Devoted(29)
Ben said, “We’ll find a motel. They might not take dogs, so you’ll have to use your invisibility cloak.”
Kipp issued a heh-heh-heh-heh-heh and squirmed partly free of the harness, so that he could lie on the seat, below window level.
After driving the better part of a minute in silence, and glancing repeatedly at his passenger, Ben said, “There’s something strange about you, Rin Tin Tin.”
Kipp grumbled rather than growled.
“You don’t like that name?”
Again Kipp grumbled.
“Okay, all right. We’ll find a better one, Scooby-Doo.”
Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh.
26
A meat loaf was finishing in one oven, and a potato-and-cheese casserole appeared nearly ready to come out of the other oven, and on the breakfast table, a platter of muffins glistened under lemon icing. In the refrigerator were a bowl of egg salad, chicken breasts in a marinade, cleaned cauliflower, peeled and sliced carrots.
Verna Brickit, the three-times-a-week housekeeper, who would be perfect casting if Hollywood ever remade the old Ma and Pa Kettle movies, washed dishes, while Megan dried them and put them away.
The two dishwashers were of the generation produced after the latest round of government regulations related to water and energy usage, and very little came out of them clean. The main purpose they served was to fill in what otherwise would have been two gaping holes in the cabinetry.
Verna said, “What makes people who’ve never designed a useful piece of machinery in their lives think they know how a dishwasher ought to work?”
“Hubris,” said Megan.
“A pox on all their houses!” Verna declared. “And don’t get me started on toilets. Will there ever be a toilet again that gives you enough water so you only have to flush once, or am I just doomed to carpal tunnel syndrome of the right hand?”
“TMI, Verna.”
Verna refused to vote for any of the current political parties on the ballot. She was waiting for a new party to be formed that she called “the Common Damn Sense Party.”
“Would you go to Mars with a group of damn fools who think they can colonize it tomorrow?” Verna asked.
Drying a colander, Megan said, “I wouldn’t go to Mars even with the greatest group of geniuses who ever lived. I like having air to breathe.”
“I saw on TV this Chinese billionaire wants to get a colony going on Mars in seven to ten years, so if an asteroid hits the earth or nuclear war wrecks the planet, humankind won’t all be destroyed. Hell, there’s about enough water on Mars to flush a toilet twice, but he thinks it could be a swell place to live.”
“Some people, if they get enough billions,” Megan said, “it seems to give them a little too much self-confidence.”
“I’ll guard against that when I make my first billion.” Verna set the last dish, a mixing bowl, in the drying rack. “The meat loaf and potatoes should be ready in a few minutes. I’ll put them out to cool and then be off.”
“Give my best to Sam.”
“He threatened to fix the lawn mower himself this afternoon. I want to get home while he still has both hands.”
As Verna snatched up a large plastic bag by its knotted neck, to take it outside to the trash can, Megan hung the damp dish towel on its rack. “See you Friday.”
“Tell Woody I made the muffins specially for him. Have a couple yourself, skinny as you are.”
“I bet they don’t have good muffins on Mars.”
As she opened the back door, Verna said, “They don’t have shit on Mars.” She paused before stepping outside, turned to Megan, and said, “I haven’t breathed a word to you about the painting you’ve been working on, Woody and the deer, but now it’s almost done . . .” She hesitated. “I’m no fancy art critic, so maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“Most fancy art critics don’t know what they’re talking about, either. You’ve got eyes. So tell me. I won’t be offended.”
“Well, I’ve got to say it’s a damn good thing you came back to Pinehaven. You healed your heart here and came into the fullness of your soul. You couldn’t have painted anything that good if you were somewhere else.”
“Thank you, Verna. That’s very sweet.”
“I wish your mother had lived to know Woody and to see that painting, how it brings a chill along your spine, a good chill.”
Sarah Grassley had died of leukemia when Megan was fifteen. Her father remarried five years later and lived now in Florida with his new family. She wasn’t estranged from him, wished they were closer, but he was a man with a limited supply of affection. He seemed able to deal with her only as if he were an uncle rather than her father.
Verna took the trash outside, leaving the door open behind her.
Not having connected with Woody in a while, Megan went upstairs to make sure that everything was all right with him.
27
After the action in the wild grass with Justine, Lee Shacket finds himself following the wet scent and the slithery susurration of a stream that flows through the meadow. He kneels on its bank.
He is satiated. His limbs are heavy, and his thoughts are slow, and he has never felt more complete.