Mockingbird Songs (24 page)

“When what?”

“Aren’t you listening to me and Mr. Crossley?” Evie turned, rolled her eyes at Crossley. “Never listens,” she said. “When Uncle Ralph died. Forty-nine, right?”

“Yes, 1949. August, as far as I remember.”

Crossley opened the file. “Rebecca Wyatt,” he said. “Daughter of Ralph and Madeline Wyatt, née Ellsworth. You are right, Mrs. Wilson. Rebecca Wyatt passed away in care at Ector County Hospital in June of 1951.”

“Oh my,” Evie said, feigning something akin to shock and sadness. “Oh dear.”

Henry stepped forward, put his arm around her shoulder. “There, there, sweetheart,” he said. “We kind of knew, didn’t we? It isn’t exactly a surprise, is it?”

“I know, John, but nevertheless …”

Crossley closed the file. “Is there anything else I can assist you with?”

“I assume she was cremated here,” Henry said.

“That is correct, Mr. Wilson.”

“And her ashes?”

“Would more than likely have been interred at the county cemetery. Precisely where … well, they would have that information at the cemetery itself.”

Evie continued to play her part.

Henry smiled, extended his hand to have it grazed once more by Crossley’s pale fingers, and said, “You have helped us enormously, but I think I better take her home.”

“I understand completely,” Crossley said. “I am pleased to have been of assistance.”

They left the building, certain now that Sarah’s mother was dead, that her grandfathers had died on the same day, and that both Evan and Carson Riggs knew a great deal more about these events than either of them had communicated.

As they pulled away from the side of the highway, Henry said, “Let’s go upset Clarence Ames. Seems to me that there’s a man who knows a great deal more than he’s letting on.”

THIRTY-THREE

Grace Riggs knew her sons better than she knew herself. She knew when things were right and when they were awry.

When Carson came to her on the Sunday afternoon after Evan’s farewell party, he was damn near bursting with excitement. She had not seen him so uplifted since … well, since she did not know when.

“She said yes, Ma … She said yes.”

Grace knew who had said yes and what she had said yes to. More important, she knew why—after all these years—Rebecca Wyatt had finally consented to marrying the eldest of the Riggs boys.

Grace called William down from upstairs. William shook Carson’s hand, slapped him on the back, pulled him close, and hugged him half to death.

“I couldn’t be happier, son,” he said, which was the truth. Friday night had seen him on fire with pride for Evan, and now his eldest was to be married, and as far as William was concerned, there was no better girl in the world for him. Rebecca Wyatt was an anchor, a stabilizing influence, possessing not only a wealth of feminine sense, but also sufficiently strong a personality to never be overwhelmed by Carson. There was a great deal of Grace in Rebecca, and that was precisely what Carson needed.

However, William was a man, and thus he saw only what was in front of him. He did not look left, nor right, nor behind the thing. He saw what he wanted to see, and that was just fine.

Despite the fact that she’d said nothing, Grace knew how long Evan had been away that night. She guessed—and guessed rightly—that something had happened between Evan and Rebecca, that they had said their goodbye in the most personal and intimate way, and she hoped—for Carson’s sake, for everyone’s sake—that it never came to light.

In that moment, she allowed herself to be as happy as the event befitted, but there was a shadow behind her smiles, the very same shadow she saw lurking among Evan’s features when Carson told him of the news.

Outwardly, Evan was overjoyed; inwardly, his mother knew he was heartbroken.

Like oil and water, Evan and Rebecca would not mix. Had Rebecca merely permitted herself to be who she really was, then she and Evan would have had the kind of marriage, the kind of
life
, of which most folks could only ever have dreamed. But the vast majority of people spend their lives being not who they are, but the person everyone else requires them to be. Rebecca was no different; by denying what she felt for Evan, she was also denying herself.

Grace let it be. Carson could not have been happier. Evan would live the life that only Evan could live. She and William had to accept that the lives of their sons were not theirs to dictate, direct, or control. At least they had raised boys possessed of their own minds, and neither would be swayed by the opinions of others.

Sunday supper done and dusted, out on the veranda as the sun slipped away, Evan told his mother that what had happened was inevitable.

“I don’t know that anything is inevitable,” she said.

Evan did not reply, merely stood looking out toward the horizon as if some answer lay there.

“Do not let her break your heart,” Grace said. “I understand how you must feel, Evan, but feelings are transient. Just because you feel this now does not mean you have to feel it forever.”

“I won’t feel it forever,” he said, “and regardless of what anyone may say or do or think, I couldn’t be happier for Carson.”

“I know you couldn’t,” Grace said. “You are not a selfish man, Evan. I know that. At least that much, eh?”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning you know what exactly.”

Evan laughed. “Meaning you think I am a troublemaker.”

“I don’t
think
you are a troublemaker, son. I
know
you are.”

“Well, some of us have to cause trouble, or life would just be … well, you know.”

“I do, and I don’t disagree. You’re plenty capable of causing trouble for yourself, and that’s all I’m asking you to be mindful of.”

“I can take care of myself, Ma.”

“I don’t doubt it, and I know you can take care of others as well … but …”

“But what?”

She shook her head, smiled in that philosophically resigned manner that was so much Grace Riggs. “A son will never understand a mother’s viewpoint, Evan. You have to appreciate that Carson was not … well, he was neither expected nor accepted at first. Your father had great difficulty coming to terms with the fact that he was a father. He managed it, eventually, but that had more to do with you than anyone else. Fatherhood … the
responsibility
of fatherhood scared him, I guess. Maybe it’s the same with all men. Maybe they just fear that they won’t make the grade. Anyway, he managed as best he could, but he and Carson never really bonded. And then you came along.” Grace smiled nostalgically. “Your father changed. His attitude toward Carson changed. Even his attitude toward me. Of course, this is all distant history now, but still the fact remains that had you not come along, things might have been very different indeed for all of us.”

“Do I make you happy, Ma?” Evan asked.

The surprise in Grace’s expression was impossible to misinterpret. “Happy? What a question, Evan. Of course you make me happy.”

“Do you worry about me … what will become of me?”

“Every mother worries what will become of her children.”

“You know what I mean, Ma.”

Standing beside him, Grace reached out and closed her hand over his. She looked out toward the darkening horizon as she spoke.

“You are different, Evan. I don’t mean different from Carson. I mean different from everyone. The whys and wherefores are unimportant. It just is. You have a gift to do something, and that gift is important. Look at Friday night, the happiness you brought to people, how much you made people smile. As far as I can see, the ability to do that is kind of magical, you know? People who can do that are rare. But it carries a price, I guess. I can see it, and I have heard about the kinds of difficulties people like you experience—”

“People like me?”

“Artists, musicians, singers, poets, actors, the Hollywood folk you hear about with their drinking and their … well, their other vices, you know?”

“What have you been doing? Reading gossip magazines in the hair salon in Sonora?”

“Well, you hear things, and sometimes you hear them enough to think there might be some substance to them.”

“You’re worried I’ll be a drunk and a womanizer, Ma?”

“No, son. I’m worried that there’s a fire inside you that won’t be lit by anything but attention. That’s the addiction that worries me.”

“I think you see something inside me that no one else sees.”

“Rebecca sees it. That’s why she doesn’t dare follow you.”

“Rebecca doesn’t dare follow me because she loves Carson and wants to settle here and raise a family.”

The silence was a punctuation mark in the conversation, obvious enough to be unmistakable for anything but Grace’s lack of concurrence.

“You don’t think she loves Carson?” Evan asked.

Grace reached out her hand and gently touched Evan’s face. “Sometimes I wonder whether your blindness is selective, or if you are, in fact, a little dumber than we give you credit for.”

“’Preciated, Ma.”

“You really don’t see it?”

Evan was silent. He turned his face away slightly. His ma could read him clearer than any sign of changing weather.

“I know, Evan,” she said eventually, and her voice was barely a whisper. “I know, and I have always known, and you have known, too. Rebecca convinces herself that she is making the right decision, and perhaps she is. Perhaps following you around the country would bring her nothing but unhappiness, but she will never know. Therein lies the danger. It will haunt her forever, and she knows it. Carson can’t see it. Carson doesn’t want to see it. Your father just wants the best for you both, and he ignores anything that falls into the category of feelings or intuitions. But you and I know better, and we have always known better.”

“Ma—”

“I know what happened Friday night, Evan. I could see it painted as large as life on your face. Maybe that’s all there is to it. Maybe it has all ended here, and I hope for the sake of both your brother and his wife-to-be that it has ended here.”

Once again, Evan opened his mouth to speak, but Grace cut him short with, “Enough now. What’s been said is all that needs to be said. No amount of words can turn back time.”

She moved sideways and put her arms around him. Evan pulled her close and hugged her.

“I’m sorry, Ma,” he said.

“Not me you need to be saying sorry to, son. If anyone, it’s Carson who needs an apology, but Carson would never take an apology from you, so best not give him a chance.”

Grace leaned up and kissed Evan on the cheek.

“Goodnight, Evan,” she said.

She let him go and disappeared back into the house, leaving Evan in silence.

He stood there for a while, wondering what kind of man he really was and if what he’d done had consigned them all to disaster.

The following morning, Monday the seventh, Carson asked Evan to take a walk with him.

“Some things I just want to talk to you about,” he said.

Evan went, no fear that the matter for discussion was Rebecca Wyatt, but concern that it was something else just as significant. He had sensed it in Carson for some while, and he knew it related to their future.

They walked a good quarter mile before the subject of interest was broached.

“Pa’s not getting any younger,” Carson said. “I know he’s only in his early fifties, but this life has taken its toll on him physically. Mentally, as well. Farming is unpredictable, dictated by weather, other things you can’t understand or control, and it wears a man down. I could never do it, and I know you couldn’t, either.”

“Could never see myself staying here, let alone farming,” Evan said.

“I have my job now,” Carson went on, “and I guess this is what I’ll always do. Idea of being sheriff of Calvary, marrying Rebecca, raising up some kids an’ all … well, I have to say there’s little else that I could ask for.”

“You are a lucky man, Carson. Not many men who could say that they have their life mapped out the way they want it before they’ve even hit thirty.”

“And I want to take care of Ma and Pa,” Carson said. “I want to make sure they have enough money to never have to worry about things … to never have a concern for where the next meal is coming from—”

“We have never had to worry about where the next meal is coming from, Carson,” Evan interjected. “I think that’s a little melodramatic, wouldn’t you say?”

“How would you know, Carson? You’ve not been here. Things have been tough sometimes. Winter before last, you know? You wouldn’t know what was going on. You’ve never stayed long enough to get into the grain of the thing.”

“I’ll give you that, Carson, but I’ll not give you the fight you’re spoiling for.”

“I’m not spoiling for a fight, Evan. I’m trying to have a real, honest-to-God conversation with you about our responsibilities here.”

“And what responsibilities would they be, Carson?”

“See,” Carson said. “Just like always, you assume I have some other agenda here. I have no other agenda. I am trying to do what is best, and the reason I am talking to you about it is that you are heading off again, no doubt, and there ain’t no clue as to how long you’ll be gone or what’s gonna happen to you, and—just like always—I’ll be the one left behind to take care of everything. Now, we can either have this conversation, or you can agree to stay behind and take care of the farm and everything else with me. It’s your choice, Evan.”

Evan conceded. “I am sorry,” he said. “You’re right. I will leave, and you will stay behind, and I will hear you out.”

“Okay, good,” Carson said. He took a pack of cigarettes from his vest pocket and lit one. “So, here goes … I have been approached by a representative of the US Navy. More accurately, the Naval Petroleum Reserves Department. They are very interested in test drilling on our land, seeing if there’s oil here. If so … well, if so, you can just imagine the kind of money we’re talking.”

“You want to sell the farm,” Evan said matter-of-factly.

“I want to look at the possibility of subleasing the land to a petro-chemical firm that processes fuel oils and suchlike, Evan. I want to give us and our parents every opportunity to succeed in this life. I want Ma and Pa to have some real financial stability and freedom in their later years.”

“And what does Pa say?”

Carson hesitated.

“He doesn’t know, does he? He doesn’t know that you’ve been talking to the navy people, right?”

“Ha! You make it sound like some sort of conspiracy. People come to me. I can hear them out, hear what they have to say, make a decision to discuss it with you, and then if
we
decide it’s a good idea, we can go to Pa together and see what he thinks.”

“If
we
decide?” Evan said. “I get the idea you’ve already made a decision, Carson.”

“So, what are you telling me? That you won’t even consider such a thing, even though it might give Ma and Pa a quality of life that they could never have even dreamed of?”

“I am telling you that this discussion, as you call it, is not for you and me to have. If we have this discussion, then Ma and Pa are right here … unless you don’t want them here.”

“You don’t change, do you?” Carson said. “You were always a selfish son of a bitch, always thinking of yourself before anyone else. Everyone running around pandering to your every wish, Ma and Pa doting on you, spoiling you, giving you whatever you wanted. Hell, you couldn’t deliver up an honest day’s work if your life depended on it.”

Evan didn’t respond. There was no point. Carson was going to be pigheaded and opinionated, and once he’d taken a stand, there was no shifting him. Changing his viewpoint was tantamount to admitting he was wrong, and that was something he could never do.

“I am going to leave for Austin soon,” Evan said. “I won’t mention to anyone that we had this conversation, Carson. If you want to raise the issue with Pa and include me before I go, then so be it. If you act behind his back, then I will speak to Warren Garfield and stop you dead in your tracks. Sheriff you may be, but that does not give you license to do what you want. You say you’re acting in Ma’s and Pa’s best interests, but I think you’re acting in your own. You want to accuse me of selfishness, you go right ahead. Looks to me like you’re just after painting me the same color as yourself.”