The Comanche Vampire (26 page)

Ned
balanced a paper plate on his knee and picked the frozen
lasagne
without interest.
 
People scattered out
everywhere.
 
The dining room table
brimmed full with extra chairs crammed at each corner.
 
In the den, old and young sprawled on the
couches and in the chairs.
 
Some gathered
in the fancy front room around the glittering Christmas tree and a few dined in
the crowded kitchen.
 
Ned sat at the
table with Anne and Rose, glad to be away from the other groups, but he’d been
as happy to spend the dinner hour upstairs.
 
Under any other circumstance he wouldn’t have put the pasta noodles
thick with tomato sauce and cheese into his mouth, but if he balked, he’d upset
both Anne and her mom.
 
He choked it down
one bite at a time and although he seldom touched sweets, Ned ate a cookie to
take the taste away.
 
Anne brewed a pot
of coffee and he drank a cup.
 
Hers
tasted strong and robust, the way it should.

After
the meal, half of the bunch headed off to a church service somewhere.
 
Bob and his brothers commandeered the kitchen
to play poker and drink whiskey.
 
A few
gathered in the den, to watch
It’s A
Wonderful Life.
 
Rose and most of the
aunts headed out to drive around and look at Christmas lights.
 
David camped upstairs in the guest bedroom
and watched the Playboy Channel.
 
He also
drank tequila shooters.
 
Ned convinced
Anne to take a ride so they’d have a few minutes alone.
 
He’d failed to realize how much he
demonstrated he wasn’t enjoying the trip until she asked, “Are you sorry you
came?”

Her
woebegone voice evoked his sympathy so Ned reached over and took her hand. “No,
I’m glad I came with you, honey.”

“You
haven’t said much all evening to anyone.”

Her
dart hit home, as she’d meant it to do.
 
 

He
lit a smoke, something he seldom did anywhere but outside before he replied. “I
know, Anne.
 
I don’t have a whole lot in
common with any of your folks.
 
Are you
having a good time?”

He
knew she was despite the
hodge
podge
of family members thrown together in close quarters.
 
Ned had watched her as she talked and
giggled, hugged and chatted.
 
Her face
glowed with pleasure as she interacted with her kinfolk, evidence of her deep
family ties.
 
Here, he noticed, she
wasn’t his Anne or the savvy professor, but a daughter, a sister, a niece, and
an aunt.
 
The
Delahantys
saw a different woman than the one he knew and Ned liked his Anne better than
the Rusk version.
 
He counted the hours
until he’d get her out of here, hopefully before she began nattering about
department stores, football teams, and recipes.
 
As he’d expected, she offered him a small grin. “Yes, I’m having
fun.
 
I know my family’s a lot to take at
one time, and God knows I don’t love all of them but they’re mine.
 
I know you’ve lost all your family but you
understand, don’t you?”

Ned
did, so much it hurt.
 
Her words brought
back memories of his people.
 
Despite a
vastly different lifestyle, he recalled times of celebration and feasting.
 
The familiarity, the love and laughter, the
abundance of food were all the same, even if everything else wasn’t.
 
“Yeah, honey, I do,” he told her. “And
sometimes I miss all those I lost.”

“I’m
sure.
 
Just give my folks a chance.
 
They like you, most of them anyway and in
time, you’ll become part of the family.” Her words presented her apparent
commitment to a long-term relationship with him and Ned liked it.
 
But it also scared him, because it couldn’t
happen unless she accepted his truth.
 
Without
it, they wouldn’t last and he knew it.
 

“I’d
like that,” he said after a pause.
 
He
would, if it happened … although if they knew what he was, it would be
impossible.
 

Anne
moved her hand from his knee to his thigh. “Then let’s go home,” she said. “I
know you don’t care much for Christmas, but if we hurry, we can watch movies
with the rest of them.
 
It’s a family
tradition.”

He
hadn’t endured the last hundred and forty-odd years without the ability to deal
with whatever came, so Ned nodded. “All right, honey.”

Christmas
Eve ended late, but the holiday began early.
 
Ned, who rarely required sleep, spent the night in an armchair in the
den.
 
Anne’s nephews surrounded him,
draped over the couches and tucked into sleeping bags on the floor.
 
The oldest was fifteen, the youngest
nine.
 
Once they’d settled for the night,
the room quieted.
 
Ned had rejected
sleeping in the guest room after he’d found David snoring.
 
The room reeked of cheap booze and Ned
detected the lingering aroma of puke.
 
He
sat upright in the chair, listening to the house sounds, the whoosh of the
central heat as it ran, clocks on the wall, the rattle of the aged plumbing as
one after another guest used the facilities, and the whine of the wind beneath
the eaves.
 
Around four in the morning,
Rose banged around the kitchen.
 
He
listened as she rattled pots and pans and when he caught the first aroma of
coffee, Ned joined her.

“Well,
you’re up early, bless your heart,” Rose said. “Want some coffee?”

“I
do, thanks.” He accepted the cup and took the first sip with pleasure.
 
He’d asked Anne to load the percolator the
night before so it tasted good this morning.
 
He ate a cinnamon bun to please Rose and offered his help.
 
He lifted the twenty-four pound turkey and
roaster out of the fridge and slid it into the oven.
 
A few hours later, he did the same with the
huge ham Rose had ready and kept her company as she peeled what seemed like a
bushel of potatoes.
 
By the time anyone
else rose and came downstairs, Rose had the dinner well underway and she’d made
friends with Ned.

“I’ve
watched you,” she’d told him while working on the potatoes. “I see the way you
look at my daughter and I see how she looks back at you.
 
You’re no passing fancy, are you?”

He
liked her blunt honesty and gave her back the same. “I hope not.
 
I love Anne more than I’ve ever loved any
woman.”

“I’ve
noticed,” Rose replied. “
So’s
Bob. I don’t think he
thinks a card dealer is good enough for his baby girl, but I say there’s more
to life than a job.
 
Is casino work all
you’ve ever done?”

Temptation
to share his full slate of experience back to his wild Comanche days niggled at
Ned but he resisted.
 
Somehow he doubted
Rose would be impressed with a list of raids he’d done, captives he’d taken, or
plunder he’d gained.
 
Instead he offered
her some of the other careers he’d held over the years. “No, I’ve held a lot of
other jobs.
 
I’ve worked construction,
did some rodeo, worked at a factory or two, and I’ve been a janitor.
 
I don’t have much education, but I don’t
think I’m stupid.
 
I own my land,
twenty-five acres on the edge of the Wichita National Grasslands.
 
I don’t owe anyone and I pay my bills on
time.”

Rose
beamed. “That’s pretty much what Anne said.
 
I think you’ll do her just fine, Ned.”

He
recognized high praise when he heard some. “Thanks,” he told her.

The
gift exchange turned into a chaotic event so Ned pulled Anne aside.
 
He gave her his gift, a braided sterling
silver ring.
 
He’d had the silversmith
engrave
U
kamkuto
nu
inside the wide band.
 
He hadn’t
bothered with a box or wrapping paper, just put the ring into her hand.
 
Her eyes sparkled with tears as Anne held it
up and after she’d read the inscription, her tears poured down her cheeks. “Oh,
Ned, it’s beautiful.
 
Thank you,” she
said. “Should I wear it on my right hand or my left?”
 

Her
question stumped him.
 
He had no idea what
significance whites put on ring position so he shrugged. “Wear it where you
want, honey.”

Anne
held out her left hand to him. “Put it on,” she said.
 
Ned slid it onto the first finger past her
pinky as Anne smiled.
 
She brushed away
her tears so she could admire her hand and the ring.
 

“Looks
good,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion.
 
In reply, Anne threw her arms around his neck and hugged tight.
 
They stood in the hallway at the foot of the
stairs, a high traffic area, but Ned kissed her.
 
His mouth met hers with sweetness and passion
mingled.
 
She clung to him and he
would’ve kept kissing her if David hadn’t come downstairs.
 

Anne
tugged at Ned’s hand. “C’mon, let’s go into the living room. I put your present
under the tree.”

They
plunged into the mess of discarded wrapping papers, opened and unopened gifts,
and people.
 
Anne dug beneath the
branches of the Christmas tree and hauled out a box.
 
She handed it to Ned.
 
Over the years, he’d received a few holiday
gifts, but they had always been from an employer.
 
The token offerings had been simple and given
with good intention but without emotion.
 
He held the gift in his hands and savored the moment.
 
Cartoon penguins cavorted across the blue
paper and he hesitated to rip it.
 
Anne’s
eyes met his, ripe with expectation so he did what the others were doing.
 
Ned removed the paper and opened the
box.
 
When he saw what lay within, his
scarred heart almost shattered.

Ned
lifted out the hand-knapped stone knife with care.
 
He ran a thumb along the edge and found it
quite sharp.
 
His fingers smoothed over
the wooden handle with admiration. “It’s Osage Orange wood,” Anne said. “Do you
like it?”

“
Haa
,” Ned said in
Comanche with emphasis. “I do, very much. Thank you.
 
It’s made in the old way.
 
I’ve made knives like this myself and it
takes a lot of work.
 
I can make a sheath
for it and I’ll wear it often.”

Anne’s
insight and thoughtfulness touched him deep within, below his façade.
 
He’d had no idea what she might give him, but
he’d half-expected a shirt or some knick-knack.
 
The stone knife surprised and pleased him more than he could
express.
 
He’d used such knives often,
for everything from gutting game to taking scalps.
 
Caught in recollection, he almost didn’t hear
what she said. “I wanted to give you something traditional for Christmas, Ned,
and I didn’t know what until I saw these knives.
 
One of the art students at the college makes
them.
 
He’s a Comanche, too so I thought
you’d appreciate it. I’m glad you like it.”

Ned
caught her hand and held it, wishing he could show her how much the gift
pleased him.
 
Surrounded by her family,
though, he wasn’t comfortable expressing more.
 
He savored the moment and committed it to memory, a good thing since the
day headed south after the gift exchange.
 
He paid little attention to the ongoing chorus of oohs and
ahhs
, admiring his knife and counting the hours until
departure.
 
At dinnertime, the assembled
company swelled to more than forty as local relatives arrived to share the
holiday meal.
 
Temporary tables were set
up throughout the house.
 
Ned ended up at
a rickety card table, knee to knee with Anne, her Goth nephew Andrew, Amber,
David, and one of Anne’s Rusk cousins, a gal about the same age, named Billie
Jean.

His
extreme senses enhanced all the noise and merriment.
 
Ned’s nose picked up on all the aromas and a
few odors until he became all but overwhelmed with smells.
 
Alone, the delicious scent of roast meats and
food might’ve been pleasant but combined with a dozen different varieties of
men’s cologne, perfume, powders, fragrant candles, soap, and mouthwash it created
a miasma so strong it threatened to drive him outdoors.
 
The combined laughter, conversation, and
other sounds echoed in his ears and he craved both solitude and silence.
 
Under other circumstances, Ned figured he’d
find Rose’s food amazing and delicious, but he lacked any appetite.
 
The abundance of food appalled him.
 
Despite the number of guests, they’d never
eat it all in a day and he hated the potential for waste.
 
He ate some ham, tried turkey for the first
time and decided it wasn’t half bad. “What do you think?” Anne asked.