Leaving Unknown (9 page)

At 11:38 exactly, I could resist no longer. It was
almost
noon. I sidled to Noah’s office.

He was sitting at a large cherry desk staring into space and drumming his fingers. He looked less demented. And very attractive.

“Knock, knock, J. Alfred Prufrock,” I called.

He looked up, surprised. “Oh hello.” Back to drumming.

“I was wondering if there’s anything you don’t like on your sandwich?”

“Hmmm?” Absently: “Oh whatever.” Then he came to himself. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I can make my own lunch.” He didn’t move.

“It’s no problem,” I assured him. I hesitated. “What’s got you blocked?”

His head swung back toward me, body following as he rotated his leather office chair. A far cry from the Gin Mill office, this one was tasteful wood and leather; only the numerous “creative visualization devices” belied the perfect image of a gentleman’s study. A polar bear, a male action figure, and what looked like Nemo the fish lay on the desk. I bit my lip.

“I don’t know how to balance underwater time and land time,” he said.

I pondered. “Maybe he can breathe both water and air, but to preserve his ability, he has to return to an aquatic environment at various intervals. It would add a race-against-the-clock element. And show his ingenuity—like the length of time he can spend on land can be prolonged if he goes somewhere with lots of humidity.” My Southern roots inspired me.

Noah’s jaw dropped. He turned his back without a word and started madly typing into his laptop. I slipped out to fix the most delicious sandwich ever. When I slid it onto the desk, he didn’t look up from his rapid key pounding. He was still doing it when I left for the day, locking him inside at six o’clock.

Shortly before closing the next day, I surveyed the new arrangement of shelves in the rear left corner, wiping my brow. I was reconfiguring the area to put the chairs where there was the most light. A voice in my ear made me jump out of my skin.

“The boy has universal consciousness of, and can communicate with, all sea life. How would it apply to animals that spend time on land
and
water, like sea lions and polar bears?”

I thought. He waited, stare intense.

“Can he push his telepathic powers to the higher land creatures by finding that element of their brain that dates to their ancestors’ time in the ocean? Whether you believe in the Bible or Darwin or Native legends, at one point the earth was entirely covered in water and our genetic origin was aquatic.”

“I like it. It’s a good way to slip in some science to educate my readers as well.” He turned toward the office. I was buoyant. He paused. “What do your socks look like today?” was his surprising question.

I hesitated, embarrassed to expose my fascination, but tugged my jeans to show him the fish, sea horses, and aquatic creatures decorating my favorite undersea kneesocks.

“Interesting.” He gave a thoughtful smile, then was gone.

I was humming, grinding coffee beans, when Tuesday came in the next morning.

“You’re early! How’d it go yesterday?”

“It was divine.” I glowed. Tuesday did a double take.

“I rearranged the religion section.” I covered. I didn’t want
to disappoint her that soon, I’d be spending all my time huddled in the back office collaborating with Noah about a boy who could overcome any obstacles, inspiring and educating kids everywhere. “How was the show?”

“It was good, but I wish I’d had someone take pictures. People kept asking me.”

“I’m pretty handy with a camera,” I offered. It was the one hobby I’d stuck with. I loved the permanence of pinning something as fleeting as an expression or shadow to paper.

The bells on the door sounded before Tuesday could answer. Her expression plummeted. “Auwe! Gotta run. Back in a sec.” She disappeared.

I looked up to see a human Jersey barrier. The woman’s short stature, combined with her gray wool coat, created the impression of a cement postbox. It also begged the question of why she was wearing a gray wool coat when it was seventy degrees. Perhaps to match the curls hugging her scalp like a steel-wool Chia Pet.

She marched over to me. “Helen Rausch. I need a book on poisons.”

“Oh. Okay. I’m Maeve.”

“I’m uninterested. Poisons?”

I blinked. “Sure. Do you want a history of poisons, an encyclopedia of poisons, an Agatha Christie novel…”

“I want to know how to cause death by poison.”

Use your face
, I thought. What I said was, “Plants then? Or pests?”

“Liz Goldberg.”

Two blinks this time. “Um.”

“Are you developmentally challenged? I. Want. To. Poison. Liz. Goldberg.”

“Helen, how lovely you’re looking today.” Noah, at my
side, was the epitome of gallant. “Did you just set your curls? They’re perfection.”

“Noah. Not bankrupt yet?”

“Open until six today.”

“Writing atheistic tales to corrupt the souls of our youth must pay well.”

“If I come across such a writer I will inquire about his earnings prior to conveying your outrage. Now, I understand you’re looking for a book.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her to the gardening section, head bent.

“Is she gone?” Tuesday hissed from where she was crouched below the counter. I nodded. “Thank God. Helen Rausch. Trundling proof that not everyone in Unknown is likeable. Sorry I had to dash, but Noah has strict orders that he handles Helen. She’s too awful to put on the staff, and she does ask for the most awkward things. What did she want?”

“To poison Liz Goldberg.” I marveled.

I admired the way Noah deftly rang up a Thai Cookbook for Helen only ten minutes later, and saw her out before returning to his office.

Tuesday snorted. “Those two have been feuding since a ranch-boundary dispute between their great-great-great granddads. Liz keeps threatening to shoot her. I wish she would. Oh!” She bounced back to me, hopping up and down and clapping. “Can you really shoot my student recital Thursday?”

“If I shoot your student recital I’ll end up in jail, and Michael Moore will make a sad documentary about me,” I said, starting the coffee maker.

“Silly.” Tuesday swatted me, giggling. “Take pictures. If you do it, Uncle Frank and I will treat you to dinner.”

“Will do, cockatoo. Who’s Uncle Frank?”

She patted her stomach. “It’s my little belly. I call it Uncle
Frank—the unwelcome relative who moves in and will never leave.”

I didn’t see any belly, but didn’t comment. I was impatient for the coffee to brew. I’d take Noah a cup and see if he needed any help. I was surprised he hadn’t stopped by after Helen left. “How does Noah take his coffee?” I was casual.

“Hmm?” Tuesday glanced up from her order forms. “I dunno. Oh, ask Beth.”

A tall blonde woman entered the store, having just stepped from the Lacoste advertisement where she lived. I’d never seen a more perfect embodiment of pink-cheeked Midwestern beauty. The only thing keeping her out of the Colgate toothpaste annex to her Izod home was the lack of smile.

“Hey Beth,” Tuesday greeted her.

“Is he here?” Beth dispensed with hello.

“Yeah, you know.”

Beth rolled her eyes. Apparently she did know, and wasn’t charmed. “He left the sink running when he left this morning.” She turned to me. “Hi, I’m Beth Watson, Noah’s girlfriend.”

I shot the coffeepot I was gripping out of its cradle and hot liquid ran down the back of my hand. “Shit!” I jerked my burned appendage out of harm’s way. “Sorry!” I apologized to Beth. “My language! Too much time with Lulabell. I’m Maeve.”

“Are you okay?” asked Beth, as Tuesday exclaimed, “Oh honey!”

“Sure, sure. It barely got me.” My hand was throbbing. “I’m so clumsy!” I blew out my bangs and shrugged my shoulders as if commiserating about a third person.

“Listen.” Beth turned to Tuesday. “Can you remind Noah that I’m going up to Tucson for work? I’ll be back Friday. Oh, and remind him we have dinner with my brother and his wife Saturday and I don’t care what his deadline is, he’d better be there physically
and
mentally.”

“I’ll try!” Tuesday’s cheerful reply sounded forced.

Beth turned back to me. “You should be more careful. I think there’s aloe vera cream in the bathroom for that burn. Noah wouldn’t like it if you claimed Workers’ Comp as a result of your own clumsiness.” And with that Becky Thatcher’s doppelgänger left to do whatever it was perfect blondes did in their spare time.

I didn’t know why I was disappointed. Had I really thought I’d become writing partners with Noah and spend the rest of my life in Unknown, Arizona? Hell, no. I was on my way to Los Angeles to drive golf carts around movie sets. It didn’t affect me that he had a girlfriend. I’d barely have time to know him before I left.

“I think Beth is right.” Tuesday pulled me from my thoughts, with a sly grin. “You should do something about that hand.” I looked at it. It was angry red and hurt like hell. “But I don’t think aloe vera’s gonna do it.” She winked. “You’d better see a doctor.”

“You know,” I responded with a broad smile, “I think you may be right.”

I
looked around the Velvet Elvis pizzeria. It didn’t disappoint—in addition to velvet Elvises depicting every stage of his career, there was no shortage of poker-playing dogs.

“Early Elvis or late Elvis?” I asked my companion.

Samuel looked thoughtful for a moment. “Early Elvis. As a doctor, I can’t condone how he abused his body at the end.” He flashed his white grin. “Plus I’m a sucker for ‘Hound Dog.’”

“Uh-oh,” I said. “I’m late Elvis all the way. I love the idea of the comeback. And ‘A Little Less Conversation.’”

“We’ll have to see if we can overcome this seemingly insurmountable obstacle,” Samuel said. His off-duty hair was down, a shiny curtain. I didn’t think we’d have a problem.

“Thanks for fixing me up this afternoon.” I waggled my bandaged hand.

“Yes, well, before you continue a course of self-injury you should tell April that she’s perfectly able to subscribe to maga
zines herself. I had to put out my medical journals after your last visit, and self-diagnostic hysteria skyrocketed. Everyone thought they had lupus.”

I blushed. “You noticed.”

“Don’t worry. Happens every time Busy comes in for her heart medication.” His smile was warm. It was hard to imagine him being angry with anyone.

“Well this burn was nothing…” I waved my hand again.

“I know.” White teeth.

I ignored the tease. Despite the mildness of my injury, Samuel had tended it as gently and thoroughly as if it’d been a gunshot. “The time I stapled myself to the bulletin board at Gin Mill,
that
hurt. And the time I tried to deliver pizza on roller skates. I wore that cast for three months.” I shook my head sadly. “I had to pay for the pizzas too.”

“I can see you’ll keep me employed.” Samuel laughed. “But in this case,
I’m
paying for the pizza.”

Samuel was a charming and attentive companion. I was fascinated by his stories from the reservation.

“I’d love to see it sometime. I really like Arizona,” I said. “It’s the opposite of anything I’ve known. North Carolina is lush and verdant. Maybe that’s why I find the barrenness of the desert so striking. Life fighting to survive and making it. It’s completely alien. When I get my car back”—a wistful pause for Elsie—“I’d like to photograph more of it.”

“You like photography?”

“Yep. I’m covering a recital for Tuesday on Thursday.” It sounded silly, so I giggled.

Samuel grinned. “The Bitty Bees Touch Their Knees? I’ll be there too. Last year Celia Sweet danced right off the bandstand, so now we have a doctor on call just in case.” He was thoughtful. “My
ama ’sa ’ni
—that means ‘grandmother’—turns ninety next week. What do you think about coming to the
party and taking pictures? You’re a lot alike. You both have a bright light.”

I caught my breath. “I’d love to.”

He nodded. “It should be quite a party. No one cooks like my
ama ’sa ’ni
and her sisters. There are eleven Nizhoni sisters. None of them ever left the res.”

“Did you grow up on the reservation?”

“Yes and no. My family home was there, but I went to an off-reservation boarding school. Not one of the ‘Americanization’ schools of the nineteenth century that were intended to brainwash you into being white, but one where I could get a solid education. In my area, schools were ill equipped, unfunded, and understaffed. My mother went to Brown, and she was determined for us to attend the best schools possible.”

“Us?”

“My brother, Javier, and I. He’s five years younger than I am and lives in San Francisco. Computer geek. He didn’t like rural life.”

“You do?”

“I lived in Albuquerque for med school but didn’t love it. I always wanted to be either a doctor or a veterinarian. I didn’t get into vet school, but someone slipped up at the University of New Mexico medical school, so doctor it was.” He flashed a grin.

“Yeah, I struggled between advanced sub-particle physics and sandwich making, myself. Did you ever think of moving back to the reservation to practice?”

“Not really. Health care on the res is terribly underfunded. Under the terms of the Treaty of 1868, the U.S. government provides free health care, but the pay for providers isn’t lucrative. I struggled with a sense of obligation to go back, but ultimately I had to pay off my med school loans. My compromise was a split—private practice here, and one day a week I provide non-
emergency medical services at an Indian Health Services clinic on the res. I like being close enough to go back when I choose. Mostly I treat diabetes management. Longtime residents aren’t made to process the high-concentrated sugar foods introduced from the outside. Speaking of sweets,” he asked, “would you like dessert?”

What was sweet was when he covered my hand as we shared a sundae.

He kept the hand as we strolled through the crisp night back to Ruby’s.

“Well, thanks for walking me home,” I babbled when we got to her door, suddenly shy. “You really need to come back in the daylight and see the garden. Ruby’s bougainvillea is beautiful. And you can meet Oliver. His language skills have significantly expanded since he met Lulabell. Though it’s not
really
—”

Samuel interrupted, leaning close. “Maeve. How about a little less conversation?”

“Hound dog,” I whispered, before I shut up and did something else with my mouth.

“Well?” demanded Tuesday when I danced into work. I swooned against the counter and sighed dramatically.

“Dr. Samuel has
excellent
bedside manners.”

“Ay-yi-yi! Can you spell future baby daddy? I’m so jealous.” Tuesday swooned next to me. “He is soooo hot.”

“I know,” I said smugly. “We’re going to your recital together tonight and out to dinner tomorrow.” My face grew hot and I shivered at the memory of Samuel’s kisses. There was nothing shy about his skills in that department.

“You should treat yourself to a new pair of socks. Go remind Noah he has to write you a check tomorrow.”

“Don’t you have to remind him to pay you too?”

“Nope. I live in the studio above his garage rent free, in ex
change for helping out.” She slapped my butt. “Hop to it ’cause I’m gonna leave—I have to make a ridonculous number of paper rosettes for tonight.”

I found Noah leaned back in his chair, crossed ankles propped on his desk, bouncing a ball against the wall.

“Howdy,” I said.

He turned and broke into a wide smile. He’d shaved. “Hello little muse!”

I had to stop from shuffling my feet and saying “aw shucks” like a country bumpkin. “Did my hourly wage go up? Tuesday says to remind you to pay me.”

“I sent ten chapters to my editor, so I’ve rejoined the living,” he announced with satisfaction. “I’ll write your check now.” He frowned. “If I could just find my pen.”

“Um.” I started to point out the one tucked behind his ear when he gave a rich laugh.

“Gotcha!” he retrieved the pen with dramatic flourish, wiggling his eyebrows. “Not
all
writer stereotypes are true. Check it out.” He hitched up his pant legs to reveal bright blue socks covered in polar bears. My laughter satisfied him. He swung his legs to the ground and wrote the check.

He stood, but when I reached for my salary, he held it beyond my grasp.

“First you have to agree to put
Grapes of Wrath
back on the front table.”

He’d noticed. Tuesday was right—the nonwriting Noah was transformed into an active manager. I groaned. “It’s so
depressing
.”

“It’s also the book club selection this month.”

I jumped to reach my paycheck, but he held it over his head. “It’ll take more than a month to read that book. It’s six hundred and eight pages.” I remembered every page from the bitter summer it’d been assigned as summer reading.

“Promise.” Noah demanded.

“Fine,” I grumbled. “But only for the month. Then I’m replacing it with
The Coroner’s Lunch
.”

“To higher learning.” He held up his hand for a high five. I jumped to slap his palm, and toppled into him.

“If you wanted to dance, you only had to ask,” he teased as he caught me. He spun me in a twirl.

“A dance will cost you a quarter,” I joked.

“As it happens, I’ve got payment right here.” He waved my check, then swung me into his arms. I was astonished at his rock-solid frame, considering he typed for a living. The man had a chest. He led me in a little waltz around the office. Then, arms pointing, we tangoed cheek-to-cheek out into the store, where he dipped me dramatically.

“Are you fond of dancing?” He looked down at me dangling over his arm.

What I wanted to know was how men always sensed you were getting action. Was I emitting a pheromone? It never failed that when I was the object of one guy’s attention, others came out of the woodwork. What I said was, “Where do you go dancing?”

“Bitty Bees Touch Their Knees.” He righted me. “Tuesday’s having a recital tonight.”

His enthusiasm was infectious. I didn’t want to kill the buzz.

“I’m already going.” I opted for vague. “I’m taking pictures for Tuesday.”

“Great! We can go together and get something to eat after.”

“Um. Actually, I’m going with Samuel. Dr. Looking Horse. He’s picking me up here.”

His smile vanished. “Ah. That was fast work.”

I started to get mad. Who was he to judge? Men with girlfriends shouldn’t be waltzing other girls around their store anyway.

“I’d invite you
and Beth
to join us, but it doesn’t sound like you and Samuel get along.” My tone was sharp.

Noah turned away. “Samuel’s a great guy. I like him. I’m not sure about Beth tonight.” I was pretty sure he meant that literally. He didn’t know where Beth was.

“She’s in Tucson,” I said. “For work. She said to remind you that you’re having dinner with her brother Saturday.”

“Oh, right. Well, here’s your check. I’ll see you at the community center later.” With that he disappeared, leaving me in a mood far removed from the one I’d come in with.