Dune to Death (23 page)

“That's right, Mother,” sighed Judith. “We're not.”

 

Judith leaned back in the hot tub and let the warm waters soothe her bare body. The sun was setting over the ocean, a spectacular vision of purple, pink, red, orange, and gold. She sank down up to her chin and looked across the tub at Joe. “I will not dare say this is perfect,” she said, with a smile. “The last time I did that, we were hexed.”

Joe sipped on his excellent martini and shifted his fiberglass cast to a more comfortable position on the floating pillow. “Jake told me dinner is at eight-thirty. We're having paella. Carlotta, the cook, is from Spain.”

“Great,” sighed Judith, reaching for her scotch. “Where
is
Jake?”

“Watching some God-awful karate movie on TV. His pleasures in life are simple.” Joe grinned and lighted up a Jamaican cigar, courtesy of his host.

For several moments, Judith lay with her head back against a plastic pillow, feeling the water ripple over her body and occasionally watching Joe. Renie would be home by now, hobbling around her mock Tudor house, listening to Bill recount his adventures with the numb-nutses in Champaign-Urbana. A few blocks away, Gertrude and Deb were probably fighting over Sweetums. And on the south side of Heraldsgate Hill, Arlene and Carl Rankers were no doubt getting the latest batch of guests settled at the B&B. Judith smiled to herself, then grew more serious.

“Joe,” she began, a trifle diffidently, “do you think we should talk about Mike?”

Joe, who had shut his eyes just for a moment, stared at Judith. “What's to say?”

“Well…That is…” Judith realized she was flushing. “In all this time, we've never really sorted out Mike's birth. What should we tell him?”

Joe took the cigar out of his mouth and gave Judith a steady look. “Mike's twenty-two, right?”

Judith nodded. “Twenty-three in August.” Her smile was ironic. “You two have the same birthday. Dan and I had been married for only four months. We got married on April Fool's Day.”

“I know. I ran off to Vegas with Herself at the end of January.” His magic eyes rested on Judith's anxious face. “You sure didn't waste any time finding a replacement.”

“I didn't have much choice. If nothing else, Dan could be impulsive.” Fleetingly, Judith's mind flew back to those desperate days in 1967. Vietnam. Race riots. Student protests. But far more pressing for Judith, marrying a husband to give her unborn child a name. For whatever reasons, Dan McMonigle had been willing to take Judith with no questions asked. At the time, their union had saved her sanity, as well as her reputation. Later, she would often wonder if her reputation had been worth the price. Certainly, her sanity had sometimes seemed at risk.

Joe took another drink from his martini. “Mike's not a boy, he's a man. How did he and Dan get along?”

Judith's expression was rueful. “For all Dan's faults, he
was a good father. He and Mike were buddies, really. I've tried very hard not to let my own feelings taint Mike's love and respect for Dan.”

Joe grew very thoughtful. Gulls circled overhead, apparently on the lookout for Jake and his .22. Out on the highway, the last float headed home from the Buccaneer Beach Freebooters' Parade. Judith and Joe had watched the festivities from Jake's deck. They especially liked the part where Donn Bobb Lima went to sleep on his horse and fell off in front of the souvenir shop.

“Why spoil the best thing Dan ever did?” asked Joe at last. “He
was
Mike's father. Let's let it go at that. For now.”

Judith smiled. Then she started to cry. “Oh, Joe—you're…”

He held a finger up in front of his lips. “Don't say it. And anyway, I'm not perfect. I have a flaw or two. Honest.”

Impulsively, Judith sprang across the hot tub. Her grazed arm scarcely hurt at all, at least not while it was submerged in the warm waters. She locked her fingers behind Joe's head.

They didn't hear Jake Beezle call them in for dinner. But they made it to the table in time for dessert.

 

Joe was already in the MG, on the passenger's side. Judith was giving Jake a farewell hug. “You've been wonderful, Jake. Good luck tonight with Mrs. Wampole. With your card game, I mean.”

Jake grinned. “She's a cutie, all right. Really spry, now that she got her colon all patched up. You two come back, and bring that other pinochle player with you. And her husband. We can play six-handed. Now there's a real game…” He stopped as Carlotta's husband, Emilio, the gardener, came outside to say that there was a phone call for Señora Flynn. Frowning, Judith went back inside the house.

“Hi, Mom,” said Mike. “You still there?”

“Obviously,” said Judith. “Where have you been? I was beginning to worry.”

“I got to the ranger station at Whitefish and found out they'd made a mistake,” he explained. “The computer double-assigned me and another guy. In fact, they screwed up a bunch of people. Kristin, too. We had to wait two days to get new jobs. I've been trying to reach you and finally got this number from Grams.”

Judith realized she was smiling into the phone. The truth was, she hadn't had much spare time to fret over Mike until the previous evening, after she and Joe had talked about him. But with the murder case behind her and Joe on the mend, she had spent a restless night, imagining all sorts of horrors besetting her son, from grizzly bears to dope-crazed campers.

“So where did you end up for the summer?” she inquired. “Glacier? Powder River? Custer's Last Stand?”

Mike laughed, an odd, almost giddy sound. “No, Mom, nowhere in Montana. Hey, you're really going to hoot your horn when you hear this—Kristin and I both got assigned to catalogue the trees at the city zoo. We're going to be home all summer!”

Dazed, Judith expressed her deepest maternal pleasure at this unexpected turn of events. Her brain still whirling, she stumbled out to the car. Jake, Carlotta, and Emilio had now all gathered to wave them off. Judith turned the ignition key, forced a bright smile, and reversed out of the driveway.

“We're off,” said Joe, settling back into the seat. When Judith didn't respond, he turned to observe her more closely. “Hey—what's the matter? You look…strange.” She kept staring straight ahead. “Jude-girl, you should have turned left, not right, onto 101. You're going the wrong way.”

“No, I'm not,” said Judith with a tight little smile. “Joe, how do you feel about spending the summer in Brazil?”

“What?” Joe's round face was screwed up in a puzzled frown.

At a service station two blocks further down the high
way, Judith turned around. Resignedly, she pointed the car north. She told him about Mike and his altered plans. About Kristin's moving in for the summer. About Gertrude's refusal to accept her new living arrangements. And how hard it was going to be for Joe himself to manage with crutches in a three-story house. Especially with at least eight guests a night cluttering up the place until after Labor Day.

Joe laughed. Judith wanted to cry. But by the time they had left the city limits of Buccaneer Beach, she was smiling again. Judith let the sports car strut its stuff, and settled back to enjoy the trip. The sun was shining overhead, the vast Pacific Ocean could be glimpsed from the road, and the MG was a joy to drive. With Joe at her side, Judith knew that she couldn't wish for anything better than a fast sports car headed home.

Unless it was a slow boat to Brazil.