Читать книгу In Care of Sam Beaudry - Kathleen Eagle, Kathleen Eagle - Страница 9

Hilda topped off Dave Cochran’s sack of groceries with a plump loaf of Wonder Bread, put his card number through her new dial-up system and watched Star sneak Lucky an unearned treat while the phone sweet-talked a distant computer into approving the principal’s purchase.

“Is your school on break?” Dave asked absently as he slipped his wallet into his back pocket.

“Star’s visiting with her mother,” Hilda explained. She wasn’t sure what had roused her defensive instincts. Principals probably went to sleep at night counting children instead of sheep.

“What grade are you in, Star?” was his automatic follow-up.

“Second.”

“Mr. Cochran’s the principal of our school.”

“You only have one school?”

“The older kids go to Bear Root Regional, which is over in Medicine Hat. But our second graders go to Mr. Cochran’s school. The second grade teacher is…”

“We have two for second grade,” Dave said. “Mr. Wilkie and Miss Petrie. How many do you have?”

“Four, but there’s another whole school over on Water Street. I could go to either one. Can I give Lucky another treat?”

“Only for another trick. Star’s from…” Hilda dragged the dog treat jar across the counter and poised to spin the cap. “What’s the name of your town, honey?”

Star sprang out of her Lucky-level crouch as though she’d been bitten. “I think I should go back to the hospital now, in case my mom’s awake yet.”

“We’ll have some supper here in a minute.” Hilda handed Dave his credit card. “There you go, Mr… Oh, look who’s here,” she chirped, echoing the spring on the screen door.

Dave greeted Maggie and her son in his principal’s voice. Maggie was polite. Jimmy was quiet, clearly on a short leash. There was a brief exchange about the boy’s behavior during the second half of the day as Mr. Cochran turned on what passed for his charm. Hilda took pleasure in seeing for herself that Maggie didn’t get it. Or didn’t appear to. The pheromones were missing the target.

Hilda had heard plenty of comments about Maggie’s eligibility—single women were harder to find in Bear Root than available men—and she’d been treated to more than a few silly imitations of Dave Cochran’s stiff-necked approach. The real thing would have been more painful than gratifying to watch if Hilda hadn’t mentally taken Maggie off the mate market. On so many levels, Maggie was taken. All she and Sam had to do was wake up and smell the music.

“Yes, sir, I promise,” Jimmy was saying, and Cochran offered an awkward high five. Some people shouldn’t do high fives, Hilda thought. She, being an old lady, was probably one of those people, and the school principal, being the school principal, was certainly another.

“We appreciate your patience,” Maggie called after him.

“Just don’t tell him his call is important to you,” Hilda whispered. “He’ll think you mean it.”

Maggie shot her a look before turning her attention to their new charge. “Hey, Star, I see you’ve made friends with the star attraction of Allgood’s Emporium.” She bent to pat the motor-tailed little dog, quietly adding, “I just came from the hospital. Your mom’s still resting, and Dr. Dietel is taking good care of her.”

“I wanna go see her. She’ll be waking up pretty soon.”

“I thought we’d have a little supper first,” Hilda said. There was more to it than food, of course. There was company. Acting on the theory that kids help each other cope, Maggie had offered to bring her son over for supper. With a hand on each child’s shoulder, Hilda made a bridge of herself. “This is Jimmy. He’s just about your age.”

“How old are you?” Jimmy challenged. “I’m nine.”

“I’m seven and a half.”

“I’m nine and—” he used his fingers to calculate “—seven months, so you’re way younger.”

Star looked up at Hilda and murmured plaintively, “I’m not hungry.”

“Your mom would worry if she knew you weren’t eating. I know I would.” And did. It was easier than worrying about the faces of Star’s comatose mother and her own uneasy, unforthcoming son. She slipped her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “And you’re worried about her. I know I would. So we’ll all go upstairs, sit down and have some food, and then we’ll go see her.”

“Will she get well?”

“Dr. Dietel is very good at finding out what’s wrong and making it right,” Maggie put in. Hilda nodded, giving her friend the keep-talking look as she flipped the sign on the door to Closed. “He’s still working on the first part, but she’s getting two things we all need. Food and water.”

“If she could eat she’d be awake,” Star reasoned. “Did she wake up at all?”

“Not yet, but she’s getting her food put directly into her body through a tube.”

“And we have to put yours through your mouth.” Hilda made a sweeping gesture toward the stairway to the heavenly scent of her famous Hilda’s Crock-Pot Cacciatore.

“Mmm, smells like our favorite.” Maggie extended a come-with-me hand to Star. “And tomorrow, maybe you’d like to go to school with Jimmy. Just for a little while. Visit Mom for a little while, maybe have lunch with me.”

“I’ll ask my mom.” Star accepted Maggie’s hand. “Tomorrow, when she wakes up.”

Hilda served her guests at the table that had been in her kitchen since she’d taken over the store, basically the same kitchen she’d grown up in, although she’d replaced the woodburning stove with gas right after her father died. Daddy had refused to depend on anything he couldn’t harvest with his own hands. Not that he didn’t use store-bought—he ran a store, after all—but using and depending were two different things. Hilda had moved the stove downstairs and made it part of the country store décor. Her kitchen was still cozy, and any number of power failures and stranded gas trucks had given her pause to appreciate the little potbelly wood burner she’d kept in the living room when she was “updating.” Her TV was a little dated, but she didn’t have much time to watch it, anyway. She did love to cook, and she wished she had room for a bigger table and more guests.

Hilda got a charge out of sitting Maggie in Sam’s place. She’d had them figured for a match ever since she’d met Maggie, who would surely charge Sam up a bit, while he would offer her some good ol’ Western grounding. Every time those two came within sight of each other, you could already feel the current flowing.

After supper, Lucky lured the children into the living room while Maggie helped Hilda clean up the supper dishes.

“Is her mother going to wake up?” Hilda asked quietly as she slid four scraped plates into the mound of bubbles Maggie was growing in the sink.

“You’ve heard of trying to get blood from a stone? That poor woman. It’d be easier to get an IV into Mount Rushmore.” Maggie flipped the faucet handles and lowered her voice in the new quiet. “Has Sam been able to get in touch with her family?”

“I haven’t had much chance to talk with him, but I’m sure he’s trying. I guess he knows her pretty well.” She glanced up at Maggie. “Or did.”

“You don’t?”

“Never even heard the name.” She pulled a beats-me face. “My boys used to tell me everything when they were Jimmy’s age.”

Maggie glanced over her shoulder at the sound of one quick bark and two easy laughs. “When did they stop?”

“I’ve never asked. I’m satisfied with the way I remember it. They told me everything back then. Anything they don’t tell me now, I probably don’t need to know.”

“Until you do.”

“And then they’ll tell me. Sam will, anyway.” Soon, she hoped. “It all works itself out. Ninety-five percent of your worries never materialize, and four out of the other five turn out to be a whole lot less dire than you thought.”

“That leaves one percent.”

“Yes, it does. And that’s life.”

Maggie screwed her head and rested her chin on her shoulder to get another look at her son. “Math was never my strong suit, but it sounds like I could improve his chances by increasing the worries.”

“You’re absolutely right.” Hilda met Maggie’s questioning glance with a smile. “Math is not your strong suit.”

“I’m not the best worrier, either. I don’t want Jimmy to get shortchanged just because I’m a single parent.”

“That small percent is always gonna be there no matter how many parents a kid has. You can throw yourself in front of the bus, but he could still get hit.”

Maggie chuckled. “That’s what I like about you, Hilda. You never give away the ending.”

“Speaking of which, have you finished the book for this week?” Hilda pulled a paperback novel off the top of the refrigerator. “Who suggested this, anyway? The wrong guy gets the girl.”

“Well, now I’ve finished it.”

“Just kidding.” She set the book aside. “Mr. Right always gets the girl. And Mr. Lucky gets—”

The dog barked. Hilda laughed, but he barked again. And again. She turned to the kitchen door just as it opened and the brim of a hat appeared. “It’s just me, Ma.”

“And you missed supper, but there’s some left.”

“Thanks, I’m good.” Sam acknowledged Maggie with a nod and took his hat off in one economical gesture as he closed the door behind him. “I still have some paperwork to finish up. Kinda lost track of some of the details.”

“It’s caccia-to-reee,” Hilda sang out. She knew he hadn’t eaten. As hard as she’d tried to feed him up, he was still as skinny as he was when he’d come home from the service.

“Smells great. If it’s gone tomorrow, you’ll know I got the midnight munchies.” He held up a big plastic bag. “One of the nurses said you’d taken charge of the little girl, so I brought over a few things that were in the room.”

Star’s little head rose above the dog-kid huddle like a periscope. “What room?”

“The motel room.” Sam cleared his throat, eyeing the child as though he was afraid he might scare her. Or she, him. Quietly he explained, “I thought you might need some clothes.”

“Where’s my backpack?”

“It’s safe in my office. I’m…” He shifted to a lower voice, his version of theatrical. “I’m the sheriff in these parts, so I get to—”

“You can’t have my backpack. All my stuff is in it.”

“I’m not going to keep it. Listen…Star?” He looked to Hilda for approval, and she nodded. That’s right, son. You’re doing fine. He squatted on his heels, hat on his knee, and offered the child the plastic bag. “Star, can you tell me where you and your mother live now? And how you got here?”

She peered into the bag. “We used to live in California, but not anymore.” She pulled her face out of the bag and told Sam, “We came on the bus to find my grandmother.”

“Where does your grandmother live?” he asked, his voice soft and gentle.

“Right here.”

Sam looked up at Hilda as though she was the one who owed an explanation.

“I need your help downstairs, Sam.” She nodded toward the door. “Can’t quite reach the Oreos. Maggie, would you give the kids some ice cream while Sam helps me get the cookies?” She glanced at Star. “And then we’ll go check on your mom. Okay?”

Hilda said nothing as she led the way downstairs, followed by one of only two people in the world that could make her a real grandmother. Strong, steadfast, straight-shooting Sam. Hilda marched past the cookies and turned on him between cough drops and condoms.

“I don’t know what she’s doing here, Ma.” Hat in hand, he made a helpless gesture, all innocence. “It’s been more than eight years since I last saw her. Met her down in Wyoming when I was workin’ the oilfields. We were together for a while before I enlisted.”

“Star tells me I’m the grandmother she came looking for.”

Stared for a long moment, and then shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so.”

“I left because there was another man.”

“Who’s my competition?”

“Mrs. Randone, I guess. Vic never said much about his family, but whoever raised him, she’d be no match for you, Ma. On the other hand, I wasn’t the right match for Merilee.”

“You never looked back?”

He lifted one strapping shoulder. “I called her a couple of times after I left. Wanted to make sure she was all right. I let her know I was shippin’ out. She didn’t say anything about a kid. She barely said anything at all.”

“Star’s last name is Brown,” Hilda reminded him.

A long moment passed over that thought. No father. Exclusively her mother’s child. Hilda knew her son, knew they were chewing on the same tough truth. Somebody hadn’t done his job.

“I just talked to the doctor. She’s in real bad shape.” Sam glanced toward the top of the stairs. “How’s the girl doin’? Does she seem okay?”

“Considering she’s in a strange place and her mother’s laid up in some kind of a coma, I think she’s doing pretty well.” She laid her hand on her boy’s sleeve. “She’s a brave little girl. Quite grown up for one so young. She cares wholeheartedly for her mother.”

He drew a deep breath and blew a sigh, still staring. “Merilee did a lot of drugs. That was another reason I left. If she was pregnant and still into…” He looked to his mother for assurance. “The girl seems, you know…really okay?”

“Her name is Star.”

“I found her birth certificate in Merilee’s stuff. ‘Father unknown’ looks pretty cold when you see it in black and white. I don’t know anything about Merilee’s family. As for Randone…” He shook his head. “I don’t know, Ma. You ask me, he shouldn’t be anybody’s father, but he was…you know.”

Under different circumstances, his reluctance to put it into words for his mother would have amused her. He’d had sex with a woman. Not that the fact that somebody had been having sex with her, too, was amusing, but he couldn’t tell her in so many words. She was his mother. And he was forever Sam.

“Your woman brought her child here, son. Star knew my name. She knew about the store.”

“I can’t claim she was ever really my woman, but I told Merilee all kinds of things.”

“Good things?”

“She came lookin’ for you, didn’t she?” He gave her a loving smile. “I’m always talkin’ you up, Ma.”

“You’re not what I’d call a big talker,” she teased, and he suffered in silence as she patted his chiseled jaw. “It has to be you, Sam. You’re the one she was looking for. Had to be. Maybe she thought you were still in the marines all this time.”

“Wouldn’t be hard for her to find that out without coming here.” He reached around her and plucked a package of Oreos off the shelf. “Especially if she told them she had my kid. The military’s pretty fussy about stuff like that.”

“Well, we’re speculating. We can do the detective work later. Right now I seem to have a granddaughter.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get too attached.” He handed her the cookies.

“I’m going to take Star at her word, Sam. Her mother’s word. That’s all she has to hang on to right now. The little security the child has.”

Staring at the top of the stairs once again, Sam pressed lips together and nodded mechanically. “You’re a nice lady, Hilda Beaudry.”

“Nice has nothing to do with it. I’m a woman of grandmothering age, and all I have is unattached sons. My clock is ticking, and I’m realizing I could actually have grandchildren, and they could be anywhere.”

“I take back nice.”

“I already gave it back.” But not her new role. “Who’s going to decide where she stays?”

“Social services, and I’ve already talked to them. Lila Demery’s the social worker assigned to the hospital. Until somebody else comes forward, I’m the only one who knows Merilee, and since I’m the sheriff…” He raised an eyebrow and returned the pat on the cheek. “I’m going to leave Star with you for now. But put the clock in a drawer.”

“I told her we’d have supper and then go see her mother.” He questioned her judgment with a look. “It’s what she wants. She’s already seen the worst.”

“I’m givin’ you wise. You’re a wise woman, so I guess you know what you’re doin’.”

“That’s better than nice. I’m old enough, I don’t have to be nice.”

“It’s good Maggie brought her kid over. Kids do better with other kids around.”

“Maggie has good instincts.” She gave a perfunctory smile. “Come up and have something to eat, and then we’ll all go see—”

He stepped back. “Naw, I’ll meet you at the hospital. It’s touch-and-go, and I don’t want the girl to walk in at a bad time.”

Hilda nodded. Her son had good instincts, too.

Sam had a duty here. It was a word he understood, and he carried it into the hospital room with him like the badge he wore on his shirt every day. There was no doubt about duty, no pondering risks or considering alternatives or seeking shelter. He’d once loved the woman, and the child was hers. For the moment, they had no one else. It was his duty to take care of them somehow. The somehow part was a little vague, but it wasn’t operative. Duty was operative.

Wasn’t it? Or was it care?

No, taking care, that would be his action. They would be in his care, and he would take steps. He wasn’t much for walking softly—so said his boot heels whomping across the tile in the otherwise eerie quiet—but he would see to their needs.

Whatever Merilee needed, she wasn’t saying. As promised, he’d met her visiting party in the lobby and given the go-ahead. Merilee was hanging in there. Hilda took Star into the room, but she soon stepped out and ordered him to trade places with her. “She’s alone in a strange world. At least tell her you know her mother,” she told him. “She needs to talk to someone who has that in common with her.”

It was a scary assignment for a man who hadn’t thought he had many fears, certainly none as harmless-looking as Star Brown. She turned reluctantly as he approached. She had the biggest brown eyes he’d ever seen. She wasn’t afraid of him. Far from it. She was in charge here, tentative only about taking those watchful eyes off her mother. She looked like a small adult trying out an oversize chair.

He knelt beside her. “My name’s Sam Beaudry. I’m Hilda’s son. Your mother’s a friend of mine.” Okay, not the most appealing introduction, but it was a start.

“Hilda Beaudry is my grandmother.”

Sam nodded. Now, how should he put this?

“Who’s your daddy?”

“I don’t have a daddy. I have Mom, and she has me.” She turned from him, resuming her close watch. “She’ll wake up pretty soon. Sometimes she sleeps for a long time, but she always wakes up.”

He rubbed the twinge out of his left knee. “Has she been in the hospital like this before?”

“She said this is what would happen if I called nine-one-one. In school they told us to call nine-one-one if somebody was hurt or sick, but Mom said they might take her away if I did that.” She eyed Sam suspiciously. “I didn’t call anybody, but you came anyway.”

“It’s okay. Your mother made the call herself. She knew she needed a doctor, and now the doctor’s trying to help her.” He glanced up at the bed. From this angle Merilee appeared to be even smaller, more childlike than her child. “I think she knows you’re here.”

“But she’s asleep.”

“Not exactly. She’s resting, trying to get her strength back, but it’s not the same as sleeping. One time when I was hurt, I was like this in a hospital, and I could kinda hear people around me.”

“And you woke up?”

“Not right away. I’m just sayin’ she might know we’re here. So if there’s something you want to tell her, she can probably hear you.” His knee cracked as he rose for a better view of the patient’s face. “Right, Merilee? It’s Sam, in case you don’t recognize the voice. I’m here with Star. We’re hoping you’ll open your eyes pretty soon, but we’ll understand if you don’t. We know you need your rest.”

“Mommy?” Star leaned forward. “I don’t know what to do, Mommy. I found the store, and I found my grandmother. Hilda Beaudry—I found her. Now what should I do?”

Sam shared with the child in the mother’s silence. Life’s breath came and went, came and went. How much effort Merilee put into the act was a mystery to Sam. She was hooked up to mechanical help, but maybe she was trying. He moved an armless chair from the corner of the room, set it at a right angle to Star’s, straddled the seat and rested his forearms on the back, taking care not to block her view of her mother.

“You came a long way on the bus,” he surmised. “How many days did it take?”

“Two, I think.”

“Did your mom say how long she was planning to stay?”

“She said I might go to school here.”

“Did she tell you anything about me?” he asked warily, and she glanced at him, equally cautious. “Her friend? Hilda’s son, Sam?”

“I don’t think so.”

How far should he take this? “Do you have any relatives besides Hilda? Another grandma, maybe, or an auntie?”

“My other grandmother died. I never saw her.” She eyed him briefly. “Are you like a cop or something?”

“I’m a sheriff. It’s kind of like a cop, but I have to look after a whole county, and I have to get elected. I was a cop when I was in the marines. MP, they call it. Military police.” Too far. Wrong direction. He could tell by her scowl.

“We don’t really like cops.”

“Oh.” That hurt. “Who’s we?”

“Well…” She glanced at her mother. Reminded she was on her own, she shrugged. “I mean, we like them when they help us. But I wouldn’t call them up or anything. They can take anybody away. They might take bad people away, but they could take good people away, too. They might even take me away.”

Damn. Where had that come from?

“Only if they thought somebody might be hurting you,” he suggested.

“Even if they take a bad person away, he can come back,” she confided, leaning closer to him in a way that made him feel better, like maybe he’d gained a little trust. “And when he comes back, he’s twice as bad.”

“Does the bad person have a name?”

“Maybe.” She drew back. “Maybe not. It could be any bad person.”

“I know how to handle bad people.”

“Do you have a gun?” she whispered.

“I do. I killed a snake with it the other day.” He gave a one-sided smile. “I have a jail, too. And handcuffs. A fast car with a big gold star painted on it. Bad people don’t mess with me. Pretty soon we’ll be gettin’ the word out among the snakes.”

“So, if I needed a cop, you’d be around? Because they’re never around when you need one.”

“You know Jim Whiteside?”

“Jimmy?”

Sam nodded. “Ask him. I’m always around. And Jim’s always keeping an eye on me. I’m beginning to think he’s on the county payroll, making sure I do my job. You ever need me, Jim knows right where to find me.”

She wrinkled her little round nose. “He thinks he’s a big smarty.”

“He’s a good kid, once you get to know him. It’s good to have friends. You probably have a lot of friends in California.” He tipped his head, inviting more confidence, hoping for names. “Maybe your mom has some friends there.”

“We just moved again. We didn’t know anybody in our new building.” She stared at her mother, hoping. “Is she gonna wake up tomorrow?”

Sam knew if he couldn’t say yes he was no help. He said nothing. He felt small and useless.

“Can’t the doctor make her wake up?” Her voice was tiny and thin.

Ask me for something else, kid. An ice cream cone, a ride anywhere you want to go, a puppy, a Band-Aid. Anything but answers.

A tear plopped on her thumb.

He told himself to stay behind the back of the chair, use it as a shield, keep his distance. But before he knew it, he was standing, lifting the child into his arms and letting her hot tears drench the side of his neck.

No way could he ever cry. But he felt as though Star was doing it for him.