If Darkness Takes Us Page 24

  “Well, you can’t. We have too much to do to take care of these children.”

  “I know it. But maybe we could leave Keno and Tasha in charge, and you and I could crawl in a hole for a little rest. You probably wouldn’t want to be in the same hole with me, though.”

  “Bea.” Her face softened a bit.

  “What can I do to make this up to you? I’d go build your cart right now if I knew how.”

  Sonja leaned forward and touched my hand. “Don’t ever lie to me again. Start there.”

  “I won’t. Believe me, please, that I won’t.” I tried to smile at Sonja, but I’m sure the effort looked pathetic. “I can get Milo to do some of Keno’s chores so he’ll have more time for your cart. You can stop helping us if you want. You’ve more than earned your cart already.”

  “This may surprise you,” Sonja said, “but I like it here.”

  “Thank you for saying that.”

  “I’m going to watch out for you, though, and this . . . this thing of yours to always think you’re right.”

  “Good. Somebody needs to. I’m not good at keeping myself under control.”

  Sonja laughed, a short mirthless laugh. “None of us are,” she said. “I’m going home now, but I’ll be back in the morning.”

  “Thank you, Sonja. . . . Thank you.”

  After Sonja took Cesar home, Keno came outside. Mazie and Milo watched us through the bay windows.

  “I screwed up.” I was too ashamed to look at him squarely. “Would you please fix that bike cart as fast as you can? I’ll get Milo to do some of your work to give you more time.”

  Keno sat down in front of me, studying my face. “You were protecting Sonja, like you protect all of us.”

  “Yes, but maybe I need to let people make their own decisions and their own mistakes.”

  “Yeah, probably,” he said. “We end up making them anyway.”

  “So true.” I sighed. “Maybe I should quit caring.”

  “Don’t do that. We need you to care.”

  I puckered up again. Keno squeezed my shoulder and left me wondering where this need of mine to control things came from.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  ON A COLD BUT sunny morning in mid-January, I answered a knock at our front door. Two filthy, bony, reeking men stood on my stoop, wrapped in clothes that I could only call rags—blackened, dirt-caked rags. They wore tattered backpacks with rifles protruding from the tops.

  I almost slammed the door on these men, but one of them said, “Mama Bea? You’re so skinny I didn’t recognize you!” That voice. Whose was it?

  “I—”

  “Pete, she doesn’t recognize us, either. Mama Bea, it’s us, Eddie and Pete.”

  “Eddie and Pete?” I couldn’t find a context for that pair of names. I looked at these men with my mouth hanging open until I saw a familiar crooked smile. Tears flew from my eyes. “Oh my god, Eddie and Pete!” My stepsons. My stepsons who lived in Arizona.

  I threw myself into Pete’s arms, and Eddie hugged me from behind, their backpacks and rifles slamming noisily to the entryway floor. I was smooshed between them like a piece of bologna. Their odor brought more tears to my eyes, but I didn’t care.

  “You must be hungry. You must be thirsty! Kids! We have a big surprise!”

  Mazie was inside in seconds, but she stopped still and stared. She wasn’t quite four when she’d last seen her uncles, and that was nearly three years ago. They didn’t look the same. They looked horrible, really, except for the grins on their grimy faces.

  “Mazie, remember Uncle Eddie and Uncle Pete? Where’s Milo?”

  “Down at the garden on the corner.” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, rocking back on her heels in her dingy pink skirt.

  Eddie stooped down to Mazie. “I know I look scary, but I’m your Uncle Eddie. I used to spin you around in circles, remember? When I get cleaned up, maybe you’ll let me give you a hug?”

  “Maybe,” she said, and he laughed.

  Keno came in the back door, wiping his hands on a rag.

  “Uncle Eddie?” he said. “Is that Uncle Pete, too?”

  “Keno!” the travelers cried. But as soon as they grabbed hold of Keno to hug him, tears flooded his eyes.

  “Aw, kid. I’m glad to see you, too,” Peter said.

  “Where’s Dad? Where’s everyone else?” Eddie asked. Keno stepped back and looked at the floor. Eddie’s smile faded to a frown.

  “There’s a lot to tell you guys,” I said, a quiver in my voice. “A whole lot.”

  “What is this smell in here?” Sonja said as she came into the kitchen from the garage, still out of our sight. She stopped as she rounded the corner, her breath catching.

  “Oh, pardon me,” she said.

  “Guys, this is my neighbor, Sonja. Sonja, these are my sons, Eddie and Pete. They just got here from—how did you guys get here? Do you have a car?”

  “We walked,” Eddie said.

  “Sweet Jesus. All the way from Phoenix? But that’s twelve hundred miles! How long did that take?”

  “Two months and fourteen days,” Eddie said.

  “My God!” I clasped my hands and smiled forcedly. “Tell you what. You guys are a little ripe, I have to say. Why don’t you go upstairs and get cleaned up? I think we can spare the water to wash your hair since it rained last week.”

  “Mom,” Peter said. “What’s going on?”

  “Get upstairs and get clean, or I might throw up.” I grinned big with my less-than-truthful mouth and held my nose.

  Eddie and Peter hesitated, looking first to Keno, who stared at the floor, then to Mazie, still speechless, then to Sonja, who went into motion, heading for the stairs.

  “This way, gentleman,” she said in a tone that called for obedience. “Mazie, come help me find clothes for your uncles. Keno, please bring two big buckets of water then go back for two more. You gentlemen can bathe in cold water, can’t you?”

  “Hell, yeah!” Peter said. “Just having water is so... so...” He stopped speaking to eye Sonja up and down. “Your name’s Sonja, did you say?”

  “Yes.” She proceeded up the stairs. All business, this woman was, but sly. Peter bounded the stairs, obviously wanting more. Eddie grinned at me and followed Peter. Keno went to get water from the rain barrels, and Mazie scooted up the stairs with the others.

  Good. Now I could think of what to say to my boys.

  My clean sons joined me in the dining room half an hour later. How handsome they were. Eddie had even shaved. They had nicks and scrapes on their faces and arms, and they were determined to get answers out of me.

  “Mom, where’s Dad and the rest of them? Where’s Tasha?” Eddie asked, his arms strapped over his chest.

  “Tasha’s not feeling well. She’s asleep.”

  “No, I’m not!” Tasha said from halfway down the stairs. She had color in her cheeks and a huge grin on her face as she and her uncles hurried toward one another. They laughed in a hugging cluster in the living room.

  I refrained from telling Eddie and Pete about Tasha’s condition, and instead watched concern grow on their faces as I explained what we knew and didn’t know about their father and siblings. I told them about the radio broadcasts from Clifton, although I avoided the tanker explosion that I didn’t want the grandkids to hear about.

  Milo, Cesar, and the Ibanez kids came in, and, after more excited greetings and hugs, Sonja called us for lunch. When she saw Pete cleaned up, she did a quick double-take and blushed.

  Lunch was tasty beans and rice. Eddie and Pete had seconds; Pete even had thirds.

  “Don’t make yourself sick, honey,” I said. “There will be more when you want some.”

  “God, really? How come you have so much food? Everyone we knew in Arizona was out of food within a week or two.”

  “Well, remember when you guys used to give me a hard time and call me a hoarder?”

  “Um, yeah,” he said warily.

  So, I told my stepsons abo
ut my secret inheritance, about the Mint and our stashes of goods, plus the neighborhood farming operation.

  “Man, Dad will be surprised about this,” Eddie said.

  “I expect he will be, though he’ll be furious with me for not telling him.”

  “Oh, he’ll be mad alright,” Pete said. “I mean, shit, Mom. Hiding two million dollars? That’s fucked up.”

  I didn’t mean to, but I smirked at Pete. He had a point, but what did he know about how hard it had been to coexist with Hank after the kids left home?

  “I, for one, am proud of you, Mom,” Eddie said, “for being so smart and taking care of all these kids.” Such a sweet son, Eddie, and so unlike his two brothers.

  “They’re good kids. They take care of themselves and me, too.”

  “Hey, look at these guns!” Milo called from the entryway. He had hold of a rifle, pointing it at the rest of us. I gasped.

  Eddie and Peter jumped up.

  “Put it down, Milo, very slowly,” Eddie said.

  “Point it at the floor!” Pete insisted.

  “It’s so cool,” Milo said, waving the gun randomly.

  Eddie and Pete rushed forward. Milo saw them and pointed the rifle toward the floor.

  “Hand it to them now, Milo,” I said, breathing for the first time since Milo picked up the gun.

  “Man, you can’t handle guns like that! You coulda killed someone!” Peter said, looming over Milo. Eddie took the gun and ejected the magazine plus a round from the chamber, then did the same with the other rifle.

  “Sorry.” Milo hung his head.

  “Someone needs to teach these kids about guns,” I said.

  “We can do it, Mom,” Eddie said.

  Can you call it dodging a bullet when no bullets were fired? Damn, that was scary.

  I took Eddie and Pete to the Mint, along with the whole gang of kids, related and unrelated. Tasha came, too, though I watched her closely. When we reached the Mint’s patio, Eddie said, “Mama Bea, are you alright? You’re all out of breath.”

  Finally, someone noticed.

  “I think I’m okay, but you know, I have that heart thing.”

  “Don’t you have a wheelchair or something to get around with?”

  “We have one over here somewhere.”

  “I know where it is,” said Keno.

  “Well, will you please get it?” Pete said to Keno. “Your Nana needs to sit down. You kids need to look out for her.”

  “Pete, the kids have tons of responsibility these days,” I said. “Don’t put more burdens on them.”

  “Sorry, kid,” Pete said, tousling Keno’s thick, oily hair. “I’m just worried about her.”

  “I’m worried, too,” Keno said quietly.

  “Me, too,” Mazie said. Milo, Tasha, and even Cesar nodded.

  “What? You guys are worried about me? Why didn’t you say something?”

  They stared at me, then Keno said, “I guess we didn’t know what to say.”

  “Pretty grown-up kids, if you ask me,” said Eddie.

  “I’m very proud of them.” I wiped at a wetness beneath my eyes.

  Keno found the wheelchair, and Eddie dusted it off, then guided me into it. For the next several days, I was not allowed to leave the Pico yard without one of my stepsons pushing me in the chair.

  That day, I waited while the kids took Eddie and Peter upstairs in the Mint, where food, seeds, guns, and the remaining bottles of water were stored. Then we all went to the living room, dining room, kitchen, and garage to marvel at the food and equipment I’d amassed.

  This house was so much like my own—two stories with four bedrooms, a den, and two bathrooms up top, and a living area, dining room, kitchen, bathroom, and three-car garage below.

  When I showed the secret beehive cabinet to Eddie and Pete, they got plum silly with excitement.

  “Hot damn!” said Pete.

  “Mom, you thought of everything!” Eddie said.

  “Well, not everything.”

  “Practically everything! I haven’t had honey for years. When can we eat some?”

  “I guess as soon as someone can figure out how to harvest it.”

  “We can harvest it, can’t we, Pete?” Eddie said. “How do we do it?”

  I told Eddie where to find the bee books and equipment, then we went for a stroll—or they strolled, and I rolled—around the neighborhood.

  Chas seemed to be following us around, though he tried not to act like it. He passed by us several times, gazing at Tasha, tipping his hat once to me. Smart ass.

  “Who’s that smug little shit?” Pete asked under his breath.

  “His name is Chas.”

  “Prep school kid?”

  “No, why?”

  “Prep school name,” Pete said. “Should I run him off?”

  “I wish, but he lives here.”

  Most of the neighbors didn’t know Eddie and Pete. Plus, although they looked better now that they’d cleaned up, they were awfully gaunt, with dark circles under their eyes. Pete had a catch in his step. He said it was from his shoes, which did look a mess.

  Some neighbors gave my sons wary looks. “Who’s gonna feed those guys?” the woman with plastered oily hair asked me.

  “They’re my sons. I’m absolutely feeding them.” Why was I feeding her? is what I wondered. The woman glared at me while Eddie and Pete looked half-embarrassed.

  “Hey, they’re gonna help us,” Silas said. “Right, guys?”

  “Definitely,” Pete said.

  “Of course,” said Eddie, and we moved on.

  I introduced my sons about a dozen times. Jack recognized them, thank goodness, and he greeted them warmly, leading them to his backyard to see his chicken coop that doubled as a hothouse. I waited out front to talk to Tasha about how she was feeling.

  “I’m better.” She did have the happiest grin I’d seen from her lately. Nothing like good uncles to cheer a kid up.

  I heard a loud squawk, almost like a honking goose. To our west, above the railroad tracks, two very large birds were circling and calling to one another—white, elegant birds with black wingtips.

  “Look, Tasha,” I said quietly. “It’s two whooping cranes! I’ve never seen one around here before. Maybe they feel safer now, since it’s so much quieter.”

  “Wow, those birds are huge.”

  “They’re amazing. When I was a kid, whooping cranes were almost extinct. People worked really hard to save them, and they’re slowly coming back. But they live around water. There’s no water out here.”

  “There’s the pond,” Tasha said.

  “Yeah, but I didn’t think it would be big enough. Maybe they’re scouting.”

  “So cool.”

  We sat watching the cranes, then Tasha’s face crumpled. “Nana, did you tell Uncle Eddie and Uncle Pete about me?”

  “Not yet, honey. I figured you wouldn’t want me to.”

  “They’ll be so disappointed in me!”

  “Tasha, they love you. They’ll be concerned, but they will understand.”

  “Please don’t tell them . . . at least not yet.”

  “Okay . . . but if you have much more morning sickness, I’m sure they’ll notice.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t throw up yet today,” she said.

  “Well, that’s good. I guess we can wait for now, but we’ll have to tell them eventually.”

  “Maybe I’ll tell them myself . . . eventually,” Tasha said.

  I can’t describe how relieved I was to have Eddie and Pete with us: more family around, strong men to help manage farming and rain-collection projects, to keep a handle on these kids. I felt like it gave me permission to be the sickly old woman I actually was, to let my guard down, if only a bit.

  But it also reminded me that Hank and the others had been missing for three and a half months. The increasingly likely explanation for this was that my husband, other stepson, and the parents of my grandchildren were dead.

  THIRTY-NINE

/>   AT SUPPER, Pete and Eddie told us more about their monumental trek from Phoenix to Austin. They tried to act upbeat, but their eyes were haunted. Pete had an undercurrent of anger running through everything he said. He’d always been a little hot-headed, but this was noticeably more pronounced.

  “Why did y’all come in the winter?” I asked. “Wasn’t it awfully cold?”

  “Yeah, pretty damn cold sometimes,” Eddie said. “But we thought you guys would need our help. And it seemed better to be cold than to die of heat stroke in the summer. Plus, there’s no water out there in the desert.”

  “No water.” I tried to imagine how dreadful that would be.

  “We saw snow when we passed through the Guadalupe Mountains around Las Cruces,” Pete added.

  “You climbed mountains to get here?” Milo cried, his big eyes aghast.

  “Sort of,” Eddie said, chuckling. “We followed Interstate Ten, so it was more like walking up and down a bunch of super steep hills.”

  “Man!” Milo said. “So cool!”

  “How did you stay warm?” I asked. “How did you eat?”

  Eddie and Peter told us about abandoned cars they’d sheltered in, fires and lean-tos they’d built by the roadside, layers of blankets and clothing they’d worn. For food, they’d packed pita bread and canned beans. Then they’d shot jackrabbits and coyotes.

  “You ate coyotes?” Mazie squealed. “That’s gross!”

  “They were bad, alright,” Pete said, “but we didn’t have anything else to eat. We only ate them twice. We found some canned food along the way, and we shot a deer one night.”

  “I think it was an antelope,” Eddie said.

  “Maybe, but we couldn’t preserve it, so we stayed put for a day to rest and eat as much as we could. We packed some for the next day and left the rest for the buzzards.”

  “We did a little work at a couple of ranches along the way,” Eddie said, “and they fed us.”

  “One guy gave us steak and potatoes and let us sleep in his barn,” Pete added.