Dove in the Window (23 page)

Inside, the blaring music, cigarette smoke, and malty smell of spilled beer assaulted me like an invisible fist. My arrival didn’t cause a ripple in the sea of human flesh. People stood squeezed together, elbow to elbow, skin touching damp skin. I searched the crowd with dismay, looking over the throng of humans choking the ten-table restaurant. The large square room to the left held two ancient pool tables, a wall full of antlers, and a scroungy local band perched on a homemade plywood stage playing Willie Nelson’s “Faded Love.” The lead singer wore a black shirt with purple cutouts of the naked women you see on diesel truck mud flaps. His silver hat band caught the overhead track lighting and sparkled like new aluminum.

Tony wasn’t working the front bar or at the semicircle bar next to the pool tables. I walked through the double-wide back door onto the patio where the smoky smell of cooking ribs warmed the night air. Scanning the constantly milling crowd, I clenched my fists in irritation. I’d never find Wade.

Tony’s voice called out over the buzz, “Benni, over here!”

I looked toward his voice. He was selling bottled beer and wine coolers out of a tub of ice next to the barbecue pit. I pushed through people until I was standing in front of him.

“Tony, where’s Wade? I can’t find him.” A cold wind whipped through the patio, and I pulled my sheepskin jacket close around me. The heat from the barbecue warmed my face, but my back stayed cold.

He shook his head in disgust. “Who knows in this crowd? Did you check the head?” He reached into the aluminum tub and pulled out a couple of long-neck beers and handed them to a bearded man wearing a red-and-black-checked hunting shirt.

“You askin‘ bout Wade Harper?” the man said.

I nodded.

“He and some guy started throwin‘ words back and forth, and we told them to take it off the premises. They was walkin’, if you want to call it that, out thataways last I saw.” He pointed to a stand of eucalyptus and oak trees a couple of hundred yards past Frio’s fenced-in back patio.

I closed my eyes briefly and wished on a nonexistent falling star that Wade had never come back to San Celina. When I opened them, Tony and the bearded man were staring at me, their faces apprehensive.

“How long ago was that?” I asked.

The man cocked his head and thought. “ ‘Bout half hour, forty-five minutes. I think I saw Wade come back kinda bloody-nosed heading towards the john.”

“You okay?” Tony asked me. He handed out another beer, then shook ice off his fingers.

“I will be once I get Wade out of here. Can you check the bathroom for me and help me herd him out to my ruck?”

The apprehensive look returned. I couldn’t blame him. A drunk Wade was not someone to be reckoned with lightly. The bearded man just shook his head, took a long drag of beer and wandered back into the crowd.

“Please, Tony.” I tried not to sound as desperate as I felt.

His face relented. “All right, Benni. Heaven knows, you’ve gone far beyond the call of duty more than once for us artists for your lousy seven bucks an hour. Just running interference with Constance so the co-op can keep going makes us all indebted to you for life. I’d have killed myself long ago if I didn’t have my sculpting to look forward to. Let’s go find your brother-in-law.”

I gave him a grateful look and didn’t answer, afraid that if I said one word at this point I’d start crying. Despite the constant bickering and often childishly competitive spirit among the co-op members, there was also a streak of loyalty, a sense of family that showed itself at unexpected times like this.

I followed him down the hallway to the bathrooms. As usual, the line to the ladies room was ten deep while the door to the men’s room was more revolving. I stood looking at the rough, wooden floor while Tony searched the bathroom. A few minutes later he came out, pushing a staggering Wade in front of him. Dried blood had congealed under Wade’s thick ginger mustache. A stupid smile lit up his face when he saw me.

“Benni-girl,” he said, his words slurring. “Kicked some ass, I did. Kicked some smart little ass.” Behind him, some girls giggled. He turned and gave them a sloppy grin, attempting a bow. Tony and I caught him before he toppled over. The girls giggled again.

“Time to go home, Wade,” I said, grabbing one arm and pulling him up. Tony rolled his eyes at me and grabbed the other.

“Kicked some cowboy ass,” Wade repeated.

Somehow we maneuvered him through the crowd and out to my truck. Thank goodness Tony was there to help. Getting Wade stuffed into the cab without Tony’s strength would have been close to impossible for me.

“Is his bill all settled up?” I asked.

Tony laid a warm hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about that right now. I’ll let you know. Just get him out of here before he and Kip tangle again.”

“How bad was Kip beat up?” I asked, wondering if we had an assault and battery problem to contend with.

“I have no idea. I didn’t see the fight. Like Lyle said, they took it off the premises. I’m guessing he doesn’t look any worse ... or any better.”

“What a mess. A big stupid mess.”

“Don’t get too riled up. I see this all the time. Two guys duke it out, mostly throwing air punches, connecting enough times to draw a little blood. Once that happens, they both tend to back off. I just wanted you to get Wade away before it got bad enough that someone brought out a knife or a gun.”

From inside the cab, Wade groaned and shifted. His bare head hit the window with a hollow thump.

“Ouch,” Tony said, smiling. “He’s going to feel that tomorrow.”

“That’s not all he’ll feel, I’m sure,” I said. “Where’s his hat?”

“Who knows? When we close at two, we reconnoiter the rooms and patio and take all the crap people have left and put it in a big cardboard box next to the stage. It’ll show up eventually, unless someone takes it.”

“Thanks. For that... and everything.” I held out my hand.

He shook it. “Hang in there, boss. See you at the parade on Saturday.”

“I hope so,” I said. “If Gabe doesn’t kill me first for bringing home my drunk and bloody ex-brother-in-law.”

He grinned. “We all got our burdens. I’ll trade you my ex-wife for your problems any day.”

“No, thanks,” I said, laughing. His ex-wife, a speed freak, had gone after him with an ice pick, connecting four times before the police arrived. She was eventually incarcerated for attempted murder. “Guess I’ll just count my blessings while I drive home.”

During the ride home, I counted all right, but it wasn’t my blessings.

“Twenty million times,” I ranted to a snoring Wade. “That’s how many times I feel like I’ve had to do this. Have you ever heard of Alcoholics Anonymous? Don’t you care about anyone but yourself? You jerk, I’m not even related to you anymore. Why should I care if you get the crap beat out of you? You jerk, you big, stupid, dumb jerk. I ought to just dump you on the side of the road right now.”

He snorted in his sleep and turned his head. Drool pooled at the edge of his mouth. I turned my head in disgust and concentrated on the flashing white lines in the middle of the black road. Tule fog had moved in, and my old truck’s headlights barely broke through the soupy mist. I flipped on my high beams.

“Do you realize what kind of trouble I’m going to be in when I get home? Gabe is going to burst a blood vessel. I ought to drive us both in a ditch right now and save us the agony ... no, save me the agony of his lecture. Have you ever been lectured by Gabriel Ortiz? That man can cut melons with just his verbs. We’re in deep, deep crap, buddy, and it’s all your fault. Why in the world I care about saving your worthless butt is beyond me.”

His eyes fluttered, then he heaved a deep sigh. I wondered briefly if being drunk was like being in a coma. Could the person sometimes actually hear, comprehend in some deep metaphysical way, what you were saying?

I don’t care
, I thought. I cracked my window to clear the truck’s cab of his alcoholic stench. The scent of wet earth and goats floated in. An improvement, but not much.

The drive back on the desolate highway seemed to take only seconds, and soon I was through Santa Flora and heading up the on-ramp to the freeway. I glanced at my watch. It was almost one A.M. I slowed the truck to fifty-five, trying to articulate a plausible explanation as to why I would rescue someone who technically wasn’t any more related to me than the man in the moon and had acted like the king of the morons since he’d arrived. My brain felt positively burnt. Not even Spielberg could come up with a good story for this one.

Our front porch light was a single bright beacon when I turned the corner onto our dark street. When I pulled up to the front curb, I was tempted to keep going, and would have had my copilot not been a smelly, passed-out drunk.

Gabe stood on the porch, arms crossed and stony-faced.

Scary, but expected.

But Emory, my good buddy, my childhood comrade, my erstwhile partner in crime, stood next to him, his posture eerily similar, his face frozen into an expression I’d never, ever seen on him. Emory pissed. Now there was a new adventure.

They were down the porch steps and across the yard standing next to the truck when I opened my door. Wade picked that particular moment to wake up from his stupor and bellow out, “Where’s my hat?”

Noticing him for the first time, Gabe and Emory stared at Wade, speechless. Then they both started talking at once. Gabe placed a hand on Emory’s shoulder.

“Excuse me, but she’s my wife,” he said. “I get to yell at her first.”

“By all means, sir,” he said, holding out his palm while giving me a severe look.

After the last three unbearable hours, their condescending attitudes were just what I needed to eliminate any vestige of fear and replace it with a barely containable anger—mostly at the entire male sex. Before Gabe could bark out a complete sentence, I held up my hand. “Nobody’s yelling at anybody. Not now. Not later. What you are going to do is help me get Wade to bed, and then we’ll talk. Sensibly. Without yelling. Like
adults
.”

Gabe opened his mouth to speak.

“Don’t even think about it,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

The look on my face or my tone or something must have really impressed them, because they glanced at each other and without another word went around the side of the truck and roughly pulled Wade out. While they half dragged him across the yard, I went into the guest room and spread Gabe’s new sleeping bag down on the floor next to Emory’s bed. When I informed them of the sleeping arrangements, Emory’s stiff expression relayed what he thought of sharing a room with Wade, but he didn’t verbalize it.

Wise move, dear cousin of mine.

After Wade had been taken care of, I went into the kitchen to get a glass of milk for my burning stomach. Was this what an ulcer felt like? Gabe and Emory followed me silently, watching me pour the milk into a mug, add almond extract and sugar, and stick it in the microwave. Then I faced them.

“Okay, before you two even start, I’m telling you I didn’t have a choice. I got a call from Tony at the Frio Saloon. Wade was causing some problems there and needed to be picked up. There was no one else he could call, and neither of you were here to come with me. I know it was probably not the smartest thing to do, but I did it and that’s that. As it is, he got into a tussle with Kip before I arrived, but at least I hustled him out before anything serious could happen.” The microwave
pinged
, and I took out my mug of milk, testing it with my forefinger before taking a sip. “Any questions, or can I go to bed now?”

Emory spoke first. “Sweetcakes, much as I’d love to bless you out good for bein‘ so contrary and foolish, I know enough not to mess with you when your fur’s all standin’ on end, so I’ll be going on to bed and talk with you tomorrow.” He turned to Gabe. “My deepest sympathies, Chief.”

“Suck eggs,” I called to his retreating back.

“I love you, too,” he answered.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I informed Gabe.

His nostrils flared slightly, but he didn’t answer. Not a good sign. I took my warm milk into the bathroom and lathered my hair twice trying to wash away the acrid smell of cigarette smoke.

The light was out in our bedroom, so I felt my way to the bed and crawled in. The bedside clock said two A.M. The warmth from Gabe’s body tempted me, but I plumped my pillow and turned on my side away from him. I spoke to the pale moonlight coming through our bedroom window.

“I know you’re mad because I went to get Wade without calling you and I know it’s because you’re scared that I could have gotten hurt. But I honestly didn’t feel I had a choice and I really don’t want to fight about it.”

“All right.” His voice was cool, neutral.

His noncombative response surprised me. For a split second, I almost asked him what he was thinking, then decided to let well enough alone.

A few minutes passed, and I lay there stiff and wide awake. The milk and shower hadn’t relaxed me as much as I’d hoped. Outside, a mourning dove started its soft, rhythmic cooing. The sound caused a heavy, sad feeling of nostalgia for an unknown something to rise up and fill my chest. Gabe shifted next to me, then reached over and pulled me into his arms. I pressed myself as close as I could, burying my face in his scratchy neck.

“
Querida, querida
,” he said, pressing his strong hands into my back I could feel the heat from them through my thin tee shirt. “Don’t you think I understand about
la familia
?”

I drew in a shuddering breath, trying not to give in to the tears pooling at the corners of my eyes. “But he’s not,” I whispered. “Not anymore.”

He touched my forehead gently with his lips. “Not in the law, perhaps, but in
tu corazon
. That is a different animal. No one knows better than me that the human heart is a law unto itself.”

“I’m sorry I scared you and Emory,” I said.

“I’m almost getting used to it,” he said, his voice wry. “Now, your cousin—he might have a few words for you tomorrow. He’s never experienced one of your escapades firsthand. I think he was a little annoyed because I wouldn’t use my authority and put out an all-points-bulletin.”