Wild Card

by Karina Halle

He doesn’t know you anymore, I remind myself as I look away.

  I climb out of the truck, the rain having stopped in the last few moments, and hear the loud, gruff voice of Hank as he opens the front door. “Well, looky here,” he says with a big smile. All my years here and I hadn’t known Hank to smile very often, so the fact that he genuinely looks pleased to see us throws me off. Hell, what isn’t throwing me off right now?

  His smile only falters when he looks over at Shane and quickly puts it all together.

  “I didn’t think you were coming home until late,” he tells Shane. “Saturday night and all.”

  I have to wonder what he does on Saturday nights and then I stop myself. He used to spend them with me, but the last thing I need to do is focus on how he’s spending his time now.

  Shane just nods. “I know. Change of heart. Gotta get up early to start on the silaging.”

  “Good point. And we’ll probably have to move them heifers over to a better range.” Hank smiles at me through his bushy mustache. “I bet this brings back all the boring memories, doesn’t it, Rachel? My, you’re looking mighty pretty.”

  “Thanks, Hank,” I tell him, clearing my throat and flashing him a smile.

  “City life agrees with you,” he says, and I swear I see a hint of sadness in his eyes.

  “So,” my mother says quickly, “Shane is staying for dinner now. Hope you made enough. If I remember correctly, the boy had quite the appetite.”

  We all look at Shane. If he got back in that truck I wouldn’t be upset.

  He rubs the back of his neck. “I should probably go back to your car, put some gas in it.”

  I’m momentarily relieved that he wants to leave as much as I want him to.

  “Oh, hell no,” my mother says. “You let us worry about that, okay? You’re staying for dinner. Right, Hank?”

  “Of course,” Hank says, his eyes meeting mine for a moment. I’m sorry, they say, because he knows the only reason I even came here is because Shane was supposed to be elsewhere. I give him a slight smile in response. I can be the adult here. Sure, Shane was the catalyst that made me leave this place and build a better life elsewhere, but that was a good thing, right? I’m finally happy. Even though Shane broke me, he made me stronger. Better.

  And because I’m stronger, I can survive this dinner.

  I can survive the next few weeks as I figure out how to help my mother.

  “Let’s get inside then before the rain picks back up,” Hank says, briefly placing his hand on my mother’s shoulder and ushering her into the house. “We haven’t had rain for twenty days and we need it, but you never know what’s going to happen out here.”

  You can say that again.

  I quickly hurry after them, not wanting to be stuck close to Shane, not even for a moment. But just as I step on the porch, about to go through the door, he clears his throat from behind me.

  “Rachel,” he says, his voice both soft and hoarse, knifing through me.

  Damn it. I want to keep walking and ignore it but I know I’m better than that.

  I take in a deep breath and turn around.

  He takes off his cap and runs a hand through his hair, still light brown and thick. I know exactly what that hair feels like between my fingers, the nights I spent in his arms stroking it until he fell asleep. He said it always relaxed him, like a massage. I loved watching him sleep, how at peace he finally looked. The same went for those moments after we made love.

  My heart clinches at the memories and I do what I can to move past it.

  “How are you?” he asks.

  I swallow. “Good. You?”

  “Good.” He pauses, sighs, and looks at me earnestly. “Hey, I know this is weird.”

  Weird? That’s putting it mildly. But I manage to press my lips together, keeping the words inside.

  “You were the last person I expected to see today,” he goes on, looking behind him at the storm as it fades into the distance. “I’d heard earlier that you were in town. Honestly, I’m surprised.”

  “Well, that makes two of us,” I admit.

  I’m surprised at how well I’m handling this. Even though “handling this” really just means I’m keeping my cool and haven’t thrown anything at him yet. I eye a pair of shears sitting on the rocking chair on the porch. There’s still time.

  “I’m really sorry about your mother,” he says. “And I’m even more sorry I haven’t been there for her.”

  I scrunch up my nose. “Why would you have to be there for her? She’s my mother, not yours.”

  As I say that, I wonder if he’s taking it personally. That was always one of Shane’s deepest, darkest demons, the fact that his mother died when he was so young. He’s had mother figures, his nanny Jeanine mostly, sometimes my own mother, but even so I wonder if it’s something he’s been able to come to terms with. It certainly tormented him back in the day.

  “I know she’s not my mother,” he says, intensity flaring in his eyes. “I just had no idea she was sick. I wish I’d known.”

  “Well, I’m surprised you didn’t. It was your father that told me in the first place.”

  “My dad?”

  I nod. “Yup. He called me two weeks ago and said my mother had been diagnosed with lung cancer. Early stages and something she can totally fight, but he told me she needs me and I should probably come down for a bit and see how things go.”

  Shane looks beyond confused and I can tell it’s news to him. He’s been kept in the dark almost as much as I have. “He never told me.”

  “Maybe he didn’t think it was your business. Honestly, I didn’t even know our parents were close.” I want to add that especially since he broke my heart and practically sent me away from this town.

  “I didn’t either,” he says. “Fuck. Well, then, I’m sorry you’re here under these circumstances.”

  “I’m sorry I’m here at all,” I say, and instantly regret it. So much for playing it cool.

  “Look,” he says. “I know I deserve that…”

  And here it comes.

  Foot, meet mouth.

  “This isn’t all about you, Shane. It’s been six years. There was a good reason why I left, and you know what it is, but it’s not all you. You just gave me the push. And I’m grateful for it, I really am. Because now I finally have a career I love—I work in advertising, and it’s challenging and the money is good and I have friends. I have a boyfriend.” I watch to see if that affects him but his expression doesn’t change. “I have a life. And I love it. This is the last place I want to be and the last thing my mother needs is to have fucking cancer.”

  He watches me for a few moments. My heart is racing in my chest at all the word vomit I just spat out. “I’m really happy for you, you know,” he says softly. “You deserve all those wonderful things you have now. You were smart to leave. You’re too good, too smart for this place.”

  I can’t tell if he means that or not, but he probably does. Shane is nothing if not sincere.

  But then he turns and heads toward his truck.

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  “Going to get out of your hair,” he says, pausing to look at me over the door as he opens it. “Your mom’s car needs gas. I’ll fill her up now, so all my dad needs to do later is drop you off and you’re good to go. Tell them to save some food for me.”

  And then he’s in the truck and pulling away, bouncing along the dirt road and potholes.

  I know I wanted him gone, but as relieved as I feel that the confrontation is over, it’s left me feeling curiously unmoored. Adrift. I’d always wondered what I’d say to him if I ever saw him again, but I have a feeling that wasn’t it. How can it be? How can a few hasty words exonerate years of pain and turmoil?

  I exhale slowly, pushing all the air out of my lungs, my nerves still dancing.

  So that was my first meeting with Shane. Well, the first meeting with the new Shane, with the new me.

  Then why do I feel like the old bricks of
my life are sliding back into place?

  3

  Shane

  PAST – 9 years old

  The thunder rumbles, shaking nearly the whole house.

  I immediately run out of my bedroom and head for the windows in the living room and dining room that face the river. Fox is already there, scanning the skies.

  “Did I miss it?” I ask him.

  He nods. “It was fucking awesome.”

  “Fox!” Jeanine yells from the kitchen. “You know the rules. No swearing in front of your brother.”

  “Whatever,” Fox mutters under his breath, eyes trained to the dark clouds.

  “And Shane, don’t go outside. It’s dangerous!” she quickly adds, knowing what I was going to do.

  “I can’t hear you!” I yell back at her, and after I throw a smile at Fox, I run out of the house before either of them can stop me. Fox is fourteen and thinks he’s some kind of god now just because he can pick me up and throw me over his shoulder or put me in a headlock. I’m only nine years old, but give me a year or two and I’ll probably be taller than him. At least that’s what Delilah says to me when she’s trying to cheer me up.

  The wind is picking up, blasting me right in the face.

  I laugh into it. It’s such an odd sound that I laugh louder.

  I can’t remember the last time I laughed.

  That’s funny in itself so I laugh even more.

  The rain is starting to pour over town, heading for us.

  Come get me, I think.

  That’s when the world cracks open with a flash of white gold light, fork lightning hitting the river.

  “Wow!” I cry out just as the air goes BOOM.

  This is so freaking cool! October storms are the absolute best. Too bad Halloween is still a few weeks away or it would be extra spooky.

  “Shane!” Jeanine appears at the door, a mixing bowl in her arms, her red hair blowing around her face. “Get back inside before you get hurt.”

  “The lightning won’t hurt me!” I tell her. I know it won’t. I feel like the lightning and I are one and the same. I can feel it in my bones.

  “No, but you’re going to get rained on. Don’t forget, you want to make a good impression in front of the new police chief and his daughter.” She watches me for a moment before she turns back into the house. She put extra emphasis on the word daughter. I’m sure Delilah told her everything.

  I grumble to myself, wishing I could stand outside and watch the storm get larger and fiercer, even though I know the horses in the barn are hating this right now. If I was nervous before, I’m more embarrassed now that she knows about my crush.

  With a big sigh, I turn around and kick a stone. I watch it hop across the dry earth just as a drop of rain darkens the spot beside it.

  “Shane!” Fox is now yelling from inside the house and I know if I don’t hurry he’s going to come out and drag me in.

  I run inside before I make things worse. After all, I don’t want to ruin anyone’s Thanksgiving.

  “They’re here!” Delilah says excitedly, and we watch as headlights come down through the darkness toward the house. Even in the pitch black I can tell when they’re going over the bridge that skirts over Cherry Creek (just a trickle of water these days), then around the crop of ponderosa pine that my grandpa refuses to cut down.

  “Is your father ready?” Jeanine asks. She looks us all in the eyes so it’s hard to know who she’s talking to.

  There’s me, sitting beside Del by the windows. Then there’s Fox, arms crossed in the middle of the room like he’s some hotshot. Maverick is hovering by the door like he’s ready to leave.

  But since no one moves or says a word, Jeanine yells up the stairs of the big house. “Hank. Your guests are here!”

  A pause. Then, “My guests?” he yells back from somewhere upstairs.

  “Yes, your guests,” she says, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead and looking worn out despite having put on some makeup and a dress. “It wasn’t my idea to invite the new chief constable and his family over.”

  “It’s the right thing to do,” my father shouts back. “It’s Thanksgiving. This is what the holiday means. And yes, I’m ready, everyone hold your horses.”

  “Cool your jets,” Del adds.

  “Calm your tits,” Maverick says with a smirk.

  Jeanine seems too tired to even be mad at him. “Okay everyone, stand up straight and be on your best behavior.”

  “Yes, all that too,” my father says, walking down the stairs.

  Fox whistles. I always wished I could whistle.

  “You’re looking dapper, Dad,” he says.

  I’m not really sure what dapper means but I don’t think my dad is it. He’s wearing dark jeans and a jean shirt. The Canadian tuxedo, as Fox calls it. His belt has a huge shiny buckle—I think it’s one he won back from his rodeo days. His hair is slicked back off his face like some mobster in the Godfather movie we watched the other night.

  My dad doesn’t seem to believe it either. “This is just what I look like when I’m not covered in cow shit.”

  “Hank,” Jeanine warns.

  He waves her off. “The boys have heard worse. Where’s your grandpa?”

  We hear the toilet down the hall flush and I burst into giggles. “He’s been in there for like an hour.”

  “Hey, Shane boy, constipation is no joke,” my father says sternly.

  Which only makes me laugh more.

  I’m so nervous.

  And I shouldn’t be, right? Rachel Waters is the daughter of the town’s new cop. She’s sitting inside the car that’s just pulling up outside the house, next to our row of dusty trucks. She sits next to me in class, and she’s so quiet and so pretty. I really like her, even though she barely says anything. But she does speak to me and not to the other boys, so that counts for something.

  My father told us a week ago that we were going to have them all over for dinner, I guess cuz they don’t know anyone in town yet. My dad has a reputation as a grump but my grandpa is like the town’s patriarch, whatever that means, and he said that it’s the right thing to do, to invite them over for Thanksgiving dinner. It must make no difference to Jeanine since she’s cooking for so many of us anyway. Plus, this way, we get to have ham and a turkey.

  “Stand up straight, Shane,” my father says to me, patting me on the shoulder. I immediately put my shoulders back. He acts like posture is the end of the world. I mean, it’s not like having great posture makes you smart or rich.

  By the time grandpa finally trundles out of the washroom, running his hands through his thin grey hair and pushing it back against his head like he’s trying to be in some Godfather movie too, there’s a knock at the door.

  Maverick opens it. “Merry Christmas!” he exclaims.

  Except it’s October, it’s Thanksgiving, and now Mav just looks like a big dork.

  The man on the other side of the door pretends to find my brother funny but I know he’s lying because no one finds Mav funny.

  I’ve seen the constable pick Rachel up from school once before in his car. He’s tall and balding with a moustache that looks like a caterpillar. He’s got a big smile and white teeth, but his eyes don’t seem to blink.

  I don’t trust him. I don’t like him.

  Rachel’s mom is behind him, short with a face that’s kinda pretty but also small, like a mouse.

  Then there’s Rachel herself.

  Rachel looks like an angel, especially tonight. Her hair is long and dark and super shiny. It reminds me of raven’s wings. But she looks totally nervous and I don’t blame her. There’s a lot of us here, and we’re all just staring at her like a bunch of turds.

  The introductions are made quickly by my grandpa. He can be quick when he wants to be. Pretty soon all my brothers, my dad, Jeanine and Del know Rachel, her mom, and her dad.

  Our dining room table is a big wooden thing, something my grandpa says was made from a huge oak tree when he was a young boy, but
it’s not big enough for everyone so Jeanine takes out a folding table from the closet and sets it up in the corner of the room.

  I know this is the “kids” table, she doesn’t even have to say it, but I don’t mind being the kid for once because there’s only one other kid here: Rachel.

  “Shane, Rachel, you’ll have to sit here,” she says as she quickly puts down a red plastic tablecloth that we usually use on the picnic table. She glances at me briefly and gives me a small smile. I know what she’s doing, like she’s trying to put Rachel and I together on purpose, and my cheeks go red.

  When the table is ready and set, Rachel and I sit down across from each other. She’s so pretty that my tongue feels like dirt in my mouth. I can’t speak. And she doesn’t speak either, so we just stare at each other. Funny that it feels like enough.

  We should invent a secret language.

  I try and convey this with my eyes but Rachel just looks at me like I’m weird. Okay, maybe I am being a bit weird right now. But how cool would that be? My brothers ignore me so I’ve never been able to do this with them.

  The food is passed around, the adults start to talk, then my grandpa insists we say grace. He’s funny like that. He’s the only one of us who mentions God or prayer, but it’s important to him so we all do it.

  As I’m saying grace, I open one eye to peek at Rachel.

  She’s watching me, and when I catch her, she smiles.

  Gosh, she’s pretty. I should be saying grace for her.

  When it’s over, the adults go back to talking to each other. Sometimes Rachel’s mother will ask Fox or Mav what they like to do but the police chief doesn’t seem to care. In fact, he doesn’t seem to like it when she talks.

  I’m not sure what to say to Rachel at first so I stuff my mouth with turkey and observe the room. I like to do that. Jeanine says I’m the strong, silent type, though I still don’t think I’ll get as strong as my brothers. But I like to watch people. Sometimes I pretend I’m watching a play and I narrate it all in my head.

  There’s Maverick, always trying to make someone laugh even though his jokes are dumb. Fox just thinks he’s too cool for school, flexing his stupid muscles, trying to impress Del.