Whitehorse (41 page)

She nodded, aware that Shamika was watching her like the proverbial hawk and not liking what she was hearing one little bit. "Fine," she finally responded.

"I'll have a car pick you up at six-thirty sharp. And by the way, we'll discuss that funding idea for the special-needs issue that was recently proposed by your friend—what's her name? Darmon?"

The phone clicked in her ear before she could recover from her surprise enough to respond.

"Leah, if I didn't know better I'd think that man had bugs planted in this house. It's just a little too coincidental that he shows up out of nowhere to see you the very morning after Johnny proposed."

Leah dropped the receiver onto the hook. "You're actually starting to sound like Johnny, as if there is some conspiracy behind my father wanting to have dinner with
me."

"Well? Don't you think it's a
little
coincidental?"

She scanned the room, feeling a niggling of unease raise the hairs on her arms. There were dozens of photographs scattered over the tables and on the walls: smiling images of Leah and her mother, her grandparents, and Val. A few sickly
Boston
ferns lightened up dark corners; the sadly sagging sofa and matching chair with ottoman had been the first household items she and Richard had purchased from a garage sale shortly before their marriage. All appeared so normal and safe and familiar: no listening device buried like a reclusive spider within the leaves of ferns or behind heartwarming photographs.

"You've been reading too many Robert Ludlum and John Grisham novels, Shamika. He said he has some time off."

"When is the last time he did that, Leah? I'm telling you, he's come to town for a reason and that reason is you and Johnny."

"Why would he spy on me? I'm his daughter, for heaven's sake."

"It's not you he's worried about, Leah. Is it? It's Johnny that's got him jumpy, and you'd better believe he's going to do whatever he can to make certain Johnny doesn't cause him any more grief than necessary."

"So what has all that got to do with me?"

"If he can't get to Johnny through Johnny, he'll get to Johnny through you."

Leah turned her back on Shamika and retreated to her bedroom, closed the door behind her and leaned against it, her gaze fixed on the unmade bed, sheets and blanket a tangle, the pillow Johnny had slept on still showing the indentation of his head. Even the smell of him lingered in the room, the slightly musky, spicy scent of his cologne, his sweat, the odor of the hot fierce sex they had shared throughout the night.

"No way," she said aloud, shaking her head. "He's my father, for God's sake. No way could he know about me and Johnny." Closing her eyes, she repeated, "No way."

The idea of picnicking at the park had been a good one: a blanket spread under a tree overlooking the meandering river, enjoying fried chicken, potato salad from the local deli, and Twinkies, Val's choice for dessert, with strawberry Kool-Aid for a beverage. A time to relax, forget about the mounting pressures in their lives, reminisce about the old days, and plan for the new ones, should Leah allow herself to consider Johnny's proposal.

But Leah had no more spread the red-and-white checked blanket out over the trimmed grass, and Johnny had no more situated Val in his brace on the blanket when a group of teenage girls in brief bikinis and piña-colada-scented suntan oil recognized Johnny, despite his dark glasses and Roy's old sweat-stained cowboy hat that he had pulled down over his brow, and screamed loud enough to bring every woman with or without a camera running as fast as they could.

Within minutes they were swamped. Women thrust pen and paper at Johnny, and if they had no paper they offered miscellaneous body parts. Leah was forced to collect Val and rush him back to the truck, where they sat in the front seat and watched Johnny fight his way toward them as if he were swimming through piranhas. The blanket and picnic lunch did not fare any better. The blanket was torn into souvenirs and the food was scattered for the ants and lurking squirrels.

By the time Johnny climbed into the truck, slammed the door and locked it, his hat was gone and so were his glasses. The black-and-orange T-shirt boasting "Apache Rodeo Championship June 1-5" had been ripped in two places. There were fingernail scratches on his arms and one across his cheek.

He reached for the ignition just as a girl climbed onto the hood of his truck and flattened her naked breasts against the windshield.

Johnny looked at Leah, his dark eyebrows raised.

Leah covered Val's eyes with her hands and began to laugh.

"This isn't funny," Johnny said, motioning to the girl to get off his truck, then hitting the windshield wipers, causing the blades to swipe at the girl's nipples. Still, she didn't budge, just pressed her lips against the window and proceeded to tell him exactly what she was willing to give him if he'd just autograph her crotch.

Leah laughed harder as Johnny's face turned red. Her eyes watered and her ribs ached, and the idea occurred to her that she couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard.

He shifted the truck into first gear and revved the engine, then popped the clutch, causing the truck to buck like a pissed mule. The girl tumbled off the side and Johnny floored the accelerator. The tires spun momentarily on the asphalt, spitting gravel before the truck careened toward the highway, leaving the waving, jiggling, squealing women behind.

Johnny glanced down at Val, who grinned back at him. "You okay, pal?"

"Okay, pal."

He looked at Leah as she bit her lip to keep from laughing again. "What's so funny about getting torn limb from limb?"

"I was just remembering how shy you were in school. You blushed every time a girl looked at you."

"I hate it. What makes women behave like that?"

"That's what you get for posing half-naked on
Fifth Avenue
and exposing your cute ass on
NYPD Blue."

"Thanks for your support."

"Hey, you studmuffins make yourselves into gods to these women, then you whine because you can't saunter through life with some semblance of privacy. If they weren't tearing your clothes off you'd be whining about their indifference. There's no pleasing you."

"You don't write for tabloids, do you?"

She pursed her lips and looked thoughtful. "I just might if you're not nice to me. I think they'd pay a pretty sum for the juicy details of our meeting last night."

"Just as long as you tell them I'm the best you ever had. I have my reputation to think about."

"Best what?" Val asked, looking from Leah to Johnny, making Leah grimace and Johnny grin like the Cheshire cat.

"Friend," Leah declared, tweaking his nose. "Best friend I ever had."

"Val is Mama's best friend," Val announced, giving Johnny a stern look, then smiling. "Johnny can be Val's best friend."

Smiling, Johnny slid his arm around Val's shoulder, and his tone became conspiratorial. "I'll be more than your best friend soon if your mom will stop being so stubborn."

"I'm not stubborn," Leah argued, shaking her head. "I'm simply being … cautious."

"You've never been cautious. Stubborn, yes. Cautious, no."

"I just don't want to throw open some Pandora's box, Johnny. There's a lot to consider. And if you deny
that,
then you're not thinking with your head."

"You sound like my agents."

Leah raised her eyebrows. "Oh? Then I take it they aren't exactly jumping with joy over the possibility of our…" She glanced down at Val who watched her intently. "I just think we need to discuss the situations that might arise. We should take our time. Get to know one another again. We're not the same people we were twelve years ago."

"I know I never stopped loving you," he said softly, and reached for her hand. "Will you sit there and deny to me that you feel the same?"

"No." She shook her head and wrapped her fingers around his.

They rode in silence as Johnny wove the truck through traffic, heavy due to the influx of weekend tourists. He pulled through a Jack in the Box and ordered hamburgers and French fries to go, piled the warm, fragrant sacks of food on Val's lap so the boy could filch himself some fries, then directed the truck down the highway and onto the Mescalero reservation.

Leah said nothing, just watched the mountainous scenery flash by, hardly questioning in her own mind why Johnny would head for the reservation. Like so many years ago, it was the one place he could lose himself. There wasn't a trail, a river, a valley, or a mountain for that matter, that he had not explored thoroughly, mostly to escape his father's drunken rages. Just as he had done after Dolores's death, he would search for and find a place that would provide them emotional comfort and physical security. He needed to be on
his
ground to deal with her so-called stubbornness.

The actual town of
Mescalero
was a compilation of modern buildings and rock-and-frame structures. Heat radiated off the street and the cracked, meandering sidewalks, bleaching color from the surroundings. A scattering of small stores boasted barriers across their windows, and signs: FOR SALE. OUT OF BUSINESS. CLOSED. Johnny drove by them slowly and pointed to an adobe building with dull red shutters and a bright orange door, the windows broken out despite the lumber that had been nailed over them.

"Bill Crow's place. He sank every dime into it five years ago. His wife made baskets and pottery in back. They netted twenty five thousand last year, enough to send their daughter to college out east. Anna made the finest baskets in
New Mexico
. They were bought by tourists from all over the world."

Frowning, Leah looked over the weed-infested, trash-littered building. "What happened?"

He pointed to a small grocery across the street—the mom-and-pop sort that roused images of creaky wood floors and penny bubble gum. Ragged, faded GOING OUT OF BUSINESS banners flapped like tattered flags from their moorings on the dusty windows. "Last year Hank and Helen Crookneck finally saved enough money from the store to build them a nice house on the mountain. They sank their savings into the house, but no sooner did they move in than they were forced to close the store. They went bankrupt and are now subsidized by the government."