Excerpt: The Love We All Wait For

Chapter 4

Moths flitted about the kerosene lanterns John Tash the caretaker had lit for our July 4th meal out at Paraiso Springs. Over the hot springs bathing pool, steam hovered like loose lace in the twilight. But no one would be swimming this evening. It was too damn hot.

Although I hadn’t wanted to come out to the Springs, I had nothing better to do. Ing and Jimmy and everyone else in town would be inside Tristes High Stadium tonight, where the fireworks were pretty abysmal. Every year it was the same fifteen-minute show. The mayor always insisted on staging it to make the fireworks more dramatic. The show culminated in a premature ejaculation of predictable colors. Seeing the fireworks from the Springs would be a nice change or, at least, a change.

Sage and manzanita perfumed the air. Tash had started cooking. My mouth watered from the salty apple juices of George’s grandfather’s homemade sausages on the grill. When George’s father George Sr. died, Pepito, as his grandchildren affectionately called him, rekindled the Old World tradition his son had rejected. Pepito now hand-tied the sausages in his garage, a shot glass of grappa nearby to steady his hand. Annie and I had gone over to Pepito’s house to watch. He offered me a sip, which I declined. The stuff was fire water.

After the barbeque, six of us planned to walk up into the foothills for a glimpse of the fireworks. Steve, a sandy-haired bronco rider from Fresno and Sister Sally’s new beau, had come out to the Valley to see Sally for the holiday and ride in the rodeo next week. A beer in hand, Steve, with those friendly eyes and an easy way about him, helped Tash man the grill. George, Sally, and my mother sat at the table talking about the wedding. Annie and I engaged in a game of seek with a family of quail. We’d seen them skittering out from under the picnic table when we first arrived. The quail weren’t about to make a second appearance, but Annie didn’t need to know this.

It had been years since we’d taken the winding five miles of dirt road off of River Road and up into the Santa Lucias. Daddy, who had loved the sulfur smell of the place, had brought Mom, Josh, and me to the Springs many times on weekends. When Annie came along, my mother didn’t see much point in swimming in a pool too hot for infants. So we fell out of the habit.

Will Fratti’s truck pulled up just after we had sat down to eat. Waylon Jennings still blaring from the eight-track, Will stumbled out of the passenger side, cursing the fading daylight. Brother Will had supposedly sworn off drinking again. But holidays were always the exception. I braced myself for George’s reaction.

“Damn him,” George muttered. He set his buttered French roll on his bread plate and pushed the plate away, as if he'd like to treat Will the same way. “I told him this was a quiet gathering.”

“At least he’s not driving,” Sally said. “Who’s that with him?”

I couldn’t believe my luck. Buck in the flesh. The first time I’d seen him since that afternoon at the packing shed. He and Will cut through the shrubs around the pool. Their T-shirts looked incandescent.

“Sounds like they’ve been at the firehouse picnic,” Sally said to no one in particular. She turned to Steve. “Just remember he’s a lamb when sober.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Steve said, giving her a peck on the cheek.

“You sure we’re not intruding?” I heard Buck say.

“Hell, no,” Will said, tripping over a poolside crack. “I’m family, aren’t I? Sure smells good. What the hell does Tash do up here, anyway? The poor bastard’s going to get sued one day.”

“He shouldn’t swear,” Annie said, wiping her greasy mouth with her sleeve. She looked at George. “It’s bad manners.”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” George said. He took the red-and-white checked napkin from his lap and threw it on the table. He looked at my mother. “I’ll handle this.”

“Let him stay,” my mother said, setting her fork on the edge of her plate. “You can’t reason with him in that condition.”

A barn owl hushed overhead. George stood there for a moment as if trying to decide how to proceed. Annie speared a sausage on the platter and dropped it onto her plate. It occurred to me that she’d never seen anyone drunk. Daddy had done his drinking late at night when she was fast asleep in her crib.

“Hey, brother,” Will called. “Any of Pepito’s sausages left?”

“You’re drunk, Will,” George said.

“Maybe we should leave, man,” Buck said, putting his hand on Will’s arm.

“Are you kidding? I’m famished,” Will said. He shrugged Buck’s hand away and pushed past George. “Hey, Sal, how about some grub?” He laughed and slid in between Sally and me. “Now isn’t this cozy?”

Shaking her head, Sally handed Will a plate. When Will attempted to fill an empty glass, Sally took the wine bottle and glass away from him and poured Will a quarter of a glass. He grumbled when she handed it to him.

Buck held back until my mother insisted he sit down. Warmth poured into the space between his forearm and mine. My mother hadn’t noticed the only place left at the table was next to me.

“Hey, kid,” he said.

“Hey,” I said. “Happy Independence Day.”

“Same to you,” he said.

I watched him split and butter one of the aluminum-wrapped potatoes Tash had roasted in the grill coals. He mashed the potato with the back of his fork. Tenderly, as though he appreciated the food.

Glassy-eyed, Will looked around the table. His lips were moist and pale. Steve gave him a careful nod. His high forehead, sunburned from days of bull-riding practice, glistened.

“Good to see you, Will,” he said.

Will said nothing. Sally introduced Buck and Steve to one another. Will noticed the diamond glittering on my mother’s ring finger. He let out a low whistle.

“Must be love,” he said. “George Jr. doesn’t let go of cash easily.” He lifted his glass. “To the lovebirds.”

“Don’t start, man,” George said. In the lamplight, squint lines gullied from the corners of his eyes. “You promised.”

Will gulped the wine with his eyes closed. Will was bitter because the woman he loved had rejected him last year. She raised rabbits in King City. Will had always claimed she was too enamored of the bunnies to care about a man. But everyone, including Will, knew his drinking had driven her away.

“Don’t start what, brother?” Will said, setting down the glass.

He turned to me. His eyes tried to focus. I’d seen him in this condition before, when he and Daddy had been drinking at the Hero. My mother usually locked the door on the two of them and let them sleep it off on the porch.

“It’s Sheila.” I fluttered my fingers at him.

“I know who it is, damn it,” Will barked. He looked at Annie. “Roy’s girls. I bet he’s rolling in his grave, George, you being up here with them and their mother.”

George’s jaw tightened. His eyes got smaller and darker behind his glasses. My mother set down her wine and spoke to Buck. It was time to change the subject.

“Was it crowded at the park today?” she asked.

“Seemed like it was,” Buck said. “But then again I’ve never been to the Fireman’s Picnic. I can tell you that Will’s a hell of a horseshoe player.”

“I got lucky is all,” Will grumbled.

“Horseshoes are supposed to be lucky,” Annie said, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth. Her cheek bulged.

Will looked at her and mumbled something incomprehensible. I tried to catch Annie’s eye. She looked worried. I didn’t blame her. Will’s mind got twisted sometimes. I didn’t want him going off on her. Buck’s arm grazed mine, and I wondered if he’d meant to touch me.

“I’m terrible at shoes,” Steve said. “’Course, that’s always after I’ve had a few beers.”

“You ride bulls, hon,” Sally said. She attempted to wrap an arm around Steve’s broad shoulders, saw her arm was too short, and smiled shyly. “That’s enough for me.”

“Yeah, a real macho man,” Will muttered.

“Will,” Sally warned.

“What can I say?” Steve said, giving Sally an affectionate wink. “I love what I do.”

John Tash came out of the lodge to see about clearing plates. He didn’t make eye contact. Tash was painfully shy, and the Springs rarely got visitors. George offered him some wine.

“No thanks, Mr. Fratti.” Flecks of purple light glinted in Tash’s scraggly black beard. “Should I bring out the plum tart?”

“Fine, Tash,” George said.

Buck looked up at the sky. The night was warm. I could almost taste the salt on his glistening neck. I imagined brushing my lips over his skin.

“Venus is out,” he said.

“That’s Mars,” Annie said. She looked relieved when Buck smiled at her.

“How do you know about the planets, little girl?” he asked.

She laughed. I wanted to kiss him right then and there for teasing her so nicely. For knowing Will had scared her.

“You talk funny,” Annie said, scrunching up her nose.

“Annabelle,” my mother said. “That’s not polite.”

“She meant no harm.” Buck grinned at Annie.

He looked across the road at the mission. I followed his gaze. Indigo light outlined the small bell tower.

“Beautiful chapel,” he said.

I had recently fallen in love with the Our Lady of Solitude chapel. This past February, on the anniversary of Daddy’s death, Ing and I had driven out to the mission. She showed me the Our Lady statue and prayer room where I could light a candle for Daddy. It just seemed right, honoring Daddy there.

“You used to be able to just walk in until the cholos trashed it,” Will said, his mouth full. “Carved their initials and slogans in the pews.”

“The cholos respect the mission,” I said. “It was drunk aggies making it look like cholos.”

“Whatever. I need to take a piss,” he said. He tripped over Tash’s cat Sulfur when it darted across his path. “Damn vermin.”

There was silence around the table. Far off, a hawk screeched. Steve looked at Buck.

“I’ve rode a few in Georgia,” Steve said. “Nearly keeled over from the humidity. Nice, friendly people down there.”

“No wind to cut the humidity,” Buck said. “Not like here.”

Buck loved the wind. He’d noticed how it made a difference with everything. How every day it washed the world clean. I felt ridiculously happy.

“Why don’t you run and get the flashlight,” my mother said to me. “Then we can take the path up.”

“Will’s got one in the truck,” Buck said. “I’ll get it.”

“We don’t need more than one flashlight.” My mother frowned. “Do we, George?”

“One’s plenty,” George said. “If I know Will, the batteries in his flashlight are dead.”

“I put fresh ones in yesterday,” Will said, returning from the bathroom. “Surprised, brother?”

“Well.” My mother put her hand over George’s. “Maybe we could use a second flashlight.”

Buck followed me to the truck. I didn’t know how much longer I could play it cool. Thankfully, dog tags clinked against the bed, giving me something to do. I made George’s mastiff Rusty sit, and I grabbed the flashlight from behind the seat while Buck checked Will’s glove box.

“No flashlight here,” he said.

I handed him mine, and he pointed it at the ground. Light coned around us. Like a halo for two shining from below. I let out a little sigh.

“You don’t much care for George,” he said. His breath smelled faintly of garlic.

“He’s all right,” I lied. My heart pounded so hard I could hear it outside my body.

“He doesn’t like me hanging around you,” he said. “I can tell.”

Footsteps crunched in the gravel. Buck smiled, his eyes always a different color of green. Tonight, they were pale, nearly gray.

“Time to get up the hill,” George called.

“Told you so,” Buck said, his laugh a flutter of sound. “Is Will joining us?” he asked, shining the flashlight at George.

“He’s passed out on Tash’s sofa. Where he belongs,” George said. “Hey, Tash, are you coming up to the ridge with us?”

Tash waved him off and continued clearing the table. We joined the others. George set Annie on his shoulders, the flashlight in one hand. When we started up the trail, my mother motioned for me to go ahead of her. She fell in behind me, then Buck, then came Sally and Steve after they had stopped to steal a kiss.

As we went up the trail, the pungent scent of wild thyme filled my nostrils. I felt Buck behind me. How had he slipped past my mother? Our footsteps found their own rhythm. As if we were the only two people on the trail and the entire valley below.

Down the trail, I could hear Sally laughing against Steve’s mouth. She was definitely in serious lust, if not love. She and Steve had met on the highway a few months ago when he pulled over to help her change a flat. The next day he had called and told her she was the woman he’d been waiting for. An incurable romantic. He and Sally had been an item ever since.

George jiggled the flashlight over the hard, peeled-back bark of the manzanita on the path’s edge. He held aside the branches, and we stepped onto the grassy ridge. Below, Salinas, Tristes, and King City were pearls on a darkened window, Soledad prison an industrial grid. Annie was hunched on George’s shoulders, nearly asleep.

“Steve’s knee’s acting up,” Sally called from the trail. “You go on.”

“Go on up, Sal,” Steve said, his voice strained. “I can manage.”

“Steve, I’ve watched fireworks before,” Sally said, then called up the trail, “We’ll see you all back at the lodge.”

“Okay,” George called. He turned off the flashlight.

“Your little one,” Buck spoke to my mother, “can sleep anywhere.”

“She’s always been that way,” my mother said.

I listened to them, holding onto Buck’s voice like a dream I didn’t want to end. He stood next to me, purposely it seemed. Sparks of heat passed between us.

“Is your family in Georgia?” she asked. The wine and the night air had relaxed her.

“What family I have. My mother, a few cousins.” Buck sounded wistful.

The grass was cool on my ankles. Down in the valley, the night swallowed starbursts yellow, green, then blue, then red. Buck’s hand brushed my thigh. Had he meant to? A tremor of desire went through me.

© 2008 Lee Doyle, All Rights Reserved

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