The Late Child (62 page)

“It will make my cousins very sad, I know it,” Eddie told her.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't—we'll make phone calls once we get to Las Vegas,” Harmony said. Even though Eddie was quite annoyed, she really couldn't face seeing anybody. She didn't get Pat out of jail, or call Neddie, or anything. The only family member they saw on the way to the airport was Dick. They passed him as the sun was setting. He was still in his field plowing, on his tractor, with a big cloud of dust hanging in the rear. He looked so lonely, on his tractor, that Harmony felt a pang. What if Sally, twenty-two years old, just wasn't interested? What would that leave Dick, except the girly magazines?

“I wonder if Dick will remarry?” she asked her father.

“Not unless some woman's enterprising enough to go drag him off that tractor,” Sty said.

“I hope some woman does,” Harmony said—she was remembering his look of gratitude when she made him come.

“At least we said goodbye to Grandma,” Eddie said—he was a little bit obsessed with the need for proper goodbyes. “At least she didn't get to turn Eli loose.”

Actually, Ethel had thought they were going frog hunting when they left. She was watching
Jeopardy
, and hardly gave them a glance.

“Don't bring none of them old smelly frogs in this house,” she said. “People catch TB from handling frogs.”

“Ethel, we're not going frog hunting, we're going to Las Vegas,” Sty said. “I may be back someday, but, on the other hand, I may not.”

“It's not just TB you get, it's polio too, and you get it from handling old smelly frogs or fish heads or anything that lives underwater,” Ethel insisted. It was her last comment, as they went out the door.

“She's cracked, always was,” Sty said. He meant to leave the pickup at the airport, for one of the grandkids to pick up.

“I spent my life with a crazy woman, that's what it boils down to,” Sty said, as they were driving down the lane, past the ponds and the stump and the fields he had tended all his life.

“But I'm not cracked, and my mother isn't and Iggy isn't and Gary isn't,” Eddie insisted, as they turned onto the highway.

“The northern part of Texas ain't a lot different from Oklahoma,” Sty said, as the plane flew westward, over the grasslands. He looked out the window, keenly interested in the dark land below—here and there, on the plains, were sprinkles of lights. Sty mused about what towns the lights might be.

“I like being up in the sky, Grandpa,” Eddie said. “We might fly by a goose.”

“Or a flying badger,” Sty said.

“No, we will
not
fly by a flying badger,” Eddie said, with the conviction of one who had spent many hours glued to the Discovery Channel.

Harmony had mixed feelings—really mixed. She was wishing the plane could just fly on forever—just fly on and never land, so she could always be somewhere in the sky, with her father and her son. She didn't want to come down, into the world of memory, not to mention the world of apartment hunting, job interviews, bank accounts with eight dollars in them, men with their greed and their needs. Once she had had the energy to meet all those demands; now she didn't know where she would find the energy to meet any of them.

But she knew she had to find it somehow; an old man and a boy had put their trust in her. She had to let the memories go, and
the regrets as well; she had to fold them away, as she had folded away her hopes for a man who would love her and care for her. Such a man wasn't going to come; but the old man and the young boy were there, she had to quit being selfish, she had to be good; even if she didn't think she
could
be good, she had to try.

Then she dozed a little. When she woke the plane was banking over Las Vegas. Eddie and her father were looking out the window at the million lights. They were looking with almost identical expressions—keen expressions. She realized at that moment that they had the same eyes.

“Grandpa, look!” Eddie said, as the plane banked over the Strip. Harmony could make out Caesars, and also the Stardust.

“It's Las Vegas, Grandpa—that's the Strip!” Eddie said. “It's where I'm growing up. It's my home!”

“Oh, golly, that's a bunch of lights, this town must run up a big electricity bill,” Sty said, smiling. He could tell that Eddie was very excited, and he seemed excited too.

“It's a bunch of lights because it's the Strip,” Eddie informed him. “It's a very important place—it's where millions come.”

Harmony couldn't get over how much Eddie looked like her father—she had been too sad to notice it sooner. It made something lift a little, in her, seeing how excited they both were to be coming down over the lights of the Strip. Seeing how alike they looked gave her a little sense of promise.

“You okay, hon?” her father asked. “You had a pretty good nap.”

“I'm okay, Dad,” Harmony said—she didn't want him to worry. Going away hadn't worked. Maybe coming back would work a little better. She would just have to soldier on, if that was the phrase—she had never been a soldier, and if there was a war she had lost it. But seeing the lights affected her too—she had always loved them. Eddie was right—those lights lit up a place where millions came. She and her son and her father would be part of the millions soon.

“I just hope Gary's there—otherwise we don't have a ride,” she said. “He's got a purple Cadillac, you're going to love it, Eddie.”

“A purple Cadillac,” Eddie said.

“You have to be a little tolerant of his driving, Dad,” Harmony said—she didn't want her father to get too much of a shock on his first night in town.

“Tell Grandpa how Gary drives, Eddie,” she said—let him hear it from his grandson.

“Pedal to the metal,” Eddie said, grinning his irresistible grin.

“Pedal to the metal—oh boy, here we go,” her father said.