"Bad Karma" - читать интересную книгу автора (Weir Theresa)

Chapter Four

Cleo felt much better after getting out of the motel room.

They cruised through town, moving down tree-lined streets where a little blond kid, fresh from his bath, wearing print pajamas, pedaled furiously down the sidewalk on his Big Wheel, looking as cool as a five-year-old in pajamas could look.

An old woman sat out on her porch swing, bundled up in a sweater even though the temperature was still above eighty. It was a pleasant town, a sweet town, Cleo decided.

Daniel and Beau’s house wasn’t anything like Cleo had expected. It wasn’t the kind of place where two guys lived. In fact, it was something a person might term a widow house, one of those cute little places where things had just gotten out of control-where vines grew wildly, and flowers grew wildly, and before you knew it, the yard and house kind of became one.

Red roses cascaded around the porch, some of the blooms so low they had to duck their heads to get in the door. Inside, the living room had shiny wood floors covered with throw rugs. The overstuffed chairs and couch were decorated with doilies. There were blooming African violets in front of windows with lace curtains. A faint scent of lavender hung in the air. On the wall near the door, a cuckoo clock ticked softly.

It was a wonderful house. A comfortable house. Not a man’s house. Cleo looked around, expecting to see an older woman appear at any moment. Instead Beau showed up, his face shiny and smiling, Premonition at his heels.

“Charcoal’s ready.” He seemed proud of that announcement.

“I told you to wait until I got back,” Daniel said.

“I can do it. I did it. You worry too much.”

Daniel apparently had no answer to that. “Wanna beer?” he asked Cleo.

“No, thanks.” It probably wouldn’t be a good time to mention that she was a vegetarian, she decided.

Daniel grunted and headed for the refrigerator. She heard the hiss of a bottle cap.

“Come on,” Beau said, taking her arm and pulling her toward the patio doors, leading her outside.

Beau had done the decorating-she could tell. He’d strung plastic lights shaped like cowboy boots and red chili peppers. In the center of the wooden picnic table, four candles waited to be lit.

Dark clouds skittered away, revealing a sky of brilliant pink that cast a warm glow over everything. Out past the covered patio, a brick path wound through a perennial garden to end at a small shed. Near the shed, not far off the path, was a blue ball-one of those shiny glass orbs found in country gardens. “Who takes care of all of this?” Cleo asked, failing to imagine Daniel Sinclair knee deep in lavender.

“I do mostly,” Beau said. “Danny helps me sometimes. But he’s not very good at it. When my mom gets home, she can take care of it again.”

“Where is she?”

“Park Manor.”

A nursing home, she assumed.

“Before Danny came back I took good care of her.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“Come on. I’ll show you the gazing ball.”

The brick path was only wide enough for one person. Beau insisted she go first, not with a motion of his hand, but with an easy shove, until they both stood admiring the blue globe, as shiny and out of place as a cheap Christmas ornament.

“I spray it with window cleaner and shine it.”

She’d seen a lot of them in her life but had never been able to figure out what purpose they served- unless being an eyesore was a purpose. Kind of like a plastic pink flamingo, she supposed.

“At night you can see the stars,” Beau stated, staring reverently at the globe.

Cleo glanced up. “Stars?”

“Yeah. You look in the ball and see the stars.”

“Oh.”

She was stunned by her own ignorance. All along she’d thought the globes were worthless, only to discover they were something remarkable. How could she not have known? How could she not have noticed something so remarkable? Were there other things she was missing? Other things that, on the surface, looked ordinary but upon closer inspection were a wonder?

People always complained that there was nothing new under the sun, but they never stopped to appreciate what was there, Cleo being just as guilty as the next person. And then there was someone like Beau who saw the beauty of the everyday. Not only saw it, but recognized it.

Cleo smiled at him. “I’d like to see those stars sometime.”

“Maybe you can see them tonight.”

She looked up at the watercolor sky, afraid it might not be clear enough.

Behind them, the patio door slammed. She turned to see Daniel heading toward the grill with a plate of raw meat. She heard a sizzle. Smoke and flames flared, then died back down. A feeling of nostalgia washed over her, the smell of the charcoal and seared meat reminding her of childhood cookouts.

“Sometimes my mom would go for a walk and she wouldn’t come back,” Beau said. “She would forget how to get home. Isn’t that weird? I never get lost. I know every street in this town, and every store. And not just in town. I know all the country roads too. When the mailman takes a vacation, me and another guy deliver mail, because I know the roads and I know where to go.”

“That would be wonderful, to have such an amazing memory.”

“They said I couldn’t take care of her anymore, but I could. I really could.”

“I’m sure you did a great job. Is that why Danny came back? Because your mother was forgetting things?”

“No…he just wanted to come back. He likes it here. He’d rather be here than anywhere.”

Beau seemed to be trying to convince himself of Daniel’s contentment as much as he was trying to convince Cleo.

They began walking back in the direction of the patio. “I heard Danny talking about you bein’ here to help find a key. I lost a dog once. His name was Fido. Do you know where he is?”

Oh, boy. The direct question. How could she sidestep this one? “How long ago did you lose him?” she asked, stalling.

He squinted and looked brainward. His expression cleared when he found what he was looking for. “I was eight.”

Cleo relaxed. Nobody would expect her to find a dog that couldn’t even exist anymore. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-six. I’m always kidding around, calling Danny my little brother, even though he’s bigger than me.” Beau laughed, and the sound was so infectious that Cleo joined him.

“What’s so funny?” Daniel asked.

Beau hadn’t allowed himself to be detoured from his original question. “I asked Cleo to help me find something.”

Intent on his cooking, Daniel said, “I’m sure Cleo can help you find anything you lost. Isn’t that right, Cleo?”

“Not a dog that vanished over twenty-five years ago.”

“Oh, Fido. No, I don’t think Fido’s coming back.”

“He might,” Beau said, for the first time giving Cleo a glimpse of stubbornness.

“Do you have a Frisbee?” she asked, trying to distract Beau from the Fido problem. “Premonition can catch Frisbees.”

“Yeah. Wow. I’ll go get it.” Beau loped into the house, with Premonition following.

“Nice manipulation.”

“Apparently drinking makes you even more sociable.” She indicated the new beer in his hand. “What happens after a couple of six-packs? Do you get all giddy and giggly, or do you just pass out?”

“You should know the answer to that. In fact, I can’t see a need for you to ever ask any questions.”

“You’re overreacting. I never claimed to be omniscient.” And then she got to the real issue. “Why do you hate me?”

Her direct question caught him off guard. Perhaps it was too much for him, because he didn’t answer.

“People like me are marketing hope,” she informed him, poking a finger in his direction for emphasis. “And hope is something everybody needs.”

He finally found the words he was searching for. “That’s a bunch of shit.”

“Are you an ass with everybody, or just me?” She found herself staring at the dark roots of his sun-bleached hair, the dark roots of his sun-bleached eyebrows. It was that same striking combination that had made Peter O’Toole so mesmerizing in Lawrence of Arabia.

He took a long swallow from the brown bottle in his hand. “What are you doing? Reading my aura?”

“Maybe.”

“Is it black?” he asked blandly. That was funny, but there was no way she would reward him with a smile. Instead, she looked up at him and said, “I see a man who feels trapped by circumstances he believes to be beyond his control.”

“You’ve been talking to Beau.”

“I’ve been keeping my eyes open.” She’d had enough arguing. She looked around, searching for a new subject. “The garden-it’s beautiful. It’s nice of you and Beau to take care of it until your mother comes back.”

Behind her hung a heavy silence. She turned. For the first time that evening, Daniel looked uncomfortable. “She’s not coming back.”

“Oh?” Did they feel they couldn’t take care of her?

Daniel cleared his throat. “She died two years ago.”

“But Beau told me-”

“I know what Beau told you. The same thing he tells everybody. For some reason, he won’t face the fact that she’s gone. He refused to go to her funeral. He said he was going to stay home and keep her company instead. Sometimes I hear him whispering to somebody, and when I ask him who he’s talking to, he says it’s Mom.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, wow.”

She stared at him. It was on the tip of her tongue to say she was sorry, when Beau and Premonition returned with the Frisbee.

“I had trouble finding it,” Beau said, out of breath. He handed her the Frisbee, then stood there, expectant.

“Premonition. Here, boy. Go get it.” She tossed the Frisbee at an angle so it would get enough height for Premonition to track it with his eyes while at the same time gauging where it would descend. When it seemed he’d outrun it, he jumped, his body twisting. He caught the plastic Frisbee in his mouth, his teeth clamping down hard. Beau laughed and clapped, and even Daniel stopped messing around at the grill to look impressed. Premonition came running with the Frisbee in his mouth. He dropped it at Cleo’s feet, wanting her to give it another toss.

“Let me try!” Beau shouted.

Cleo handed the Frisbee to Beau. “You have to toss it high enough so he can have time to figure out where it’s going.”

Beau tossed it straight up. It came down like a rocket, almost hitting Cleo in the head. Premonition danced at their feet as if to say, Hurry, hurry.

This time Cleo stood behind Beau, her hand on his wrist, showing him how to toss.

It was a perfect throw.

And a perfect catch.

Cleo, Beau, and Premonition played and ran and laughed for ten full minutes before Daniel interrupted them. “Come on, kids. Time to eat.”

The meal was baked potatoes, steak, and iced tea. Cleo managed to slip her meat to Premonition, who sat patiently at her feet under the table.

Then came dessert.

Pumpkin pie.

“It’s cold pumpkin pie,” Beau said. “Made with ice cream.”

Cleo stared at the neatly cut piece of pie in front of her, topped with a baseball-sized glob of whipped topping. That was good, because underneath, the pie was the color of the motel rug and the color of the curtains.

The color of a broken, smashed pumpkin.

She spread the whipped cream over the pie, trying to cover every bit of orange. Then, with the edge of her fork, she sliced a bite-size piece and lifted it to her face. The orange of the pumpkin peeked out from under the white of the whipped topping. She closed her eyes and shoved the forkful in her mouth. She chewed as the pie took on the consistency of orange shag carpeting. She gagged a little, hoping nobody noticed. There was no way the piece of dirty carpet was going down. She jumped to her feet, fork clattering to the patio. She had a brief glimpse of two surprised faces before she turned and ran for the garden, throwing up next to an azalea bush.

As she stood there hunched over, waiting to make sure she was finished, she became aware of someone she assumed was Beau standing not far behind her. “It’s not your cooking,” she said, straightening, her stomach seeming to have settled. “My stomach’s been upset for a couple of days.”

“I guess you weren’t just trying to get out of a visit to our house.”

It wasn’t Beau behind her, but Daniel. He handed her a glass of water. She took a few cautious sips. When her stomach didn’t protest, she drank half the glass.

“I’ll take you to the motel.”

Thinking about the motel brought back the feeling of queasiness. Sweat broke out on her forehead. She wiped at it with a trembling hand. “I should probably rest up for tomorrow.” She looked across the yard to see Beau and Premonition playing together, and again she was struck by how well they got along. Premonition had been full-grown when Cleo got him from the animal shelter. He’d been long past the puppy stage and the all-important time when those strong loyalties were formed, so she’d always assumed he would never be able to really bond with anyone.

Beau and Premonition came running.

“Would you like Premonition to stay the night?” Cleo immediately wished she hadn’t offered. It would have been nice to have Premonition’s presence at the motel.

“Oh, yeah. Like a sleepover!” Beau laughed at his own silliness, then took off, dropping to his knees several yards away and rolling onto his back, with Premonition pouncing on top of him, tail wagging furiously.

“What’d you do that for?” Daniel asked angrily.

“What do you mean? I just thought-”

“I know you’re trying to suck up to us, but don’t use Beau to do it. He gets attached easily. I don’t want him getting hurt.”

She stared at him a long moment, then quickly said, “I’m ready to go.”

“I’m taking Cleo back to the motel,” Daniel shouted to Beau while still glaring at her.

“Get some dog food on your way home,” Beau said, not looking in their direction.

A fresh flicker of irritation crossed Daniel’s features.

Cleo smiled blatantly into that irritation. “He likes the soft kind, preferably beef.”

As they were leaving, Cleo spotted some magazines on an end table. “Can I take one of these?” She picked up the top magazine, not bothering to look through the stack. It didn’t matter what they were about.

“Suit yourself.”

“And a pair of scissors. Do you have a pair of scissors I can borrow?”