Borderland (16 page)

"Cal
knew," Nolan said. "He knew all about his dad and how you felt about
him. You can't pull too much wool over that kid's eyes."

Myra
looked up and saw derision in his face. "I've never tried to hide anything
from Cal. As you say, he's too intelligent for that. Sometimes I wish he
wasn't."

"So
does he," Nolan said. "He thinks all this is his fault, for being
smarter than the average bear. Tell me something, Myra. Does he really hate his
grandmother, or did he learn that from you?"

Myra
turned abruptly away. "What would you do in my place, Nolan? Hand Cal over
to her? You have no right to make judgments. Regardless of any known facts your
finger will always come out pointing at me. I'm sure it can be attributed to a
poisoned relationship with your own mother, the college professor, but don't
assume your hostility is universal."

There
was movement to her left; she felt one bandaged hand close over her arm. When
she looked at him, he was forcing a tight smile. "You know, Myra, I've
been alternating between wanting to fuck you and wanting to strangle you. Guess
which one I want to do now?"

Myra
drew a long breath. She was suddenly tired, too tired to deal with this.
"Nolan, please. I'm sorry if I've insulted you. I'm hot and I'm tired. I
want to go in."

His grip
remained firm. "My relationship with my mother has nothing to do with how
I regard you. Cal's a brain all right, but he's also a sensitive kid. He's
sensitive to you. If he picks up on your attitude toward someone then he's
probably going to copy it."

"Maybe,"
Myra said. "I'd say his attachment to you goes a long way in disproving
that theory."

Nolan
laughed. "Damn, you're good." Then his smile faded. "Look, I
know I've been rough on you. I'm only suggesting that you find out what Cal
really wants."

Myra
tried to wriggle her arm free. "I only know what he doesn't want, Nolan.
And I have to trust what he tells me. He says he doesn't want to go back to his
grandmother. Now, please let go of my arm. I'm not going to react to your
juvenile tactics tonight. I only want to go in the house and get ready for
bed."

Nolan
smiled again. "Juvenile? Such wit, Myra. If your lip didn't look so awful
I'd kiss you."

"You'd
try," she said.

"And
maybe I'd do more than kiss you," he answered.

"Look,"
Myra said firmly, "I'm sorry about today. I realize now that I should have
told you everything. But I had no proof that it was Clarice. Cutting phone
lines and killing animals isn't her style. Maybe she hired someone different
this time. I don't know."

"You're
trying to change the subject now," Nolan said, but he released her.
"Think you could help me change my bandages before you run up to bed?
Handling that nasty old radiator—the one I bought for your Mustang—got my hands
dirty."

Myra,
already on her way out, had to pause. "You bought a radiator? I asked you
not to, Nolan. I can't pay you and you know it."

"I
know," he said. "Not with money, anyway."

She felt
like stamping her foot but managed to refrain. "You love to bait me, don't
you? That's how you get your kicks."

"Yep,"
he said.

Myra
looked at him. She took her time, thinking, and as her eyes traveled over him
she came to a decision.

"No
comeback?" he inquired.

"Just
payback," she said, walking toward him. When she was in front of him she
lifted her arms and put them around his neck. His gaze was wary, as if at any
moment he expected to feel a knee in his groin. Myra considered it, but instead
she lifted herself up and pressed her lips against his mouth. He tasted salty,
of sweat, and when he slowly opened his mouth she tasted beer. She tightened
her arms around his sweat-dampened neck and pressed herself against him. He
responded by putting his hands on her hips and pulling her closer.

She kissed
him until she was sure he expected more. Then she tore herself away and stepped
back with a cool smile for his heaving chest and straining fly.
"That," she said, "is how I get my kicks."

His
brows met over his nose as he stared at her. His eyes darkened. He opened his
mouth, but a sudden series of bumps from outside the garage silenced him. Myra
jumped and moved close to him again. "I knew I saw someone out here,"
she breathed.

"You…"
Nolan's frown deepened. "Why the hell didn't you tell me? Jesus, Myra."

"You
didn't give me a chance. You—"

Nolan
slapped a hand over her mouth. "Quiet, dammit."

For more
than five minutes they waited, both watching different windows for movement
outside. It was completely dark now and Myra had to strain to see even Nolan beside
her.

Finally
she felt his hand on her arm in the darkness. He pulled her in front of him and
dropped a light kiss on her nose before giving her a shove. "Go on inside.
I'll be right behind you."

Myra rubbed
at her nose and left the garage to sprint to the house.

"Mom?"
Cal said as she entered the kitchen. He was sitting on her stool, eating some
of the meatloaf she had prepared for dinner. "You okay?"

"What?"
she said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He
shrugged. "Your face looked funny when you came in, kind of flushed. Was
Nolan mad?"

"Yes,"
she said.

"I'm
sorry." Cal put his plate on the counter. "I had to tell him. I know
you didn't want to involve them, but after what happened I thought he had a
right to know."

"Yes,
I realize that," Myra said. "It's all right, Cal. It just makes me
angry when he blames… Never mind. Are you sure you weren't hurt today?"

"Positive,"
Cal said with a smile. "The bigger I get the harder it is to try and
snatch me."

Myra
went to him and touched his knee. "Cal, will you tell me the truth if I
ask you something?"

"Sure,"
he said.

"All
right. The reason you don't want to go back to your grandmother . . . is it
because of me? Because you know I don't want you to?"

Cal
scowled. "Just what the hell did he say to you?"

"Answer
me, please," Myra said.

"I
don't have to, Mom. You know my reasons. She has her own best interests at
heart, not mine. She wants to parade me in front of her friends like one of
Grandpa's racehorses. I won't be used like that." He got off the stool
then. "Listen, Nolan can be a real ass sometimes, but overall he's a
decent guy. I don't know what he has against you, but if he says anything else,
just blow it off. You know and I know—he doesn't. Okay?"

"Okay,"
Myra said, and when Cal reached out to hug her she hugged him back hard.

"Hey,"
said a voice from the kitchen entrance. "Your mom's a hell of a kisser,
kid. Scabby lip and all."

Cal
leaned away and looked at her with raised brows. Myra tightened her mouth and
glared as Nolan entered the room. He was carrying a box fan.

"Where
did you get that?" she asked.

"He
bought it," Cal said quickly. "And he said we could borrow it if I
help him clean his room. But that may be a while, because tomorrow I need to
work on the Mustang. Did he tell you we got a radiator?"

"Yes."
Myra glanced at the smiling Nolan. The light in his eyes told her all she
needed to know. She sighed and looked away. "I'll clean the room in the
morning. Right now I'm going to bed."

"No
goodnight kiss?" Nolan said as she made to push past him.

Myra
stepped on his foot in reply and went down the hall toward the stairs. She
could put up with him for another few days. But once that radiator was in the
Mustang, she and Cal were getting as far away as possible.

CHAPTER 13

Vic
found himself staring at the kitchen phone when it rang for the first time. The
lines had been repaired since last Tuesday, but he'd never actually heard the phone
ring. Who could it be? They had given the number to no one—unless Nolan had
given it to Carrie, his red-haired ex-roommate, the night he made his promised
call. Vic didn't think so; Nolan hadn't talked long enough. Did the arms of the
telemarketing world encompass even remote Denke?

"Daddy,
aren't you going to answer that?" Christa asked. "It's too high on
the wall for me."

Vic
blinked and went to lift the receiver. "Hello?"

"Jinx
Lahr here," said a familiar voice. "Am I speaking to Vic
Kimmler?"

"Hello,
Jinx," Vic said. "What can I do for you?"

"Just
a quick question or two, Vic. How's things a-goin' out there?"

"Well
. . ." Truthfully, things were shit. Nolan and Cal had been handling the
car repairs and didn't appear to need or want any help from Vic. Aside from
fixing up what he could around the house and occasionally helping Myra in her
garden, Vic had been occupied with nothing but worrying, sweating, and feeling
worthless.

"That
bad, huh?" Jinx said in his ear. "Well, I was wonderin' if you'd had
that appraisal fella out that way yet."

"No,"
Vic said. "Not yet. He said the earliest he could get out would be
sometime next week."

"Huh.
Well, that might work out real good," Jinx said. "Today bein' Friday,
I thought you might like to mosey into town around five or so and chat with me
and the boys. Friday's our official day for town business, see, and we'd like
to offer you a little proposition."

"Is
that right?" Vic asked. "Regarding what?"

Jinx
chuckled. "Don't do business over the phone, young fella. Don't like to,
anyway. I like to look at a man when I'm talkin' to him."

Vic
laughed and looked at his watch. "In that case, I guess I'll see you in
two hours. At the diner?"

"That's
the place," Jinx said. "Be lookin' forward to it. 'Bye now."

"'Bye."
Vic replaced the receiver and looked down to see Christa watching him.
"That was Jinx, the old guy at the diner. He says the town has a
proposition for me."

"What's
that?" Christa asked.

"It
means they're going to make me an offer. What, I don't know, but it should be
interesting. Those guys are a bunch of lunatics."

Christa's
tiny dark brows met. "They're what?"

"Funny,
sweetheart. They're funny to listen to."

"Can
me and Andy go?"

"Nope.
This is business. Where's Myra?"

"Doing
laundry."

"Well,
let's go find her." Vic lifted his daughter off the floor and groaned as
he balanced her on his arm. "When did you get so big? You must weigh a
hundred pounds."

Christa
laughed and put an arm around his neck. "I do not. Myra says I must've
lost five pounds since we got here 'cause my shorts are so baggy. She calls me
baggy britches."

Vic's
smile slowly died. "Have you really lost weight, honey?" He knew he
had, but the thought that his children might be losing weight was an uncomfortable
one. The heat was partially responsible, he was sure, but they hadn't exactly
been eating eight-course meals lately. A pang of guilt assaulted him as he
looked at her arms and legs. Were they too thin?

"Probably,"
Christa was saying, "because we haven't been eating any candy and we only
had ice cream once. Myra says we're all pur-something our systems."

"Purging?"
Vic said.

"Yes.
That's what she said. It means we're getting rid of all the bad stuff. Except
for Uncle Nolan. She said he could purge till he dropped and he wouldn't get
rid of the fat between his ears.”

"She
said that?"

"Uh-huh."

Vic
shook his head and carried Christa into the pantry. The washing machine was on,
but Myra was absent. He walked to the screen door and saw her out back hanging
clothes on the line. Good idea, he thought. They didn't need the added heat of
the dryer, although the sky was promising to cloud up and become overcast. He
glanced toward the garage and heard the pounding of metal, Cal and Nolan
knocking the dents out of the Lincoln.

"I
think the fat in Uncle Nolan's head is what makes him so cranky
sometimes," Christa said in a serious tone.

"Don't
say anything to him about it," Vic warned. "It'll make him even
crankier. Where the hell is Andy, anyway?"

Christa
pointed up.

"What's
she doing upstairs? She'd better not be messing with anyone's stuff."

"She's
not. She's just playing."

"By
herself?"

Christa's
nod was hesitant.

"Whatever,"
Vic said, and he pushed open the screen door. Myra glanced over her shoulder
and smiled. She was pretty when she did that, Vic found himself thinking.
Generally she was so serious it was hard to think of her as anything but Myra,
but when she smiled she became a soft, honeyed blond with gentle blue eyes and
a disarmingly sweet mouth. He was still slightly pissed about the secrets she
had kept from them, the business with her mother-in-law, but he thought he
understood her reasons.