Cowboy Sing Me Home (25 page)

            “Sure.  Like I said, I need somebody
around to look after the business end of things, keep me from getting the place
shut down over some kind of legal infraction.  And you could sing every
weekend.  Have your own permanent band.”

            She could stay here.  The concept left her
stunned.  She could stop moving, buy a little house like a normal person.  Live
like a normal person.

            Except she wasn’t a normal person.  She
never had been and never would be.  She had forgotten that lesson once, and she
wasn’t going to do it again.

 “No thanks.”  Dusty’s lips were numb as
she reached for the check.  “I don’t work for other people.”

“I can understand that.  Of course, I
wouldn’t be opposed to somebody buying out half the bar and being a full
partner, either.  Could work out well for both of us – “

“I said no thanks.”  Dusty looked off and
clenched her jaw.  “Look, no offense, but I’m just not interested.”  She walked
away before her temper got her into something she should regret.

Rodney held up his hands.  “No problem.  I
understand.”  He pulled the cup he’d poured back across the bar.  “Listen,
while you’re out, would you mind going out to the hospital and see how Luke is
doing?”

Dusty froze in the doorway.  Was her
concern for Luke written on her face?   She’d fought the urge to go back to the
hospital since she’d finally given up on sleep and crawled out of bed early
that morning.  The only thing that stopped her from driving out there was the
vision of herself, breaking down and making a fool of herself, in front of Luke
or his family.  Then everyone would know.

Know what?
            Instead of dwelling on that question, she shook her head.  “I
really don’t have time to be running around everywhere.  Why don’t you call out
there?  I’ll bet someone at the desk can tell you how he’s doing.”

She turned and left before he had a chance
to argue.

She didn’t need to go out to the hospital
to check on him.  Last night the doctor had said he would be fine.  He would
recover completely.  He was going to be okay.  She didn’t have to go out there
and see it with her own eyes.

But when she got to the Aloma city limits,
instead of turning left toward the grocery store, she kept heading north, to
the other side of town and the small hospital.  Just to check the parking lot,
she told herself.  Just to see who was there.

Melinda’s car was not there.  Dusty parked
and stared at the entrance, feeling like an idiot for knowing what kind of car
Melinda drove.  And feeling like an even bigger idiot for letting someone she
didn’t know dictate her actions.

She killed the engine, and the cab of her
pickup grew almost instantly warm, without the air conditioner running.  Only
the pops and pings of the cooling engine broke the silence around her. 

            She thought of Rodney’s crazy offer.  If
she didn’t know it was a doomed proposition, she might actually take him up on
it.  It might be fun, to have a little place of her own.  Running her own bar –
because even with Rodney as her partner, she would be running the show, that
much was apparent.  Working with the same band every week.

            That thought brought a screeching halt to
her musings.  Working with the same band every week meant working with Luke. 
Being around him on a regular basis.  Seeing his wife grow with his child. 
Seeing him and his family and friends together.

            The memories of the previous night came
back with all the accompanying emotions.   For one moment, she’d been a part of
that group.  Their shared fear and concern had included her, and no one had
said she didn’t belong.

            Until Melinda came in.  Who
did
belong.  To Dusty’s own fury, she still felt the scorn and shame in the pit of
her stomach this morning. 

Why would she want to live in a place that
constantly reminded her of everything she was not?

            Her mother used to tell her she had gypsy
blood in her veins.  She’d actually thought she was a gypsy, before she’d
realized that was just another of her parents’ stories, like the one they told
her about finding her in a basket in a gas station rest room and the one about
buying her from a roadside vegetable stand.  She’d never actually learned what
her ancestors were.  But she knew one thing.  Her parents had not taught her to
sit in a parked car like a chicken.

            The receptionist at the front desk knew
who she was and gave her Luke’s room number before she asked for it.  The small
building had only two wings – one long hallway, actually, with a nurses’
station and reception area in the middle – and she found his room easily.  She
knocked lightly on the door.”

            “He’s got company.”

Dusty turned to see the nurse standing
behind the desk.

“You can go on in if you want.  I just
thought I’d warn you.”

“I’ll come back later,” Dusty said, just
as the door opened.

“No, we’re just leaving.”  Toby held the
door open for Dusty.  “Come on in.”

Toby and a man Dusty didn’t recognize
walked past her, and she eased into the room.

“Hey,” Luke said, smiling when he saw
her.  He was pale, and a white bandage covered the back of his head.  Stubble
darkened his jaw.  “I’m glad you came.”

“Yeah, well, Rodney asked me to come by
and see…”  She stuffed her hands in her pockets, feeling like an idiot.
“Actually, I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Better now.  Sit down.”

Without thinking, she reached to smooth
the lines furrowed in his brow, wondering if it was worry or pain that put them
there.  At the last second she drew her hand back and clasped it with the other
one in her lap.

“I lied to you,” she said.  She hadn’t
planned to say it that way, of course.  She hadn’t planned to say anything at
all, actually, but now that she was here. . .

            He just raised his eyebrows in question.

            “The other day with Cade, in the park, you
said you could tell I’d done that before…taking care of kids.  And I said I
hadn’t.  But I lied.  I had…I had a daughter.  Before.”

            He cleared his throat and rose up on his
pillows.  “Had?”

            “Had.”  She bit the inside of her lip. 
“She died, when she was three months old.”

            He reached to take her hand, and she
allowed herself to grip it tightly before she pulled away. 

            “I’m sorry,” he whispered.  “What
happened?”

            “The doctor said it was SIDS.  Sudden
Infant Death Syndrome.  It’s –”

            “I know what it is.  A baby here died of
that, six or seven years ago.  They don’t really know what caused it, she just
stopped breathing and…”

            “Yeah, that’s it.  I just went in, and my
baby was dead.”  She swallowed and cleared her throat.  “No real cause or
reason.”

            “Dusty, I am so sorry –”

            “I didn’t come up here so you could feel
sorry for me.”  She pushed her chair a few inches away from the bed.  “I just
came up here to…just to tell you.  And to tell you that, I think you’re
struggling a little, with what you’re going to do next, with your own child. 
And I thought I should tell you, whatever you need to do, to be with your
child… do it.  Whatever it takes.  Whatever you need to do to work it out,
Luke, just do it.  You won’t regret it.  Not for a second.  Swallow your pride,
do what you need to do, deal with whatever you need to deal with.  Just don’t
miss the chance to be with your child, as much as you can.”

            This time she didn’t pull away when he
took her hand.  His eyes were steady on hers, and she let herself sit for a
moment in the sympathy he offered there.  She hadn’t permitted herself that
luxury often, and certainly not in a very long time. 

Drawing back inside herself was an old
habit, but she fought the urge, determined that this moment, at least, would be
genuine and complete.  So she sat with him for several silent minutes, letting
the memories wash over her, letting herself share this with someone else. 
Because after all, there was no chance now of him ever having the opportunity
to use it against her, was there?  He was lost to her, forever.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Yeah, well…me too.”

“Tell me about her.”

She didn’t think she could do that.  Just
acknowledging that Anne-Marie had been was difficult enough.  Discussing
details would surely send her over the edge. 

“I’m sorry,” she said simply.  “I can’t. 
Promise me, you’ll see baby this as the gift it is.”  She stood before he could
ask more.

“Dusty, wait.”

She bit her lip again, ready to walk out
if he asked anything she wasn’t prepared to answer.

But he lay and looked at her, and finally
said, “I will.  I will treasure this child with everything I have.  I guess
there’s not much else to say, is there?”

“No,” she said, disappointed and relieved.

“I’m truly sorry.”

“I know.”  She moved toward the door.  “I
have to get out of here.  Remember what I said.”

As she drove away, Dusty’s mind whirled
with a dozen different visions – Luke, pale and tired, gripping her hand. 
Anne-Marie with fat red cheeks.  Melinda’s hand on her stomach.  Dusty almost
forgot what she’d come into town for, and had to double back to return to the
Aloma Grocerette.

            She checked her reflection in the rearview
mirror and bit the inside of her lip hard to chase away the urge to cry.  Not
that anyone here would notice if she didn’t look happy.

            Inside, she pulled out a cart, anxious to
get this over with and back to Tumbleweeds where she felt more comfortable. 
She almost cursed out loud when she saw Becca at the end of the aisle.

            Dusty didn’t feel like talking to anyone,
not right now.  And Becca would undoubtedly consider it her duty to make
conversation.  Dusty started to push her cart to the next aisle and pretend
like she hadn’t seen her, until she took a closer look at Becca.

She didn’t look good.  She was pale and
wan and there were dark circles under her eyes.  Now that she thought about it,
Becca had looked pale last night, too.

            It wasn’t any of her business, Dusty told
herself.  She hardly knew the woman.  She returned Becca’s greeting as she
loaded up on toilet paper and napkins.  When she looked back,  Becca had a
white-knuckle grip on the handle of her cart, and she swayed on her feet.

            “Oh, what the hell,” Dusty sighed.  She
pushed her buggy back toward Becca.  “Are you okay?”

            Becca’s mouth tilted up wryly.  “It’s that
obvious, huh?”

            “Well, I don’t know you that well, but you
look...”

            “Like warmed-over death?”

            Dusty shrugged.

            “I was afraid of that.  I’m going to have
to fake a flu bug or something.”  She took a deep breath, one hand flat against
her stomach.  “I’m pregnant.”

            Even with her obvious discomfort, it was
clear that Becca was excited about this news.

            Dusty wondered if she was expected to give
her a hug or something.  She decided she’d had enough emoting for one day, and
kept it to a smile.  “Congrats.”

            “Thanks.  I’m very excited.  When I’m not
throwing up, of course.  Don’t say anything, though, okay?  I haven’t told
anyone yet.”

            “You haven’t told Corinne?”  Dusty was
touched by that, for some strange reason.

            “I haven’t even told Colt yet.  You’re the
first to know.”

            Dusty’s mouth dropped open.  “Why?”

            “Because…”  Becca gave another sigh and
her thin shoulders shrugged.  “I’ve had three miscarriages in the last two
years.  It’s heartbreaking, for me and for Colt.  And for all of our friends
who care about us.  They’ve taken this roller coaster ride with us, and…I don’t
know.  When you asked how I was, it struck me that you were the perfect one to
tell.  Because you don’t have any emotional investment in this pregnancy, and
because if I don’t tell someone, I’m going to burst.  I can tell you and don’t
have to worry about breaking your heart if I don’t carry this one to term.” 
She stopped and was silent for a long moment, then gave Dusty a tentative
smile.  “And I think you know what it’s like to suffer a terrible loss.”

            “What – what makes you say that?”  Dusty
took a step back.

            “I don’t know.  The way you guard
yourself.  The distance you keep from us.”

            “Maybe I just don’t like you.”

            Instead of being offended, Becca just
smiled.  “Not possible.  You remind me of my husband.  He used to do that,
too.  Push people back, especially when he was pushed first.”

            Dusty grabbed a box of saltines off the
shelf.  She really did not like this girl acting like she could see inside
her.  She steered the conversation back around where it belonged.  “How far
along are you?”