She and Rose had never been at odds before. It was like having her skin ripped off. She didn’t know what had gone on between Carissa and Christie—knew less and less as she replayed those few minutes again and again. What she did know was that Rose’s heart was broken, and she was the reason why. If she could find Christie and coax him back home, she would make things right between her and Rose again. She had to.
She’d only been to Portland once before, when she went with Eula Coolbaugh to a doctor’s appointment. Pete had been living with the Coolbaughs for nearly four years when Eula got sick. Petie had long since outgrown her skunk-colored hair, but the bliss of sitting in Eula’s kitchen had never faded. If anything, at eighteen she was more possessive of Eula than she had been at fourteen. When Eula developed a dry cough that never seemed to go away, Petie took a proprietary view of it and dogged her into going to see a doctor over in Sawyer. The doctor had sent her on to another doctor in Portland. That doctor had sent her to see a colleague, and then, in the final lightning moment of Petie’s delusion that bad things had finally stopped happening, the colleague sent Eula on to an oncologist. Eula Coolbaugh had lung cancer, too advanced to do much about except to keep her comfortable and slow it down a little with chemotherapy if she chose. It might buy a few months, the oncologist explained, but it wouldn’t change the outcome by more than that.
Petie and Eddie Coolbaugh were engaged by then, as only seemed natural when Petie had been a part of the household for so long, familiar as an old boot, impossible to imagine the family without—she who kept the calendar of birthdays, labeled the Christmas ornament boxes, set out Eula’s Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas decorations with reverential care. She and Eddie had been planning a summer wedding and high school graduation celebration, all in one, with a reception at the Anchor Inn. Eula refused to hear of a change in plans that would allow for a quiet, private wedding at home as soon as possible. Your wedding puts you square on a path you’ll be walking the rest of your lives, Eula told them. You will not start this marriage in sorrow. You plan the wedding you want, honey, and I will be there smiling.
And so she had. She gave Petie gifts of wisdom, cookery and clean kitchen shelves, and Petie often thought afterwards that that was more than most people could hope to receive in a lifetime. The morning Eula died, Petie had sat by her bed in a rush-bottomed chair, alone, holding Eula’s hand. Old Man hadn’t let her see Paula at the end. Had she looked like this woman whom Petie loved so fiercely, this weathered rock against which Petie’s tree had leaned for shelter? Paula Tyler had cast no cool shadow, buffered no winds. As Petie sat in her pauper’s chair in that bedroom with its lemon-and-white-painted walls, she felt a change and glanced over to find Eula looking at her. She hadn’t spoken much in the last several days as she fought for every breath, but she spoke to Petie now and her voice, though ravaged, was loud with conviction. Let it go, honey, she said, and like the phoenix you will rise up whole. They were the last words Eula would ever speak to anyone. She died at two o’clock that afternoon with Petie by her side along with Eddie and his two brothers, flown in from Alaska and Idaho only hours before.
Petie gathered clothes and jewelry for Eula to be buried in, but she did not attend the funeral or memorial reception. Instead she went to her tree. Sitting beneath it, right on the bare ground, she watched the clouds that would bring winter one day soon and wondered why people believed in God. She had given Him every opportunity to show Himself; had pleaded for His revelation, His mercy, His simple decency. She had been as near to bankruptcy as it was possible to get and still leave the house in the morning, yet there was no miracle, no divine presence in her home or heart, nothing but nothingness—a stillness, a silence that was absolute. She sat beneath that godforsaken tree for two hours, and when she rose, it was not as the phoenix. She lived with Eddie in their mouse-turd apartment and had coffee at the Anchor Inn every morning; gave birth to Ryan and then to Loose; had jobs, lost and regained them; and she never once felt a thing. She had become a marvel of nature, capable of slipping a red-hot poker through her own heart.
PETIE DROVE with one eye on the road and the other scanning every rest stop, convenience store and fast-food restaurant she passed. She knew the look of Christie’s truck as well as she knew her children’s faces, but in nearly three hours of driving, she didn’t see anything that was even close.
By the time she reached the outskirts of Portland it was dusk and she was locked in rush-hour traffic. She couldn’t believe how densely the cars were packed together on the freeways, slowing to a crawl as on-ramps merged and lanes closed down and branched off to other roads. In the car beside her at one point she saw a man reading the newspaper as he drove. Other people sang or talked into tiny tape recorders or huge car phones that looked capable of killing someone. What would it be like, living in a place like this? Who would know you; who would ask you how you were and mean it? On the other hand, no one would know your business; no one would even know your name. You could be a perfect stranger as long as you wanted. You would have no sins, no baggage, nobody wanting you to fail. Hell, you could run away without ever leaving town.
By the time she reached the far side of Portland it was dark. There was no chance of finding Christie’s truck until it got light again. Reluctantly Petie found the Motel 6 right at the bottom of an off-ramp.
“Evening,” said the clerk, a young man with a mended harelip and blank expression.
“My name is Coolbaugh. I should have a reservation.”
“Uh-huh.” The clerk flipped through some papers on the counter. “Here we go. Patricia?”
“Yup.”
“You’re in number 105,” the clerk said. “Double, smoking.”
“I don’t need a double,” Petie said.
“Says right here, one double, one night. Is that correct?”
“One single, one night.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we don’t have a single. We’re full up.”
“How much more is the double?”
“Ten dollars.”
“Ten dollars? How much is the room?”
“Forty-five, plus tax. The total comes to fifty-three dollars. Do you want to keep it on this credit card?”
“What credit card?”
The clerk sighed. “Ma’am, you gave us a credit card number when you called in your reservation.”
“Ah,” said Petie. Damned Schiff.
“Shall we keep it on this card?”
“Oh, let’s,” Petie said sweetly. “Since I don’t know what the card is to begin with, what the fuck, huh?”
The clerk tightened his lips almost imperceptibly and that was all. Christ, they must put them through a hell of a training program, to have them stand up that straight and polite when some asshole like her came in. “Look, I’m sorry,” Petie said. “It’s been a long day.”
“It’s okay, ma’am.”
“I work in a motel, too. Back on the coast, in Hubbard.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s called the Sea View. Sea View Motel. You might have heard of it.”
“Uh, no,” the kid said. He handed her a piece of plastic in a paper sleeve.
“What’s this?” Petie turned the plastic card over and back.
“It’s a key.”
“Doesn’t look like a key.”
The clerk sighed. “You put it in the slot in your door. When the light turns green, just open the door and remove the key.”
“No shit,” Petie said.
The clerk smiled at her weakly. “That’s right, ma’am.”
“And to think that back in Hubbard we just use the metal kind.”
“Well,” said the clerk.
“Yeah,” said Petie. “Well.”
There didn’t seem to be anything left to say.
The room was just a few doors down from the office, and the key worked, improbable as it looked. Two queen beds, little soap for your face, bigger soap for the bath. Thin white face towel, tiny washcl
oth, tiny bath towel, no-slip rubber bath mat with suckers like an octopus. Tired foam pillow, television bolted to the bureau. Fifty-three dollars. Shit.
Petie sat on the bed for a few minutes, turned on the TV, turned off the TV. You dream of being away from everyone and then once it happens you can’t think of a thing to do. She picked up the phone and called home, collect.
“Where the hell are you?” Eddie said.
“I’m in Portland. I won’t be home for a few days.”
“What?”
“It’s a long story, Eddie, but something happened. Christie’s gone and Rose is real upset and it’s my fault. I’m trying to find him and get him to come back. You haven’t seen him, have you?”
“No. What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about that I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
“Well, you better tell this to the boys, ’cause I’m sure as hell not.”
“Look, Eddie, help me with this, okay? I can’t explain it all right now, but it’s important.”
On the other end of the line there was silence.
“Hello?”
“So what am I supposed to do with the boys, huh? I’ve got a job.”
“I heard that.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Put them in Latchkey after school. They’ll take them.”
“So when do you plan on coming back?” Eddie said.
“I don’t know. I’ll be back when I find Christie. I’ll call you when I know. Let me talk to Ryan.”
The phone receiver was dropped and Petie could hear Eddie receding into the background shouting for Ryan. A couple of minutes later the receiver was knocked around and then picked up again.
“Mommy?”
The boy sounded like a four-year-old. His voice was high and quivery. Petie was going to have to shore him up. “Hi, sweetie. How was school today?”
“We’re doing a play about Lewis and Clark.”
“No kidding? So who will you be? An Indian scout, maybe?”
“A horse—I’m one of their horses. The people get lots of fleas in their clothes and stuff. Can horses get fleas?”
“I don’t know. You could probably go and ask one.”
“A horse?”
“Well, or a flea.”
Ryan giggled.
“Guess where I’m calling from,” Petie said. “I’m in Portland.”
“When are you coming home? Daddy yells at us,” Ryan said. His voice had dropped so low that Petie had trouble hearing him.
“I’m not sure, sweetie. I’ve got to find someone.”
“Who?”
“Jim Christie. He left and it’s making Rose sad.”
“I like him,” Ryan said simply.
“I know, hon. So does Rose. So I need to find him for her.”
“He’s real quiet.”
“Well, he’s shy, kind of like you are.”
“Uh-huh. He gives me money for candy sometimes.”
“He does?” Petie said, surprised.
“One time we split a PayDay.”
“Ah. Well, I’ve got to find him and then I can come home.”
“Why did he leave?”
Leave it to children to ask the tough questions. “I said something he didn’t like.”
“What?”
Petie sighed heavily. “I can’t explain it right now, sweetie, I just did.
So now I’m looking for him to apologize.”
“Oh.”
“Okay. Listen, if you see Rose will you be extra nice to her? She’s upset right now.”
“Do you think I should make her something?”
“Like what?”
“I could make her a picture,” Ryan said.
“Oh, you know how much she likes your pictures. I’m sure that would make her feel better.”
“I could draw Lewis and Clark.”
“With fleas?” The boy giggled. “Sweetie, I’ve got to go. You be good and do what Daddy says. I love you.”
“I wish you were home.”
“I know, sweetie. I do too. I’ll be there just as soon as I can. Okay?”
“Okay.”
The boy hungup the phone before Petie even said goodbye. She considered calling right back to talk with Loose and then decided Ryan would pass on whatever he thought was important. She’d talk with Loose tomorrow. She realized she hadn’t eaten since morning and she was starving. She picked up the phone again and dialed the front desk. The same kid answered. “Can you tell me where to find a restaurant?”
“There’s an Elmer’s a block away.”
“I was thinking of something cheaper. I only have twelve dollars.”
“There’s a McDonald’s two blocks from here. Make a right when you leave the parking lot.”
Petie ate French fries all the way back to the motel. Out of habit she scanned the lot for Christie’s truck. She didn’t find it, of course, but she did find something else, a big truck with plenty of chrome and special accessories. Mud from the reservoir road was still lodged in its wheel wells.
Nearly deafened by her pounding heart, she opened the door to her room. There, sitting on one of the beds, was Ron Schiffen, arms behind his head, his old house-slipper boots crossed neatly at the ankle.
“Hiya, princess,” he said.
Chapter 16
GOOD GOD, the look on Petie Coolbaugh’s face—something between horror and joy, or possibly both. It had been worth the three-hour drive up from Hubbard just to see it.
Should he have chosen someplace fancier than the Motel 6? But he didn’t know anyplace fancier, and besides, in his imagination he hadn’t been thinking about the damned decor. His daydreams had been filled with other delicacies, small canapés of kisses, entrees of passion, desserts of the sweetest culmination. The fact was, life had begun to be worth living again, and it was mostly thanks to this small edgy woman.
“I can hardly wait to hear what you told them back home,” Petie said. Her face was flushed a deep red and Schiff watched with satisfaction as she hoisted herself onto the cheesy bureau top clear on the other side of the room and dug a pack of cigarettes from her rat’s-nest purse.
“Think you can sit any farther away?” Schiff said.
“If I could, I’d already be there. What did you tell them?”
“I’m meeting with my regional manager first thing in the morning,” Schiff said, crossing his arms behind his head with satisfaction. But after all, it had been an easy scam. “His office is in Portland.”
“Ah. And the double room?”
“I thought you’d be more comfortable.”
“More comfortable than what?”
Schiff lifted an eyebrow.
“No way—there is no way you’re staying with me,” Petie snapped.
“I’d love to, princess, but I already have a room of my own.”
Petie stared at him. “You son of a bitch.”
Schiff smiled modestly.
“Why are you here, then?”
“To help,” Schiff said.
“What makes you think I need help?”
“You didn’t do too well on your own yesterday, now did you?”
Petie flushed. Her hands, Schiff was pleased to note, were balled into fists. “What’s really going on here?” she said.
“What do you want to be going on?”
“Nothing. I want nothing at all to be going on, because I’m having trouble dealing with what I’ve already got going on and I don’t need you to be dishing out any more.”
“Look, muffin, you’ve got some things on your mind that I’m guessing are making you a dangerous driver, huh? So I’ll be the driver. I’ll be the one who remembers to stop at stoplights and gets in the turn lane and shit. Okay? I’m here to keep you safe. Think of me as your goddamned angel. That’s all.”
Petie put her head in her hands, pressing them hard against her eyes.
“So fill me in on your game plan, princess,” he said more softly.
“You didn’t give me a hell of a lot to go on this morning. Do you really expect to find him?”
“Yes.”
“Does Rose know you’re doing this?”
“No, not unless Eddie told her.”
“And what do you plan to do with Christie when you find him? Drug him? Hypnotize him? Beat him with a tire iron and toss him in the trunk?”
Petie scowled. “I haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“Exactly how far have you gotten, princess?”
“I’ve gotten to the part where I’m sitting in a room at the Motel 6 in Portland.”
Schiff swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Well, how about the part where we get something to eat?”
“I ate already. There’s a McDonald’s near here.”
“I saw an Elmer’s sign.”
Petie set her jaw. “I only have twelve dollars. Well, ten dollars now.”
“Who said you’d have to pay? Did I say anything about paying? Jesus you’re touchy. I’m thinking biscuits and gravy. C’mon, princess.”
On his way out he handed over the extra key to her room.
PETIE PICKED at a short stack Schiff insisted she order and watched with something like awe as he neatly put away two biscuits, gravy, two fried eggs, hash browns, link sausages and three large cups of coffee. Except for her lunch with him at The Recess in Sawyer, Petie had never been anywhere alone with a man who wasn’t Old Man or Eddie. Under the table she could feel Schiff’s booted leg against her calf. His leg had migrated there as soon as they sat down and she had allowed herself to let it stay.
Petie had never wanted anyone before Schiff. She had married Eddie because she couldn’t marry Eula. They stayed together because they were already together. Every couple of weeks Eddie would roll towards her across their lumpy mattress and whisper, Hey, Pete—you wanna fool around? and they usually did. That was the way it was between them and always had been, consensual sex not being by half the many-splendored thing you saw in movies and diamond commercials. In Petie’s experience the best that could be said was that sex was a lot of work that usually went on too often and for too long and, in the end, made a big deal out of a little piece of meat that wasn’t much more than a turkey neck even when erect.
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