The You I Never Knew

by Susan Wiggs

  “You’re not making it easy, Cody.”

  “Why should I?”

  Sam clenched his teeth until he brought his temper back in check. In a slow drawl, he asked, “Are you enjoying this?”

  “What, being here? Hell no,” Cody said bluntly. “You’re not having any fun, either, so maybe you should just send me back to Seattle to stay with Natalie.” He patted his shirt pocket. “I have a copy of the bus schedule.”

  “Not an option,” Sam said, his gaze flashing to the painting over the mantel. “I said I’d look after you this week, and that’s what I’m going to do. We could probably have an okay time together if we could get past the bickering stage. What do you say?”

  Cody picked up a thread on the arm of the sofa. “I don’t see the point.”

  “Maybe there doesn’t need to be a point. Look, you’re a teenager. It’s your job to question every rule and push at every boundary. It’s my job to tell you the rules and boundaries. By not telling you about passengers in the Jeep, I fell down on the job. So here’s the rule—number of passengers cannot exceed the number of seat belts. Got it?”

  “Yeah. Whatever.”

  “It’s your job to tell me where you’re going when you leave and what time you’ll be back.”

  “I don’t see why—”

  “So if you don’t show up, they’ll know where to look for the body,” Sam snapped.

  Cody got to his feet. “Jeez, I didn’t mean to start World War III. I just mentioned I gave a girl a ride home. She likes me. Is it so hard for you to believe someone likes me?”

  “Christ, no, Cody. I like you. I want you to be safe. I want us to get along, okay?”

  “Whatever,” he muttered one last time, stooping to pick up his heavy backpack and heading for the stairs. “I’ve got some homework to do.”

  Crossing his arms across his chest, Sam scowled at the TV screen without really seeing it. The conversation had exposed glaring inadequacies he never knew he had, and it bugged the hell out of him. As a parent, you had to figure out when to say yes and when to say no. When to praise and when to upbraid. And getting it right was harder than it seemed.

  Wednesday

  Chapter 38

  It wasn’t until he pulled up to the barn at Lonepine after school the next day that Cody realized he’d forgotten to call Claudia—again. If he didn’t keep in touch with her better, she was going to think he’d died or fallen off the planet or something.

  But the days kept rolling along, the distance between here and Seattle seemed endless, and time got away from him.

  Still, he should have phoned her. But he’d been so eager to get away from that frigging school that he’d roared off in the old Jeep without even remembering he’d meant to stop at Blue Rock and call Claudia. He didn’t want to use Sam’s phone for long-distance. Sam would probably let him, but Cody didn’t want to ask.

  He just didn’t know where he stood with Sam. It was so weird being in his house, knowing the brand of shaving cream he used and what magazines he subscribed to, learning personal stuff about a stranger. Sometimes they had normal conversations and everything seemed fine, and then they’d rub each other the wrong way and argue. Cody kept trying to tell himself it didn’t matter. He kept telling himself he didn’t want to know this guy. He’d done fine without a father and he didn’t need one now.

  Sam McPhee was a hard guy to know. He sure as hell wasn’t a guy Cody wanted to ask favors from, like phone permission.

  Ah, well, he thought, swinging down from the driver’s seat, he’d call Claudia tomorrow.

  The Border collie came racing across the yard, barking her foolish face off. She knew Cody by now, having slept at the foot of his bed the past few nights. She launched herself like a missile at him. He caught her in his arms, staggering back a little with the motion, and laughed as she licked his face. It felt good, having someone greet you with this level of enthusiasm.

  When they got back to Seattle, he’d talk his mom into getting a dog or a cat, maybe.

  “That’s loyalty for you,” Sam said, ambling across from the house. “The minute I turn my back, I find my best girl in the arms of another man.”

  Cody tried not to grin as he set down the dog. “How’s the new horse doing today?”

  “Come on back and see for yourself.” Sam didn’t spend a long time looking at Cody, studying him. He just turned, totally casual, and ambled away.

  Cody wondered if Sam was just naturally cool, or if he didn’t care, or if he didn’t want to get involved with a kid he didn’t know. Maybe Cody was trying to read too much into Sam’s attitude. It was hard as hell not to ask a bunch of questions, but he’d be damned if he’d make the first move.

  Seeing the filly wiped out all his worries for a while. She acted as if she was happy to see him, frisking around the stall and thumping the walls, butting up against the mare. When the mare tried to eat, the filly kept trotting back and forth in front of her. With a quick, exasperated motion, the mare shoved the filly bodily away.

  “Hey, why’d she do that?” Cody asked.

  “The filly got in the way of what the mare wanted. She didn’t hurt it.” Sam drummed his fingers on the stall door, catching the filly’s attention to distract it while Sylvia ate. “I was thinking she’ll need a name one of these days. I have to register her papers.”

  “Yeah?”

  “What do you think we ought to call her?”

  Cody looked at the horse, and everything that crossed his mind was hokey and cute. Brownie. Blaze. Socks. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Whatever.”

  Sam crossed his feet and propped his shoulder on the side of the stall. “A good horse might be around for twenty, thirty years. You have to make sure you pick the right name.”

  “So pick one.”

  “How about you pick it?”

  “Why me?”

  “You brought this animal into the world. I thought you might like to be the one to name her.”

  Cody shrugged again. Shit. He didn’t know how to act. How did kids act around their fathers, anyway? “I can’t think of anything.”

  “Maybe something will come to you. You let me know, okay?”

  “Yeah. Okay.”

  The foal got tired and curled up in the straw for a nap. The mare fussed and licked at it for a while. It was amazing how she seemed to know exactly what to do.

  “Do you have homework?” Sam asked. Then he shook his head. “Feels strange asking that.”

  You think you feel strange, thought Cody. “I did it in study hall.”

  “Okay, then you can get started on chores.” Before Cody could reply, Sam held out a shovel and said, “It’s good having you around.”

  Cody glanced at him sharply. What was good? His company? Or his manure-shoveling skills? Sam didn’t say, and Cody didn’t ask. They went to the tack room, put on quilted coveralls and gloves. Cody was mildly pleased to see Sam pick up a shovel, too. After the usual stall duties, today’s task was to clean out the oat bins, getting rid of the moldy stuff on the bottom, scouring the galvanized metal bins, and replacing the oats.

  “Ever given any thought to what you want to do after high school?” Sam asked.

  “Some. I haven’t made up my mind, though.”

  “You interested in college?”

  “Sure. Most people go to UW. That’s probably where I’ll end up.”

  It helped that they were working as they talked. For some reason, it felt more natural to talk during the rhythm of the shovels. This week had to be the strangest time of Cody’s life, starting a new school while his mom and grandfather did the kidney transplant. Talking didn’t make things any better, but it didn’t make things worse, either.

  “You’ll probably like college,” Sam remarked. “I liked it a lot.”

  Cody wondered what it had been like for Sam and his mom, years ago, making a baby together and then never seeing each other again. He pushed away the thought and got back to work. Even though the chores were a drag, C
ody sort of liked being out here, messing around with the horses and going all over on a snowmobile.

  “What do you think of horse ranching?” Sam asked, reaching for a hose.

  Cody snorted, chagrined that he even looked as if he might be enjoying himself. “It’s a barrel of laughs.” He stabbed his shovel into a mound of manure. The strange dance of uncertainty between him and Sam McPhee made him nervous.

  * * *

  At sunset, Sam and Edward were in the pole barn, replacing the spark plugs in a snowmobile. Two car doors slammed. Sam walked out to the drive to see Cody and Tammi Lee going toward the house.

  “Almost suppertime,” Tammi Lee called. She gestured at the two pizza boxes Cody balanced in his hands.

  “We’ll be in shortly.” Sam grinned with the fine pleasure of seeing his mother and his son together. Family had always been in short supply for him. This was a new sensation for him. Did he like it, or was it something a guy like him was better off without?

  “I think he likes it here,” Sam said. “I think he even likes my mother.”

  Rummaging in a tool box, Edward regarded him sharply. “So you getting attached to the kid?”

  “He’s my kid.” The wonder of it still swept through Sam each time he said the words. “What, I’m not supposed to get attached?”

  “I didn’t say that. But what happens when they leave?”

  A blunt question, one that had been nagging at Sam. “It’s not like they live on another planet,” he said.

  A faint yelp echoed down from the hill beyond the paddock. Edward shaded his eyes. “Hey, check this out.”

  Sam followed his gaze and felt a cold churn of fear in his gut. It was Scout, hurrying toward them—but not with her usual swift and joyous abandon. “She’s hurt,” he said, breaking into a run. He reached the collie halfway down the hill. A smear of blood marked her trail. It came from a long slash down her foreleg. Four scratches furrowed her muzzle.

  “Hey, what’s the matter with Scout?” Cody asked, jumping down off the porch and hurrying toward Sam.

  Scooping up the dog, Sam hurried to the tack room. In one corner was a stainless-steel table and a couple of exam lights. He set her down, eyes and hands scanning her injuries.

  “She need the vet?” Edward asked.

  “Let’s have a look.” While Sam took off his gloves, Cody went around the other side of the table and murmured the dog’s name, stroking her. Sam met the boy’s eyes. “Keep her calm. I need to check out this cut.” Edward opened the large first-aid wall station, stocked with instruments and supplies, and Sam used the clippers to trim away the long white-and-black hair, exposing a wicked gash.

  “What happened?” Cody asked. “Is that from barbed wire?”

  “Cat, more likely,” Sam said. “A mountain lion. See the scratches across her nose? Scout’s been known to tangle with a big cat if it wanders too close.”

  “Is she going to be okay?”

  “Yeah, we’ll fix her up.”

  Cody looked at the indigo sky through the small square window. “Are there a lot of mountain lions around here?”

  “A fair number,” Edward said, bringing some medicine from the office fridge. “We put out a trap, but they’re street-smart. Last season we caught three, sent them down to Yellowstone to be turned out in the wild.” Muffled thumps came from the stalls, the horses settling in for the night.

  Sam snapped on a pair of surgical gloves. He and Cody worked together, Cody soothing the dog while Sam disinfected the superficial scratches. Edward stood back watching them thoughtfully.

  “Hand me that syringe of lidocaine,” Sam said to Cody. “Don’t break the seal until I tell you.” He cleansed the site and injected the topical anesthetic. The dog whimpered, and Cody hushed her. While he waited for the lido to work, Sam caught himself studying his son’s hands, gently splayed across the collie’s silky fur.

  Wow, he thought, the kid’s got my hands.

  “You okay?” he asked Cody. “This is on the gory side.”

  “I can handle anything after pulling that foal,” Cody assured him.

  Sam used a double-ended needle and surgical thread to stitch the gash. At one point he glanced up and caught the boy looking at him, and the expression on Cody’s face nearly bowled him over. Having a son was a fine thing. Having a son who admired you made you feel like a god.

  “Go ahead and spray her with the Furex,” he said, nodding at the plastic bottle. “That’s right, up and down the wound.” With intense concentration, Cody applied the yellowish antiseptic.

  “Ever give an injection?” Sam asked.

  “No.”

  “Want to learn?”

  “I guess.”

  Sam prepared a dose of anti-inflammatory and penicillin, then coached Cody through the injection. As he worked, Cody’s face wore an expression of complete absorption. Scout whimpered and took advantage of the extra attention she was getting. Walking tall with a sense of accomplishment, Cody carried her across the yard to the main house, putting her down gently in the kitchen.

  “You guys make a pretty good team,” Edward said, as they washed up at the sink in the mudroom. A certain quiet ease pervaded the atmosphere, and it felt good to Sam. A hell of a lot better than coming home to an empty house.

  That evening after supper, Tammi Lee hung on Cody’s every word as he described the treatment. She made a good listener, and he responded to that. Absently, he kept his hand on the dog’s head as he spoke, and the sight evoked echoes of that rare warm feeling that had come over Sam earlier. Then Tammi Lee glanced at the clock.

  “Better go,” she said. “I’ve got some videos to return before closing time. You know what folks say.” She winked. “Crime doesn’t pay.”

  Sam was pleased to see that Cody stood up when she did, out of courtesy. She turned to him. “You looking forward to your mom and granddad getting home?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” Yet the reminder seemed to agitate him. He lifted a shoulder, just this side of insolent. “The sooner they get better, the sooner we go back to Seattle.”

  “You miss your friends?”

  “Sure.”

  “I figured you’d make new ones here,” said Tammi Lee, heading for the door. “Nice kid like you.”

  Cody looked startled. He was probably trying to recall the last time someone had called him a nice kid.

  Thursday

  Chapter 39

  With a weary motion, Cody shrugged his backpack over one shoulder and made his way to the main door of the school. Somehow, another endless day had ended.

  Somehow, he had survived another day at this armpit of an institution.

  He was sort of glad to be going to Sam’s rather than the hospital this afternoon. His mom was lots better, but that meant she’d ask the usual questions about how his day went, and what were his teachers like, and did he make some more friends, and all that crap, and he didn’t want to talk about it.

  The only bright spot in this godforsaken place was Molly Lightning. She was great, not making a big deal of him but making sure she introduced him to a couple of her friends each day. They were way different from his friends in Seattle. Who would have thought he’d be sitting around at lunchtime talking about goat roping and 4-H Club?

  At least it wasn’t the geek table.

  Maybe he’d call Molly tonight, pretend he needed a homework page or something.

  “Cody?”

  A voice behind him. Female, but not Molly.

  He stopped at a heavy door with wire mesh through the glass. He recognized the girl from homeroom, the one he was already thinking of as the Blond Bombshell. Shiny yellow hair, huge tits.

  He smiled. “Yeah?”

  “It’s Cody, right? Cody Slade?”

  “Turner.”

  “Oh.” She stuck her thumb in the top of her jeans pocket, tugging the waistband down to show a little of her bare stomach. “Someone said you were related to Gavin Slade.”

  “I am, but I’ve got a differe
nt last name.” He pushed the heavy door open, stood to one side to let her pass. She smelled like bubble gum and shampoo. Her sweater was tight. Really tight. “He’s my grandfather. I’m staying at his place.”

  Her face lit up, pretty and bright. “I think that’s so cool.” She ducked her head and looked up at him through long eyelashes. “I’m Iris York. We’re in homeroom together.”

  “And English.” Color flooded his face. “I noticed you in English class last period.” He’d noticed her in the lunchroom, too, at the inner sanctum table, but she hadn’t called out to him.

  She made a face. “I can’t stand the teacher, Mrs. Lightning. She’s picky, picky, picky. I can’t wait until the term’s over and I can take drama instead.”

  Cody had actually thought Mrs. Lightning—Molly’s mom—wasn’t too bad. She was the only one who hadn’t made him sit in the front, and she didn’t act all chummy with him just because she was friends with Sam McPhee.

  “Can I give you a ride somewhere?” he asked boldly, gesturing at the Jeep.

  “Um…” She looked from side to side, then shrugged. “I don’t see my usual ride, so I guess I’ll take you up on that. I live up in Windemere Hills, on the golf course.”

  “Great.” They headed across the parking lot.

  “So tell me about your grandfather. I think his old movies are sooo bitchen—”

  A Bondo-colored El Camino came around a corner and lurched to a stop in front of them. Cody jumped back, flinging out his arm in an instinctively protective gesture. Slush from a filthy puddle sluiced over his feet. Ice-cold water trickled into his shoes.

  “Hey, Iris.” The driver got out and came around the car, opening the passenger door. “I thought I’d missed you, but here I am.”

  Iris bit her lip. “Hi, Billy. This is Cody Turner. Cody, this is Billy Ho. The guys in the back are Ethan Lindvig and Jason Kittredge.” Gangsterlike, they nodded at him from the rusty bed of the truck.

  Billy was one of the coolest guys in school; Cody could tell. Good-looking in a Native American way. Outside the library Molly had pointed him out, said he was big trouble. But he was just cool. Molly probably couldn’t see that.