Solomon's Oak (26 page)

Joseph felt as if he’d walked into some kind of cubist-painting dream where goats floated by, and people jabbered in a language he didn’t understand, and the fractured parts didn’t connect. He put the lens cap on his camera. “I’ll stay for fifteen minutes and we’ll talk about photography, nothing else. You can get me a glass of water.”

“Excellent! Download your pictures right now on our computer. You can show me how you decide which one is the best. Or you could tell us all about your life, like when you
were
a cop and why you stopped being one.”

Joseph wondered if some physical act went beyond sighing because his entire body felt as if it were doing that. “How many times do I have to say this? I’m not interesting.”

“Dude, we don’t have a television or a stereo or even an antique Game Boy. Trust me, any story you tell will be more interesting than what we usually talk about, which is how often I mess up and what am I going to do about it. Especially tonight. Can’t you stay for an hour? I’ll make guacamole. Do you like potato chips or corn chips?”

“Either.”

“You don’t have a favorite snack?”

“Not really.”

“Liar. I bet I know what it is. Ruffles and onion dip.”

“I’m lactose intolerant.”

“Give me three more guesses. I bet you ten bucks I guess it right.”

“Have at it.”

“Teriyaki beef jerky?”

“Nope.”

“Olives stuffed with blue cheese.”

“If you were paying attention, you’d realize the lactose intolerance factor rules out cheese.”

“Salted peanuts?”

“I believe you owe me ten bucks, Juniper. I’ll take it in quarters if you have ’em. It’s laundry week.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t guess it. At least tell me what it is.”

“Sardines in oil.”

“Are you kidding me? That would give you cat-food breath. Does your girlfriend make you gargle Scope before she lets you kiss her?”

“Don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t want one.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

They walked toward the back porch. Juniper showed him where to scrape the mud off his shoes. “Guess I won’t ask you to help me pitch hay flakes to the horses,” she said, “but you can mix up the dogs’ dinner. Stapled on the wall above the kibble bins is the recipe. Cadillac gets a scoop of Platinum Performance Plus, and Dodge gets Serenity.”

“What’s that?”

“Joint protection for Caddy, and calming herbs for Dodge. If you ask me, that’s not working, but Glory says we have to give it a month.”

“Your dogs are lucky. I know people who don’t eat this well.”

“Oh, no. I’m the lucky one, Joe. Cadillac would do anything for me.”

Between the excited nickering from the horses, he heard her sweet-talking the one who had scared her silly.

“Hey there, Piper. Hey there, Piper man. Whatcha been doing, what is your plan?”

Joseph had to smile. That old saw about women and horses was true. He carried the dogs’ dinner bowls to Juniper and waited for her to finish with the horses. “From my stupid fence stunt I can’t bend down right now,” he said. “Otherwise, I’d be … ”

She took the bowls and grinned. “No problem. Thanks for helping me.”

Joseph waited on the back porch, inhaling the smells of his father’s farm. This was the time of year when daylight increased a few minutes each day. Farmers went nuts trying to decide when to plant. Winter was on its way out, but would take a few licks before it gave up. Memorial Day was the earliest you could comfortably plant, but if you waited until then, your crops might be too late for farmers’ market. Farming was like gambling. His mother’s apricot trees always bloomed too soon and got hit by a killing frost. She’d get up on a ladder and drape bedsheets over the flowers in vain. Standing still, Joseph’s back hurt worse than when he moved. He wanted nothing more than to lie down on his bed with icepacks. He counted how many hours it had been since he took his last pain pill and realized he’d forgotten his lunchtime dose. Genius move. Now it would take him a couple of days to get ahead of the pain.

“I love my dog more than anyone on earth,” Juniper said, walking toward the back porch. “My Cadillac Coupe de Ville!”

“He’s a good-looking animal.”

“Animal?” She looked at him as if he’d called her dog a mangy cur. “The Cad-man is my best friend. He’s so smart that he can find lost things. Whenever Glory loses her keys, she says, ‘Keys, please,’ and he finds them. You should see him herd the goats, only right now he’s not allowed because one of them’s pregnant. He sleeps next to my bed every single night.”

Joseph nodded at her convoluted story, thinking how tired down to her bones Glory Solomon must be at the end of the day. “Can I get that glass of water now?”

“Sure, just go on in. The cupboard’s to the left of the sink.”

He didn’t want to. It felt like trespassing. The back door opened into a laundry room with an old white washer and a newer-looking beige dryer. On the shelf above the appliances were detergent, bleach, and a tub of OxiClean. Next to them, a stack of folded cleaning rags. The door in front of him opened to the kitchen. It was outdated and the cupboards could use refinishing, but what struck him was the tidy way every object occupied its place. On one counter sat cake pans, decorating equipment, and an industrial-looking mixer. He wondered if Glory was getting ready to make one of those cakes, like the pirate ship.

She gave him a look that asked, why are you still here?

Juniper walked in behind him.

“May I use your restroom before I go?” Joseph asked, and Glory pointed the way down the hall. Even with the door shut and the water running, he could hear them arguing. He cupped his hand beneath the water faucet and tried to swallow the pill, but it stuck in his throat, and he needed a second gulp to get it down.

“I invited Joseph to have dinner with us,” Juniper said.

“Without asking me? Juniper, what were you thinking? The house is a mess and we have work to do. I was planning on making tuna fish sandwiches tonight. That’s not a dinner to serve to guests.”

“It’s not like he expects a three-course meal. He’s a guy and they’re always hungry. Why don’t we have spaghetti? That’s a cinch to make.”

“If it’s so easy, then you make it.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Go ahead, then. Make it. Be sure you measure out the pasta for five people instead of two. Men eat more than women.”

“Jeez, Mrs. Solomon! Don’t you think I know how much spaghetti to cook? Once upon a time I had a dad. He could eat so much spaghetti that we had to cook two whole packages every time!”

“I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me. But don’t get the idea that Joseph being here gets you out of the massive trouble you’re in. It’s a postponement of our discussion, that’s all. In the meantime, think about what you did. Since you don’t have to be up early for school, I guess we can talk all night about why you got suspended.”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

“Tell me how am I supposed to believe that when you won’t talk about what happened?”

Mrs. Solomon?
Joseph could hear the tears in the girl’s voice eclipsed by the anger in Glory’s. After the stubborn pill finally went down, he waited a few minutes to allow them to finish. He’d tell them he’d take a rain check on dinner. But while he dried his hands, he realized he shouldn’t have taken the pill if he wasn’t going to eat immediately afterward. Once the queasiness arrived, it was hard to quell. Already he’d had one bleeding ulcer from the drugs, and he didn’t want another. When he returned to the kitchen, he apologized for intruding. “If I could please have a slice of bread or a roll, I’ll be on my way.”

Glory looked at him. “You want a slice of bread.”

“Yes, if it isn’t any trouble. My stomach—”

“For Pete’s sake, who are you? Oliver Twist? If you’re that hungry, stay.” She threw down the dish towel she’d been holding. “Juniper’s making dinner. I have some work to do in the barn.”

“It’s not that I’m—”

“Excuse me, may I get by?”

He and Juniper watched her go out the back door and let it slam. “She doesn’t really have anything to do out there,” Juniper said.

“Yeah, I got that impression. I should go.”

“No, I want you to stay! She just gets moody sometimes. Plus that article upset her, though she’d never let on. Mrs. Solomon’s private. She won’t cry in front of anybody. She cries in her closet where she thinks no one can hear her, but the walls are thin.”

“I’m leaving. I don’t want to upset her any more than I have, and neither should you.”

“No, no, no. The worst thing you can do right now is leave. You can distract her. Tell her about your cop experiences. That’s what she needs. Someone new who’ll perk her up. You like spaghetti with meat sauce? Mine’s really good. I am so the bomb at cooking now. Makes up for the horrible food we had at the group home. You’d think it’s impossible to ruin macaroni and cheese, right? But they did, I swear. Some nights I’d just make a couple of peanut butter sandwiches, take them back to my room, get narked on by some mean girl, demerits for hoarding food, have to … ”

He nodded. No escape was in sight and he still needed a piece of bread. Juniper handed him the grater and some Parmesan cheese and never once stopped talking. He checked her pupils to see if she was on some kind of upper, but they appeared normal. While the sauce simmered, he ate a homemade, buttered Parker House roll and his stomach quieted. He looked out the window at Mrs. Solomon playing with her dogs. She threw a glow-in-the-dark Frisbee for Cadillac. The nervous brown mutt she had weaving in and out of her legs while she performed a simple dance step. They definitely had the routine down. She made a loop with her arms and the brown dog jumped through, then trotted back in the other direction. Joseph tried to think of some music that would make it all fit together, some kind of background for the rhythm of their movements, but nothing seemed right. Juniper babbled on. He tore romaine lettuce into pieces and sliced avocado for topping just as he had a million other times back in New Mexico, wondering what would happen when Glory came back indoors. He heard a scratching on the door down the hallway. “What’s that?”

“Edsel,” Juniper said. “If I let him out you, have to be prepared for a speeding bullet.”

“Edsel is a gun?”

“An Italian greyhound.” She loosed the beast, who ran laps around the kitchen and living room as if he were on the track in Ruidoso until long after Joseph was sure the dog had made himself dizzy.

“He’s so small,” Joseph said, and Juniper shushed him.

“Don’t let Mrs. Solomon hear you say that. He’s her baby. She makes all his food special.”

After the salads were eaten and the plates mopped dry of vinegar-and-oil dressing, Juniper ladled out the spaghetti with ground-beef sauce and Glory held a bottle of wine up toward Joseph. “Want some? It’s not all that great but not all that bad, either.”

“Wish I could, but it interferes with this medication I’m on. Thanks, though.”

“What kind of medication?” Juniper asked.

Glory sighed. “It’s impolite to ask such a personal question, Juniper.”

“But how am I going to learn anything if I don’t ask questions? It’s the Socratic method.”

Joseph laughed.

“You’ll live if you don’t. Now apologize to Mr. Vigil.”

“Please, it’s okay. I wish you’d both call me Joseph.”

Juniper set her fork down. “Mr. Vigil, I am sorry I asked such a personal question, even though I still want to know why you take pain pills, especially since you said your legs were okay. I’m betting it’s your back. I’m also betting you hurt it being a cop, am I right?”

Glory poured more wine into her glass. “Juniper, change the subject,
now
.”

“Okay. So, former officer Vigil, how do you make spaghetti sauce? Do you use the stuff out of a can? Do you put meat in it? Sausage? Carrots? Tofu? Mrs. Solomon says everyone has a family recipe. What’s yours?”

Joseph smiled. Glory looked at him as if it were news to her anyone could smile under these circumstances. “My grandmother used to make it with chile.”

“Like chili con carne?”

“New Mexican chile, I bet,” Glory said.

“Exactamente,”
he said. “Southern New Mexico green chiles, roasted over a wood fire. You know all that because of your mom, right?”

“My grandmother, actually. She taught me to cook.”

Juniper cleared her throat. “Isn’t that really Mexican food and not Italian?”

“Good question,” Glory said. “Which is it, Joseph?”

Now that she was on her second glass of wine, every so often she smiled, too.

“Grandma Penny always called it spaghetti so that’s what I thought it was. First time I ate spaghetti in a restaurant, I thought they had a terrible cook.”

Glory laughed, nearly choking on the wine. Juniper laughed, too, but then she said, “Tell us some gnarly cop stories, please?”

“There isn’t anything to tell. I wasn’t on the force long enough to be there in the action.”