Autumn Blue (30 page)

“Carmen, I haven’t had a chance to tell you how sorry I am about your dad.”

She nodded a soft smile. “Thank you.” Carmen sipped her own cider and gazed around the room. “It’s been a rough few days.
A whole lot of crying going on. None of us expected this. He was taking something for high blood pressure, but the doctor
hadn’t sent up any red flags. Alex is enraged about that. He’s requested all the medical records for his review.”

Alex was sitting in a stuffed chair near the tall windows, conversing quietly with a gentleman Sidney had seen at the grave
site. A little girl leaned against Alex’s legs for support while playing a board game on the floor. Alejandro, Amilia had
called him. He didn’t look so fearsome at the moment. “I imagine he’s taking it pretty hard.”

Carmen’s eyes misted slightly. She tipped her head, gazing tenderly at her brother. “Yes. He feels things deeply. He always
has.”

Ripples of laughter came from a group standing around the food table with hors d’oeuvre plates in their hands. All eyes in
the cluster were on the man Sidney had deduced was Alex’s brother. She had been watching him. His facial features were the
only things that resembled Alex in any way. He was definitely Type A: confident, outgoing, eloquent, and charming. His gestures
were loose and exaggerated; he was probably a great dancer. Everyone seemed to like him. Even the glamorous woman on his hip,
whose fashionable boots Sidney couldn’t help admiring at the graveside service, perfected the image. She had worried that
the woman’s spiky heels might sink into the damp soil and be ruined. Sidney’s own boots had sensible heels, were two or three
seasons old, and had come from the Wal-Mart in Dunbar.

“That’s our brother, Ernesto,” Carmen said. “He and his wife, Isadora, flew in from San Francisco for the funeral. He has
an architectural firm down there.” She nodded toward the little boy who had wandered off, leaving his Legos strewn on the
floor. “And that’s their son, Max.”

“Oh.” Sidney didn’t think it was appropriate to ask, so she let her question slip out in disguise. “Your father begged Alex
to forgive Ernesto just before he died.”

Carmen’s mouth dropped open. “He did?”

Suddenly Sidney felt she had made a mistake. If Alex wanted his sister to know that, he would have told her.

Carmen sighed. “So that’s what’s plaguing him.” She shook her head slowly. “Alex vowed he would never forgive Ernesto for
what he did to him. What happened between them was horrible, but it was seven years ago. I can’t blame Alex for being bitter,
but I wish he could let it go. It’s destroying him.”

“Oh, poor Alex.” Sidney knew it was not her place to ask what that horrible event was. But the need to know was torturous.

“How did Alex answer Papa?”

Sidney felt like an informer. “Oh, Carmen, I wish he had told you this. I don’t want him to be angry with me.”

“Please. Alex eventually tells me everything. We’re very close. But I wasn’t there when Papa died and I need to know what
really happened in those last few moments—for my sake as well as my brother’s.”

Sidney’s eyes teared up, remembering the scene. “He kept saying, ‘Stay with me, Pop!’ He was trying to get him to swallow
an aspirin because that can sometimes stop a heart attack. When your father tried to make him promise to forgive Ernesto,
Alex finally said, ‘I’ll do anything you say.’ He promised him.”

Ernesto made eye contact with Carmen and broke away from his fans. “Carmen,” he said loudly as he approached. “Who’s your
friend?”

“This is Sidney . . . I’m sorry, Sidney. I don’t know your last name.”

Sidney held out her hand, which Ernesto gripped firmly. “Walker. Sidney Walker.”

“She’s Alex and ’Milia’s friend.”

Sidney laughed. “Actually, the first time I met Alex, he was tackling my son and stuffing him into his patrol car.”

Ernesto chuckled. “Oh-oh. You’ve got a bad boy on your hands, huh?”

Sidney had asked for that. She was the one who brought it up. “No. He’s not a bad boy. Just temporarily confused.” Ernesto
finally let go of her hand.

“Her son has been working with Alex on Amilia’s porch and wheelchair ramp. Alex says he’s a good worker,” Carmen added.

Sidney was surprised. “He told you that?”

“Oh, yes. Alex says Tyson has an uncanny ability to figure things out. He shows Tyson something once and he pretty much gets
it. And I’ll tell you what, when Alex came back to ’Milia’s and saw that piece of sidewalk finished, it blew him away. He
thought he was going to have to break the whole mess out and start over.”

Sidney glanced across the room toward Alex. He sat erect in his chair now, his piercing eagle glare aimed directly at the
three of them. When Sidney’s eyes met his, he slowly rotated his head to the window. Had he heard them speak his name?

Ernesto laughed a little too loudly. “Well, that would hardly be a disaster. Now, if something were to go wrong on the foundation
of one of
my
projects, we could be talking millions of dollars. That would qualify as a really bad day.” Unlike the rest of the family,
there was not a hint of Spanish accent in his speech. He must have worked very hard to accomplish that. “I own Ernest Estrada
Associates Architects.” He passed Sidney a card from his pocket. So he went by Ernest. She glanced down at the glossy card,
not because she was interested but because he was staring at her face. What kind of man passed out his business card at his
own father’s funeral reception? “This girl has beautiful eyes; have you noticed, Carmen?” He reached toward Sidney’s temple,
brushing her hair aside. Her head reflexively drew back.

Suddenly, Alex shot to his feet, firmly dropping his drink to the lamp table beside his chair. Sidney could see the muscles
in his jaw flinch from across the room. He maneuvered his way through guests and furniture until he reached the front door,
jerking it open like the house was on fire, and stormed outside. To his credit, he did not slam the door behind him.

“What’s his problem?” Ernesto asked.

His sister glowered. “Ernesto, why don’t you go sit in a corner and think about that?”

He held out both hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t do anything.” He looked at Sidney. “My brother doesn’t like me very much.
The old sibling rivalry thing, I guess. I gather by his actions that there’s something going on between you two. Believe me,
I didn’t mean to offend you—or Alex. I’m a happily married man, just appreciating the scenery, that’s all.”

“Sidney.” Carmen took her by the arm. “You haven’t had anything to eat. You must be starving.” Carmen led her away while Ernesto
wandered off to bestow his charms on another group of guests.

Sidney glanced over her shoulder. Through the window she could see Alex halfway across the wide lawn, headed toward the river,
wearing only a cotton shirt with a light crewneck sweater.

Fifteen minutes later, he hadn’t returned. Sidney couldn’t stand it anymore. She slipped away from the kitchen, where she
had been visiting with some of the women, wrapped up some tortillas from the buffet table, and retrieved her wool coat along
with Alex’s brown suede. When she stepped out a side door, a damp cold seeped through her clothes like ice water, chilling
her bones to the marrow. Her shoulders clenched as she trudged across the lawn toward the river. She might not find him. By
now he could be a mile up- or downstream. When she got to the perimeter of cedar trees, two paths lay before her. She took
the one that seemed to be a more direct course to the river, and as she came around a bend, the smell of wood smoke filled
her nostrils. Alex had his back toward her. He sat on his heels on a sandy spit littered with smooth rocks, blowing on a pile
of thin branches, which suddenly ignited into a weak flame.

“Hey, Boy Scout,” she said.

He turned, startled.

“Thought you might need this.” She passed him his jacket as he stood.

“Thanks.” He glanced at her face briefly, sliding his arms into the sleeves, immediately snapping the front closed and hugging
it close to him. “It was getting a little nippy out here.” He turned back to the fire, stooping to throw on a few larger sticks
from a pile of gathered wood.

She stood there awkwardly, staring at his back. “Are you okay?”

He snapped a thick branch in half as if it were a mere chopstick and poked silently at the fire. “I’m not very good company
right now.”

Her face warmed. What was she doing there? “I’m sorry. I should have respected your privacy.” She placed a bundle of tamales
on the sand beside him and turned to leave. “My condolences to you and your family.”

“I just said I’m not good company. You don’t have to go.”

She stood frozen. Was that an invitation to stay? “It’s a long river, Alex. Unless you
want
me to stay, I can certainly find another place to watch it run by.”

His profile softened and the corner of his lip moved slightly. “Okay. I
want
you to stay.”

He walked away for a moment, returning with a saw-cut log and placing it near the fire. “Take a load off.” He pulled up a
log for himself. “I guess I made an ass out of myself back there.”

“Did you? I thought it was your brother who did that.”

His eyes darted to her face. “What did he say?”

She shrugged. “It’s not so much what he said. It’s just what I perceived about him. Women have a way of knowing what a man
is really saying even though the words don’t actually come out of his mouth.”

He huffed a bitter laugh. “Not all women have that gift.”

“Well, come to think of it, I had to learn it the hard way. It’s taken years to perfect the skill. I’ll revise that statement
to ‘women who have been burned.’”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

The flames leapt high and strong now, dancing hypnotically like a charmer’s cobras. “Young, naive girl meets charming older
man who seduces her, and the next thing she knows, she’s a college dropout with a baby on her hip and a husband who comes
and goes like a migraine.” She kicked at a rock in the sand. “Whenever he came home after one of his disappearing acts, he’d
just turn on the charm and lie, lie, lie. No offense, but your brother reminds me of my ex-husband.”

Alex’s eyes lingered on her face. She thought he was about to say something, but he clamped his lips into a straight line
and returned his gaze to the fire.

She removed her black leather gloves, placed them in her coat pocket, and leaned forward to warm her hands. An eagle cried
overhead. They watched it soar just above the treetops, eventually joined by its mate. “Tyson would love it here,” she said.

His eyes swept the curve of the wide stream. “Yeah. I know
I
do. I come up here a lot.” He pointed downstream. “There’s a hole right down there—I should bring Ty up here sometime. He’d
catch a steelhead for sure.”

Sidney’s heart fluttered. “Oh, Alex. He’d love that! I bought him a little trout rod when he was small. He could catch fish
in places where you’d swear he was just wasting his time. Trickling creeks, even a deep ditch out by the road. After his rod
broke he’d wade into ponds with his hands poised above or in the water and stand there like a heron. People don’t believe
me when I say this, but that boy can catch fish with his bare hands.”

Alex chuckled. “Sounds like me when I was a kid. I lived for the moment when the final school bell would ring and I could
get down to Sparrow Creek. Amilia had me reading authors like Mark Twain, Jack London, Melville, so my imagination ran wild.
My favorite fantasy was that I was Huck Finn.” He smirked. “Sparrow Creek was the Mississippi. My dog played the role of Tom
Sawyer—or Moby-Dick or White Fang as the need arose.” His eyes scanned the river. “I miss those days.” He glanced at her.
“Being a kid.”

She smiled. “Me too. Though I still pretend a lot.”

He raised his brows questioningly.

“I’m Barbie all grown up with a fabulous wardrobe and a pink Cadillac that starts every time. I pretend I like my job; I live
in a beautiful home of my own. Things like that.”

He laughed. “And what about Ken?”

“Okay, he’s in my daydreams, too. But he’s not plastic.”

As the words came from her lips and they shared a gaze of amusement, she was awed by the transformation of Alex’s once hard,
expressionless face. His dark hair ruffled in the wind; his eyes sparked like ripples in the stream. He was no longer a stiff
figure without words or emotions. He was real. Her last comment embarrassed her, though she didn’t regret saying it. She turned
her eyes to the spots of autumn color among the evergreens across the river.

“It’s fly-fishing only up here. Does Ty know how?”

She shook her head. “Doesn’t that take a lot of expensive gear?”

“I can set him up. I think he’ll learn the skill quickly. He’s sharp.”

There was something about a snapping fire. It seemed to anchor them there, even when there were no words between them. Sidney
wished the flames would never die out.

Alex tossed a small log on, sending sparks flying. “Is your ex still around?”

She gave him a condensed version of her history with Dodge right up to his last visit when he cheerfully threatened to move
back to Ham Bone. “Haven’t seen him since. That’s a good sign.”

“You must hate him.”

She thought about that. “I hate what he’s done to the kids—Ty especially. Ty claims to hate Dodge, but deep inside he loves
him. He’s always tried so hard to get his father to love him back. Every boy needs a dad.”

Alex nodded. “I was lucky. I never doubted that my father loved me.” He looked away for a while and she respected his reverie.
After some time he spoke again. “I’m sure that’s the root of all of Tyson’s trouble. He’s a very angry young man.”

So he got it. Maybe he was once out to take vengeance on her son, but it seemed now at least that he was sympathetic. “And
what about you, Alex?”

“What? Am I angry?”

She nodded. “Do you hate your brother?”

He stared at his hands as he rubbed them together. “I guess you could say that.” She waited. “It was about a woman.”