Finding Casey (20 page)

“Of course I would,” Juniper mumbled. “You know. It's just the holidays.”

Glory knew. Given the chance, memories of Casey, her mom dying, and her dad deserting her moved right in like bossy tenants. Maybe it would always be like that, but Glory was trying her best to make new traditions and good memories for the girl she'd come to love. She had a fleeting moment of insight
that maybe they should name the baby something else, that hearing Casey's name for the rest of her life might do Juniper more harm than good. She needed to start thinking about other names.

“Will somebody help me with this dad-blasted seat belt?” Ave said, and Topher stepped forward.

Once Ave was settled, Topher folded Luke Skywalker into the trunk. He slid his guitar case into Juniper's car and turned to wave good-bye. Glory held up her hand and felt Joseph at her side. “Safe travels,” he said, just as he always did, and Juniper said just as
she
always did, “Dad, Albuquerque's only one hour away.”

After the two cars drove off, he and Glory turned to walk toward the house. To her eyes it looked impossibly big and lonely. Not even the Christmas farolitos Juniper and Topher had put up could help that.

“I think somebody has a case of the post-holiday blues,” Joseph said.

“It's probably hormones,” she answered. “I can't help but worry.”

“About what? Our daughter is earning a 4.0, your sister is coming to stay, and your mom has a superhero for a walker. I imagine we can talk her into moving eventually. Especially once our little bambina arrives. Did I mention you're gorgeous?”

“I'm fat,” Glory said, and kissed her husband, but the unease remained. I ate too much at breakfast, she thought. I've got to get back to watching my diet.

Two days later, Joseph went to visit Fidela, Rico's widow, and her two boys who had recently moved up to La Cieneguilla on
the other side of town. Fidela needed help putting together bunk beds for the boys and a million other tiny fixes a husband could take care of, if only Rico hadn't died in the accident that injured Joseph.

“I'll be back in time to make you dinner,” he told Glory. “Promise me you'll take a nap?”

“You don't have to talk me into it,” Glory said, and right after he left, she did lie down on the bed and shut her eyes.

But there was no peace in it. She thought of how she still had a nursery to put together. The crib was still in pieces in its box. A can of low VOC apple-green paint needed to go up on the walls, but Glory couldn't manage a paintbrush, even though she wanted to. Five yards of pink-and-purple cotton fabric—was that enough for crib bumper pads and curtains? The pattern was there, but the fabric hadn't even been cut. There were diapers to stockpile, bottles to buy and baby lotion and wipes, but somehow Glory couldn't summon the energy to do any of it. Halle would help when she arrived, right? Maybe she'd throw her a baby shower, help put things in their places. Right now, with an empty house and a few hours to herself, this was the only opportunity to grab a nap before she had to do something else. She thought of her hens roosting in their warm coop in the snowy weather, the dogs in their flannel beds by the fire, and Eddie glued to her side. She was nearly asleep when the weird metallic groaning started up.

Ahhhwwwoooaaawww.
Then silence. Dolores, or plumbing?

Glory remembered her first night's sleep in the new house, around two A.M., when the same low groaning made everyone sit up straight in bed and call out, “You okay?” Eventually they gathered in the kitchen with mugs of warm milk.

“Daddy Joe,” Juniper said. “Find a reasonable explanation for that, please?”

Glory said, “Jenny warned me when she first showed me the property that any house this old had a ghost or two, but I thought she was kidding.”

“There're no such thing as ghosts,” Joseph insisted.

“Really?” Juniper said. “Come on. If there are no such things as ghosts, then why are there like nine million ghost stories in Santa Fe? La Fonda's gambling salesman, the headless horseman of Alto Street, Casa Real Health Center, La Residencia Senior Center—man, would Gran love that—the Grant Corner Inn, and what about the Mission San Miguel? That whole block is supposed to be haunted.”

“You listen to me, arbolita. It's easier to be superstitious than it is to replace plumbing,” Joseph answered. “Whatever that noise was, it was mechanical. When we have the money I'll call my cousin Pedro the plumber. He can figure it out in no time.”

As if the ghost had waited for him to get high up on his horse, the groaning came again. Glory watched Joseph's face turn pale. “I hope it's not the boiler.” He got up to fetch his toolbox and began muttering in Spanish.

Glory and Juniper sat where they were, laughing, and then Juniper said, “Our ghost deserves a name. Since she's such a pain in the butt, how about we call her Dolores?” and that was that. They said good-night to Dolores, went to bed, and slept through the night.

The Vigils grew used to the noise the same way they did to the out-of-plumb doorways and the guest room always being chilly. Just when Glory was sure they'd heard the last of Dolores, it would happen again. She seemed to be fondest of the
dinner hour, especially when they had guests, or the early-morning hours, but Glory remembered the one time she had the chimney man over to sweep out the living-room fireplace. He was sitting at the kitchen table going over the estimate, and Dolores let loose with one of her howls. “What the heck was that?” the man said, and Glory laughed. “My husband thinks it's the plumbing, but I'm pretty sure we have a ghost.” The chimney sweep got up from the table and walked out the door without another word. They ended up having to find another company to do the work.

Much to Joseph's dismay, a peek into the plumbing and heating system didn't reveal any explanation for the periodic groaning. Dolores wasn't predictable, and of course she never groaned when they wanted her to. Glory had a theory that Dolores only visited 103 Colibri Road part-time, and when the house was quiet, she was out haunting other homes, sort of like a spirit time share.

Glory had no fear of ghosts, but the dogs had other ideas. Two seconds after the groan, here they were, as always, butted up against Glory in a king-size bed that now felt more like a twin. Dodge was shaking and even Caddy seemed upset. Glory suspected it was more digestive fallout from Ave's endless treats suddenly coming to a halt than the ghost, and Juniper and Gopher's fault, too, for getting them accustomed to long afternoon walks that Glory suspected the kids took for the opportunity to kiss rather than exercise the dogs. Cadillac kept nosing her in the side with a tennis ball, and now Dodge was trying to get Eddie to play, leaping about on the mattress, sprawling his front legs in a pose that always reminded Glory of yoga, barking the supersonic cattle-dog bark that made Dolores's groaning theme song sound like a lullaby.

“Off the bed,” she said, but they were having none of that. She tried pushing them away, but they were heavy and hunkered down. Eddie ignored Dodge's overtures for a while, but even an Italian greyhound couch potato had his limits. Suddenly he leapt off the bed, clearing Glory's belly by a hair. That did it. She sat up. “You guys need a walk,” she said, and began getting out harnesses and coats. The dogs went berserk, yipping and jumping at the good fortune of two walks in one day, because little did she know that Joseph had walked them early this morning while she slept in.

It had been months since she'd worked with them, and when training stopped, bad behaviors returned. When Halle got here, Glory would make a list of things she was too pregnant to do, and dog walking would be number one on that list.

Glory found her gloves and scarf, pulled on her down coat that barely reached her sides, thanks to her belly, and tucked her hair inside a knit cap. Getting her boots on took some effort, but finally she managed, though she gave up on zipping them. She held Dodge and Caddy's leashes in her right hand, hoping that Caddy would keep Dodge in line. Eddie's leash was in her left hand, not a balanced walk, but the best she could manage under the circumstances. They went out the door, turned into the alley that connected them to Canyon Road, and walked through the newly fallen snow, dog breath steaming in front of them like smoke. Glory never got used to how beautiful winter could be here: Chimneys puffed out smoke, snow dusted adobe walls decorated with farolitos, both old style with candles in paper bags and the modern electric kind, illuminating the streets at dusk with an old-world charm. They reminded her of votive candles in the red glass holders that Joseph sometimes stopped in to light at the cathedral when he was sending up
special prayers. The scent of burning piñon wood made her feel a little drunk. Bare cottonwood branches starkly contrasted with the blue sky, and while cottonwoods were lovely, they weren't Solomon's Oak, her beloved old tree in California, under which the modern-day druids worshiped, couples married, and photographers, like her Joe, loved to photograph.

So many memories: Dan cutting firewood. Piper and Cricket nickering on cold days when she fixed them a hot bran mash they could apparently smell coming before she walked out back to the barn. She wished she could have brought the horses with her, but they were growing old and used to their life at Solomon's Oak. Trailering across two states would have been rough on them, not to mention the altitude and climate change. She would have had to board them out, and that was no life for them at their age. Gary was good about e-mailing pictures every week. Soon after he took over Solomon's Oak, he and Robynn had married, and she was pregnant with twins, due in spring. Glory thought of her dearest friends, Lorna and Juan, the way they decorated the Butterfly Creek General Store with lights at Christmas time, the big party they always threw, complete with a rocking band and more food than anyone could eat. She'd first danced with Joseph there, and felt the first stirrings of love in her broken heart. She and Lorna had shared countless heart-to-heart conversations alongside the riverbank. In Santa Fe Glory was friends with Rico's widow, Fidela, and had a cup of tea every week with her neighbor, Margaret Yearwood, but it wasn't the same as being home in a place she'd lived her whole life. Every Christmas she and Joseph sent Lorna and Juan a box filled with homemade jam, jars of green chile, lime pistachios, and sage bundles. As soon as it was safe to travel with the
baby, Glory was going to visit with little Casey, or whatever her name turned out to be.

She stopped to catch her breath, surprised how the slight incline of Canyon Road felt strenuous. It had to be lugging around the baby weight. And darn it, Glory felt a headache coming on. She wasn't allowed to take her migraine medicine while she was pregnant. Not even a Tylenol. She had planned to walk longer, but felt so tired she made herself turn toward home. Then Dodge spied a child with a sled and barked, lunging forward to play, yanking the leash in her hand so hard that she stumbled in her unzipped boot. “Dodge!” she called out, but it was too late. He'd already pulled the leash in her hand, tipping her off balance, and she had turned her ankle. She took a breath, thankful she hadn't fallen. The dog went wackadoo in the snow and considered every child playing outside an invitation for him to join in. When she hauled the leash back in, Caddy startled and tried to pull away, so the effort to contain both dogs required all her strength. Just as she cried out, “Enough!” she felt a twinge in her belly, like pulling a muscle. Dodge had forgotten all his manners, Caddy didn't understand why he was being punished, and Eddie, meanwhile, trotted along like he was above it all, oblivious. She caught her breath, gathered the leashes, and although it made her arms ache, kept everyone on a short rein the rest of the way home.

They crossed Acequia Madre and arrived back at the house a lot later than she'd thought. Her belly felt tender where she'd pulled that muscle. Her ankle ached a little, but not enough to warrant an X-ray. I won't tell Joseph, she thought, as she unleashed the dogs and sat down hard on the couch, too tired to pull off her boots. She had to catch her breath again, something
that had been bothering her of late, as the baby pressed against her diaphragm. When she felt a strange pull across her belly, she placed a hand there, trying to understand what it was. It didn't feel like a kick. When it stopped, she managed to toe off her boots. She lay down against the throw pillows and dozed while the dogs stretched out in front of the fire. The next twinge woke her up. Surely it couldn't be a contraction. She looked at her watch, marked the time, and when another one came fifteen minutes later, felt her heart fill up with dread. Seven months was too early to give birth safely. She picked up the phone and called Dr. Montano's office. Surely the doctor would say it was nothing, Braxton Hicks, or some other pregnancy phenomenon explained in the books she'd been meaning to read. She told the receptionist what happened, and as expected, Dr. M was busy with a patient. “She'll call you back,” the woman promised, and Glory hung up. Not even a minute passed before the phone rang.

“Glory,” she said, “I hear you're having some discomfort. Tell me exactly what happened.”

“It's probably nothing. I walked the dogs and I think I pulled a muscle in my belly.”

“How much does the dog weigh?”

“Sixty pounds or so. I had my collie on that side, too, but he only weighs forty pounds at the most. I didn't fall or anything, but I did stumble, sprained my ankle a little, and there was a sensation, I don't know. It just felt like a pull. I lay down right away. About a half hour later, I felt it again, just a twinge, then another one, fifteen minutes after that. Three times so far.”

“Describe the pain.”

“It isn't pain, it's more like pulling. Like someone is yanking me into a corset. I'm sorry to bother you when you're busy with
other patients, it's just that I figured better safe than sorry.” She forced a laugh.