Solomon's Oak (39 page)

Joseph kept his eyes on the road, looking from side to side for the dog as they drove. He had that same bad feeling he had the day he and Rico were at the warehouse. A feeling he would sell his soul to erase because he knew it would haunt him forever.

Ten minutes after Joseph had been wheeled into the OR, in that ridiculously short time, Rico had bled out. Not the biceps wound, no, but the glancing rib nick that looked fine on the X-ray. The bullet had apparently bruised his spleen. Just as Rico wouldn’t have taken a pain pill if his life depended on it, he would lend a hand to anyone who needed one. This was the worst part to Joseph, that his friend died standing in front of the hospital soda machine helping the vendor load up a case of Diet Dr Pepper. In lifting, his bruised spleen had torn. A four-inch organ weighing around five ounces. People survived without them all the time. When Rico’s spleen tore, he bled out in seconds. “He didn’t even have time to pop the top on the free soda the guy gave him,” someone said. “The damnedest thing. They said he was dead before he hit the floor.”

A quarter mile before the boulder marking Casey’s trail, Glory screamed, “Stop the car!”

Joseph slammed on the brakes and Dodge scrabbled for purchase. “What is it?”

“A prescription bottle. There, by the side of the road.”

Glory was out of the car in a heartbeat. Joseph figured it was a random piece of trash until Glory ran ahead to the S&R van. Joseph pulled over, put the car in park, grabbed Juniper’s jacket, and got Dodge out of the cargo area and snapped on his leash. “Find your brother, you can have steak for dinner every night from now on.”

Glory came back to where he was standing. “Joseph. It’s mine, and it’s empty. Maybe she didn’t take them. Maybe she did, and then changed her mind.”

“Let’s hope.”

She reached out for Dodge’s leash. “I’ll walk a few feet into the woods.” She pursed her lips, but no sound came out. “Will you whistle, please? If Cadillac hears you, he might come back.”

She hustled off at a pace Joseph couldn’t hope to match. “Please, God,” he said between whistles. “Please.”

Watching the two Monterey County S&R climbers unload equipment, he thought he might be sick. The level one rescuers were dressed in identical forest-ranger-green clothing that reminded him of the academy training rookies who often jogged by the lab, stoic and determined. The S&R crew had the same kind of expressions. Forget what it feels like right now, he told himself. We’re in it for the long haul. They set ropes and pulleys and shouldered backpacks filled with bandages, water, and Mylar blankets, their walkie-talkies clipped to the packs and within easy reach. The civilian volunteers waiting to be called reminded Joseph of the plastic army men he played with when he was a kid, particularly the one in the kneeling pose always ready, never called upon.

A half hour passed as S&R lowered their first climber down the side of the hill across from where Glory had found the amber Percocet bottle. They came back up, empty, just before Glory returned to the road with Dodge. “How many Percocet pills equal an overdose?” she asked Joseph.

“Toxicity in opiates varies.”

“The cops and the sheriff are fighting over who gets to keep the pill bottle for evidence. Any news from the climbers?”

“They’ve cleared this area,” Joseph said. “They’re moving the ground search up one quarter of a mile.”

“Cadillac,” she said, just that one word.

“I know.” Joseph put his arm around her. Just as with Rico, he knew this was a burden he’d shoulder forever. They walked on.

“Tell me how many pills it would take, Joseph. There were six in the bottle, ten milligrams each.”

He blew out a breath. “Sixty milligrams is considered toxic.”

Glory let out a cry. “Why didn’t I just get rid of it when she stole it the first time?”

“Glory, we don’t know for certain that she took all the pills. She could’ve changed her mind, stuck a finger down her throat. A million other possibilities.”

“Don’t you lie to me, Joseph Vigil,” Glory said, pointing at his chest. “What happens with an overdose? If I’m responsible for her last moments on earth, I have to know what happens.”

Overhead, the sun beat down and Joseph could see it was burning her bare neck. “It would be peaceful. She’d just go to sleep.” He didn’t tell her it was the amount of acetaminophen that worried him. The risk of bradycardia, permanent liver damage. Things were so much more dangerous than he would let on, because that was the kindest thing to do. He’d learned that, at least, when he was a cop.

By the boulder, the searchers began setting up their equipment again. How did they do it so quickly? he wondered. All of them working together.

“I can’t just stand here, I have to move.” Glory walked across the road toward the S&R van, pulling herself under the yellow tape so she could get as close to the edge as possible. Joseph stood there and let her go.

This time, when S&R pulled their first climber back up, he let out a woo-hoo, and everything changed. As soon as he was on level ground, he reached around his backpack and held up a Red Wing boot. “Size ten. Newspaper stuffed in the toe.”

Joseph put his hand on Glory’s shoulder. “See? Now they’ll head down as a team.”

The sight of the aluminum stretcher made Glory’s knees buckle. She sat down hard, right there in the road. One by one, the climbers disappeared from sight. A volunteer came over and handed them bottles of water. “It’s only a matter of time now, ma’am. We’re bringing your little girl home.”

Glory said, “Joseph? Tell me. Could that kind of fall be fatal?”

“How about you let me hear that speech you’re going to give her father?” Joseph said.

Oh, the
arrogancia
in him. Joseph told Glory that judges not only allowed victims to address their perpetrators at trials, they allowed loved ones to speak, too, so she might possibily meet Juniper’s father face-to-face. Tell him what she felt. Glory said, “ ‘Explain to me how losing one daughter led to abandoning another. There are ways to get help. I would sell everything I own to keep Juniper with me. You weren’t here to listen to her crying herself to sleep. You haven’t seen her tenderness with baby goats. Do you have any idea how much courage it took for her to love Cadillac? You should be the one gone over this cliff, not her.’ How’s that?”

Joseph said, “I think you should add a couple of cuss words. In Spanish.”

Following a small avalanche of rubble and dirt that briefly clouded the view, they heard one climber holler, and as in one of those relay games, his words were repeated by the person above him, and so on, sending up the news.

A cop turned to them and said, “Unconscious, but breathing. Notify EMS they’re sending up the stretcher.”

JUNIPER

Are you sure you want this?
the tattoo artist asked me.
You can’t rub it off, you know.

More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, I said.

I don’t work for free.

I left. I returned with five DVDs, all good movies. Is this enough?

That’s a start
, he said.
But I need something else
.

Like what? I said.

He unbuttoned my shirt and then I knew. I took off my clothes. I told myself this is what happened to Casey and I owed it to her because of the sweater and the fight and I said, Will this be enough? and he nodded.

My sister looked so pretty in blue. Then, like the finish on the buttons, she disappeared. Flew away. Make it look real, I said when he drilled the ink into my skin. I want it right there on my neck, so everyone can see it.

JOSEPH

Before Juniper went into surgery to put her fractured ankle back together, she said, “Cadillac, don’t forget to feed Cadillac.”

On the drive home from the hospital, Glory told Joseph, “Turn onto G18. We have to find the dog.”

“Glory, it’s dark out. We’ll look again in the morning.”

She bit her cuticles and went silent.

Arriving home, she walked in the front door only to head out the back door. Cadillac wasn’t there either.

“Let me feed the animals,” Joseph said, but not quickly enough. Dodge ran to the empty kennels and started barking. “Glory, go indoors and have some whiskey. You’re spooking the horses.”

Two days later, Caddy was still missing. Both days, in the morning before visiting hours at the hospital, Glory rode Cricket into the forest as far as she could go. Joseph walked topside, carrying a walkie-talkie borrowed from Lorna. They covered five long, punishing miles, and no sight of the dog. S&R was long gone, their job completed. People said, it was only a dog, after all.

GLORY

The Narcan took care of the oxycodone, but the acetaminophen level was still a concern. Once the general anesthetic from the ankle surgery cleared Juniper’s system, Glory knew there was no putting things off. She stashed Edsel in her purse and drove to the hospital, hoping she could keep up her run of good luck of not running into Juniper’s father. He wasn’t there. Alone in the room with Juniper, Glory shut the door and brought out Edsel. “I couldn’t fit Cadillac in my purse,” she said, faking a laugh.

Juniper burst into tears. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“He’s lost.”

“It’s my fault.” Juniper began to sob, reminding Glory of their first night together, Thanksgiving and pirates and her headache and the unlikely reunion that eventually led them through all kinds of strife only to arrive at this terrible moment of pain and loss that seemed as if it would never end.

“He could still come back. But if he doesn’t, know that he had a good life with you, Juniper. The best months of his life.”

After the tears, Juniper was stony. She wouldn’t eat the vanilla pudding Glory brought, wouldn’t take a sip of her Diet Vanilla Coke, and the red-velvet cupcakes sat there on her hospital tray turning stale.

“Try to nap,” Glory said. “I’ll be right back.”

She stepped into the hall, found a family lounge, and called Caroline. “Where’s her father? I thought he was so anxious to see her. She needs him right now.”

Caroline huffed into the phone, “I don’t know how to tell her.”

“Tell her what?”

“Apparently this whole debacle of her missing spread all over the news scared him off. He called Lois to cancel, and that’s the last we’ve heard from him. I don’t know. Maybe it was too much exposure. Like a replay of Casey.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

Caroline sighed. “You know, Glo, I think I’ll retire this year. Sit on my porch and watch the weeds grow.”

“Don’t you dare. What would happen to kids like Juniper without you? Go take a rest and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Glory called her mother next. “What do I do, Mom? The dog, her father, her ankle; she’s in bad shape and I don’t know what to do.”

“Mothers are only human,” Ave said. “You turn it over to God and then you just wing it.”

In the hospital cafeteria, Glory ordered coffee. While she waited for it to cool, she nodded off. When she woke, she was leaning her head on her hand, and her entire arm had gone to pins and needles. Dan, she thought. I have to go to him. He needs me. But by the time she reached the elevator, she remembered it was Juniper who waited for her, not Dan, and Glory stopped still because she couldn’t walk into that poor girl’s room without some kind of plan.

Desperate, she called Halle, who remarkably wasn’t having a drinks party at the moment. “I need your help,” Glory said, then unloaded on her sister as she hadn’t since childhood: Glory sleeping with Joseph, Juniper’s father letting her down yet again, the lost dog, the lack of sleep, Joseph’s invitation to New Mexico, pending wedding events she’d taken deposits on, the animals that depended on her to provide meals and exercise and attention—and Caddy. It all came back to Cadillac, the black-and-white border collie who’d finally found his human only to lose his life. “Everything’s such a mess. You were right, Halle. Tell me what to do.”

Halle was silent a minute, then said, “So you can’t bring the dog back. It’s tragic, but you can find her another dog. You’re so good at that it makes me green with jealousy. What am I good at? Shopping? Making drinks? Traveling to other countries and shopping there so I can try new drinks? Well, let me tell you, Glory. I plan to make you the best drink ever made the second I arrive, and I’m leaving right now so not another word out of you. I’m not sure I can feed those
farm
animals of yours, so we’ll have to hire someone, one of your former fosters? I’ll collect eggs, but I must have a fresh pair of latex gloves every time. As soon as Juniper is ready to travel, I’ll bring her to Santa Rosa, and you are getting on that airplane and flying into your future. We’ll be fine without you. I’ll teach her to play bunco and hopefully do something with her god-awful hair.”

That night, after Glory called the Paso Robles hospital supply and rented both a bed and a wheelchair, she remembered the plein air painters scheduled for the day after tomorrow. She retrieved their paperwork from her binder and called the contact number. “I’m sorry to call you on short notice,” she said, “but I was wondering if there was any chance we could switch your group to the following weekend? My daughter’s coming home from the hospital tomorrow and things are stressful because her dog’s lost and … ”