Thirteen West (24 page)

Chapter Fifteen

The day was beautiful, Sarah thought—a blue
Northern Nevada
sky with the puffy little cumulus clouds that meant fair weather. The sun warmed the cool fall air to summer temperatures that would last until sunset. Sunset came early because of the Sierras looming to the west.

She and Frank were sitting in her back yard, under the shade of a cottonwood. Looking over at him, she sighed. Though there was no doubt he was greatly improved, he still seemed to be in his own sunset world much of the time.

Oh, if she told him to do a simple, specific chore, he could and would, but he had no initiative. She'd asked him several times if he knew who she was and he'd nodded and said, "Sarah." Since she'd told him that was her name, what more did she expect?

"Frank," she said impulsively, "why do you think you're here with me?"

He glanced at her, then fixed his gaze on Solo, her gray tom, half hidden by a lilac bush while he watched for birds. "I'm like him," Frank said. "Waiting. You're waiting, too."

Surprised, she took a moment to frame another question. "Why are we waiting?"

"For the story to finish. Then we'll know." He shifted in the chair to look at her. "It feels like we're coming to the bad part."

Sarah knew he must be referring to their nightly session of rehashing her six weeks on Thirteen West. He'd begun to fill in a bit here and a bit there but nothing really remarkable. He was right—they were inching up to the bad part.

"I lost my Corvette," he told her, surprising her anew. He hadn't mention that red car until this moment.

"Lost it?"

"Yeah. Don't know where it is."

"But you do know the day and the year it is?"

He grinned. "Told you this morning. You only get to ask me once a day."

Since he'd taken to reading the Reno Gazette every morning, he'd gotten the date right for the past week. It amazed her that he was now able to joke about his faulty memory. He'd come a long way.

"She died," he said after a short silence.

"Who?"

"
Doris
."

Sarah had never forgotten that name. "Your cousin Doris?"

"My wife." He rose and began striding across the back lawn toward the gazebo.

She stared after him, shaken by what he'd said. Frank had married
Doris
? Was it true or a pipe dream?

Solo slithered from under the bush and padded after Frank. After a moment, Sarah got up from her chair and trailed after them both. She paused at the gazebo where Solo sat on the bottom step watching Frank run his hand over the stair rail.

"Needs to be scraped and painted," he told her, looking directly into her eyes. "Like you're doing with me. I sometimes wonder why."

Her pleasure at the progress he was making faded with his words, words that reminded her she often wondered why herself.

"If I do wind up all shiny and new," he added, "then what?"

Damned if she knew.

Chapter Sixteen

Alma
made a really hot chili on Sunday, letting it cook all day in the crock pot. She and Charlie bundled up in the late afternoon and jogged along the foggy beach so they were both hungry when she served supper.

"Good," he said, taking a second helping. "Possibly even great. You ever make that brown bread anymore? Would've been great with the chili."

"What'd you come up this weekend for anyway?" she demanded. "Me or the bread?"

"Both would've been nice. When you move to the city permanently, I'll expect the bread, too."

"If."

"Come on, sugar, you know you can't get along without me."

"I've been doing very well."

He raised one eyebrow. "Who with?"

"I don't ask you any questions."

"I'm asking you one."

"None of your business, man. I'm not living with you. When and if I do, then you can expect exclusive rights. Maybe."

"No maybe."

"Okay, long as it works both ways. Remember, I'm going to be working. Don't give me any static about how tough a law student has it. I'll concede you work as hard as I do. So we split the scut stuff."

He shrugged.

"You don't talk about it, I don't move in. The agreement has to be up front."

Charlie thrust himself away from the table, upsetting his coffee. He stood. "Damn it, woman, I never asked anyone else to live with me. Ever. Why're you thinking you get to set conditions?"

She stood, too, hands on her hips. "'Cause you're looking to run me again—King Charles and his maid-in-waiting. No way do I fall into that trap again."

"What's with you? Crazy talk about being owned and overworked—you sound as paranoid as those loonies you take care of."

"Will you discuss this sensibly or not?" she demanded. "It's a matter of either/or, and that includes anyone on the side—I don't, you don't."

"I see it was a mistake to come up here."

Alma
blinked back tears. "Perhaps it was," she said, raising her head high. "If you expect a one-sided commitment, don't bother to stay on."

"Damn straight, I won't." Charlie turned on his heel and strode across the room, picking up his belongings on the way. "I forget anything just send it COD."

After he'd roared off in the MG,
Alma
sat back down at the table, staring at the dirty dishes and the spilled coffee. "Bastard," she muttered. "Not going to cry over him. No man's worth my tears."

She wiped her wet eyes with the heels of her hands and set her teeth together. After a moment she got up and began clearing the mess on the table.

She washed the dishes, cleaned the house, changed the bed sheets and bundled all the dirty clothes to take to the Laundromat in the morning. Then she took a shower and got into her terry-cloth robe.

It was too early to go to sleep. Unearthing the macramé twine kit she'd bought and never opened from under her bed, she curled up on the lounge reading the instruction sheet. "Next thing is a cat," she told herself. "Little ole gal living alone with her fancy work and her cat."

When the knock came, she arrested her quick movement upward. Charlie back to say he was sorry? Let him wait and wonder if she meant to let him in.

Another thought brought her to her feet. Could be Barry, even though she'd told him not to come. She opened the door.

"Well, hello there, Momma A," Willie said, pushing past her to enter. He closed the door while she stood staring at him. Looking around, he added, "Nice place. On the beach, too. Living right, gal."

"Get out!" she snapped.

He grinned. "Aw, that's no way to greet an old friend. Better be nice to old Willie."

"I'm warning you."

"About what? Ain't no house real close by and I'm stronger than you, babe—remember? We got a lot to catch up on." He reached for her.

Alma
twisted away. "You touch me and I'll kill you." She grabbed a long-bladed knife from the drying rack. "I swear I'll kill you."

Willie backed away, then lunged toward her. She stabbed desperately at him but he avoided the trust, caught her hand and forced her to drop the knife. It clattered to the floor by the lounge.

"Shit, babe, that wasn't nice." He bent her arm back. "You gonna be nice?"

She screamed and kicked at him, earning a backhand across the face. When she tried to bite him, he hooked his arm around her neck from behind, choking off her screams and her breath until she slumped against him.

"Learned to do this right at the hospital," he said, his words seeming to come to her down a long tunnel. Black specks danced before her eyes. "You won't be the first one I choked out, babe. You gonna play nice, now?"

Barry saw the second car in the slatted carport by the house and sighed. Stupid damn thing to do, come rushing over here hoping the guy had left. Acting like an adolescent with his first piece of ass. He stared at the fog shapes drifting by. So now what? Back to the apartment and Luba?

Damn it, no. Fog or not, he needed to walk on the beach, get the stale smell of the damn apartment out of his head. He opened the car door, took a deep breath of the briny, damp air and heard
Alma
scream.

He ran to the cottage door and hesitated with his hand on the knob. What if she and the guy were horsing around, playing games. He'd look a damn fool barging in.

Still—it hadn't sounded like a playful yell.

The knob turned under his fingers and the door swung open.

* * *

Charlie jerked the MG around the corner, brakes screeching. Damn woman, more trouble than she was worth. His bad luck she was the only one he'd never been able to get out of his head. The rest of them didn't mean a shit to him.
Alma
was the one he wanted.

Never thought he'd go crawling to any woman. Not that he'd agree to her crazy plan. What they'd do is pay some chick to come in and clean, do the wash, stuff like that.

He slammed on the brakes when he saw the wedge of light cutting into the fog—her door was open. And there was a car, two cars. What the hell?

Charlie leaped out and raced toward the cottage.

* * *

Luba stumbled along in the mist. She'd almost lost Barry time and again in this stupid fog but she was sure this was the road where he'd turned in and parked. She'd backed up quickly and parked back a ways so he wouldn't see her.

What a dumb idea to follow him. Was she going to knock on the door like some outraged hausfrau? Luba shook her head. Okay, so she might not know exactly what she meant to do but she'd come this far. She damn well didn't mean to turn back now.

She almost walked into his Porsche before she saw it. He'd left the door open for some strange reason. The cottage across the street had its door open, too, and there didn't seem to be any other house around. She heard men shouting and hurried over there.

When she entered, she saw two black men and a black woman and thought she was in the wrong place, after all. Then she caught sight of Barry on the floor and screamed.

Luba dropped to her knees beside him. "He's bleeding!" she cried.

Alma
tried again to get off the lounge where Willie had flung her after Barry burst in. She'd cracked her head on the wall and the room spun as she sat up. She blinked, trying to clear her vision, hearing a woman scream.

"I'll get you, too," Willie snarled, facing Charlie, the knife with a bloody blade in his hand. "Do for you like I did for her fancy doctor, nothing but the best for Momma A."

"Take it easy," Charlie said, "Don't mean you no harm, man."

Willie laughed. "Cousin Roach ain't gonna lay no contract on me."

"What's with Cousin Roach?" Charlie said, keeping out of range. "Never met the man. Why don't you split? We'll tend to the dude on the floor. I got no quarrel with you."

"Help him!" Luba begged. "Do something before he bleeds to death."

Barry watched the two men above him through slitted eyes. After the first leap of surprise when he saw Luba bending over him, he'd ignored her, focusing on the men. If they moved to the left a tad he could grab that bastard with the knife, maybe topple him off balance. His right side throbbed with pain but he could use his left arm.

Barry lunged upward. Luba screamed and Willie stepped aside, turning to slash at Barry, giving Charlie the chance to chop Willie's arm with the edge of his hand. The knife flew onto the floor. Barry was just able to cover it with his body before he passed out.