The Night Watchman(79)
“Still kicking myself because I didn’t put the chains on the tires yet.”
“Maybe we should order Millie here another breakfast,” said Louie. “Wouldn’t hurt to wait until the sun hits the road a little.”
“I’ll take more coffee,” said Millie. “But you might have to stop for me on the way. I’ll run off behind some trees.”
Louie had forgotten that conversations with his daughter were almost always interrupted by just this sort of uncomfortable statement. Both men responded to the waitress when she came to take their plates away and weren’t sure, really, what it was safe to speak to Millie about.
“One M, one E, two Ls, two Is,” said Millie, out of the blue. “That’s me.” She smiled at them and said, “As long as we’re waiting here, let’s talk about the findings of my study.”
Good News Bad News
Thomas mulled over the detailed report.
The good news is we’re poor enough to require that the government keep, and even improve upon, the status quo.
The bad news is we’re just plain poor.
The good news is that the county, the state, and our neighbors in off-reservation towns do not want us on their hands.
The bad news is this isn’t just because we’re poor. They don’t like us.
The good news is we are sheltered by roofs.
The bad news is 97 percent are made of tar paper.
The good news is that we have schools.
The bad news is that so many of us are illiterate.
The good news is a cure was found for the latest scourge to hit us, tuberculosis.
The bad news is so many parents died and their children grew up in boarding schools.
The good news is we have this report.
The bad news is also this report.
Flying over Snow
Patrice slowly dusted her workstation with a small, soft brush. The snow was falling in heavy sheets. Now there would be no chance to test the possibilities of Betty Pye’s information until spring. She had decided on Wood Mountain for the test because if it didn’t go well he was less “sticky” than Barnes. She had in mind the tiny dots of burrs that slapped all the way down pants or a coat, folding the fabric into a new seam. Sticky. It seemed that Wood Mountain had many admirers. He might even have his eye on someone, which would make him less liable to stick to her. Also, if something went wrong, which she didn’t expect, she could give him the baby to raise. Yes, it was an outrageous thought! She’d never heard of a woman doing that. But look how good he was with babies. The only place she could think of to try out sex was outdoors in the woods, but now that snow was falling thickly that wouldn’t work. Unless she somehow made it work. She adjusted her equipment and began her meticulous task. Yesterday, Betty Pye had sneezed all over her magnifying glass, necessitating Mr. Vold’s application of a special spritz of glass cleaner and some polishing with a soft cloth. Today Betty was out with a terrible head cold, so there were no distractions. How she missed Valentine. And coffee breaks. Also light. Darkness fell so early this time of year.
Doris and Valentine were already in the car when she walked out.
“Sorry,” she said, getting into the backseat.
“We almost left you,” said Valentine. “Doris is itching to get on the road.”
“No, we didn’t,” said Doris. “I had to warm up the car anyway. Valentine, you always exaggerate.”
“I don’t!”
Patrice leaned back. She could feel the heat inching toward her feet, which were already going numb in her thin boots. She needed heavier socks. A sweater beneath her coat. Her lucky-find blue coat had been good only through October. She thought of how Pokey was dressed so warmly thanks to Barnes, and felt guilty again for choosing Wood Mountain over him, even though it was a meaningless choice given the snow. At least the road was clear enough, the driving not impossible. Up front the argument was turning to teasing and laughing, so Patrice let her own thoughts float free. What if she visited Wood Mountain’s house when Juggie was gone? Or what if they happened to borrow Juggie’s car? What if . . . oh what if . . . what if they made their way to that old abandoned cabin up the hill, the one Vera used to work on, thinking it might be the start of her own house someday? No, how ridiculous. It was just as cold as outdoors in that cabin, and maybe branches had even grown through the walls. But there was still a rusty little tin stove up there, she thought, and she could bring blankets. However, that would mean she planned this whole thing out, which made her head whirl. She closed her eyes. Wood Mountain’s strong chest, bare and glistening with sweat and heat. The look on his face the first time he adored the baby, but that adoring look directed at her—wait, she didn’t want that. Wood Mountain was a personal experiment. She was only planning to try him out, not be adored or loved or anything that would make him sticky, like Barnes. But wasn’t he a little sticky anyway? Coming over to see the baby?
No, he was not sticky. He never even looked at her anymore. And now that snow had fallen he wouldn’t be riding Gringo up there. That horse was too valuable to stake out in the cold. She wouldn’t see him, in fact, at all. A flicker of disappointment. And again the thought of that old cabin, or Juggie’s car. That fancy car that Bernie Blue got for her. With the money that Bernie made, somehow. Patrice’s thoughts shifted.