The Last Family (31 page)

He felt as if he had been shot through, hollow, and there was a taste in his mouth that was coppery, acrid. He wanted to get up and run, but he was affixed to the spot. Later that same night there had been a terrible fight.
He remembered how it had started … it was too painful … was that why he hadn’t remembered?

“You all right?” she asked, shattering the thought.

He smiled as best he could through the curtain of pain and confusion. What else had he repressed that was crucial? What else? Why did he think of Barnett and Hill so much? He had hardly known them. Had he? Suddenly there was a swarm of memories swirling so fast that he couldn’t see them clearly, but he had the sense that they were important.

“Hope this was worth breaking the fast for.”

Paul laughed nervously—distracted and filled with anxiety and … fear. “It was, Sherry. This was wonderful for me.”

“Your childhood. Remember?”

Not now! Jesus, not now. Something important is happening
.

Sherry sat up and looked down at him, realizing something was wrong. “Are you all right? What the hell is going on? Did I say something?” There was pain in her voice. “Paul?”

“I’m fine.”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Several
. He took a deep breath and lit another cigarette; the fingers of his right hand trembled. “It’s okay, I thought I’d pulled a muscle for a second is all.” He imitated a laugh.

“My story. Let’s see. There was a father. He was a writer who published twenty paperback pulp westerns. He lived in Louis L’Amour’s shadow. We got by, but his career wasn’t much in the way of a living. My uncle Aaron sort of subsidized us with the store he owned—owns. I worked in his store from the time I was four or five.”

“Hard labor?”

“Aaron’s a great character. He makes everything an ordeal. Sees life as a very narrow path.”

“True grit?”

“The truest. He’s been more of a father than uncle. He was proud of my father—sold his books in the store.
He saved a complete set for me, but I expect they’re dust by now.”

“Were you close to your father?”

“I guess. He died of lung cancer when I was a small boy. Then a few months later my mom died, too. I was at the store one day, and there was a freak accident with a horse that kicked her, knocked her out, and she froze to death right there by the barn. So I stayed on with Uncle Aaron. When I was sixteen, I moved into a cabin he’d built.”

“College?”

“College. This man with a lot of money and power had a cabin—hell, a log mansion he called a lodge—near our place. His boy fell into the water, and I was there and got him out, and so to show his gratitude, the boy’s father paid my college fees. I found out later that the National Human Resource Foundation, which awarded me a full scholarship, was his. So the McMillans rewarded me with a degree. Good swap for a few minutes in cold water.”

“Jack McMillan? The oil man?”

Paul nodded.

“Paul, he’s the richest man in America, isn’t he?”

“Well, I’d say he’s right up there with the top ten or so. I don’t think paying for my education was a drain.”

“Was he … I mean, did he pull strings for you, after?”

“My career?” He tried to keep the edge out of his voice.

“I didn’t mean anything by that.”

“I never traded on our relationship.”
Until recently, anyway
. “He’s repaid me a hundred times over for something I would have done for anyone. I asked him to let me follow my own path. I didn’t want to owe him my life.”

“Your history’s certainly a lot more impressive than mine. I met Captain Kangaroo once.”

“See, you’re one up on me.”

“I only have three people to compare you to, but you’re definitely in the top fiftieth percentile.” She lifted
the covers and peeked in. “Well, you old cowpoke, ready for another swing around the dance floor?”

Paul had to fight hard to gain consciousness, and as he moved into a state of awareness, he realized that he’d been drugged. His perception was way off, and he couldn’t move his arms or legs. He could make out the shape of someone standing beside the bed. A dark hood shrouded the features.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Who do you think?” Martin said as he moved into Paul’s field of vision.

“Martin?”

“It’s one of my names. It was Martin Fletcher you condemned with false evidence.”

“No, I saved your life. The others wanted to—”

“You had Barnett, Hill, and Thorne Greer help you. You put the drugs and money in the wall behind the bookshelf while I was away. Like a thief in the night. And because I went to prison, the Company wanted me silenced. So my wife and son were murdered. I escaped alone, and I remained alone to be eaten by this cancer of pain.”

Paul felt Sherry beside him.

Martin stepped closer. “So it is true. You set it up.”

“No,” he lied.

“Ask them.…” Martin stepped back to allow Paul to see that Barnett and Hill were across the room. They were standing at attention. “Tell my old adversary what you told me,” Martin commanded them.

“It’s true, sir,” they said. “You killed us.”

Martin stepped away from the bed and pulled his hood back. The face was familiar … it was the face of Paul’s father as he had looked in the hospital. The skin was withered parchment-yellow and had patches of mold on it. “It was dishonest. You have brought this on all of them. It’s on your head. You are hereby condemned. I have opened the gates of hell for you.”

Paul’s mind was on fire, and the pain was blinding,
excruciating; he knew, even through the agony, that this would last for eternity.

Paul screamed himself awake. As he opened his eye, he realized that Sherry’s bed was on the top of a tower and she was gone. He sat up and looked down to discover that the structure, hardly larger than the bed itself, was a good eight or nine hundred feet in the air and was made from ancient bricks set in crumbling mortar. He looked down in horror and realized that the tower was breaking apart as it reacted to the breeze, swaying. Then he realized that there were other towers at different levels. The closest was lower by thirty feet or so. Laura and his children were standing on it, huddled together. They swayed close together and then away at intervals. He knew he could jump, but if he did, the towers might both collapse. He thought that they would collapse soon anyway. They moved like cobras being charmed, and bricks were falling from them as they moved. As his tower tilted crazily and snapped in the middle, he jumped. He caught the edge of his family’s tower and realized that they weren’t even on it, but on a third, farther away. The tower he had been on collapsed, and he watched the bricks scatter silently. They fell, and a dust cloud grew as the debris hit. He tried to pull himself up but the platform slipped and swayed. Laura swung her own tower toward him and grabbed his arm. Then she, Reb, and Erin pulled him up and onto the final platform. He hugged them, and the tower tilted crazily and collapsed. They fell screaming toward the ground. He tried to flare out and fly, but he was falling too fast. And he couldn’t reach out to them. Somewhere inside his thoughts he knew he was dreaming.

He jerked awake in Sherry’s bed, holding on to her tightly. “Laura! Laura … I’m sorry!” Then he realized that this wasn’t Laura but Sherry.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.
No, I’m not all right. I’m dying
.

“You were yelling ‘Laura.’ ”

“My wife. Ex-wife.”

“Should I be jealous?”

Paul got out of the bed slowly and pulled on his pants awkwardly.

“Leaving?” she asked. “Please don’t leave.”

He sat down on the bed and kissed her tenderly. “I’m just not accustomed to sharing a bed. Besides, I have to get some work done.”

“Are you sure? I was planning breakfast in bed,” she said as she looked at the clock. “I can fix it now. It’ll be light soon.”

“Can I have a rain check?” He pulled on his shirt.

“Sure. I reckon I could stomach at least one more night of pure excitement beyond a human’s pleasure measure.”

33

R
EID WAS SNORING
. L
AURA HAD LAIN AWAKE FOR WHAT SEEMED
like hours before she took any action other than closing her eyes and trying to ignore the rhythmic sound. She nudged him and applied pressure until he rolled from his back onto his side. That usually worked. He snored when he drank, which was rare, and when the pollen count was high, or maybe it was something weather and plant related. She didn’t want to wake him until she had to get him moving before the kids woke up. Once she had explained the relationship to them, they had more or less accepted it. She wanted to sleep, but she found that she had opened the door and allowed thoughts and anxieties to enter. She had to face the fact that sleep was not going to be rejoined.

Laura didn’t know why, but since she had learned Paul was out of Montana, she hadn’t felt the same about Reid. Some spark was gone, but maybe when this nightmare
was over, things would return to the way they had been. But for the first time in their relationship she was ashamed that they were sleeping together. Maybe it was because of the danger. She thought of Paul more and more—all the time. Obsessed with the unobtainable.
The man abandoned us physically and emotionally. Or did we abandon his needs?
She wanted to feel angry, but she couldn’t. She hadn’t thought for a long time that she could still be in love with Paul. Was it possible?

She got out of bed without waking Reid, dressed for work, and left the room with Wolf leading the way. She would have moved past Reb’s room except for the fact that there was a sliver of shimmering light at the bottom of the door, which signaled that the TV set was on. Reb often fell asleep with the set turned on. She reached in to turn off the television and found her son illuminated by the glow of a black-and-white western. He was perched on the window box staring out the window, hugging his knees to his chest.

“Reb?” she said. “Do you know what time it is?” She approached the child, who didn’t move. “Reb, are you okay?”

“I don’t understand why,” he said, his lip quivering. “What did we do to him to make him hate us? I was just little.”

She hugged Reb to her chest and looked out at the wall of bamboo where the sleeping blackbirds were staggered like musical notes. “Your father doesn’t hate you or me or Erin either. He loves you and Erin very much. Your father is in pain, Reb.”

Reb pushed away so he could look into Laura’s eyes. “In pain? Why doesn’t he take something?”

“His pain is beyond medicine, Reb. See, I think he feels guilty because his career is over, and because two of his men were killed when he got hurt. Two young men that he felt responsible for. He thought he should have been more careful. I think somehow he’s punishing himself by keeping away from us. But he loves you guys.”

“And you, too?”

“In his own way.”

“And Mr. Greer was with him?”

“Thorne was there. In fact, he saved your father’s life.”

“Why does that man want to kill us?”

“Some people are just crazy.”

“If Daddy doesn’t hate us, why isn’t he here? He could still be here—where they are. You know, across the street.”

“He can do more where he is.”

“One time you told me that he didn’t get his face fixed because it would hurt too much. But Erin said Daddy didn’t get his face fixed because he didn’t want to.”

“The doctors I spoke to thought he wouldn’t get his face fixed because of guilt. They said he was using it as a way to punish himself because of what happened to two agents who were with him, the ones that were killed. He left us because he couldn’t believe he deserved to be happy. So he deprived himself of the things he loved best. The people who loved him best he tried to drive away, too, and when he couldn’t, he left.”

“You believe that?”

“I believe he might have used his disfigurement to cut himself off from the things he loved. That could have been fixed, land he knew it. We loved him and he knew that, too. I know he didn’t want to be loved.”
But what about the night before he left? What did that do?
Laura pushed the thought back down.

“He said that?”

“No. But I know your father really well, and I think he covered up his real feelings. He probably doesn’t know why he did what he did any more than we do.”

“Maybe we should tell him that.”

“Waste of breath. Your father doesn’t see that he’s selfish. He doesn’t want to share his pain with us. Maybe time will heal him. But, Reb, one thing is certain. Your father doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t know you, and that’s his loss, not yours. We have to go on with our lives. Put him behind us.”

“What about Reid?”

“I don’t know. Let’s wait and see. Now, go to bed.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he started. “Reid’s a nice guy and all, but it isn’t the same thing. He could never be my own father.”

Laura kissed her son on the forehead and went out. Wolf, seemingly pleased that a trip was in the making, licked her hand as they walked down the hall toward the staircase.

No, Reid couldn’t be your father. Not any more than he could be my husband
.

Reb climbed out of the bed and knelt beside it. He folded his hands on the sheet and closed his eyes. “Dear God, please bless Mama, Erin, Reid, Wolf, and the men watching. Please talk to my daddy and tell him … we love him very much. Tell him we want to be together again. I’ll do anything you want me to if you’ll help me just this once. I know I ask you for stuff all the time, but I won’t bother you about other stuff if you’ll let Daddy come back and let the bad man go away and leave us alone. Me and Erin need our daddy. I do so I’ll know how I’m supposed to act when I grow up. And he needs us so he won’t mind getting old and so his heart will stay warmed up.”

He paused, thinking for a few seconds.

“God, I’m real sorry I was mean to him on the phone, but it was hurting my heart. He’s my daddy and I just want him back, and I don’t care if his face is all messed up or anything. Really. We all do, even Erin, and even if she won’t ever admit it cause she thinks she’s tough. I know how busy you are, so thank you for listening, sir. Amen.”