Home to Harmony

by Dawn Atkins

  She ran her finger along the smooth surface of a leaf as she talked. “I like advertising and I’m good at it and all, but it can seem…well…pointless at times. I’m fine financially. I’ve put away savings, but I’m always afraid I won’t be, you know?”

  She paused, thinking how neurotic she sounded.

  “Then that’s your work here.”

  “My work here is to help you guys.”

  “I mean your soul’s work.”

  Good grief. Aurora wasn’t the only woo-woo person on the place. Selling wind chimes could hardly solve her existential crisis, but she let that go for now. Bogie meant well and she was touched by his concern. “I guess I’ll have to see how that turns out.”

  “I’m just glad you’re here at last.” He patted her arm with surprising force. “There’s time to fix everything.”

  “What do you mean? What’s to be fixed?”

  He simply looked at her and she was too tired to probe further. She left the greenhouse with dirt under her nails, but feeling peaceful and calm. Which was pretty impressive considering how riled up and desperate for Marcus she’d been before she spotted Bogie. The gentle man had given her a philosophy lesson and saved her from a foolish mistake.

  THE MONDAY AFTER CHRISTINE and the hammock, Marcus slid into the booth across from Carlos Montoya at Sammy’s Cocina for lunch. They ordered Sammy’s specialty—goat tamales with a nopalitos salad on the side.

  “So what’s shakin’, jefe?” Carlos asked, sliding his menu behind the napkin holder where Marcus had put his.

  “Not much.” Carlos had given Marcus the nickname jefe—meaning chief—because Marcus had organized their study groups throughout med school. “Something is rollin’ for you. I see that. You got color and your eyes are alive.” He leaned forward and whispered, “Oye, ese, you get laid?”

  Marcus laughed, the sound rising from deep inside, as if it had broken out of jail or something. “Not quite, no.”

  “Not quite? What does that mean? Who’s the female?”

  “Christine Waters, Aurora’s daughter. She’s here for the summer. We had a…moment, that’s all.”

  “A moment? That code for blue balls?”

  “If I were sixteen, I suppose.”

  “Too bad. But why the payaso grin, hombre?”

  “Payaso?”

  “Clown. All that’s missing is the red nose.”

  “I’m going strong on the book again, I guess. The dopamine rush seemed to have given me the kick-start I needed.”

  “So being horny helps you work? Maybe I should suggest that to Rosemary. She’s pissed that I crash before we get busy.”

  “Are you putting in too many hours?”

  “I guess. Plus all the driving for the New Mirage clinic. Rosemary wants me to quit when my contract comes due.”

  “Any chance of getting some help here?”

  “Not without funds. If I could get the damned mayor to stop golfing long enough to return a call, I might get somewhere.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Ah, no big deal. That’s how it goes in the boondocks.” Their food arrived and they dug in. “So, you’re writing again. Good on you, hombre.” He gave Marcus a high five. “I have to say, why not go for the whole package—write and score?”

  “It’s complicated. Christine has a son. David. He’s had some troubles, so I told her I’d talk to him.”

  “You’re treating him?”

  “Just talking.” He paused, sliding his water glass forward and back. “He’s the same age as Nathan was. He even looks like him. David’s not shut down like Nathan, but…”

  Carlos set down his fork. “You cool with that? The reminder and all?”

  “I have to be.”

  “Okay,” his friend said, not quite convinced. He took another bite of tamale, chewing slowly. “So after you finish the book, what then?”

  “Then I’ll talk to the partners. Let them buy me out. Hopefully sell the book. And after that…I don’t know.” He hadn’t said this out loud, but his future was a void, white noise in his head. He’d never before not had a plan for his life and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

  “What about opening up a practice again? You were good.”

  “That’s over for me.” He missed it, as he’d told Christine, but he no longer possessed the optimism or the emotional distance for a clinical practice. That part of his career seemed finished. “For now, I’m glad to be writing again.”

  He felt more human these days. More alive. That felt damn good. He refused to question it for now.

  Carlos aimed a loaded fork at him. “You should go for it with this woman. Christine. If frustration fires you up, imagine what regular orgasms could do.”

  “I’ll stick with this for now.” It was far better to keep a level head. Self-control had been his byword through the domino fall of disasters last year and it had saved his dignity and contained the fallout. He would keep himself in check.

  “What about you?” he asked Carlos. “What are your plans?”

  “Hard to say. Truth is, I don’t feel finished here. I don’t want to walk away, entiendes?”

  “I do.” Marcus looked at his friend. “If you did get funding, what would you do?”

  “That’s easy. Hire a couple nurse practitioners to keep the clinic going all week, get some basic E.R. equipment, set up a portable clinic to take out to the fields.”

  “You need grant money,” Marcus said. “I wrote a proposal for mental health care for the indigent a couple years back. I could see what’s out there. Assuming I can get anyone to take my calls.”

  “Anything you can do, Marcus, would be great. Seriously.”

  “I’ll talk to Elizabeth. She’s on several charity boards.”

  “You two are speaking?”

  “Of course.” They’d been too numb to tear at each other. She’d wanted a divorce and he saw no reason to fight her. “I should have asked you before now.” He couldn’t believe he’d been so fogged in by his own crisis he’d been oblivious to Carlos’s.

  “You could save me, jefe.” Carlos slapped Marcus’s shoulder. “And thank Christine for me, would you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “She got you all horny and helpful, bro. Hell, sleep with her. You might come up with a cure for cancer.”

  IT WAS NERVE-WRACKING in the dark, but it was the only way David could practice driving without being seen. Since chores began at the crack of dawn, everyone was in bed by ten. He had a flashlight and Lady at his side, so he headed for the side of the clay works barn where the trucks were parked, keys in the ignition. No vehicle on the place was worth stealing and they were out in the middle of nowhere.

  He’d talked Mitch, one of the college dudes, into showing him the basics one night when he was headed to town for a beer. He’d let David drive halfway to town and back.

  It had been so scary on the winding roads that David’s heart had been in his throat the whole time. When he’d parked, he’d been so sweaty he slipped right off the seat.

  Now all he had to do was practice. As soon as he could make it all the way to New Mirage without passing out from hyperventilating, he’d be ready to head for Phoenix.

  Heart pounding, he climbed into the cab of the truck. “Come on, girl,” he whispered, patting the passenger seat for Lady to jump up. She walked backward, as if she didn’t feel safe. He hoped she was wrong.

  The engine would be noisy starting up, so he decided to push the pickup to the gate before turning the key. He used his flashlight to read the gear panel, set the truck in Neutral and, with the door open, put his weight into getting the heavy Ford rolling forward. He would make a slow curve away from the mesquite trees, then have a straight shot to the gate.

  Lady whined at him and paced, clearly wondering what he was doing. He’d only gone ten feet or so when he hit a gravel hump and had to rock back and forth to get enough momentum to bounce over it. He was breathing hard and his arm muscles throbb
ed when the truck finally made it. Whew.

  Except the truck picked up speed and he realized they were on a slope. David’s heart lurched. He leaned back, holding the door, dragging his heels to slow the truck, but it was too heavy and going too fast, headed straight for some trees.

  Lady gave a sharp bark.

  Running to keep up, David lost his footing, stumbled and dropped to the ground, scraping his knees, forearms and palms in the gravel. Lady hovered over him, whining. He watched as, with a sickening thud, the truck slammed into a mesquite tree.

  Oh, no. He’d crashed the truck. Ignoring the sting and burn of his road rash, he ran to see how much damage he’d done, Lady at his heels. Leaning over the seat to get the flashlight, he bumped the horn, which gave a loud blast into the quiet night.

  His heart in his throat, he ran the flashlight over the front of the truck to check the damage. It looked bad. Very bad.

  “What the hell are you up to, David?”

  He jumped at the sound of his grandmother’s voice. Lady barked in surprise, too. He whipped around.

  “Ouch.” She blocked the flashlight beam with a hand. “Put that down, for God’s sake.”

  “Sorry,” he said, dropping it to his side. Lady nudged his thigh, as if to comfort him.

  “You crashed the Ford?” His grandmother scratched her tangled hair. She wore a baggie t-shirt and sweatpants.

  “I was trying not to wake anyone up.”

  “By honking the horn and making the dog bark? Here. Give me that.” She yanked the flashlight from him and stomped to the other side of the tree to shine it on the front of the truck. “Well, the grille’s destroyed. The radiator…maybe.”

  “Will it still drive?”

  “Let’s find out.” She climbed into the driver’s seat. This time Lady leaped right up and over her to the passenger seat.

  “Are you supposed to be doing this?” he asked. “With your heart surgery and all?”

  “Now you’re worried? Like you didn’t about give me a heart attack wrecking my truck? I’m fine. You’re as bad as your mother and Bogie.” She seemed just the usual grouchy, at least. She left the door hanging open and turned the key. The engine started, then died. She tried again. It rattled, turned, but didn’t catch, dying again.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know, David. Doesn’t sound too good. Let’s hope Carl can repair it. God knows if they even make parts for this old thing anymore.”

  “I can help him fix it.”

  “You’ve done a lot of engine work, have you?”

  He hung his head, feeling like he might cry.

  “Maybe you can bring him lemonade or wipe the sweat out of his eyes.” Her words sounded mean but he could tell she was trying to distract him from crying.

  It didn’t work. Tears were running down his cheeks. He’d wrecked the truck and he was further from seeing Brigitte than ever. Plus, now that the shock was over, his arms, palms and legs burned like hell. He peeled back his sleeve to examine his injury.

  “You get hurt?”

  “Just scraped, I think,” he mumbled.

  “You’re better off than the pickup. There’s peroxide in our medicine cabinet. Put some on when you get in. What were you doing driving? Your mother said no way.”

  “Mitch showed me how and I was practicing.” His stomach felt like he was about to puke. “I’ll pay for the repair.” But it would have to be Christine’s cash. How would he get it?

  “Just say a prayer to the god of auto parts.”

  “Are you going to tell my mom?” She’d never let him out of her sight again. All his efforts to chill her out would be down the drain.

  “Now how would that fix this?” Aurora shook her head and stared through the windshield at the mass of branches. “I guess I’ll have to say I did it.” She looked down at him. “I’ll keep this between us on one condition—you tell me what this dead-of-night learn-to-drive thing is all about.”

  “You won’t tell Mom?”

  “Tell me what you’re up to and we’ll see.”

  He swallowed hard. “I was going to borrow the truck to get back to Phoenix.”

  “For the girlfriend, right? Barbara?”

  “Brigitte. I have to see her.” Lady whined, as if she felt the same urgency. “I really do.”

  “So, let me see if I got this. You were stealing my truck without knowing how to drive, planning to take a twisting mountain road to the highway, then drive eighty miles an hour to Phoenix in the middle of the night. What do you think Highway Patrol does when they see a kid weaving around? They stop him. And when they find out you have no license? Let’s just say HP cops have no sense of humor. Trust me, I know.”

  “I was only practicing, okay? I wasn’t leaving yet.” He hated how stupid she’d made him sound.

  “And what about gas money? Got any?” He shrugged. “This thing leaks oil like crazy. It can barely make it to town, let alone three hundred miles.”

  “I didn’t figure that out yet.”

  She shook her head like he was a hopeless kid. “Okay, so you’re desperate to see this girl. She desperate to see you?”

  “I think so…. Maybe. I’m not sure anymore.”

  “She’s older, right? She have a license? Invite her here.”

  “She doesn’t own a car. Public transportation is green.”

  “She too green to borrow a car?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Christine would never let her come.”

  “Sometimes seeing a person in a different place changes how you feel about them. Maybe they’d get along better out here.”

  “Not Christine. No way.”

  “Give your mom more credit.”

  He couldn’t believe she was saying that, since she picked on Christine every chance she got. Still, his mind was racing. What if Brigitte did drive here? She was interested in Harmony House. He could hide her in his room….

  “You really love this girl?”

  “Yeah.” It felt good to let it out, like a balloon about to burst getting suddenly released. “She’s, like, my life.”

  “You’ll love a lot of people, David. Don’t hold on so tight to one. Attachment isn’t healthy. It breeds jealousy and possessiveness and a lot of poison you don’t want inside you.”

  “Not with Brigitte.” Not if you were lucky enough to find the one person who understood you. “Being away from her mixes me up.”

  “Then invite her to visit,” she said. “I’ll talk to your mother if you want me to.”

  “It wouldn’t help. She doesn’t get it at all.” Bitterness welled up inside him and he blurted his secret wish. “I should be with my dad. She’s always telling me that I’m like him, so that’s where I should go.”

  The words scared him a little. He felt uneasy about his dad. Why hadn’t he reached out to David in all these years?

  “It would kill your mother if you left,” Aurora said.

  “She should understand. She left, too, right?”

  His grandmother only looked at him. “That’s a long story, David. It was a different time. And she was older than you.”

  “Just two years.” He didn’t see the difference at all.

  His grandmother sighed. “All I know is your mother will think I’ve lost my mind when I tell her I crashed into a tree.”

  “I don’t get what she has against you.” She was always huffing and rolling her eyes and all the stories she’d told him about Aurora made his grandmother look bad. He’d loved it when she visited him when he was five, but his mom had bitched about all the fun stuff they’d done.

  “Like I said, David. It’s a long story.”

  “Anyway, I’m sorry I took the truck without permission.”

  “What’s mine is everyone’s here, you know that.”

  “Thanks, Grandma—uh, Aurora—for not telling her.”

  She waved away his gratitude and started back to the house. Lady jumped from the truck and stood with him, watching her go. Despite how much his scrapes were bur
ning and how ashamed he was about the wreck, David felt lighter inside. Excited. He had a plan. Invite Brigitte here. He couldn’t tell Christine, though, no matter what his grandmother said. If everything went well, no one would ever know.

  “WHAT HAPPENED?” Christine asked her mother, watching Carl hook a winch to the back of a truck stuck against a mesquite. David had jumped in to ask Carl how he could help, which she was glad to see. At least he was showing an interest in something.

  “I had a little accident,” Aurora said, her cheeks bright red. Aurora was embarrassed? Unheard of. “I got the urge for a beer at Toad Tavern, so I jumped in the truck—”

  “You jumped in the truck? First off, no driving for six weeks. I would have driven you to town, you know.”

  “Hold on.” Aurora held up her hand. “So I had the car in Neutral, and it was rolling downhill, but it wouldn’t start right off and—bam—I hit the tree.” Her mother’s eyes flitted back and forth. There was more to the story than that.

  “Carl, watch the bumper now,” Aurora said, moving closer. “David, get out of the man’s way.”

  Christine had a terrible thought. “Did you black out?”

  “Black out? Of course not. I was going for a beer. I hadn’t had any yet.”

  “Not that kind of blackout. You might have had a stroke. Do you have any loss of feeling?” Her heart raced at the possibility. A stroke would be terrible. “Make a fist. Smile, too. I forget the tests to see if you’ve had one.”

  “Cut it out. Honest to God, if you stab me with a pin to see if it hurts, I’ll knock you to the ground.”

  “She’s fine, Mom,” David said. “Don’t worry.” Was he limping?

  “What’s wrong with your leg?” she asked.

  “I scraped it in the gravel. No big deal.”

  “You know kids, clumsy as hell,” Aurora interjected. “And I did not have a stroke. I misjudged. A dumb mistake. Jesus.”

  “We should have your doctor check you out. Aren’t you due for a checkup anyway?”

  “Calm down,” Aurora said, her expression softening. She looked Christine straight in the eye for once. “I’m fine. I really am. Please stop worrying about me.” Her mother smiled.