Solomon's Oak (23 page)

Joseph looked around at the oil-drum barbecues grilling Santa Maria tri-tip beef and at the tables laden with side dishes. The
arroz con pollo
looked great, and tightly rolled
taquitos
with guacamole also beckoned. The
nopales
salad disappeared before he could get a plate, but there were no pineapple dessert tamales like those his mom always made. Maybe he should have flown home for the holidays, but he wasn’t ready for a roomful of relatives’ concern, his mother’s babying him, his father wearing that look that meant
“¡No seas niño o crío!”
—when are you going to snap out of it! He’d call them tomorrow, then call Fidela, Rico’s wife, and the boys, Hecktor and Antonio, to make sure they’d received the presents he’d splurged on—mountain bikes for the boys, a fancy ice-cream maker for Rico’s widow. Transparent gestures, he knew, but he had to do something.

He felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Juniper pushing Glory Solomon toward him. Glory was wearing the blue dress again and had a barn coat draped over her shoulders. What with the oil-barrel bonfires and heat lamps, it was warm enough out here on the patio deck that a light jacket sufficed. He smiled and said hello, but it was impossible to hear her talk, so he followed them over to the food tables, carefully weaving in and out of guests and dancers.

“I didn’t know you knew Lorna,” Glory said when their ears stopped ringing. “How are you, Mr. Vigil?”

She hadn’t brought up the runaway-horse rescue, which meant Juniper hadn’t told them about their earlier meeting. Interesting. Should he bust Juniper on Christmas Eve? When he made eye contact with her, she made the slightest shake of her head no.

“Call me Joseph, and I’m decent. How’s the wedding business? Or did I ruin your reputation?”

Glory smiled. “Not at all. We have bookings in February and April.”

“Excellent news. Happy holidays.” He turned to move along, but she stopped him.

“Wait. I was wondering. We’re kind of a ragtag bunch, but would you care to meet my family?”

“Lead the way,” he said, because what kind of
tarado
said no? He placed his hand on her shoulder, steering through the crowd. Coming up on her family, he was surprised to learn Ave Smith was much shorter than her daughters and frail-boned in a way that spoke of long-term illness. When she held her gnarled hand out to shake, he placed both of his around it and felt the heat that emanated from her bones.

“Glory told me that you made the pirate wedding day interesting.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll never live that story down.”

“It’s good to have stories that make us laugh at ourselves,” Ave said.

Joseph looked at Juniper, and he knew she was thinking of the horse debacle only hours ago. “That’s so true, Mrs. Smith. What do you think, Juniper?”

“I guess,” Juniper said, looking around, he could tell, for somewhere else to be.

She reminded him of the kids he’d worked with back in Albuquerque. If they could take one tenth of the energy they put into acting cool and divert it into schoolwork, 100 percent of them would graduate instead of only 43 percent. He turned to shake Glory’s sister’s hand. She gave him the royal fish-eye, but he smiled and said, “Lovely to meet you, Halle. Your sister told me about you.”

“Really? What did she say?”

“That you’re her best friend and role model, and I can see why.”

Juniper giggled, and Glory looked dumbfounded. Eh, so what if he was feeding her
abono
. It was Christmas.

“Well, I don’t know what to say.”

“No need to say anything,” Joseph said. “This must be your husband? How do you do, sir?”

The brother-in-law seemed warm and engaging, but he also looked as if he’d rather be watching ESPN. He stepped up and shook Joseph’s hand and asked him about his camera.

“It’s a Canon EOS 40D 10.1 megapixel SLR.”

“Sweet,” Bart said. “Are you here in an official capacity?”

“Excuse me?”

“Bart means, are you taking pictures for Lorna?” Glory said, saving him.

“No, just for fun. Would you like a family portrait?”

“I thought you didn’t like photographing people,” Glory said.

“I make exceptions for holidays.”

“In that case we’d love it,” Glory said. Halle stood with her side to the camera, and Joseph smiled because so many women used that trick, believing it made them appear slimmer. Halle was nowhere near fat; in fact, she looked a little scrawny to him. Juniper stretched her arms around her mother and foster grandmother as if she’d known them all her life, but steered clear of the sister/aunt, who steered clear of her. Ah, families. Joseph framed them in various ways. Juniper’s face piercings caught the light, and Joseph took advantage of it. He took five or six pictures, then a portrait of Glory alone with Juniper. Juniper leaned over Glory’s shoulder, her two-tone hair falling forward. Glory put her hand up to hold Juniper’s. When she smiled, Joseph knew it was a keeper the second the shutter clicked.

“Remember just how you posed for this picture,” he said. “If you take the same pose every year, you’ll create a story.”

“Of what?” Juniper asked.

“Of how much everything changes.”

“Or stays the same,” Glory added.

“Ooh, that sounds so mysterious,” Halle interrupted. “Take one of Bart and me. Maybe we can use it on a future Christmas card.”

Joseph obliged. “Any more?”

Glory turned to her brother-in-law. “No offense, Bart, but could we take one of just us ladies?”

“A great idea,” he said.

Halle stepped into the shot, turning sideways.

“Move closer together,” Joseph said. He took shot after shot, looking for the moment that revealed each of their personalities. Glory, getting the job done. Her mother, Ave, gracefully existing with pain that shaped her days. Halle, smart, efficient, dressed to the nines on the outside, insecure on the inside. Then there was Juniper, the wild card.

“This will be a lovely addition to my family album,” Mrs. Smith said.

Juniper had had enough. “I’m going to find the restroom,” she said, and walked away.

“Stay close,” Glory called after her.

Even with the hormones and boy craziness that came with her age group, Joseph envied Glory time with the smart-mouthed kid. But why was he thinking about teenagers? Lorna would say, “A perfect opportunity to get close to a pretty woman and what do you have to show for it? A camera full of
their
moments.” So he stayed and made himself talk. “Where do you folks live?” he asked Halle and Bart.

Halle answered for the two of them. “We live in the North Bay area, Santa Rosa. Have you been there?” With her sequined top and black trousers she could have been on her way to see some Russian ballet with $200 theater tickets.

“No, but I know your trees.”

“Our
what
?”

“Santa Rosa trees. The controversy over removing eucalyptus.”

“They’re like candle wicks,” Halle said. “You don’t want them in your backyard, that’s for sure.”

“What trees do you have on your property?” Joseph asked.

He’d given Bart an entrance. “We have crab apple and an ornamental plum, but my pride and joy is our Spring of Equinox cherry. It grows like a weed, and every year when it blooms, our yard hums with bees. I always wanted to give beekeeping a try.”

“I’m unfortunately allergic,” Halle said.

“This is true,” Bart said.

“Do you know about the ancient Japanese cherry tree Yamataka Jindai Zakura?” Joseph asked.

“Come again?” Bart said.

“Sorry. The Yamataka Jindai Zakura, estimated to be eighteen hundred years old. Story goes that the second-century folk hero Yamato Takeru Nomiko planted it. It still produces fruit.”

“That is some kind of miracle,” Bart said.

“Oh. You’re a gardener?” Halle said. “I can’t tell you how many gardeners I’ve hired who quit without telling me.”

“Halle!” Glory said.

“What? I just asked a simple question. Did I offend you, Senor Vigil?”

Senor
.

“Not at all,” Joseph said. “I’m not a gardener, but my father is a fifth-generation farmer. I’m interested in unusual trees, which is how I met your sister, because of Solomon’s Oak.”

“Did you grow up in the area?” Halle added.

“No,” Glory said. “He comes from New Mexico, just like Mom.”

Joseph looked at her, surprised.

“Juniper told me,” Glory said. “Joseph, our mother was born in Clovis.”

The thin woman said, “Girls, I may be an old lady, but I can still flap my jaw without assistance. Joseph, I don’t suppose you know my hometown?”

“My family comes from Hatch and Santa Fe. But, sure, I know Clovis. There’s a lot of new development going on there. I bet I know what you miss about it: Tucumcari Mountain, the Buddy Holly museum, and the State Theater.”

“Does that ever bring back memories. I miss the smell of piñon fires, but I don’t miss the thunderstorms.”

Joseph laughed. “My grandmother used to tell me that storms were caused by birds flapping their wings.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He could tell Ave Smith had been away from New Mexico so long she’d forgotten what weather could do. Late snowstorms, lightning strikes, lack of rainfall. The conversation stalled, and Joseph struggled for a graceful exit. “Where did Juniper go? I was hoping to tell her merry Christmas again. That is a great kid you have there, Glory.”

The surprised look Glory gave him said it all—Juniper was a handful, Glory’s family wasn’t 100 percent behind the foster-daughter business, and add that to the first Christmas without her husband, she was hanging on by a thread. He continued to hold her gaze longer than was polite. It occurred to him that after separating himself from his own family, here was the person he wanted to tell his story to, but the place was too crowded, and besides, it was Christmas. She might not understand about the prescription medicine; there was Rico’s death. Too much, really. Would her smile turn to glacier ice, or would she look away as Isabel had near the end of things? He couldn’t take the chance.

“Juniper is over there.” Glory pointed. “Looks like she’s visiting with Elliot, Lorna’s great-nephew. Oh, dear. I think she’s flirting. Maybe I should go get her before things get out of hand.”

“Let her have some fun,” Ave said.

Glory looked at Joseph and he smiled. “Your mom’s right. She’s a good kid.”

“If only you knew,” Glory said softly, so that no one caught it but him.

The band had played a couple of songs already, “Jerusalem Ridge,” “Up and Around the Bend,” and now began “Doubting Thomas,” the first slow-tempo song of the night. “Thanks, I’d love to dance,” Glory said, pulling Joseph away from her family.

“Uh, thanks?” he said, when she had placed her left hand on his shoulder and offered her right hand to him.

“You’re saving my sister’s life because I’m about ready to duct-tape her mouth shut and cut off her air supply.”

He laughed. With small steps they moved around the crowded deck. The strength of her hand in his surprised him. She smelled like a kitchen, something between cinnamon and just-baked bread. All the sensations made for an enormous contrast to the ache in his back. When he caught sight of Lorna, he smiled, expecting a thumbs-up for his efforts. Instead of applauding, she folded her arms across her pink vest and gave him a hard look. Now what? Maybe her suggestion had an exclusivity clause. He was free to dance with any woman
except
Glory Solomon.

When the music stopped, they let go of one another and clapped, standing shoulder to shoulder. “Thank you,” Glory said. “I think my blood pressure’s back down to normal.”

“You’re welcome. If the next song’s slow, want to dance again?”

Before she could answer, the band launched into “Foggy Mountain Breakdown,” and Mrs. Smith got to her feet and began clogging. Glory’s face went from shock to worry to delight. Everyone around her mother began to clap in time to cheer her on. Everyone except Halle, who was scowling.

“She won’t be able to get out of bed in the morning,” Glory whispered to Joseph.

“It’ll be worth it.”

Ave Smith stopped herself before Halle could scold her. She was red in the face but smiling.

Joseph shook her hand. “Ma’am, that is definitely some Clovis-style clogging.”

“Shh.” She pointed to the stage where Lorna now stood in front of the microphone.

With Lorna, you never knew what might come out of her mouth. Joseph hoped she was about to say merry Christmas, or that the Butterfly Creek was happy to give a ride home to anyone who’d drunk too much, but when Lorna opened her mouth, out came a song Joseph had never before heard. Her raspy voice sawed through the night air, gathering strength as she sang. “Oh, man,” Joseph said when she was halfway through the first verse.