Читать книгу Winterkill - P.H. Turner - Страница 7

3

Cheyenne was my hometown until the end of my seventh grade year. I cried for three weeks that first summer in Denver, missing Julia Graham every day. She answered on the second ring.

“I hope you’re calling to tell me you’re coming home after fifteen years. You’re taking that job you told me about, right?”

“I’ll be there in a week, give or take a day or so!”

“It’ll be like old times, Sawyer. Where are you going to be living?” she asked.

“I’m hoping you can help with that. Got any recommendations?”

“Ohh, Sawyer. Rentals are scarce what with the oil boom. Some oil workers are bunking in Laramie and driving back and forth to the fields. I’ll get on Craigslist and see if anything decent is available,” Julia said.

“Thanks, you’re the best.”

* * * *

I left San Antonio in a red-streaked dawn. I was officially homeless. So far, Julia had struck out on finding me a rental.

I-25 skirted the mountains around Raton, New Mexico. I’d make Denver late tomorrow and spend the night with mom. Dad died last spring and she was having a terrible time being alone.

She opened the door before I could get my key in the lock, looking perfect in her pearls and deftly applied makeup. Her cashmere twinset matched the shade of her long skirt. “Sawyer, so good to see you, dear.” She kissed my cheek. Hands on my shoulders, she stepped back looking me over. “You look scruffy, honey.” She scrutinized me. “I’m not sure that shirt color does much for your red hair. Maybe a different shade, blue to accent your eyes.”

“Mom, I didn’t dress up to drive ten hours.” God, she brings the petulance out in me.

“Well.” Her eyes welled up. “I’m just saying…”

“No problem, Mom.” I hugged her. “Let’s get this stuff up to my room.” Thirty seconds together before I hurt her feelings and tears spilled. I wanted to do better. I would do better.

I followed her out to the deck. She precisely dusted off her chair, arranging her skirt around her knees. I enjoyed a cold Dos Equis. She had her favored merlot.

“Tell me about your new job, sweetheart.”

“It’s what I always wanted. I’ll be a special projects reporter at CBS. I’m excited, Mom.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “I can’t believe you haven’t gotten this journalism stuff out of your system by now. It’s just not right Sawyer. You need a job fitting the type of young woman you are.” She slammed her glass down, sloshing merlot, staining a red ring on the table.

“Mom, this is the type of woman I am. I love my job and I’ve worked hard to get where I am.” I remembered Andy’s threat to call Watkins and sour my prospects. Andy wasn’t going to screw this for me.

“I just worry about you dear.” She patted my hand. “I want you to be happy, that’s all your Dad and I ever wanted. With a nice young man and a life together.”

“My life is good.”

“But Sawyer, you’ve let some good opportunities for marriage pass you by. Remember that orthodontist in Boulder? He offered you such a promising life. Then there was Connor. Connor’s so accomplished and he was such a lovely young man. From a good family, too. I really enjoyed him. You broke off with both of them. Honey, do you know what you’re looking for in a man?”

“I guess not, Mom.”

The tears formed in her eyes again. Guilt rolled over me. She’s my mother, for god’s sake. Why can’t she let me be the adult woman I am?

“Mom.” I pulled her into my arms. “I want you to stop worrying. I’m fine. My life is not a mirror of yours, but I’m happy.”

She pulled a Kleenex out of her skirt pocket and dabbed at the corners of both eyes. “You’re my only child and I just want what’s best for you. Your dad’s gone now.” The tears rolled down her cheeks. “He would know what’s best.”

“Mom…” I warned.

She sat up in her chair until her back was ramrod straight. Raised her chin and tugged at her twinset. “So. You’re going back to Cheyenne. Where are you going to live? You haven’t told me.”

“I don’t know.” I laughed. “Julia’s looking for place.”

She clasped her hands on her knees. “Sawyer, you have no home?”

“Mom, I have a job. The worst that could happen is that I have to stay in a hotel and store my stuff for awhile.”

She worried at a miniscule piece of lint on her sleeve. “But Julia is helping you. Right?”

“She is. She and Dave got married, remember?”

“That boy she was dating when you two were in college?”

“Yes, they moved from Boulder to Cheyenne after they graduated.” The crinkled worry lines on her face relaxed. “Julia looked at a rental for me today. I may hear from her tonight.” I gave her hope.

We cleared the dishes. I hugged her goodnight and climbed the stairs to my old room. I opened a window to let in fresh air. She had left my room as it was the day I left for CU. A dry, brittle corsage was pinned to my sagging bulletin board. The ribbon hung in limp dusty streamers. I was ten years older than this room.

* * * *

At nine sharp, I called Clay Watkins.

“What can I do for you?” His distinctive voice boomed out of the radio speakers.

“I’ll be at work tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it.” I paused. “The news director at NBC and I didn’t part on the best of terms…”

“I know.” Clay’s voice was louder. “Heard an earful from him.”

“I left under the terms of my contract. I changed networks and moved over five hundred miles.”

“Didn’t get the particulars from Andy. I know him, you know. Couple of us go drinkin’ every year at the convention.”

“I assumed you knew each other. The important thing is that you understand that I fulfilled my contract and I gave two weeks’ notice.”

“Tell you what’s important to me. You get here and do a helluva professional job for me and this station. And don’t be an asshole while you’re doin’ it. See you tomorrow.” The line went dead.

I tapped my phone off. I could work with that.