given in to their tantrums, but for Doug Dawson, who was paying only one thousand dollars for a garden bench, Jake had already gone far beyond the call of duty.
“Beautiful,” Doug was saying, helping him slide out the lodgepole. Then a woman ran around the side of the house. She had on a green ankle-length dress, a Dodgers baseball cap, and bracelets all up one arm. But the most amazing thing about her was that, when she reached the pickup, Sasha came dutifully around the truck and lay down at her feet. The dog put her head on her paws and started to whimper.
“Daddy,” the woman said.
“There’s my girl.” Doug hugged her. “I knew you’d come.”
When she wrapped her arms around him, she must have noticed there were bones where there ought to have been flesh, and a rank odor seeping out of the man’s pores, but she still pressed her cheek against his chest. She overrode the stench anyway, with a mixture of lemons and Juicy Fruit gum.
“Wait till you see what Jake and I are making,” Doug went on. “It’ll be beautiful.”
She pulled back to look at him. Jake watched her gaze pass right over Doug’s fuzzy pink scalp and the bandage, then land on his mouth, which she smiled at.
“How long are you staying?” Doug asked.
“As long as you need me.”
“Well, …” Doug said, toying with the edges of the bandage. “I could keep you here forever that way. You just stay as long as you want. I insulated the garage, did you know that? Put in air-conditioning, a little refrigerator for my plants. You can stay there. Or, of course, in the guest room in the house, thoughMaggie uses that for a library. There isn’t even a couch.”
He was toying with the bandage so much, one side of the tape slipped off. Then Jake understood why he had kept it covered all these months. He’d been picking at it, and now a thin trail of black blood slid out.
“Daddy?” the woman said.
He retaped the bandage. “This? This is nothing. I scratched it again. The doctors tell me I can’t scratch and then, of course, that’s all I want to do. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Don’t worry about it. Let me show you my ensete.”
He led her to a huge, palmlike tree near the curb. Each leaf was nearly twenty feet long, so sturdy Jake was sure it could hold a man’s weight.
“An Abyssinian banana,” Doug told her. “Incredibly hard to keep alive. Every three to five years it flowers, then the plant dies down to the root. You’ve got to coax new shoots from the crown. Maybe it will live, maybe it won’t. It’s a toss-up. It’s due to flower again. Maybe it will do it while you’re here, and then we’ll see if we’ve got any magic left.”
“But Dad?”
He walked over to another tropical plant, this one with glossy, fanlike leaves. “A Japanese aralia. You can grow these in the Northwest or in Phoenix, believe it or not. They’ll take full shade or sun. An amazing plant. It’ll be getting flowers in the fall, then these little clusters of black fruit. Marvelous. Did you see that wisteria?”
The front door opened and Maggie Dawson stood on the porch, her hands on her hips. “For God’s sake, Doug, she doesn’t want to hear about every goddamn plant.”
“As a matter of fact,” Savannah said, “I do.”
Jake turned back to the truck. He pulled out thelodgepole and stacked it next to the drive. It was too hot in this valley. He didn’t see how people stood it. The air was thick enough to choke on, stuffed with exhaust smoke and perfume and boiled eggs.
He was having trouble breathing, though he couldn’t blame that entirely on the glutted air. It was always that way when he stayed in town too long, or when he saw a woman way out of his league. His skin began to itch and, for the life of him, he could not think of a single thing to say to anyone.
He’d always been quiet, but a long time ago it had not been considered a sign of something sinister. He’d simply been shy and big for his age, picked first
“Beautiful,” Doug was saying, helping him slide out the lodgepole. Then a woman ran around the side of the house. She had on a green ankle-length dress, a Dodgers baseball cap, and bracelets all up one arm. But the most amazing thing about her was that, when she reached the pickup, Sasha came dutifully around the truck and lay down at her feet. The dog put her head on her paws and started to whimper.
“Daddy,” the woman said.
“There’s my girl.” Doug hugged her. “I knew you’d come.”
When she wrapped her arms around him, she must have noticed there were bones where there ought to have been flesh, and a rank odor seeping out of the man’s pores, but she still pressed her cheek against his chest. She overrode the stench anyway, with a mixture of lemons and Juicy Fruit gum.
“Wait till you see what Jake and I are making,” Doug went on. “It’ll be beautiful.”
She pulled back to look at him. Jake watched her gaze pass right over Doug’s fuzzy pink scalp and the bandage, then land on his mouth, which she smiled at.
“How long are you staying?” Doug asked.
“As long as you need me.”
“Well, …” Doug said, toying with the edges of the bandage. “I could keep you here forever that way. You just stay as long as you want. I insulated the garage, did you know that? Put in air-conditioning, a little refrigerator for my plants. You can stay there. Or, of course, in the guest room in the house, thoughMaggie uses that for a library. There isn’t even a couch.”
He was toying with the bandage so much, one side of the tape slipped off. Then Jake understood why he had kept it covered all these months. He’d been picking at it, and now a thin trail of black blood slid out.
“Daddy?” the woman said.
He retaped the bandage. “This? This is nothing. I scratched it again. The doctors tell me I can’t scratch and then, of course, that’s all I want to do. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Don’t worry about it. Let me show you my ensete.”
He led her to a huge, palmlike tree near the curb. Each leaf was nearly twenty feet long, so sturdy Jake was sure it could hold a man’s weight.
“An Abyssinian banana,” Doug told her. “Incredibly hard to keep alive. Every three to five years it flowers, then the plant dies down to the root. You’ve got to coax new shoots from the crown. Maybe it will live, maybe it won’t. It’s a toss-up. It’s due to flower again. Maybe it will do it while you’re here, and then we’ll see if we’ve got any magic left.”
“But Dad?”
He walked over to another tropical plant, this one with glossy, fanlike leaves. “A Japanese aralia. You can grow these in the Northwest or in Phoenix, believe it or not. They’ll take full shade or sun. An amazing plant. It’ll be getting flowers in the fall, then these little clusters of black fruit. Marvelous. Did you see that wisteria?”
The front door opened and Maggie Dawson stood on the porch, her hands on her hips. “For God’s sake, Doug, she doesn’t want to hear about every goddamn plant.”
“As a matter of fact,” Savannah said, “I do.”
Jake turned back to the truck. He pulled out thelodgepole and stacked it next to the drive. It was too hot in this valley. He didn’t see how people stood it. The air was thick enough to choke on, stuffed with exhaust smoke and perfume and boiled eggs.
He was having trouble breathing, though he couldn’t blame that entirely on the glutted air. It was always that way when he stayed in town too long, or when he saw a woman way out of his league. His skin began to itch and, for the life of him, he could not think of a single thing to say to anyone.
He’d always been quiet, but a long time ago it had not been considered a sign of something sinister. He’d simply been shy and big for his age, picked first
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