Dark River Road (68 page)

When he got home, he had a message on the answer machine from Cathy. She sounded a little drugged, but pretty good, even laughed a little as she thanked him for the flowers he’d sent.

“I don’t know how you knew my favorite flower,” she slurred, “but they’re beautiful. I’ve always loved roses. You’re
sooo
sweet, Chantry. After ever’thing
 . . .
I mean, you callin’ me ever’ day and all
 . . .
I hope ya believe I never thought Brad was dumb enough to follow me. I’m so sorry ya got
 . . .
caught up in my mess. Well.” She laughed. “Guess ya can tell I’m takin’ pain pills. Call me when y’can. I’m back at home now. Bye.”

He wasn’t a flower kind of guy, but he’d sent her whatever the florist thought a woman might like. Roses were always a lucky guess.

It was late, and he took a shower and went to bed. Tomorrow after leaving the clinic, he’d visit Laura Quinton again. He had no illusions about how much she’d tell him or if she’d even talk to him. Anything could happen.

Moonlight sliced through the wooden blinds and over his bed, and he lay awake for a long time looking up at the moving ceiling fan blades that made odd shadows in the room. It took a while to relax, and he thought about Chris and Tansy. He hoped she didn’t make a mistake.

Next thing he knew, morning light hit him in the face and he squinted one eye open. It had to be early. Open blinds were the best alarm clock in the summer time. All his muscles were still sore when he first woke in the mornings, compliments of the guards and inmates at the Quinton County jail. It’d take a while to fully recover. He hadn’t been this sore since his first week in boot camp, and he’d been a lot younger then. A few weeks past eighteen. He’d hit thirty his last birthday. Old enough to know where he was going in life, old enough to let go of the past. Maybe Tansy was right about that.

Sometimes he wondered if he should rethink everything. Was it really worth it to nail old man Quinton’s ass to the wall? It’d be a dirty fight. And he might lose. But what did he have that was worth anything anyway? He just existed right now. Went through the motions. Got up, drank coffee, got dressed and went to school or work, forgot everything but animals until the day ended and he seemed to come out of a daze again, to the reality that was his life. Empty. There had to be more to it than this. An old girlfriend had told him he’d flat-lined emotionally. There was no pulse, no heartbeat when it came to feeling anything. He suspected she was right. Anger was about the most intense emotion he could drum up most of the time.

It was all he’d felt for too long to change now. Maybe it was too late for any other kind of life. This was all he knew. It was safe, insulated. Familiar. An absence of emotion kept him sane. Or what passed for it.

There was the usual round of domestic pets at the clinic, and since Doc was in the field, he got stuck with Precious again. Precious hissed foully. Mrs. Tidwell gave him a disapproving stare.

“What happened to your face? Never mind. I’m not at all certain I trust you to touch my cat.” She hugged the beast to her chest as if he’d rip Precious from her loving arms. He wasn’t even tempted.

“Fine. Come back Monday and Doc will be here.”

“Wait,” Mrs. Tidwell said when he turned to walk out, “I suppose it won’t hurt if you look at him. But I’m watching you.”

It was the usual malady. Too rich food causing digestive upset and diarrhea. He didn’t feel like sugar-coating it for her.

“If you ran over him with your car it’d be quicker and probably less painful,” he said, and heard Mindy groan behind him. “Stop feeding him all that crap. He’s old. He needs special food or you’ll be stuffing him in a box and planting him with the tulips before long.”

Mrs. Tidwell’s mouth opened and closed a few times, and she must have tightened her grip on Precious because he squeezed out a lump of poop the consistency of soft-serve ice cream that slid down the front of her dress. She thrust out the cat in a reflex move, and Precious took the opportunity to sink his fangs into Chantry’s arm before he could move out of the way. He swore horribly, Mrs. Tidwell shrieked, and Mindy somehow managed to get Precious unfastened from his arm and into a cardboard carrier.

It was his own fault. Even while he washed the wound out with hydrogen peroxide as Mrs. Tidwell made spluttering sounds, he knew he’d screwed up. Mindy smoothed it over somehow, gave Mrs. Tidwell another bottle of the Kaopectate with biolon, and donated the cardboard carrier for the next visit. There would be one soon enough, he was sure of that.

“Are you all right?” Mindy asked, but she didn’t sound like she was that interested in his condition.

“Yeah. Who’s next?”

The rest of the morning went a little better. He stayed to check on the animals after they closed, adjusted some meds and an IV, then locked up and gave Mindy a ride home. She sat in silence, stared out the window, and didn’t speak until he braked in front of her mother’s trailer.

“See you Monday,” she said, and got out. Holding open the door, she looked in at him. “I hope you’re in a better mood by then.”

“I’m in a great mood.”

“Oh yeah. You know, Mrs. Tidwell may be foolish and stubborn and annoying, but she cares enough about that obnoxious cat to bring him in all the time. Doc’s never rude to her, even when he tells her to stop feeding him all that rich food.”

“I’m not Doc.”

“No,” she said, “you’re not.” The door slammed, and he watched her stalk toward the trailer that was basically the same as it’d been for as long as he could remember. She pushed open the gate, greeted a half-grown pup, then two little kids came out the door and ran toward her, squealing as she swept them into her arms. Then Eleanor appeared in the doorway, looked up and saw him watching and waved. He lifted a hand in reply, not wanting to talk with her, knowing he should. After a pause, he opened the car door and got out.

“Hey, Mrs. Rowan,” he said when he reached her fence, and she smiled.

“Chantry, I can’t believe you’ve grown up so tall and handsome. Except for those bruises on your face. But just look at you. A vet. Oh, Carrie would be so proud.”

His throat got tight. This was the reason he’d avoided her. He didn’t want to talk about Mama, didn’t want to remember all that. It made everything seem like yesterday again. Brought it all back so that he felt sixteen, helpless, powerless to stop what was happening around and to him and to those he loved.

“Yeah,” he said. “Thanks. You look good. Mindy—she’s great. Doc said he didn’t know what he’d do without her there every day to keep things going.”

Mindy looked over at him, hugging one of her kids, a curly-headed little girl with big eyes and a sticky face. “If I ever get you whipped into shape, things’ll be just fine,” she said, and lifted a brow when he just looked at her. “You know what I mean. Tact. Try it. Works better’n what you’re doin’.”

“Mindy,” Mrs. Rowan said, and looked uncomfortable, “I’m sure Chantry is an excellent vet.”

“Yeah, he is good. Knows just how to deal with the animals. It’s the two-legged kind he’s having trouble with though. Just wanted to make my point. He knows what I mean.”

He did. After a brief silence, Mrs. Rowan asked about Mikey, and talk went in an easier direction. He told her about Mikey’s legs being fixed, about his high school graduation and being in college, and that he and Shadow lived together in a small house near the campus. “Got a yard, fence, room for both of them. Mikey’s doing good.”

“Do you think he’ll come back soon for a visit? I’d love to see him.”

God. He hoped not. He didn’t want Mikey anywhere near Quinton. “No, not while he’s in school.”

“And I heard Tansy Rivers has come back, doing shows in Tunica. Isn’t that something? I know Dempsey is awful proud of her.”

They talked for another moment, danced around the subject of all that had happened since he’d been back, neither mentioning it but it as obvious as a bullfrog in a bowl of soup, sitting there waiting for one of them to throw it out. Finally, she did.

“Glad you’re okay, Chantry,” she said at last, “and I’m relieved that Cathy wasn’t killed. Brad hasn’t been caught yet, I guess.”

“Guess not. Haven’t heard. Well, got to be somewhere. Nice seeing you again.”

He meant that last. There was a part of him that liked knowing some good things in his past were still there. Mrs. Rowan had always been kind to them, and had been Mama’s only friend. Only real friend, anyway. He thought about what Laura Quinton had said about Mama, how the old man had discouraged them from being friends, and then thought that maybe that was part of Mrs. Quinton’s problem. She was lonely. Left to herself too much. Husband gone, no one close to talk to, days just marching one after the other in the same monotony. He knew how that felt. It was just his choice to keep to himself. Even when sometimes lately he knew he was missing out.

When he reached Parkwood and went inside, the receptionist had him sign in again, then called to the back for Mrs. Quinton. After a few moments, she hung up and looked at him.

“I’m sorry, but Mrs. Quinton isn’t allowed visitors today. Perhaps another time she’ll be up to company.”

This wasn’t unexpected. If Quinton got even a hint he’d been here, he’d cut off any route to her he could. “Tell Mrs. Quinton I came by to see her. And that I hope she feels better soon.”

He left, took Goodman Road west toward 61 Highway and the river, took his time driving back toward Cane Creek. Somewhere along the way he passed Elvis Presley’s old ranch, the long pink residence turned into some kind of club now, sitting back on rolling land enclosed by a security fence. He remembered seeing horses there at one time, but that’d been long ago. High hills went into flat land just before he hit 61 Highway, stretched out toward the river, dotted with small communities that had grown a lot since the casinos were built, thriving now when once they’d been just sluggish way stations with country stores and a Catholic church and school. The school looked new, the church bigger, and he thought about Mama. She’d never mentioned that she’d been brought up a Catholic. He’d thought she was always Baptist. Maybe she’d turned her back on her religion as well as her family, just put it all behind her and changed direction.

Change wasn’t necessarily always a good thing, apparently. She’d ended up in Cane Creek. Why hadn’t she left? It was always at the back of his mind, that question important because it had shaped their lives, changed everything, doomed her and maybe him, too. Only Mikey escaped. At least one of them had. He was grateful for that. It let him know he’d done the right thing by going back, by taking Mikey to Memphis and their grandparents. He hadn’t been sure for a long time. It wasn’t always easy to tell when you were right, but doing the wrong thing usually had pretty swift repercussions. In his world, anyway.

Consequences. For everything you do and what you fail to do. A lesson Mama had tried to get through to him and succeeded. Action, inaction, reaction, all connected and all with different consequences. He was better now at figuring out when to do what, but still didn’t have it down as good as he’d like.

Before he knew it, he was at Tunica, and he turned off to go to the Grand Isle. Tansy had a show tonight. She should be there, maybe rehearsing or resting. He wanted to see her. Needed to see her. Maybe it was just as well he hadn’t seen Mrs. Quinton again, and since he was this close to Tunica, maybe Tansy could help him sort through all the questions that kept bothering him.

It took her a minute to answer the door, and she stood for a moment looking at him as if surprised. “Chantry. What—I didn’t expect to see you.”

“Bad time?”

“Well
 . . .
no. Not really. It’s just—come on in.” She stepped back and he went inside, and wasn’t that shocked to see Chris sitting on the couch. Both of them looked like they’d just gotten out of bed. He glanced from one to the other.

“Seems like maybe it is a bad time for company.”

Chris stood up. “No, it’s not. I was
 . . .
just leaving.”

“Don’t leave on my account.”

“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t.” Chris smiled faintly. “I took your advice.”

Chantry nodded. “Be ready to deal with the consequences.”

“Yeah. That’ll be a bitch.” He looked over at Tansy. “But worth it.”

Now that he knew the depth of Quinton’s prejudice, Chantry understood why Chris had never let his grandfather know about Tansy. It was dangerous.

“Be careful,” he said, and when Chris looked at him again, stared at him so hard he had to know what he meant. Something flickered in Chris’s eyes, his mouth flattened, and he blew out a long breath.

“You know.”

“Yeah. I know. Don’t do anything to get her hurt, Chris. It’s not worth that.”

“Just what are you two talking about?” Tansy demanded, hands on her hips, hair tousled and in her eyes as she looked from one to the other. She wore a short silk robe that reached only halfway down her thighs and her feet were bare. Her mouth was swollen and her eyes sleepy, the look of a woman just out of bed with a lover.

Chris went to her and put his arms around her, pulled her to him and held her so fiercely that even Chantry could see how much he cared. He’d never stopped, it looked like. Let it rule his days and nights, his life. Let his love for her deny him his own happiness to keep her safe. All this time Chantry had thought Chris Quinton was weak, but he’d been strong enough to give up what he wanted most.

“It’s okay,” Chris said to her, “I’ll take care of everything. Things aren’t like they once were. I’m older. Times change. People change.”

“Hate doesn’t change,” Chantry said, and Chris looked over at him. “It might hide for a while, but sometimes it just gets stronger. Be sure you know what you’re doing.”

“All right,” Tansy said, “you two are making me nervous. What the hell are you talking about?”

“My grandfather,” Chris said, and put his hands on her shoulders to stare down into her face. “You know how he is. You may not know what he is, but you know he’s got his own way of looking at things. I’ll deal with him. I’ll get it all straightened out. When I do—damn, this isn’t the way I wanted to say this, to ask, but Tansy, I gotta know how you feel. If you want to be with me from here on out. For a lifetime. Our lifetimes.”

She stared at him. Chantry saw her eyes go wide, her lips part, the quiver that she didn’t try to hide. For a minute he thought she might say no, but then she just nodded, and tears trickled down from her eyes to track her cheeks. He felt like an intruder, started to leave, moving toward the door, but Chris stopped him.