Chapter Twenty-three 15 page

Pilgrim had stopped and stood watching them from as far away as he could get.

'So, you gonna ride him?' Joe said. Grace turned to him and frowned.

'What?'

'When Tom's got him straightened out.'

She gave a laugh that sounded hollow even to her.

'Oh, I'm not going to ride again.'

Joe shrugged and nodded. There was a thump of hooves from the neighboring corral and they both turned to watch the colts playing some equine version of tag. Joe bent and plucked a stem of grass and stood sucking it awhile.

'Pity,' he said.

'What?'

'Well, couple of weeks' time, Dad'll be driving the cattle up there to the summer pastures and we all go along. It's kinda fun, real pretty up there, you know?'

They went over to the colts and gave them some feed nuts Joe had in his pocket. As they walked back to the barn, Joe sucked his grass stem and Grace wondered why she went on pretending she didn't want to ride. Somehow she'd got herself trapped. And she felt, as with most things, that it probably had something to do with her mother.

Annie had surprised her by supporting the decision, so much so that Grace was suspicious. It was, of course, the stiff-upper-lip English way that when you fell off you climbed right back on so you didn't lose your nerve. And though what had happened was clearly more than a tumble, Grace had come to suspect Annie was playing some devious double-bluff, agreeing with Grace's decision only in order to prompt the opposite. The only thing that made her doubt this was Annie herself, after all these years, starting to ride again. Grace privately envied these morning rides with Tom Booker. But what was weird was that Annie must know it was almost guaranteed to put Grace off riding again herself.

Where though, Grace now wondered, did all this second-guessing get her? What was the point in denying her mother some maybe imaginary triumph, when it meant denying herself something she was now almost sure she wanted?

She knew she'd never ride Pilgrim again. Even if he got better, there would never be that trust between them again and he'd be sure to sense some lurking fear within her. But she could try riding some lesser horse maybe. If only she could do it without it all being a big deal, so that if she failed or looked stupid or something, it wouldn't matter.

They got to the barn and Joe opened the door and led the way in. All the horses were turned out now that the weather was warmer and Grace didn't know why he was bringing her in here. The click of her cane on the concrete floor echoed loudly. Joe took a left turn into the tack room and Grace stopped in the doorway, wondering what he was doing.

The room smelled of its new pine paneling and dressed leather. She watched him walk over to the rows of saddles that stood on their rests on the wall. When he spoke, it was over his shoulder, with the grass stem still in his teeth and his voice matter-of-fact, as if he were offering her a choice of sodas from the icebox.

'My horse or Rimrock?'

Annie regretted the invitation almost as soon as she'd issued it. The kitchen in the creek house wasn't exactly built for high cuisine, not that her cuisine was all that high anyway. Partly because she believed it more creative but mainly because she was too impatient, she cooked by instinct rather than recipe. And, apart from three or four stock dishes she could cook with her eyes shut, it was fifty-fifty whether something turned out brilliant or botched. This evening, she already felt, the odds were tilting more toward the latter.

She'd opted, safely she thought, for pasta. A dish they'd done to death last year. It was chic but easy. The kids would like it and there was even a chance Diane might be impressed. She'd also noticed Tom avoided eating too much meat and, more than she cared to admit to herself, she wanted to please him. There were no fancy ingredients. All she needed was penne regata, mozzarella and some fresh basil and sun-dried tomatoes, all of which she thought she'd be able to pick up in Choteau.

The guy in the store had looked at her as if she'd spoken in Urdu. She'd had to drive on down to the big supermarket in Great Falls and still couldn't find all she needed. It was hopeless. She'd had to rethink it on the spot and trudged the aisles, getting more and more annoyed, telling herself she'd be damned if she'd give in and serve them steak. Pasta she'd decided and pasta it would be. She ended up getting dried spaghetti, bottled bolognese sauce and a few trusty ingredients to spice it up so she could pretend it was her own. She checked out with two bottles of good Italian red and just sufficient pride intact.

By the time she'd got back to the Double Divide she felt better. She wanted to do this for them, it was the least she could do. The Bookers had all been so kind, even if Diane's kindness always seemed to have an edge to it. Whenever Annie had brought up the question of payment, for the rent and for the work he was doing with Pilgrim, Tom had brushed it aside. They'd settle up later, he said. She'd got the same response from Frank and Diane. So the dinner party tonight was Annie's interim way of thanking them.

She put the food away and carried the stack of newspapers and magazines she'd bought in Great Falls over to the table under which there was already a small mountain of them. She'd already checked her machines for messages. There had been only one, on E mail, from Robert.

He'd been hoping to fly out and spend the holiday weekend with them but at the last minute was summoned to a meeting on Monday in London. From there he had to go on to Geneva. He'd phoned last night and spent half an hour apologizing to Grace, promising he'd come out soon. The E mail note was just a joky one he'd sent as he was about to leave for JFK, written in some cryptic language he and Grace called cyberspeak which Annie only half understood. At the bottom he'd drawn a computer-generated picture of a horse with a big smile on its face. Annie printed it out without reading it.

When Robert had told her last night that he wouldn't be coming, her first reaction had been relief. Then it had worried her that she should feel this and ever since she'd busily avoided analyzing further.

She sat down and wondered idly where Grace was. There had been nobody about down at the ranch when she drove back in from Great Falls. She guessed they were all indoors or around by the back corrals. She'd go and look when she'd caught up with the weeklies, the Saturday ritual she persisted with here, though it seemed to require a lot more effort. She opened Time magazine and bit into an apple.

It took Grace about ten minutes to make her way down below the corrals and through the grove of cottonwoods to the place Joe had told her about. She hadn't been down here before but when she came through the trees she understood why he'd chosen it. Below her, at the foot of a curving bank, lay a perfect ellipse of meadow, moated beyond by an elbow of the creek. It was a natural arena, secluded from all but trees and sky. The grass stood deep, a lush blue-green, and wildflowers grew among it of a kind Grace had never seen.

She waited and listened for him. There was barely a breeze to worry the leaves of the cottonwoods that towered behind her and all she could hear was the hum of insects and the beating of her heart. No one was to know. That was the deal. They'd heard Annie's car and watched her go by through a crack in the barn door. Scott would be out again soon, so in case they were seen, Joe had told her to go on ahead. He'd saddle the horse, check the coast was clear and follow.

Joe said he knew Tom wouldn't mind if she rode Rimrock, but Grace wasn't happy about it so they settled on Gonzo, Joe's little paint. Like every other horse she'd met here, he was sweet and calm and Grace had already made friends with him. He was also a better size for her. She heard a branch snap and the soft blow of the horse and she turned and saw them coming through the trees.

'Anybody see you?' she said.

'Nope.'

He rode by her and steered Gonzo gently down the bank to the meadow. Grace followed but the slope was difficult and a yard or so from the bottom she caught her leg and fell. She finished in a tangle that looked worse than it was. Joe got down and came to her.

'You okay?'

'Shit!'

He helped her up. 'Are you hurt?'

'No. I'm okay. Shit, shit, shit!'

He let her curse and without a word dusted down her back for her. She saw there was a muddy mark all down one side of her new jeans.

'Your leg okay?'

'Yes. I'm sorry. It just makes me so angry sometimes.'

He nodded and for a moment or two said nothing, letting her sort herself out.

'Still want to try?'

'Yes.'

Joe led Gonzo and the three of them walked out into the meadow. Butterflies lifted before them, making way in the shin-high grass which smelled warm and sweet with the sun and the crushing of their boots. The creek here ran shallow over gravel and as they came nearer, Grace could hear the water. A heron lifted up and banked lazily away, adjusting his legs as he went.

They reached a low stump of cottonwood, gnarled and overgrown, and Joe stopped beside it and coaxed Gonzo around so that it formed a platform for Grace to mount.

'That any good?' he said.

'Uh-huh. If I can get up there.'

He stood at the horse's shoulder, holding him steady with one hand and Grace with the other. Gonzo shifted and Joe gave him a stroke on the neck and told him it was okay. Grace put a hand on Joe's shoulder and hoisted herself with her good leg up onto the tree stump.

'Okay?'

'Yes. I think so.'

'Are the stirrups too short?'

'No, they're fine.'

Her left hand was still on his shoulder. She wondered whether he could feel in it the banging of her blood.

'Okay. Keep hold of me and, when you're ready, put your right hand on the horn of the saddle.'

Grace took a deep breath and did as he said. Gonzo moved his head a little but his feet stayed rooted. When he was sure she was steady, Joe took his hand off her, reached down, and took hold of the stirrup.

This was going to be the difficult part. To put her left foot in the stirrup, all her weight would have to be on her prosthetic. She thought she might slip but she could feel Joe brace himself and take a lot of the weight and in no time she had her foot safely in the stirrup as if they'd done it many times before. All that happened was that Gonzo shifted a little again but Joe whoaed him, calm but firmer this time, so that he steadied on the instant.

All she had to do now was swing her prosthetic leg over, but it felt so strange having no feeling there and she suddenly remembered that the last time she'd done this was on the morning of the accident.

'Okay?' Joe said.

'Yes.'

'Go on then.'

She braced her left leg, letting the stirrup take her weight, then tried to lift her right leg over the horse's rear.

'I can't get it high enough.'

'Here, lean on me some more. Lean out, so you get more of an angle.'

She did and, summoning her strength as if her life depended on it, she lifted the leg and swung. And as she did so, she pivoted and hauled herself up with the saddle horn and she felt Joe hoist her too and she swung the leg high and sideways and over it went.

She settled herself into the saddle and was surprised it didn't feel more alien. Joe saw her looking for the other stirrup and so he went quickly around and helped her into it. She could feel the inside thigh of her stump on the saddle and, though tender, it was impossible to know precisely where feeling ended and nothingness began.

Joe stepped aside with his eyes fixed on her in case something happened, but she was too much in her own head to notice this. She gathered the reins and nudged Gonzo forward. He moved out without question and she walked him in a long curve along the rim of the creek and didn't look back. She could give more pressure with the leg than she'd imagined possible, though without calf muscles she had to generate it with her stump and measure its effect by the horse's response. He moved as if he knew all this and by the time they'd reached the end of the meadow and turned without a foot misplaced, the two of them were one.

Grace lifted her eyes for the first time and saw Joe standing there among the flowers waiting for her. She rode an easy S shape back to him and stopped and he grinned up at her with the sun in his eyes and the meadow spreading away behind him and Grace suddenly wanted to cry. But she bit hard on the inside of her lip and grinned back down at him instead.

'Easy as pie,' he said.

Grace nodded and as soon as she could trust her voice said yeah, it was easy as pie.

Chapter Twenty-three

The creek house kitchen was a spartan affair, lit by cold fluorescent strips whose casing had become coffins for an assortment of insects. When Frank and Diane had moved to the ranch house, they'd taken all the best equipment with them. The pots and pans were all from broken families and the dishwasher needed a thump in the right place to click through its cycle. The only thing Annie hadn't quite yet mastered was the oven which seemed to have a mind of its own. The door seal was rotten and the heat dial loose so that cooking required a blend of guesswork, vigilance and luck.

Baking the French-style apple tart she was serving for dessert however, hadn't been half the task of working out how they all might get to eat it. Too late Annie had discovered there weren't enough plates, cutlery or even enough chairs. And, embarrassed -because it somehow seemed to defeat the whole object - she'd had to call Diane and drive down and borrow some. Then she'd realized that the only table big enough to use was the one she was using for her desk, so she'd had to clear it and now all her machinery was stacked on the floor with her papers and magazines.

The evening had started in panic. Annie was used to entertaining people who thought the later you arrived the cooler you were, so it hadn't occurred to her that they'd arrive on the dot. But at seven, when she hadn't even changed, there they were, all but Tom, walking up the hill. She yelled to Grace, flew upstairs and threw on a dress she now had no time to press. By the time she heard their voices down by the porch, she'd done her eyes and lips, brushed her hair, given herself a blast of perfume and was downstairs to greet them.

Seeing them all standing there, Annie thought what a stupid idea this was, entertaining these people in their own house. Everyone seemed to feel awkward. Frank said Tom had been delayed by some problem with one of the yearlings but he was in the shower when they left and wouldn't be long. She asked them what they wanted to drink and remembered as she did so that she'd forgotten to get any beer.

'I'll have a beer,' Frank said.

It got better though. She opened a bottle of wine while Grace took Joe and the twins off and sat them on the floor in front of Annie's computer where soon she had them surfing spellbound on the Internet. Annie, Frank and Diane carried chairs out onto the porch and sat talking in a fading glow of evening light. They laughed over Scott's adventure with the calf, assuming Grace had told her all about it. Annie pretended she had. Then Frank told a long story about a disastrous high school rodeo where he'd humiliated himself in front of a girl he was trying to impress.

Annie listened with feigned attention, all the while waiting for the moment she would see Tom come around the end of the house. And when he did, his smile and the way he took off his hat and said he was sorry for being late were just as she'd imagined.

She led him into the house, apologizing before he even asked for one that there wasn't any beer. Tom said wine would be fine and he stood and watched her pour it. She handed him the glass and looked him full in the eyes for the first time and whatever she'd been going to say flew right out of her head. There was a beat of embarrassed silence before he came to the rescue.

'Something smells good.'

'Nothing spectacular, I'm afraid. Is your horse alright?'

'Oh yeah. Her temperature's running a little high but she'll be okay. Have you had a good day?'

Before she could answer, Craig ran in calling Tom's name and telling him he had to come and see something they had on the computer.

'Hey, I'm having a talk here with Grace's mom.'

Annie laughed and told them to go ahead, Grace's mom needed to see to the food anyway. Diane came in to help and the two of them chatted about the children while they got things ready. And every so often Annie would glance through into the living room and see Tom in his pale blue shirt, hunkered down among the kids, all of them vying for his attention.

The spaghetti was a hit. Diane even asked for the sauce recipe and Annie would have owned up if Grace hadn't beaten her to it and told them all it was out of a bottle. Annie had set the table in the middle of the living room and lit it with candles she'd bought in Great Falls. Grace had said this was overdoing it but Annie had persisted and now was glad she had because their light gave the room a warm glow and cast flickering shadows on the walls.

And she thought how good it was to hear the silence of this house filled with talk and laughter. The kids sat at one end and the four adults the other, she and Frank facing Tom and Diane. A stranger, it occurred to Annie, would have assumed them couples.

Grace was telling everyone about the things you could access on the Internet, like The Visible Man, a murderer in Texas who had been executed and donated his body to science.

'They froze him and sliced him up into two thousand little pieces and photographed each one of them,' she said.

'That's gross,' Scott said.

'Do we want to hear about this while we're eating?' Annie said. She'd meant it only lightly but Grace decided to take it as a rebuke. She gave Annie a withering look.

'It's the National Library of Medicine, Mom. It's education, for Godsake, not some stupid beat-'em-up game.'

'Slice 'em up, more like,' Craig said.

'Go on Grace,' Diane said. 'It's fascinating.'

'Well that's it really,' Grace said. She spoke without enthusiasm now, signaling to everyone that her mother had, as usual, deflated not just her but the topic too of both interest and fun. 'They just put him back together again and you can call it up on the screen and dissect him, like in three-D, you know.'

'You can do all that right here on that little screen?' Frank said.

'Yes.'

The word was so flat and final that only silence could follow it. It lasted but a moment, though it seemed to Annie an eternity, and Tom must have seen the desperation in her eyes, because he gave Frank a sardonic nod and said, 'Well, there you go little brother, your chance for immortality.'

'Lord have mercy,' Diane said. 'Frank Booker's body on view to the nation.'

'Oh, and what's wrong with my body may I ask?'

'Where d'you want us to start?' Joe said. Everyone laughed.

'Hell,' said Tom. 'With two thousand pieces, you could put them back in a different way and get a prettier result.'

The mood began to flow again and once she was sure of it Annie gave Tom a look of relief and thanks, which he acknowledged with just the smallest softening of his eyes. It struck her as uncanny that this man who'd never fully known a child of his own should so understand each wounding nuance that passed between her and Grace.

The apple tart wasn't so great. Annie had forgotten the cinnamon and she could tell as soon as she cut the first slice that it could have done with another fifteen minutes. But no one seemed to mind and the kids all had ice cream instead anyway and were soon off to the computer again while the adults sat and had coffee at the table.

Frank was complaining about the conservationists, the greenos as he called them, and how they didn't understand the first damn thing about ranching. He addressed himself to Annie because the others had clearly heard it a hundred times. These maniacs were letting wolves go, shipping the damn things in from Canada so they could come and help the grizzlies eat the cattle. A couple of weeks back, he said, a rancher down near Augusta had two heifers taken.

'And all these greenos flew up from Missoula with their choppers and consciences and all and said, sorry old buddy, we'll airlift him out for ya, but don't you go trapping or shooting him or we'll nail your hide in court. Damn thing's probably lazing by the pool now at some five-star hotel, you and me footing the bill.'

Tom was grinning at Annie and Frank saw and pointed a finger at him.

'This guy's one of 'em, Annie, I tell ya. Ranching in his blood and he's green as a seasick frog on a pool table. You wait till Mr Wolf takes one of his foals, oh boy. It'll be the three big S s.'

Tom laughed and saw Annie's frown.

'Shoot, shovel and shut the hell up,' he confided. 'The caring rancher's response to nature.'

Annie laughed and was suddenly aware of Diane's eyes on her. And when Annie looked at her, Diane smiled in a way that only emphasized that she hadn't been smiling before.

'What do you think, Annie?' she asked.

'Oh, I don't have to live with it.'

'But you must have an opinion.'

'Not really.'

'Oh surely. You must cover this kind of thing all the time in your magazine.'

Annie was surprised to be so pursued. She shrugged.

'I suppose I think every creature has a right to live.'

'What, even plague rats and malarial mosquitoes?'

Diane was still smiling and the tone was light but there was something beneath it that made Annie cautious.

'You're right,' she said after a moment. 'I guess it depends who they bite.'

Frank gave a roar of laughter and Annie allowed herself a glance at Tom. He was smiling at her. So too, in a less fathomable way, was Diane who seemed at last prepared to let the subject drop. Whether that was so remained a mystery because suddenly there was a yell and Scott was behind her grabbing her shoulder, his cheeks hot with outrage.

'Joe won't let me use the computer!'

'It's not your turn,' Joe called from where the others were all still huddled around the screen.

'It is too!'

'It's not your turn Scott!'

Diane called Joe over and tried to mediate. But the yelling got worse and soon Frank was involved too and the fight shifted from the particular to the general.

'You never let me have a turn!' Scott said. He was near tears.

'Don't be such a baby,' Joe said.

'Boys, boys.' Frank had his hands on their shoulders.

'You think you're so great—'

'Oh shut up.'

'—giving Grace riding lessons and all.'

Everyone went quiet except for some cartoon bird squawking on oblivious on the computer screen. Annie looked at Grace who immediately looked away. No one seemed to know what to say. Scott was a little daunted by the effect his revelation had produced.

'I saw you!' His voice was more taunting but less certain. 'Her on Gonzo, down by the creek!'

'You little shit!' Joe said it through his teeth and at the same time made a lunge. Everyone erupted. Scott was knocked back against the table and coffee cups and glasses went flying. The two boys fell in a tangle to the floor, with Frank and Diane above them yelling and trying to lever them apart. Craig came running, feeling he should somehow be involved here too but Tom put out a hand and took gentle hold of him. Annie and Grace could only stand and watch.

The next moment Frank was marching the boys out of the house, Scott wailing, Craig crying in sympathy and Joe in a silent fury which spoke louder than both. Tom went with them as far as the kitchen door.

'Annie I'm so sorry,' Diane said.

They were standing by the wreckage of the table like dazed hurricane survivors. Grace stood pale and alone across the room. As Annie looked at her, something that was neither fear nor pain but a hybrid of both seemed to cross the girl's face. Tom saw it too when he came back from the kitchen and he went over to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

'You okay?'

She nodded without looking at him.

'I'm going upstairs.'

She picked up her cane and made her way with awkward haste across the room.

'Grace…' Annie said gently.

'No Mom!'

She went out and the three of them stood and listened to the sound of her uneven footsteps on the stairs. Annie saw the embarrassment on Diane's face. On Tom's there was a compassion that, if she'd let it, would have made her weep. She inhaled and tried to smile.

'Did you know about this?' she said. 'Did everyone know except me?'

Tom shook his head. 'I don't think any of us knew.'

'Maybe she wanted it to be a surprise,' Diane said.

Annie laughed.

'Yeah, well.'

She wanted them only to go, but Diane insisted on staying to clear the place up and so they stacked the dishwasher and cleared the broken glass from the table. Then Diane rolled up her sleeves and got going on the pots and pans. She clearly thought it best to be chirpy and chattered on at the sink about the barn dance Hank had invited them all to on Monday.

Tom said barely a word. He helped Annie haul the table back to the window and waited while she switched off the computer. Then, working side by side, they started to load all her work things back onto the table.

What prompted her, Annie didn't know, but suddenly she asked how Pilgrim was. He didn't answer right away, just went on sorting some cables, not looking at her, while he considered. His tone, when at last he spoke, was almost matter-of-fact.

'Oh, I reckon he'll make it.'

'You do?'

'Uh-huh.'

'Are you sure?'

'No. But you see Annie, where there's pain, there's still feeling and where there's feeling, there's hope.'

He fixed the last cable.

'There you go.' He turned to face her and they looked each other in the eye. 'Thanks,' Annie said quietly. 'Ma'am, it's my pleasure. Don't let her turn you away.'

When they came back to the kitchen, Diane had finished and all except the things she'd lent was put away in places she knew better than Annie. And when Diane had brushed aside Annie's thanks and apologized again for the boys, she and Tom said their good-nights and went.

Annie stood under the porch light and watched them walk away. And as their figures were swallowed by the darkness, she wanted to call after him to stay and hold her and keep her from the cold that fell again upon the house.

Tom said good-night to Diane outside the barn and went on in to check the sick filly. Walking down from the creek house, Diane had gone on about how dumb Joe was to take the girl riding like that without telling a soul. Tom said he didn't think it was dumb at all, he could understand why Grace might want to keep such a thing secret. Joe was being a friend to her, that was all. Diane said it was none of the boy's business and frankly she'd be glad when Annie packed up and took the poor girl back home to New York.

The filly hadn't gotten any worse, though she was still breathing a little fast. Her temperature was down to a hundred and two. Tom rubbed her neck and talked to her gently while with his other hand he felt her pulse behind the elbow. He counted the beats for twenty seconds, then multiplied by three. It was forty-two beats per minute, still above normal.

She was clearly running some kind of fever and maybe he'd have to get the vet up to see her in the morning if there was no change.

The lights of Annie's bedroom were on when he came out and they were still on when he finished reading and switched off his own bedroom light. It was a habit now, this last look up at the creek house where the illuminated yellow blinds of Annie's window stood out against the night. Sometimes he'd see her shadow pass across them as she went about her unknown bedtime rituals and once he'd seen her pause there, framed by the glow, undressing and he'd felt like a snooper and turned away.

Now though, the blinds were open and he knew it meant something had happened or was happening even as he looked. But he knew it was something only they could resolve and, though it was foolish, he told himself that maybe the blinds were open not to let darkness in but to let it out.

Never, since he first laid eyes on Rachel so many years ago, had he met a woman he wanted more.

Tonight was the first time he'd seen her in a dress. It was a simple, cotton print, black dotted with tiny pink flowers, and there were pearl buttons all down the front. It reached well below her knees and it had little cap sleeves that showed the tops of her arms. When he arrived and she'd told him to come into the kitchen to get a drink, he couldn't take his eyes off her. He'd followed her inside and breathed deep the waft of her perfume and while she poured the wine he'd watched her and noticed how she kept her tongue between her teeth to concentrate. He noticed too a glimpse of satin strap at her shoulder which he'd tried all evening not to look at and failed. And she'd handed him the glass and smiled at him, creasing the corners of that mouth in a way he wished was only for him.

Date: 2015-12-17; view: 551