed up all night, waiting for Hank to call, all the same figuring he wouldn’t. Hank would wait until the morning, some hour he deemed reasonable, and even then, he’d give her only as much information as he thought she could handle.

  “We’re here,” he said wearily when the phone rang at eight-thirty. “I’m just about to leave for the hospital.”

  “Reed sleep okay? Did you give her a bottle? The plane ride didn’t bother her ears?”

  “She’s a champ. I probably won’t call you tonight, unless there’s anything to report.”

  After they hung up, Chloe loaded Hannah into the Chevy truck and drove to the Post for breakfast. There was a letter from Kit in the P.O. box, but she didn’t think she could handle high school drama until she had some coffee under her belt. She took a table by the window in the restaurant, held out her mug, ordered cinnamon toast, then sat ignoring everything, staring at nothing, feeling as gutted as
a deer. Oscar Johnson came up and pulled out a chair.

  “Ya hey. You’re looking more strung out than me. One of them legendary nights with the wee screamer?”

  “Not this time, Oscar. She’s with Dad in California. Just me and the animals for a couple of days. You want this toast?”

  Oscar reached for a piece, looked at the cinnamon, then spread jam over the top. “Got to drown out the taste of cinnamon.”

  Chloe smiled. “Is that the trick? Listen, I know why I’m here, but the store doesn’t open until ten. Is Corrine organizing another one of those shows where tourists descend and buy out the cases?”

  He shook his head no. “I was supposed to bring Dog along. But he woke up with a fever, Corrine’s home tending him, which means I get to run the Post for the day. Nothing difficult better happen. Corrine’s got all the ambition in this family.”

  “Just give them your tough-guy face.”

  Oscar pulled a pose, and Chloe said, “A little more sneer if you can manage it. Poor Dog. Hope he’s feeling better soon.”

  “It’s just the flu. We all pay for the change of seasons.” Oscar leaned back so the waitress could pour him a mug of coffee. He stirred cream in it and tapped the spoon against the edge of the cup. He listened while Chloe explained about Hank’s mother. “You should take yourself a holiday down south, Chloe. Go lay by a motel pool. A chance like this might never come round again.”

  “Hell, I’d need a dog sitter and a horse tender to do that.”

  “I’ll do it. Any one of them parents at the school would do it too. All you got to do is ask.”

  “Stop tempting me.” She sipped her coffee and was about to call the waitress back over, order a real breakfast, now that she had developed some appetite, when Junior walked in the restaurant. He nodded at her, then began walking over to the table.

  “Let me guess: That’s who Dog was meeting.”

  “They was planning a camping trip.”

  “It’s the middle of the school week.”

  “Traveling’s educational. Hey, Junior.”

  “Oscar. Seen my partner in crime anywhere?”

  “Yeah, home in his sickbed begging for Popsicles. Corrine sent me to tell you. Nothing serious, sore throat, little fever, but she nixed the camping. Sorry.”

  Junior looked away, disappointed. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Sure. Well, I got to go count out registers,” Oscar said. “Hope they balance. Anything over ten fingers, I get nervous. Chloe, you want to give me a key so I can let myself in over to your place?”

  “I’ll drop it by. If I decide to go.”

  Oscar wrapped the toast in a napkin, took it with him.

  Junior held onto the back of the chair Oscar had vacated. “Going to see your mother for real this time?”

  “Thinking about it.”

  “Where’s my Reed?”

  “With her father. Hank’s mom’s real bad. He wanted to take her to meet her grandmother before she died.”

  Junior squinted. “The only thing missing from that family portrait is Mama. Why?”

  Chloe shrugged. “Oh, you know. Trailer-park trash versus the royal family. Put enough time and distance between us, they’re hoping I’ll fade away. Don’t blame Hank. He wanted to protect me from flaming arrows, that’s all.”

  “Ain’t the way I would have done it.”

  “I know. Everything would be simple and wonderful and positively enchanting if you were handling it.”

  “You’re all alone out there?”

  She pointed a finger. “Whitebear, do not push me. You promised.”

  He sat down, moved Oscar’s coffee aside and unfolded his hands on the tabletop. Chloe noticed they were grimy, the fingertips black, the nails clipped short.

  Junior saw her staring and held up his hands. “The bane of working silver is the stuff gets ground into your skin. Scrubbed them raw this morning, though you’d never know it.”

  “I wasn’t staring.”

  “Yes, you were.”

  “Okay, I was. Have me arrested. How’s your dog?”

  “Me and Aaron built him a pen. I needed some time alone, and that pen was the only way I could get it.”

  Chloe picked up the menu. Her hands were trembling from lack of sleep. She couldn’t make any sense of the words printed on the slick card so she set it back down. “Where were you and Dog headed? It’s awful cold to camp.”

  “Chinlé. We were planning on picking up my father’s ashes, taking them over to the canyon. Jimmy liked it there. I thought maybe that was where he wanted to end up.”

  “Are you still going to do it?”

  “I’ve put it off so long that guy at the funeral home started charging me rent. I’d be ashamed to back out now.”

  She took a deep breath, trying to drive the air down to the bottom of her lungs. “Tell me about this canyon.”

  “The canyon, Chloe. Most beautiful place I know.”

  “How long a drive is it? Can you go there and back in a day?”

  Junior picked up a spoon and stared at it, then set it down. “You could. But then you’d miss watching the sun rise over the rocks, the cottonwood leaves shimmering in the morning wind, not to mention a fine dinner at the Thunderbird Lodge cafeteria.”

  “Stop with the tour book, Junior. I’m coming with you.”

  He took a quick gulp of Oscar’s coffee and made a face.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, pick up your jaw and let’s go before I remember I have any good sense left.”

  Oscar accepted her house key with nothing more than a sober glance. He maneuvered a reluctant Hannah behind the counter and snapped her lead onto his chair.

  Chloe petted her dog good-bye. “One night, girl. Oscar’ll take good care of you.”

  Junior stopped in the grocery and bought bottled water, bread and cheese, green apples, strips of jerky. While they were standing at the register, Chloe threw several candy bars in the mix.

  “If we’re going to hell,” she said, “why not do it in a big way?”

  “The only hell that’s likely to result from this feast is a trip to the dentist.” Junior paid the bill, and they got into his Cherokee. The motor caught on the second try, and they drove into Tuba to pick up Jimmy Whitebear’s ashes. Chloe waited in the car while Junior ran inside the mortuary. He returned with a plain cardboard box and a large manila envelope.

  “What’s that?”

  “This,” Junior set the box on the floor of the Jeep, “is Jimmy.” He opened the envelope and quickly scanned the papers inside. “This other stuff looks like his death certificate, some bullshit about his effects. Probably nobody knew what to do with eight million empty wine bottles. I’ll deal with it later.” He threw the envelope on the backseat and pulled away from the curb and began driving.

  They stopped once, at Chloe’s request, while two horses wandered across the highway in search of forage on the other side. They were tame enough for Chloe to get close enough to offer them apples, but not interested enough to partake. Junior sat in the car, laughing at her. He leaned his head out the window. “Those horses were doing just fine without your handouts.”

  “The hell they were. I’m sure they haven’t had their vaccines.”

  “Chloe, come on over here. Scoot up close to me. You have to get the city ideas out of your mind if you’re going to make it in Arizona. This is another way of life going on here. It ain’t California.”

  “That doesn’t mean I have to like it. Can I drive your car?”

  “Why don’t you try to enjoy the scenery?”

  She snapped her seat belt and wriggled uncomfortably. “I’m not a scenery type of person. I’m more a drive-the-car kind.”

  “Too bad, so am I. Sit back and eat that apple, why don’t you?”

  “I’m not going to eat this. It’s got horse slobber all over it.”

  “Jesus, then eat the other one. Do something. You’re driving me to distraction.”

  She stuck out her tongue
, but Junior was busy watching the road and missed it. Chloe recognized the turn off for Second Mesa, where she’d been when she was first in labor with Reed. She took hold of one of Junior’s braids.

  “Tell me what kind of jewelry you’re working on.”

  He lifted one hand from the wheel and touched her face. “It’s a pin, a brooch, whatever they call the larger ones. Got the idea for it the night we came back from Sedona.”

  “That still doesn’t tell me what it looks like.”

  “I’m working. That’s all I’m going to tell you.”

  She dropped the braid. “You’re awfully stingy today.”

  “It’s been so long I had an idea of any worth, I’ve got a right to feel superstitious.”

  “Superstitious?”

  He nodded. “Artistic types are allowed.”

  He was making her mad, being secretive. “I came along, and now you won’t talk to me.”

  “I’ll talk to you. Pick another subject.”

  “What is it with men? Can’t we just talk? Spontaneously? Or are your tongues only good for sticking in women’s ears?”

  He gave her a look. “You want to turn back?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. I’m tired. I didn’t sleep last night.”

  “So take a nap.”

  “I might shut my eyes. Just for a minute.” She leaned against his shoulder, then thought better of it and chose the door. Her last thoughts were that somebody, close by, very softly, was laughing.