when it rose harsh and bold to claim skies of
flawless blue. Now it was more subtle, softer, the opaque light slowly
transforming the horizon to pale turquoise. Above the towering spires of
Castle Rock, feathery jet contrails shocked a brilliant white by the eminent
sunrise, fanned out like silvery bicycle spokes.
Reluctantly, I pulled my gaze away and returned to lock the front door,
mindful that the sounds of the desert had also changed—the subdued, repetitious
cooing of the mourning doves having been replaced by the cheerful racket of the
incoming winter birds.
As I backed the car out and headed down the road, mentally primed for a
new challenge, there was only one thing wrong. The familiar burn of excited
anticipation in my stomach was tempered by the heaviness in my heart. As much
as I wanted to ignore it, I really hated to allow the cavernous rift between
Tally and me to stand unresolved for three days. I reached for the cell phone
and then pulled my hand away, setting my jaw. Why should I be the one to give
in? For once, I’d wait until he called first. I battled with myself for
another five miles or so before I felt my resistance crumbling. I grabbed the
phone. “O’Dell, you’re a wuss!”
I knew from experience that the whole Talverson clan rose before dawn,
so I had no qualms about dialing his number. It rang five or six times before
I heard a woman’s voice say dully, “Hullo.”
Crap. Double crap. Why did it have to be his mother? I swallowed my
resentment, saying sweetly, “Good morning, Ruth. Sorry to call so early, but I
really need to speak to Tally.”
There was a momentary silence before she said, “Who is this?”
I did a slow burn. She knew damned well who it was. This was another
one of her silly games. Anything to put a rift between me and Tally. Not for
one second did I buy into the supposition that she was still suffering from the
severe depression following the death of Tally’s father—a depression supposedly
spawned by the reprehensible actions of Tally’s former wife. Was it my fault
that I bore such an uncanny resemblance to the late Stephanie Talverson? Why
couldn’t Tally acknowledge that his mother’s ceaseless hatred for the woman
spilled over onto me?
To myself, I fumed, ‘Get over it, lady’, but I managed to keep my voice
even, controlled. “It’s Kendall.”
“Hmmph. Hold on, let me see if I can find him.” I heard her put the
phone down and then nothing for a long time. Had I lost the signal? I pulled
the phone away from my ear and watched the little ‘in service’ message
pulsating. No problem on my end. I pressed it against my ear again, and then
I heard noises. It sounded like pots and pans clanging. Cupboards being opened
and shut. Silverware clattering. The innocent sounds of breakfast
preparations.
My face flamed. The old witch! She must have set the phone down and
gone on about her business, never even telling him I’d called. I fought the
urge to turn the car around, drive to the ranch and confront her. I couldn’t.
It was almost seven o’clock.
I punched the END button and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.
By the time I pulled in front of Lupe’s trailer, my heart rate had slowed to a
dull roar, but the beginnings of a headache tapped at my temples. Okay, one
thing at a time, I would have to deal with Tally’s mother later.
I
took a few slow breaths and got out just as the trailer door swung open. “Hi,”
Lupe called out, as she shouldered a stained nylon overnight bag and kicked the
metal door shut behind her. I could tell by the dusky smudges beneath her
eyes that she’d probably slept as poorly as I had. We took a few minutes to
work out the logistics of the trip. Since she didn’t have a cell phone, we
settled on a series of hand signals to communicate and then, with the map
spread out on the hood of her car, we studied the various routes and decided to
stay
flawless blue. Now it was more subtle, softer, the opaque light slowly
transforming the horizon to pale turquoise. Above the towering spires of
Castle Rock, feathery jet contrails shocked a brilliant white by the eminent
sunrise, fanned out like silvery bicycle spokes.
Reluctantly, I pulled my gaze away and returned to lock the front door,
mindful that the sounds of the desert had also changed—the subdued, repetitious
cooing of the mourning doves having been replaced by the cheerful racket of the
incoming winter birds.
As I backed the car out and headed down the road, mentally primed for a
new challenge, there was only one thing wrong. The familiar burn of excited
anticipation in my stomach was tempered by the heaviness in my heart. As much
as I wanted to ignore it, I really hated to allow the cavernous rift between
Tally and me to stand unresolved for three days. I reached for the cell phone
and then pulled my hand away, setting my jaw. Why should I be the one to give
in? For once, I’d wait until he called first. I battled with myself for
another five miles or so before I felt my resistance crumbling. I grabbed the
phone. “O’Dell, you’re a wuss!”
I knew from experience that the whole Talverson clan rose before dawn,
so I had no qualms about dialing his number. It rang five or six times before
I heard a woman’s voice say dully, “Hullo.”
Crap. Double crap. Why did it have to be his mother? I swallowed my
resentment, saying sweetly, “Good morning, Ruth. Sorry to call so early, but I
really need to speak to Tally.”
There was a momentary silence before she said, “Who is this?”
I did a slow burn. She knew damned well who it was. This was another
one of her silly games. Anything to put a rift between me and Tally. Not for
one second did I buy into the supposition that she was still suffering from the
severe depression following the death of Tally’s father—a depression supposedly
spawned by the reprehensible actions of Tally’s former wife. Was it my fault
that I bore such an uncanny resemblance to the late Stephanie Talverson? Why
couldn’t Tally acknowledge that his mother’s ceaseless hatred for the woman
spilled over onto me?
To myself, I fumed, ‘Get over it, lady’, but I managed to keep my voice
even, controlled. “It’s Kendall.”
“Hmmph. Hold on, let me see if I can find him.” I heard her put the
phone down and then nothing for a long time. Had I lost the signal? I pulled
the phone away from my ear and watched the little ‘in service’ message
pulsating. No problem on my end. I pressed it against my ear again, and then
I heard noises. It sounded like pots and pans clanging. Cupboards being opened
and shut. Silverware clattering. The innocent sounds of breakfast
preparations.
My face flamed. The old witch! She must have set the phone down and
gone on about her business, never even telling him I’d called. I fought the
urge to turn the car around, drive to the ranch and confront her. I couldn’t.
It was almost seven o’clock.
I punched the END button and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.
By the time I pulled in front of Lupe’s trailer, my heart rate had slowed to a
dull roar, but the beginnings of a headache tapped at my temples. Okay, one
thing at a time, I would have to deal with Tally’s mother later.
I
took a few slow breaths and got out just as the trailer door swung open. “Hi,”
Lupe called out, as she shouldered a stained nylon overnight bag and kicked the
metal door shut behind her. I could tell by the dusky smudges beneath her
eyes that she’d probably slept as poorly as I had. We took a few minutes to
work out the logistics of the trip. Since she didn’t have a cell phone, we
settled on a series of hand signals to communicate and then, with the map
spread out on the hood of her car, we studied the various routes and decided to
stay
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