Canyon Secret (17 page)

He walked to David’s pickup parked behind the hospital. As he reached to open the truck door, Tomas noticed David drank from a can of beer. He took a quick look at his pocket watch and saw that they had a half-hour before the 10:00 a.m. funeral service for Shorty Davis.

The beer in David’s hand surprised Tomas as he looked up from his watch. It seemed like David drank more often now. But Tomas cast it off after David described the pressures he faced as a walking boss. His thoughts shifted quickly to the task of surviving the rigors of the upcoming funeral. Tomas climbed into the front seat and dusted off his dress black shoes with the cuff of his dress pants.

David didn’t ask about Clifford. He started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. They drove in silence over to the parking lot of St. Matthew’s Church. After he shut off the engine, David popped another beer, took a drink, and said, “I hate funerals, Tommy. I think I’ll sit out here in the truck and wait for you.”

Tomas quickly snapped his head toward David, “You ain’t goin’ in?”

He shook his head and took another drink of his Great Falls Select. “Like I said. I hate funerals. You go ahead, I’ll take a nap and wait. You’ll be fine.”

Tomas tried the door handle, but it didn’t open.

David opened his own door and walked around the back of his truck and opened the passenger door from the outside. “Damn door. It sticks on me sometimes. I’ll fix it when we’re in Butte. Now you better get in there. It’s pert near ten o’clock.”

Only three years after the city of Kalispell had been surveyed and laid out, the first bishop of Montana in March of 1894 directed the building of St. Matthew’s Church. Eventually parishioners outgrew the small wooden church structure. On April 2, 1910, the new church was built and in a copper box for the cornerstone a photograph of Bishop Shea, copies of local papers, a few coins, a small leather-bound bible, the parish calendar, and a small golden cross were placed.

St. Matthew’s Church was extensively damaged in February of 1938 by a fire that started in the basement. The ornately sculptured wood altar was destroyed. As part of the reconstruction and repair, new altars were created and the church was completely redecorated.

Tomas slowly entered the vestibule of the church. His eyes surveyed the beauty of the church as he stopped and focused his attention on the full-length stained glass windows on the south side wall. Beads of sweat rolled from his armpits. He slowly glanced at the back of the heads of the people who came to show their respects to his partner. He wished David had come in with him.

Near the front of the church his eyes stopped as he recognized the heads of Jiggs Quinn and his partner, Frank Rodriquez. The walk down the south side aisle seemed to take forever. Tomas appreciated the stained glass windows as he walked below them. Once he got to their pew, he motioned to Frank to ask their permission to join them. Frank patted the space next to him, and Tomas sheepishly knelt down on the kneeler. He bowed his head and respectfully said a quick prayer for Shorty’s family. After he sat down, Jiggs nodded his recognition and extended his hand across in front of his partner. His rough, calloused hand felt warm, and Tomas welcomed the touch of the older man. Tomas nodded his head in recognition back. A thousand words exchanged between them without uttering one single syllable.

From the choir loft the organist stepped down on the pedal and her fingers struck the opening notes. The congregation rose to their feet as the priest led the casket down the center aisle with the help of the six pallbearers. Shorty Davis’ family followed the closed casket to the front pews of the church. Tomas swallowed hard at the thought of Shorty laid out in a suit, tie, and white shirt. He felt weak as he looked at Shorty’s wife, Carol. Shorty talked constantly about his lady at home. She stood straight and tall. One of the family members with her held her arm securely and guided her into the front pew. “He must be their son,” Tomas thought. The priest stood in front of the casket and opened the well-used book of prayers that he held.

For the first time in his life, Tomas experienced deep, punishing grief. Years earlier, he lost himself in his schoolwork and his friends to stuff the pain from his parent’s divorce. Loss of Shorty Davis crushed him as tormenting grief overwhelmed him. Vivid memories of riding next to Shorty on the bus back and forth to work flashed in front of him like a movie on the big screen at the Rialto Theater in Butte. Flashbacks of working side by side in the hot sun on the Fourth of July roared to life. And now, nothing. He stared at the casket and vaguely heard the words of the priest. Tomas broke. Tears streaked down as he rushed his hands to his face. He felt the strong, reassuring arm of Frank Rodriquez around his quivering shoulder.

After the funeral, the congregation filed downstairs to the basement for lunch. Carol promised Shorty she would follow his wishes should anything happen to him. The ladies of the church prepared a potluck lunch. Each person there fixed a plate and sat at the tables normally used for bingo. Tomas sat with Jiggs and Frank and picked at his ham sandwich. The two men jumped to their feet as Carol Davis stopped and stood next to Tomas.

The entire crowd heard Jiggs, “Carol. I’m so sorry. I-I—”

She hugged him and whispered, “Jiggs. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. He thought the world of you.”

Jiggs stood and fought off tears. “I thought the world of Johnny too. He, he was a fine man. And he loved you and your boy there.”

Tomas rose from his chair and in his typical quiet voice attempted to talk. Words failed him. Carol Davis embraced him and whispered in his ear, “You’re his young partner, aren’t you?”

He stood back from the hug and said, “Yes ma’am, I’m Tom Anzich.”

“Shorty talked about you every night when he came home. He said you listened to his wild stories of his days in the Navy.” She forced a smile and continued, “He said you were the best worker he ever worked with. And that’s saying somethin’ since he worked with a lot of good men.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks, “Thank you, Mrs. Davis. Thanks a lot. He showed me the ropes. And he made me work as steady as I could. He called you lady.” She embraced him once more and sobbed on his shoulder.

Carol Davis slowly withdrew and placed her tear soaked hands on Tomas’ cheeks. Sometime in the next few weeks, please call me; I want to give you a picture of my Johnny with some of his Navy friends. I think he’d like for you to have it. Okay?”

“Yes, Mrs. Davis. I’d like that too. Thank you.”

In the parking lot, Tomas shook hands with Jiggs and Frank. With his head down, he walked over to David’s pickup. David slept with his head against the side of the door. The open window picked up his snoring as Tomas reached the door on the other side. He opened the door and jarred David awake. “What? What’s goin’ on?” He shook his head and spoke, “Oh. It’s you Tom. Boy, I went out like a light. The nap helped. Now I can drive to Butte.”

Without asking about the funeral, he drove away from the parking lot. Tomas noticed the five empty beer cans on the floor.

He considered asking David if he should drive but sat back, folded his arms, and closed his eyes. The events of the last hour and a half slowly rolled over and over in his mind. Sleep overtook him. He awoke fifty miles later as David pulled to a stop at the Oasis Bar in Polson.

Back in Martin City, John Nolan sat on Mikhail’s bed. He knew he had to make peace with Mikhail following their hour-long argument about Tomas going to Butte with David. Nolan chastised Mikhail for his lack of attention to Tomas. Earlier, Mikhail bristled at the insinuations Nolan made about his attitude toward his son. But like they did for thirty years, Nolan started the road back to forgive and forget. “You ain’t gonna slick your hair down with that Vaseline again, are you? That Hannah woman will laugh her lovely little ass off.”

Mikhail roughed up his wet hair with the towel after his shower. “I’ll put whatever I want on my hair.”

Sometimes Nolan laughed before he blurted out something very funny. He enjoyed his own sense of humor more than the person with him. “Ya, go ahead. Grease the shit out of it. That way when you hit your head on the doorframe into her kitchen, you’ll naturally slide right on by without gettin’ hung up.” He laughed again as he visualized Mikhail sliding through a doorframe. “Then you can—”

Mikhail laughed and said, “Shut up, Nolan.” He snapped the towel and stung Nolan’s leg. “I don’t know why I keep you around.”

Nolan stood up and walked toward the door to the hallway. “You thick-headed Bohunk. You’d still not be able to tie your shoes if it wasn’t for me. And you’d still leave a table with shit all over your mouth if I wasn’t there to point to your big ass mouth. One more thing, you sure as hell wouldn’t know what time it was because you was sixteen before you learned to tell time. Without me—”

The end of the wet towel zinged Nolan on the arm. “Go pester somebody else, Nolan. I’m gonna be late for pickin’ her up the way it is.” Mikhail smiled and like a thousand times before, stuck out his hand for Nolan to shake.

Nolan grabbed his hand and looked down to see his small right hand completely enveloped in Mikhail’s monster size hand. “You better be sorry. Next time I’ll kick yer big brown ass up and down this here bunkhouse.” He released Mikhail’s hand and continued, “Think about what I said about Tom. That’s all I’m goin’ say about it.” Mikhail nodded his head forward and walked back to finish dressing.

He fixed the last button on the clean white shirt that he bought the afternoon that his new partner Bud invited he and Hannah over for supper. Mikhail noticed that the extra large shirt now fit snug. The hard work for the past months tightened his already muscular chest, back, and arms. He shook his head as he noticed the farmer’s tan on his arms. As he reached for his pants, Nolan’s angry words about needing to pay more attention to his son jumped to his mind. Nolan made good points about how tough it was on Tomas to lose his partner and that Mikhail needed to be more of a father during this tough time. Mikhail brushed the thought off as he recalled being there on the accident scene holding Tomas.

He laced his shined black shoes and reviewed more angry words from Nolan about allowing Tomas to go to Butte with his son-in-law. Mikhail felt it was a good time for Tomas to get away for a while and visit his sister and niece. He didn’t bother to tell Nolan that he hugged Tomas before he left for Kalispell. His son thanked him for allowing him to go and for being so strong during those three days after the accident.

The short drive over to pick up Hannah allowed Mikhail to look at himself in the rearview mirror. He smiled as he viewed his very dry and out of control bush of hair. Nolan’s advice stuck with him as earlier he set the Vaseline jar back on the small shelf above his mirror. He yawned and switched his thoughts from Nolan and Tomas to Hannah. Surprisingly, Mikhail felt relaxed and looked forward to spending time with her and Bud and his wife. The fried chicken planned for supper made his mouth water. He laughed as he thought about Nolan telling him he didn’t know how to wipe food off his mouth.

Hannah sat on the top step of the four stairs that led to the porch in front of Maggie’s cabin. She wore a cotton square top shirt. The background of her shirt was white and the pattern design held brown and yellow circles in rectangles. The large tan collar perfectly matched the Capri pants that she wore. Mikhail arrived ten minutes early and stopped in front of the two women. He lumbered out and walked around the front of the car toward the porch.

Hannah pushed up from her knees and slowly walked down to meet him. “Mikhail, I want you to meet my best friend in the world. This is Maggie. I’m pretty sure I mentioned her to you.”

He reached up and held Maggie’s extended hand, “Happy to meet you, Maggie.”

She smiled and rolled his hand over and looked at the lines in his calloused hand. “I see many things in your hand. I believe you have suffered loss of loved ones in your life. The initial M shows through strong lines. Did you lose someone with that initial?”

Without letting loose of her hand, Mikhail searched his memory for people in his life who died. His father’s name jumped forward. “My father’s name was Marko. He died when I was young.”

Maggie patted his hand as she spoke, “I see that. You also have a strong letter that comes across the middle of the M. I can’t make it out. That person is a special friend and will bring you much happiness. Maybe it’s Hannah.”

“Well, we’d best be goin’. Our friends are expectin’ us for supper.” Mikhail moved back and stood by Hannah. She walked up and kissed Maggie on the cheek and joined Mikhail. He drove the five miles to Columbia Falls and listened to Hannah talk about Maggie and her palm reading experiences.

Mikhail finally saw an opportunity to speak, “You look real nice tonight, Hannah. I ain’t never seen a shirt like that before.”

“Well, I’ll be go to hell. You just talked more right now than you did the rest of your life. Are you feelin’ okay?”

His laugh freed any anxiety that she might have had about their time together. “I feel good. Maybe Maggie was right about you.” “Maybe. I look forward to meetin’ your new partner. I know his wife Sara a little bit. This should be fun. And thank you for the compliment.”

After eating supper with Bud and Sara, Mikhail drove Hannah home. He shut off the engine in front of her cabin. Stomach nerves tightened. He knew he’d struggle with the good night. Their last date ended with him standing on her porch like some fifteen-year old boy on his first date. He remembered searching for something clever to say to Hannah. It was times like this that Nolan told him he didn’t know if to shit or go blind.

Tonight his confidence helped him make a decision. He’d kiss her tonight for the first time while they stood on her porch. Before he could get out of the car, Hannah slid over next to him and tilted his head toward her. In a very calm, slow motion, she parted her lips and moved up and kissed him.

Mikhail watched her lips close in and touch his own lips. He closed his eyes and savored the sweetness of her soft lips. She slowly pulled back a few inches and her eyes and smile joined his. He moved to her and matched how she kissed him. It was close to four years since he kissed his ex-wife. And these two kisses were the best in his life. He whispered in her ear. “Now I know Maggie was right. You do make me very happy.”