The You I Never Knew

by Susan Wiggs

  “Cody offered me a ride home,” Iris explained. “I thought you’d left without me,” she hastened to add, pushing out her lower lip.

  “Today’s your lucky day.” Billy opened the door wider.

  When she hesitated, Cody knew it was now or never. Speak up now and get the cutest girl in the school on his side, or forever hold his peace… and sit at the dweeb table.

  “The offer’s still open,” he said.

  Billy didn’t speak, but his glittering black eyes and go-to-hell expression said it all. Cody was trespassing, and Billy didn’t like it one bit.

  “Maybe another time,” Iris said.

  “Maybe never,” Billy snapped.

  Billy grabbed for Iris’s arm. Cody didn’t think, he just stepped between them.

  “Maybe she can make up her own mind,” he said.

  “Out of my way.” Billy shoved him. Hard. Cody stumbled back, putting out a hand behind him, but there was nothing to catch him, so he plopped, ass-first, into a puddle of muddy, half-frozen slush.

  He came up swearing, ready to fight, but it was a stupid move. He wasn’t cut out for fighting, and Billy Ho was built like a dump truck. Cody laughed and hoped he sounded convincing. “Hey,” he said, trying not to let his teeth chatter. “No big deal, right?”

  At that moment the El Camino coughed and died.

  “Balls.” Billy reached in and tried the ignition. “This has been giving me trouble all day.” He tried several more times, but the heap wouldn’t start. “We better push it out of the way.”

  Iris got behind the wheel. The guys went around to the rear. Billy tossed his long black hair out of his eyes. “Yo, Cody. You gonna stand there, or you gonna help?”

  Cody threw off his backpack and his anger. Here was his chance to get in good with these guys. Being one of their crowd might even make school bearable.

  Once they’d moved the car to a parking spot, Iris pouted at Billy. “Now where’s my ride home?”

  Just for a second, Cody recalled his conversation with Sam about passengers in the Jeep. Only if there were enough seat belts to go around. They were one short, but Cody didn’t even hesitate. Screw Sam. He’d never find out. “I’ll give all of you a lift.”

  “Excellent, man. I need to get to the auto-parts store.” They all piled into the Jeep. Cody’s jeans felt squishy, making him wish for a hot shower and clean towels. As he pulled out of the parking lot, he heard a faint “Hey, Cody!”

  “Who’s that?” Billy asked.

  “Ugh, Molly Lightning.” Iris wrinkled her nose. “The cowgirl.”

  Molly emerged from a knot of students. “Can you drop me by the arena?”

  “No!” Billy said, putting his hand on Cody’s shoulder. “Jeez, the teacher’s kid. Her mom’s flunking me.”

  Cody had a split second to decide. He made eye contact with Molly as she approached the Jeep. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Sorry, kid. Car’s full.” At least he didn’t have to lie. He punched the gas pedal too hard, sending up a plume of mud and slush.

  “Good move, man!” Ethan thumped him on the back.

  Cody glanced in the rearview mirror to see Molly standing on the curb, shaking out her book bag. He felt something icier than the parking lot slush. Something that wouldn’t come off with a shower and a stack of towels.

  Friday

  Chapter 40

  An old El Camino, pockmarked by rust, came fast up the drive to Lonepine, spitting a rooster tail of gravel and ice in its wake. Favoring her wounded leg, Scout had to dart to the side of the road to avoid getting hit. Annoyed, Sam walked out onto the porch. He was still in his office clothes, having just got home after a long day of clinic visits.

  Behind the El Camino came Cody in the Jeep. Patience, Sam told himself as he crossed the yard to the horse barn. No one ever said this fatherhood gig was going to be easy.

  But as four disreputable-looking kids tumbled out of the vehicles—the most disreputable of all being his son—he gritted his teeth into a forced smile for the introductions. With a decided lack of grace, Cody gestured at each boy in turn—Billy, Ethan, and Jason. He recognized Billy from providing his school sports physical every year. The kid was wearing a jacket that looked brand-new and unaffordable. Sam grew annoyed at himself for having the thought. He was turning into a pretty judgmental s.o.b. lately.

  A throaty screech, far off but distinct, echoed down from the veil of trees above the meadow. Scout growled and crouched in close to Sam, too smart to run off after the predator a second time. Sam shaded his eyes, studying the blue-shadowed distance, but he saw no movement in the field.

  “Hey, guys,” Sam said to the boys. “How was school?”

  They rolled their eyes in unison. “Sucked,” Cody said.

  “Yeah?” Sam asked, tugging his tie loose. “You might consider the alternative.”

  “What, no school? That’d be awesome.”

  Sam shook his head. “When I was sixteen, I was working ten hours a day unrolling frozen bales of hay. Trust me, it’s not awesome.”

  They didn’t trust him, of course. Kids never fell for that “in my day” stuff. He ought to know better.

  “I brought the guys over to show them the filly,” Cody said.

  “Fine. Take it easy around the mare. Don’t get between her and—”

  “I know, I know,” Cody waved a hand. “Always face and acknowledge the mare, blah blah blah.”

  “You got it.”

  “Can we use the snowmobiles?”

  Sam hesitated. “All right. But they’re working vehicles, not toys. So don’t screw around—” He stopped. Christ, he was talking to them like an old schoolmarm. “Okay, so you’re going to screw around. But be careful. Use the helmets.”

  “We will,” Cody said.

  Sam nodded to Cody’s friends. “Nice to meet you, but I can’t stick around. I need to shower and shave.” He rubbed his jaw.

  “Big date tonight?” Billy Ho asked with a sly wink.

  “I guess you could say that.” If you counted a hospital visit as a date.

  Cody regarded him with narrow-eyed suspicion. He’d made it clear he didn’t favor Sam and Michelle getting to know each other again. Probably a natural reaction—kids raised by single mothers tended to feel threatened by any interloper—but it annoyed the hell out of Sam.

  “C’mon.” Suddenly in a hurry, Cody headed into the barn. His friends trailed after him, and Sam went back to the house.

  He had no idea how to judge what kind of job he’d done with Cody this week. He was a difficult kid. They weren’t all like that, Sam thought as he got into the shower and raised his face to the hot needles of the spray. Take Molly Lightning, who lived down the road. Bright, athletic, good student. She had prospects. You could look at her and picture her in a good place in ten years. As for Cody, it was hard to imagine where he was headed. Sam sensed that he’d never been tested. Never been forced to the wall, because Michelle had been so concerned about insulating him—from photographers, from hurt, from want. It wasn’t her fault, but everything had come so easy to Cody that he had never learned to work for what he wanted. He maintained a sense of entitlement that bugged Sam. It was a hell of a thing.

  So far, the father-and-son bond had eluded them both. There had been moments, here and there, when something, some connection, could be felt. Sam supposed that was all he could hope for at first. Deep down, he still wondered if he wanted more, and his own hesitation bothered him. Above the hiss of the shower, he could hear the nasal whine of snowmobiles being ridden fast. Too fast. He had to force himself not to go yell at them to take it easy. They’d just blow him off anyway, he knew. These kids were like creatures from another planet. He felt awkward around them, as if he had never been that young himself.

  He scrubbed himself hard and efficiently, cleaning off the remnants of a rough day. Too many patients, too much red tape, not enough time. At least when he went to see Michelle at the hospital, it would be as a visitor, not a doctor. He was ju
st drying off when he heard someone pounding at the door.

  Pulling on a pair of jeans, he hurried downstairs.

  Billy Ho stood on the back porch, his eyes wide, looking different from the go-to-hell kid who’d climbed out of the El Camino. “Um, Cody had sort of a… problem. With the horses.”

  Sam was already stuffing his feet into a pair of snow boots by the door. He grabbed a parka from the mudroom and put it on over his bare, damp chest. “What kind of problem?”

  “Well, the little horse—the foal—got out.”

  “No big deal,” he said, relaxing. “She’ll come back in once we put the mare up. A filly that young won’t stray far from her mom.”

  “No, man. I mean out. Like outside the paddock. Then it kind of panicked and took off.”

  Sam broke into a run. Billy trotted alongside him, breathless, trying to choke out an explanation. “We were just goofing around. No one knew the horse would take off. Cody went after her.”

  “Where’s the mare?”

  “She tried to follow the foal out, but Cody put her up. She’s pissed, man—”

  Sam could hear her. Frantic whinnies and stomping hooves echoed down the breezeway of the barn. He could see the snowmobile trails slashing and crisscrossing the broad slope of the meadow leading up to the woods. Shit. A filly that young would never leave her mother or the familiar terrain of the paddock unless she was truly terror-stricken. The boys had probably herded her uphill on the snowmobiles. As he put on a pair of gloves, he tried to remember what Cody was wearing. School clothes. If he got lost, he’d freeze to death in no time flat.

  Sam harnessed a utility sled to one of the snowmobiles. He shot out of the yard, following a crooked line of footprints up the rise behind the barn. The panicked foal had traveled fast; he could see the stretch of its stride in the snow. Despite its young age, it could outrun Cody, especially if it was scared and lost without its mother.

  The footprints disappeared into a cover of larch and fir trees. Sam drove into the woods, feeling a shower of golden larch needles rain down on him. He had to slow down to dodge the trees. Before long the density of the trees stopped him altogether. The sled behind the machine was too wide to negotiate the forest. Turning off the snowmobile and cursing through clenched teeth, he continued on foot.

  In the silence after the engine’s rumble, he heard a sound midway between a cough and a snarl. His blood ran cold. It was the distinctive call of a mountain lion. A big cat didn’t usually bother things it couldn’t easily kill, but if it felt cornered or hungry enough, it might take a swipe at a young horse. Or a kid. The eerie screeching escalated, a deadly rasp that echoed through the winter woods.

  Sam climbed to the top of the ridge. There, he spied a bitten-off section of snow that had crumbled down the opposite face in a small avalanche. Pressed against the curve of the scarp was Cody, waist-deep in snow, the horse floundering, its skinny legs sunk uselessly into the bank.

  A livid smear of blood stained the snow.

  Crouched on a bare rock above the boy and the foal was the cat. This one was big, maybe ninety pounds.

  Its paw slashed out, claws extended, lips peeled back in a snarl. Cody had grabbed a branch and held it out, trying to fend off the reaching paw.

  “Yah!” Sam yelled, waving his arms. “Yah, beat it, you old bitch!”

  The cat froze and faced him with glittering eyes.

  “Stay calm, Cody, and don’t crouch down or turn your back, okay?” Sam called.

  The boy’s face was gray with terror.

  “These cats like small prey,” Sam said, praying the kid wouldn’t panic. “Don’t run, or you might trigger her instinct to attack. Keep waving the branch. You have to act aggressive.”

  He walked steadily toward the cougar, and his gut twisted as she swung her tawny gaze back to the boy and the horse. “Don’t look it in the eye,” he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth.

  The long tail switched slowly, rhythmically, nervous as a rattlesnake. The horse fell still, its stamina gone.

  “If she attacks, you fight back, Cody,” Sam hollered, hurrying as fast as he dared. “You hear me, son? Fight back!”

  “O-okay,” Cody said, his voice thin, snow-muffled. He brandished the branch like a sword.

  The mountain lion coiled like a spring. For a sickening moment, Sam feared it would attack. A cougar always went for the head and neck. He reached the top of the bank and waved his arms, kicked up snow. The mountain lion retreated a few steps, turned, snarled. He yelled and waved his arms again, close enough now to see a string of drool drip from her mouth. Sam grabbed a chunk of ice and hurled it as hard as he could. Grumbling low in her throat, she slunk into the woods.

  “Cody!” Sam half ran, half tumbled down the bank. “You okay? What’s all this blood?”

  The kid’s bare hand kept its hold on the mane of the horse. “I’m okay. Let’s get her up. She’s stuck, see?” His face was dull white, his voice shaking.

  “What’s bleeding?” Sam demanded.

  Cody held up his free hand. “Hit it on something on my way down.” His chin trembled; maybe it was a shiver; Sam didn’t know. “Help me, Dad.”

  It just seemed to slip out, the Dad part. Probably didn’t mean a thing, but it had an incredibly powerful effect on Sam. “Okay, keep hold of the mane, you’ve got it. She’s in a panic because she can’t get her footing. We’ll help her up the bank.” Inch by inch, they pulled the foal upward. She was terrified, her eyes rolling, her hooves kicking out every which way.

  “Watch the feet,” Sam said through his teeth. They had no bridle, no way to control the horse except by brute strength. The minutes seemed to crawl as they struggled up to the top of the escarpment. The snow crumbled beneath them, sending them back a foot for every few feet they gained. Cody was panting, almost sobbing, when they reached the top, then staggered, pushing and pulling the horse to the snowmobile. She flailed every step of the way, twisting and snapping, hooves slashing out, impossible to contain.

  “I’ll hold her on the sled and you drive,” Sam instructed. Using his teeth, he peeled off his gloves and tossed them to Cody. “Put those on. You’ll get frostbite.” He wrestled the foal onto the sled and Cody held her in place. Off they went, a smooth ride down the mountain, then into the paddock. The El Camino was gone. He wasn’t surprised the kids had hightailed it at the first sign of trouble.

  Sylvia had practically torn a hole in the stable door. The little one trotted inside and Sylvia was on her immediately, sniffing and licking her from stem to stern. Cody stood in the breezeway, teeth chattering, his nose bright red.

  “Thanks,” he said in a quiet voice.

  “I’m just glad I found you.”

  The boy hesitated, then looked him in the eye. “I’m glad I found you, too.”

  And then without even thinking about it, Sam hugged him. It could have been awkward, but it wasn’t. It was the most natural thing in the world to let a sudden wave of love for this boy spill out and over, to gather him in his arms in a hug that tried hard to make up for all the years of hugs he’d missed. Sam’s throat felt tight as he stepped back. He didn’t know if he was cut out for this. He’d never felt anything like the icy burn of terror that had ripped through him when he’d seen Cody in danger. His nerves were shot.

  Cody was shuddering violently now. “Are you going to tell my mom?”

  “Your mother’s got enough to worry about.” Sam grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the house. “We need to warm you up, have a look at that hand,” he said.

  A minute later they sat at the kitchen table, Cody’s arm propped on a towel while Sam used tweezers to clean the grit out of the cut.

  “When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?” Sam asked.

  “Not sure.” Cody winced as the tweezers dug deeper. “I had a bunch of shots before going to camp two summers ago. Ow!”

  “Sorry. Don’t watch. It’s making you tense up.”

  Cody turned his head away. “Who
’s Alice McPhee?” he asked, focusing on the stack of junk mail on the table. The top item was a lingerie catalog with a label bearing Alice’s name.

  Sam hesitated. “My ex-wife.”

  Cody drew breath with a hiss. “Man, I didn’t know you had a wife.”

  “I don’t.”

  “It’s bogus not to tell me you were married before.”

  “I was married before.”

  “I mean it’s bogus that you didn’t tell me right off.”

  “Cody—”

  “Does my mom know?”

  “She knows.” Sam tweezed a sliver of dirt from the wound. “Hey, cut me some slack. I’m new at this.”

  “Yeah, well, so am I,” Cody muttered.

  Sam wanted to take the focus off him and Alice. She represented a failure he didn’t like to talk about, so he changed the subject. “So what happened?” he asked, concentrating on the deep gash.

  Cody shrugged, some of that old screw-you attitude slipping back into place.

  “Hold still,” Sam said through his teeth. “What happened?”

  “We were just goofing around, man. We let the mare and the foal out into the paddock. Then we started riding snowmobiles and… the filly got out and took off. The noise confused her, and she went up the hill.”

  “Because you left the paddock gate open.”

  “Somebody did. I don’t know who.”

  “Do you think that matters? You were in charge, Cody.”

  “Everything worked out okay, no harm done. Back off, man.”

  Sam’s hand didn’t falter, his gaze didn’t waver as he cleaned the cut. But inside, he froze. “Everything didn’t work out. A valuable filly almost died or broke a leg. Sylvia could’ve injured herself going ballistic in her stall. You almost got killed. What if I hadn’t been around to come after you?”

  “Man, you haven’t been around for sixteen years, and I survived.” Contempt dripped from his voice.

  Sam stopped working. He set down the tweezers and regarded the sullen, defiant face so like his own—and yet so strange to him. “Well, I’m back now. And the bullshit is over. I figured putting you in charge of the filly would be good for you. Don’t prove me wrong, Cody.”