Jenny Cussler's Last Stand (2 page)

Jenny set her handbag and keys on the hall table, took a left into the small bedroom, and sank onto the bed with a sigh. She dropped her head onto her pillow and stared at the ceiling fan, more fantasies of her upcoming week weaving in and out of her thoughts. Images of a half-dressed man with waist-length dark hair and black eyes, astride a painted horse, brought a smile to her face.

A faint ringing in the distance caught her attention, and she jumped up from the bed and went in pursuit of her purse, where her cell phone chirped a happy melody. She rummaged in her handbag and pulled out her phone. When she saw her daughter’s caller identification, she opened the phone and wandered toward the floor-to-ceiling windows of her apartment overlooking a small body of water.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, hon. How are you?” Jenny leaned against the wall and gazed down at the peaceful green lake.

“I’m okay. I’m about dead on my feet though.”

“School?” Jenny asked with sympathy.

“Yeah, I don’t know how many more of these 12-hour shifts I can do...and get to class...and get any homework done.”

Jenny watched several colorful green-headed mallards paddling along in the lake. Daisy Duck, the lone white duck of the bunch, flapped her wings for a moment, preening for her suitors. One mallard pecked at another to run him off. Jenny shook her head. Daisy was a hussy; there was no doubt about it.

“Not too much longer now, Becky. Five more months. You can do this.”

“I know...I just...”

“What?”

“Don’t you ever want to say ‘I can’t do this’ even though you know you probably can?” Becky’s soft voice caught at her mother’s heart.

“All the time, honey. I know exactly what you’re saying. I felt the same way in graduate school. Work, internship, class, papers, a teenage daughter…” Jenny narrowed her eyes to watch the flock of ducks as they swam away to the middle of the small oasis next to her apartment complex. Daisy rose from the water and flapped her wings as if she prepared for flight, and several of the mallards rose with her. A tease in every sense of the word, she settled back into the water and swam away, seemingly unconcerned at the chaos behind her as the mallards once again jockeyed for a favorable position in her entourage.

“I don’t know how you did it, especially with a child,” Becky said.

“Mom helped a lot,” Jenny said. “Remember? You spent a lot of time at her house.” She winced. Her mother had passed away of ovarian cancer last year at 58, far too young to leave this world in such a way. Though her mother had gone to hospice for her final care, Jenny had taken family medical leave in her final weeks to spend time with her.

“Aww, Grandma. Yeah, I remember. We had good times, making cookies and hanging out. I miss her.”

“Me, too, hon.” Jenny cleared her throat. Daisy and her gang on the lake blurred, and Jenny dashed a hand against her eye.

“So, are you about ready for your trip?”

Jenny turned away from the window and returned to the bedroom. She opened her closet door and stared at the untouched suitcase on the floor.

“You know, as excited as I was about this thing, I haven’t even begun to pack.”

“Well, why should you, Mom? It’s not really the last minute yet or anything.”

“Very funny,” Jenny said as she struggled to pull the canvas suitcase out of the narrow closet. She dragged it over to the bed and eyed it with suspicion.

“Mom? I hear the sounds of exertion. This sounds promising!”

“This bag is way too big to take to a rustic camp in the mountains.”

“Why do you say that?”

Jenny stared at the businesslike, oversized suitcase and shrugged.

“I don’t think they have porters there or anything. I’ll probably have to lug it all over the camp.”

“Do you have anything else?”

Jenny returned to the closet and peered into the recesses. “Well, I have this soft-sided duffel bag thing, but it doesn’t look big enough.”

“Well, how much are you taking? It’s only seven days. They don’t have a spa, do they?”

Jenny ignored the teasing in her daughter’s voice. She pulled out the dark blue canvas duffel and carried it over to the suitcase, where she laid them side by side.

“No, but I hear they have sweat lodges. It sounds kind of like a spa.”

“Sweat lodges? Sounds hot...” Becky’s voice carried a dubious note.

“Someone who was there last year told me we don’t wear clothes in the sweat lodge.”

“What!”

“No clothes in the sweat lodge...naked.” Jenny shook her head. She couldn’t imagine running around outside in broad daylight without her clothes on, and she had no idea how she was going to participate. She doubted if it was mandatory.

“Everyone?” Becky squeaked.

“Well, the men and women go in separately. So I’ve heard.”

“Oh,” Becky said. “Well, then, you won’t need that much luggage after all, will you?”

Jenny snorted. She hoisted the duffel bag onto the bed. The bag would leave her clothes wrinkled. Would it matter? She’d heard the camp was rustic; in fact, it was primarily used as a summer camp for the children of the reservation.

“Good point, Becky. Thanks for pointing that out. The duffel it is.”

“Glad I could help, Mom.” Becky chuckled.

“I’m going to be out of cell phone range for the whole week, honey. I hear there’s no coverage on the mountain.”

“It sounds funny when you say that...the mountain.”

“Well, it is on a mountain.”

“I know, but there’s something in your voice when you say it.”

Jenny cleared her throat. She couldn’t share her private thoughts with anyone. They seemed so foolish, so...so...star struck. Well, perhaps she could try. She sat down on the bed.

“Well, as it happens, I have been having strange thoughts about the place. I’ve seen pictures of it. It looks beautiful...and when people who have been there talk about it, their eyes light up. I don’t know how to explain it, but they seem to, well, glow...when they talk about the camp.”

“Really? Why?” Practical and logical Becky seemed at a loss with her mother’s romantic notions.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s the Indian thing.”

“Mom, does this have to do with that movie you watched a few years ago? You talked about it a lot at the time. You know, that one where the Indian guy fell in love with the white girl?”

Jenny jumped up and strode back out to the living room.

“No! No...don’t be silly.” She moved over to the window and pressed her forehead to the windowpane, drawing from the cool glass to relieve the heat of embarrassment. The ducks had swum out of view. “That was just a movie. Believe me, I’m hardly heading to a Native American veteran cultural awareness camp in the middle of a reservation in search of true love. I’m sure all the men at this camp are going to be old and gray-haired, anyway.”

“Why would you think that? Surely not all the younger, good-looking Native Americans have moved to Hollywood.” Becky’s laugh brought a responding smile to her mother’s face. “Do you remember you also went through some sort of Native American music phase at the same time?”

Jenny shuffled uncomfortably. “Yes, I remember. I was star struck, in love with the concept of all things Native American—mystical music, handsome men. That was a long time ago. I’m over it now.”

“Okay, Mom, if you say so.” Becky chuckled once again, and Jenny wondered for the thousandth time if she could hide any secrets from her daughter.

“Well, anyway, this is just work. It’s far away from Idaho, and there will be lots of people there. I’m looking forward to spending time in the great outdoors, if nothing else. But don’t look for me to call and say I’ve fallen in love and am moving to a reservation. I’d never live on a reservation. The ones I’ve seen in Arizona look so...destitute, so poor and rundown. And remote! So far from anything.” Jenny paused for breath. “The reservations do always seem to be on beautiful land, though...just kind of inaccessible.”

“Uh-huh,” Becky said in the tone of one who’d become distracted. “Lily, let go of Mommy’s glasses.”

“And how is my young granddaughter?” Jenny heard the baby gurgling over the phone. “Hi, sweetie! How’s Grandma’s baby?” She listened to Becky’s voice over the phone as she cooed to her three-month-old infant. “I can’t believe I’m a grandmother already.”

“Well, you are. Get used to it.”

“But I’m only thirty-eight years old. Where did my life go?” Jenny pretended to wail. Well, she tried to believe she was pretending, anyway.

“Well, you had me at eighteen and I had her at twenty. Do the math. At least I waited.” Becky chuckled.

“That’s okay,” Jenny said as she heard the baby gurgle again. “At least I’m still young enough to enjoy her.”

“Well, you’re actually still young enough to have some more of your own, if you think about it.” Becky’s laugh held a devilish note to Jenny’s ears. “Come on, Mom. Haven’t I been a single child too long? Don’t you want Lily to have aunts and uncles?”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Becky. Don’t be silly. Once I hit thirty-five, that was it for me. If your Dad and I didn’t have any more children by the time you hit eighteen, it seemed pointless.” Jenny shook her head and grinned, satisfied with the end of her child-bearing years, ignoring the tiny whisper in her subconscious that reminded her she’d have to take birth control for twenty more years...that’s how far she really was from the end of her childbearing years. “How is your father, by the way?”

“He’s good. Working hard. You know him. He likes to work. Work, work, work.”

“Do you see him often?”

“Not really. If he’s not working six days a week, he’s down at the bar. Trying to pick up young women, I think.”

“Becky!” Jenny scrunched her nose and ignored a measure of discomfort. She and her husband had gone their emotional separate ways years ago but had only separated and divorced when Becky left home two years ago. “Don’t talk about your father that way, please.”

Becky sighed. Jenny heard the baby gurgle once more.

“Sorry, Mom. It’s true. I’ve seen his new ‘roommate.’ I think she’s eighteen or something.”

“Oh, dear. How odd! He’s changed so much since the divorce. I mean... He always did work hard, but the young women... I don’t know what to think.”

“A midlife crisis, I’m sure, Mom. He’s forty-five, right?”

“Yes, he’s seven years older than me.”

“So, you were a sweet young thing then, weren’t you?”

Jenny remembered her youthful high school infatuation with the “much older” twenty-four-year-old college student down the street. They had married when Jenny become pregnant, and although it had been his idea, she wondered if she had indeed “trapped him in marriage.”

“Well, he’s been a good husband and a good father, Becky.”

“I know, Mom. But you guys seemed to lack... I don’t know. A spark or something. Know what I mean?”

Jenny moved away from the window and plopped onto her pillowy and plush blue sofa. She stared at the quivering leaves of the oak tree just outside the window. A squirrel ran down a branch.

“Yes, I know what you mean. Was that a problem for you...growing up?”

Becky snorted. “Nah, not me. I had undivided attention from both of you. Well, I had dad’s attention when he wasn’t working. What more could a kid want? It’s not like you two spent a lot of time involved with each other.”

Jenny crossed her arms and hunched further into her couch, allowing the velvety smoothness to comfort the guilt that never seemed far away.

“I should have let your father go a long time ago, shouldn’t I? I should have told him to leave me. He could have met someone else, maybe really fallen crazily in love.”

“He seemed comfortable, Mom. I’m not sure he was looking for anything besides a well-kept home and a nice family.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” A shadow played on the wall, and Jenny realized how late it was. “Listen, honey, I’ve got to get packing. Take care of yourself and Lily. Tell her I love her, and say hi to James for me.”

“I will, Mom. Have a good time, okay?”

“It’s just work, hon, but I’m looking forward to it anyway. Talk to you soon!”

Jenny clicked the phone shut and stared out the window for a few more moments. She was inexplicably reluctant to pack, though she’d been looking forward to this week for months.

If anything, she felt a bit forlorn at the thought of being out of contact with her daughter or any of her friends for an entire week.

No phones, no e-mails, no quick trips to the store or the coffee shop.

How was she going to manage?

Chapter Three

Clint looked out the window of Gary’s office at the large passenger vans pulling up. Bedraggled employees of the Department of Veterans Affairs climbed down from the vehicles and stared around the parking lot, seemingly dazed and confused. Clint shoved his hands in his jeans and grinned at the motley crew. They came in all shapes and sizes: Tall and short, black and white, male and female, plump and skinny. Several of them dashed off to the side of the parking lot to light cigarettes.

“So, they’re here already, huh?”

Clint turned as his lifelong friend, Gary, entered the room and came to stand beside Clint.

“Well, are you ready to do this again?” Gary tossed his long, coal-black ponytail over his shoulder and grinned.

Clint slid him a sideways look. “I’m ready. You know me. I love camp. Just like when we were kids.”

“Yeah, well, I had no idea so much hard work went into setting up Camp Chaparral for us kids every summer. Since I took on this veteran’s liaison job two years ago, I’ve learned a lot...a lot more than I wanted to.” Gary hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets and sighed.

Clint chuckled and patted his slight-statured friend on the back. “It’s a good thing you did take the job, because they would have come after me next. We’re the only two veterans under forty around here.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Gary’s thin lips. “Well, at least I’m working for the tribe. Look at you, working for the Ind’n Health Service.” Gary shortened the word “Indian” in a common Native American pronunciation.