"U" is for Undertow (32 page)

At least he was starting to stand up to her, Deborah thought. Watching them, she felt like she’d developed X-ray vision. She could see all the little nuances in their communication, the ploys, the dodges, the way they tried using emotion to throw her off balance. This was like the children’s game of hot potato, where the object was to leave the other guy holding the bag.

Greg said, “So where’s Rain? Shawn’s been looking forward to seeing her.”

“I’m picking her up at three. How long did you plan to stay?”

“Couple of days. Depends. You know, we haven’t decided yet.”

Shelly cupped a hand to her mouth, like she was making an aside that no one else could hear. “Notice how she’s ducking the subject of Rain,” she said to Greg.

Deborah kept her voice in a singsong range, as though speaking to a child. “Well, Shelly—oh,
excuse
me. I meant Destiny. What is there to say? We didn’t think you were interested in Rain. There was never a letter or a phone call and not a penny of support for her. The child is ours now.”

“What, like you gave birth to her? News to me.”

Deborah didn’t think it was possible to loathe another human being more than she’d loathed Shelly in the past, but apparently, there were untapped reservoirs of hostility that Deborah could call upon at will. “We adopted her. We went through the court system. Your parental rights were terminated. That’s what they do when parents abandon a baby at the age of five days.”

Shelly said, “Fuck you, bitch. I’m not putting up with any shit from you either!” She got up, agitated, and snatched up her shawl. “Come on, Sky Dancer.” And to Greg, “We’ll be in the bus when you get done kissing butt. Jesus, what a mama’s boy.”

Greg made his excuses shortly afterward. There was no graceful way to exit the conversation. He went out to the bus, and Deborah went upstairs to the master bedroom and called Patrick, who said he’d drive up for the night, but he’d have to return to L.A. first thing the next morning. “Keep away from them if you can,” he said. “I’ll take care of it when I get home.”

“That might not be necessary. Now that Shelly—oh, excuse me, Destiny—has worked herself into such a state of righteous indignation, they may take off of their own volition.”

But such was not the case. Deborah picked up Rain from her playdate, half expecting the yellow school bus to be gone on her return. Instead it was parked where it had been, which seemed curious in itself. Flouncing off in a huff was a typical Shelly move, meant to alert you to her displeasure. Emotional one-upsmanship.

Shawn knocked on the back door soon after Deborah and Rain got home.

“Is Rain here?” he asked.

“Of course.” Deborah let him into the kitchen. He stood by the door, not quite sure what to do with himself. It was almost as though he held a hat in his hands, turning the rim while he waited for what came next. Deborah said, “Did your dad send you?”

“Greg’s not my dad.”

“Sorry.”

“He and my mom are asleep.”

“I see. Well, why don’t you have a seat? Rain went up to her room. I’ll tell her you’re here. She’ll enjoy the company.”

Shawn perched on the edge of a kitchen chair. His tennis shoes were ill-fitting and he wore no socks. Deborah wanted to weep at the sight of his ankles, which looked as frail as a fawn’s.

She said, “I’m happy to see you, Shawn. I mean that.”

She didn’t wait for a reply. She went upstairs to Rain’s room and told her she had company. “His name is Shawn. His mother calls him Sky Dancer and it would be polite if you did, too.”

She took Rain by the hand and the two went downstairs. Shawn was actually Rain’s half brother, but Deborah thought the concept would be confusing to a four-year-old.

Shawn got up from his chair when Rain entered the room. She stood there looking at him and he looked at her. There was an unmistakable resemblance between them. Both had Shelly’s dark hair and big hazel eyes. Rain’s hair fell into natural ringlets, and she was rosy with good health, where Shawn looked like a prisoner of war.

Shawn said, “You want to read stories?”

“I can’t read.”

“I couldn’t either when I was your age. What about the alphabet song? You know that?”

She nodded.

“You feel like singing it?”

“Okay.” Without any self-consciousness at all, Rain sang the alphabet song, bungling the order of the letters but otherwise presenting herself earnestly.

When she finished, Shawn said, “Wow. That was good. If you don’t know how to read yet, I could read to you.”

Deborah said, “Her books are in the chest under the window in the den. That’s sweet of you, Shawn. She loves having someone read to her.”

The two disappeared, and after a moment she could hear Shawn reading aloud to her. She peered at them through the crack in the open door, keeping herself out of sight. Rain had climbed up on his lap, leaning her head back against his chest in the same way she did with Patrick. Later she found them stretched out on the floor, with Shawn looking on while Rain formed her letters with a fat red pencil. “B goes the other way,” he was saying. “Here, let me show you.”

“I can do it!”

“Okay. Let me see you, then.”

 

 

 

When Patrick got home Deborah told him what had transpired since she’d spoken to him by phone. “Creed” and “Destiny” (whose names she always said as though surrounded by quotes) had spent the afternoon in the bus. Rain had talked Shawn into a game of Chutes and Ladders. His patience seemed infinite. Meanwhile, Deborah was at a loss. The dinner hour was coming up and Creed and Destiny had shown no signs of entering the house or moving on. She’d been tempted to make something for Shawn, but the idea of no meat, no dairy, and no eggs left precious little.

Patrick said, “What do you think they’re up to?”

“I’m sure we’ll find out. Maybe they’ve given up life on the road and they’re ready to move in with us.”

Rain came into the kitchen with Shawn close behind. “We’re hungry.”

“Well, we’ll have to take care of that,” Deborah said. “Shawn, this is Patrick. You remember him?”

Patrick reached over and shook Shawn’s hand. “Hey, Shawn. It’s been a while. Nice seeing you again. I understand you like to be called Sky Dancer.”

“Sometimes.”

“We’d be happy to have you join us for supper, but Deborah’s stumped about what to fix for the two of you.”

“Pasta with olive oil is good. Or tomato sauce,” Shawn said. “And salad. I eat lots of vegetables and fruit.”

“Well, I’m sure we can rustle up something. Thanks for the suggestions.”

Deborah made enough supper for Creed and Destiny as well. She knew she was allowing hospitality to take precedence over hostility, but she couldn’t help herself. People had to eat. This wasn’t a third-world country where starvation was the rule. She sent Shawn out to tell his parents there was food on the table if they were interested. Creed and Destiny appeared, looking as though they’d showered in the interim. Nothing was said about the earlier friction. The six of them sat down to eat, keeping the conversation superficial, which was easier than she’d expected. Aside from dogma, the pair knew little about the world and seemed to care even less.

Deborah noticed Greg making a covert study of his daughter, and once she saw him offer her a tentative smile. Shelly was chilly throughout the meal. She had no interest in Rain and made a point of giving Greg a warning look when she caught him starting to clown around with her. After that he avoided any show of warmth. Fortunately, by then Rain was so enamored of Shawn that she paid no attention to either one.

It was after supper, when Rain had been put to bed and Shawn relegated to the bus, that Creed and Destiny got down to business. Given their agenda, it wasn’t hard to understand why the two had been so patient to this point. Creed explained the project they had in mind. “We saved up a thousand dollars as a down payment on a farm. We’d been thinking about it for a long time before we heard about this place. The problem is, we need to have the rest of the money by the end of the month.”

Patrick said, “A farm. Well, I guess that’s one way to make a living. I didn’t know you were interested in farming. You know much about it?”

“Not right now, but I can learn. That’s the whole point, you know, working the land.”

“And where is this place?”

“Up the coast. Close to Salinas,” Greg said.

Deborah was sitting there wondering if there was a word of truth in anything he’d said.

“Actually, we’re setting up a commune,” Shelly said. “Anyone who joins us will share whatever money they have and we’ll divvy up the chores. We’ll share everything equally. Even child care.”

Patrick nodded. “How many acres are you buying?”

“Maybe a hundred?” Greg said.

“Mind if I take a look at the contract?” Patrick appeared to be taking them seriously, but Deborah knew it was his way of pointing out how ill prepared and ill informed they were.

“We don’t have a contract. This is like a gentlemen’s agreement. We did it on a handshake. We know the guy and he’s really supportive of our idea.”

“Good. I like the sound of it. What do you intend to grow?”

“Mostly vegetables. We’ll plant enough to live on and then put stuff by. We plan to do a lot of canning and we’ll sell or trade the produce we can’t use. We might put in wheat or corn or something like that if we want to turn a profit. I mean, we don’t want to turn a profit per se, but we want to be self-sustaining. We’ve visited a couple of communes in Big Sur and they’re keen. They even said they’d help.”

“Well,” Patrick said. “That’s a hell of an idea. You have my blessing if that’s what this is about. I wish I had advice to offer you, but farming’s not my bailiwick.”

Greg was grooming his facial hair. He’d taken to spinning strands of his scruffy beard between his fingers, making little upturns like the villain of the piece. “We were thinking about the money Granddad left me. Didn’t you talk about that once?”

“Sure. Forty thousand dollars, but it’s all in trust. The money won’t be available until you turn thirty. I thought I’d made that clear.”

Greg frowned, baffled by the very idea. “Why? That’s five years from now.”

Deborah got the impression they were getting to the heart of the matter. Greg had a point of view he was prepared to argue if he could work his way around to it.

Patiently, Patrick said, “Those were the terms of the will. If you’ll remember he gave you ten thousand dollars when you were eighteen.”

“And that was part of the forty?”

“No, no. He was curious what you’d do with it. If it’s any comfort, he did the same thing with me and I went through mine about as fast as you did.”

“What, that was like a test or something?”

“That’s precisely what it was. Your grandfather was a bit of a pissant. This was his method of teaching money management.”

“That’s not what he told me. He said the money was mine and I could do anything I wanted.”

“He didn’t want to influence your process. If you made a mistake or turned out to be a financial whiz, he wanted it to come from you. Do you remember what you did with it?”

“Some of it, sure. I went to Oregon to see my friend Rick, and ended up lending him a few hundred dollars because the transmission on his truck went out.”

“He pay you back?”

“Not so far, but he said he would. And I mean, you know, I trust the guy. He’s a good dude.”

“You also bought a Harley, if I remember correctly.”

“Well, yeah, a used one. And I paid off some credit cards.”

“That was smart. I remember the credit card companies were really on your case by then.”

“I don’t know what
their
deal was. If they were going to be such butts about it, why offer me a card in the first place?”

Destiny said, “Creed, would you wise up? Your dad’s a shit-ass. He has no intention of giving you forty thousand dollars. Don’t you get that?”

“I’m not asking him to
give
it to me. This would be like an advance.”

“Yeah, well he’s not going to do that either. God, you are so dense sometimes. This is all bullshit. He’s having a big laugh at your expense. He thinks you’re an idiot when it comes to money. He won’t give you a dime.”

“That’s not what he said. Anyway, this is between him and me, okay?”

Destiny got up, ignoring Patrick and Deborah. “You’re pathetic. You know that?”

She banged the back door as she left.

Patrick said, “You found a charmer in that one.”

“We could really use some help,” Greg said, not looking at his father.

“I don’t doubt it, but you’ll have to come up with something better than this business about a farm, Greg. I’m willing to listen, but you know me well enough to know that’s never going to fly. You don’t even have a business plan.”

“What? Like I’m supposed to petition my own dad for a break?”

Patrick said, “Do you have any idea how much farm equipment costs? You want to farm, you better know how much water you have available and what soil conditions are—”

“Would you quit with this shit? All I want is what’s mine. Granddad left me forty grand and you know he did so what’s the big deal? It’s not coming out of your pocket.”

“You’ll get the money when you turn thirty, at which point you can piss it all away.”

“You just can’t let go, can you? It’s all rules and regulations and shit-ass stuff that nobody cares about.”

“Say anything you like, son. The money’s in trust. There’s nothing I can do.”

Greg got up. “Skip it. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

 

 

 

Thursday morning, Patrick left after breakfast, saying he’d be back late Friday afternoon. Greg stuck his head in the door after Patrick took off, saying, “Mind if we borrow the Buick? We’re going to do a little driving tour so Destiny can see the town, and then we may bomb up the coast to Calida. Destiny’s never been there, but I was telling her how cool it was.”