Eventide (Plainsong #2)(62)

Have a drink, Ray.

I don’t think so.

You sure?

Yes.

The blonde woman left and went back through the crowded room toward the bar. The man across from Raymond watched her walk away in her tight jeans, then bent and kissed Linda May on the side of the face. I’ll be right back, he said. I want to talk to this guy over here. He come in the other day looking at new cars and I’m going to sell his ass one of them yet. You go ahead and get caught up with your friend here.

He got up and walked to a nearby table where a fat man was sitting with two women and drew out a chair and sat down. He said something and they laughed. Linda May was watching him closely.

You sure you’re all right? Raymond said.

She turned back. Yes. Why?

No reason, I reckon. I think I’ll head on home.

You just got here.

Yes ma’am, I know.

But is something wrong?

There ain’t nothing wrong. This is the best of all possible worlds, ain’t it.

I don’t understand. What did you come here for? What did you think was going to happen?

I don’t think I had any clear idea about that. I just kind of thought I’d come in and have a drink and see if you was here.

But where have you been? It’s been almost two months.

I got kind of busy.

But my God, did you think I was waiting for you? Is that what you thought? Don’t you know anything?

No ma’am. I don’t believe I do. He stood up out of the booth. Anyway, you take good care of yourself now.

Raymond?

It’s been nice to see you, he said.

He reached for his glass and his hat and walked away. He drank down the rest of the beer and set the glass on the windowsill next to the front door and pulled his hat down tight over his head as though he were expecting high winds and stepped outside. He’d been in the tavern for no more than fifteen minutes.

He walked up the wide sidewalk along the dark storefronts and climbed into his pickup and drove south out of town. There was no car or other vehicle out on the highway. At home he parked in the garage and walked back across the graveled drive.

When he reached the wire gate he stopped and stood looking back toward the horse barn and the cow lots. Then he raised his head and peered up at the stars. He spoke aloud. You dumb old son of a bitch, he said. You dumb old ignorant stupid son of a bitch.

Then he turned again and went through the gate up into the dark quiet house and pulled the door shut behind him.





Part Four





33


SHE WAS SIXTEEN NOW AND BETTY NOR LUTHER HAD seen her in the twelve years since she was taken away by court order and placed in a series of foster homes in Phillips. A tall ripe-looking blonde girl with a loose-boned body and blue eyes like her mother’s, she had her father’s long thin nose and square face. Her father was not Luther. She had never known her father and had no desire to. He was living in the Idaho State Prison, serving a ten-year sentence for assault and armed robbery. Betty had met him in that long-ago summer when she was just twenty-two and still loose-boned and ripe herself, and he’d disappeared after spending only a single month with her. No one in Holt County had seen or heard from him since. Betty had given their daughter her maiden name, Lawson, and her own dear dead mother’s two first names, Donna Jean.

The girl showed up one night toward the end of March at Luther and Betty’s trailer house three hours after they’d gone to bed. She stood at the door in the cold until Luther came out in his ragged underpants. What you want? he said.

I’m Donna, she said.

Who?

Donna. Don’t you even know me?

She stood looking at him, wearing only a thin black raincoat against the cold and no scarf or gloves. She smelled of cigarette smoke and cheap wine.

Donna, he said.

Yeah.

How do I know that’s you?

Well f*ck yes, it’s me. Who else would it be? Let me in. It’s freezing out here. Isn’t my mama at home?

She’s here. She’s trying to get her sleep.

Wake her up. I ain’t going to do nothing. I got kicked out. I have to find a place to stay for the night.

I guess you can come in.

He stood back and allowed her to pass and the tall blonde girl stepped into the front room and peered about. Luther went back to the bedroom and woke Betty.

What is it? she said.

You better get up and come look.

What for?

Come out here and see.

Betty rose from bed and put on her robe and walked out sleepily to the front room. Don’t tell me, she said, looking at the girl. Is that you?

It’s me, the girl said.

Oh Lord. Oh my little girl. Betty rushed across the room and threw her arms around her and hugged her neck. The girl stood stiffly in her arms. Betty began to sob, patting her head. Oh my God. Oh my God. She leaned back to look at her. I ain’t seen you in so long. And look at you. So growed up. I just been hoping. Praying every day. Ain’t I, Luther.

Yes, ma’am, he said. Sometimes more than once.

What happened? Betty said. I tried calling you but that last woman you was with, she wouldn’t even let me talk to you.

I got kicked out, the girl said. She stepped back away from Betty’s arms.

She got kicked out, Luther said. That’s how come she showed up here. Looking for her mama.