“That’s it?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes a story is just a story.”
“Not with you they’re not.” That made him chuckle. He gathered up his tea glass and the scrap dish then made his way inside. Joe and I exchanged looks. “There was something he was trying to pass along in that story.”
Joe flapped his wings then scurried off to find his ladies. Rising, I followed Kenruh inside, the interior of the doublewide cool and dark. I could hear my mother in her room talking to someone so I made a sharp right and entered the kitchen. Kenruh glanced up from placing his glass into the old dishwasher.
“That still working?” I asked then opened the ancient Amana to find the pitcher of sweet tea.
“Until it stops,” he replied, closing the door on the dishwasher.
We’d repaired it a few weeks ago. Everything in this place was older than me. No lie. When you lived on social security, a measly disability check, and a small stipend from the tribe for her part-time job at the Cultural Center as Mom and Kenruh did you didn’t buy new. You repaired. You wired and tinkered and glued and tied together whatever you could. Money like Landon Reece made was a fantasy around here. Sure, a few of our people made it off the rez and into top colleges. One, Penny White Sky, had gotten a medical degree and returned to the reservation to tend to the elderly and indigent. Her little office at the far end of town was always busy. I suppose that described my family well. Indigent. It was a term that fit many American Indians.
Which was why I’d put off attending college and went to work at the ranch. The money I sent to Mom helped pay bills and put food on the table. Fortunately, we didn’t have to pay state property tax on this little slice of the American dream or we’d have lost our plot years ago. So to keep the dishwasher running and the sweet tea in the fridge I worked at the ranch. I’d told my mother and grandfather that I wasn’t ready for higher education yet. Which was a lie. I’d kill to get into some philosophy and biology classes at UWW but that wasn’t happening unless Kenruh hit the lottery.
“How about we go fishing sometime?” I snapped out of the mental lull I’d fallen into, hustling to the cupboard to find a clean glass. “Salmon will be spawning.”
“Yeah sure. Let me check the work schedule when I get back to the ranch.”
Kenruh nodded. “Why not bring a friend? That Abbott boy that just signed on. He looks like he could use a day with a pole in his hand.”
I let that one fly by only because of the dirty way my mind had spun the comment.
“Sure yeah, I’ll ask him.” Not. A good day on the Jante River would put fresh fish into the freezer for the winter. Plus my mother made the best salmon and potato chowder. My stomach rumbled at the thought. Kenruh chuckled. My mother wheeled into the kitchen, her smile bright as her eyes.
“I heard your belly all the way in my room,” she said and immediately set into pulling out a frying pan and some eggs. The stove—and most of the other major appliances as well as the counters—had been lowered for her, as had most things in the house, all done by me, my grandfather, and several neighbors over the years.
“Mom, no, it’s fine. I’ll grab something at the diner while you’re at swim class.”
“Don’t be silly. We have too many eggs. Sit. You’re too skinny.” I glanced at my grandfather. He smiled, patted my shoulder, and then made his way to the front door after kissing Mom on her cheek. “Can you run that check to Tiny at the garage? I need my damn car back.”
“Will do.” With that, Kenruh was off for the day, leaving my mother and me to make chitchat while she stuffed me full of eggs and toast with marmalade. I had to confess that her cooking was much better than anything at the Copper Falls Diner.
“Did I hear your grandfather say you had a new friend that you were going to take fishing?” Mom asked, her round face set off well in her brand new bob haircut. She watched my reaction over what was probably her tenth cup of coffee. The woman had a major addiction to the coffee bean. I chewed my toast, swallowed, and took a sip of sweet tea.
“He said to invite the new hand.”
“Ah, I thought it might be a love interest.”
“No, no love interest.” I lowered my gaze to my food. She let the topic drop. Mom never pushed me on my lack of dates.
“You’ll find that right one,” she said with that wistful tone that always softened her voice when she was thinking of my father. She claimed that there could never be another man for her as he had taken her heart with him when he died. Mom was a great believer in soul mates. “Oh shit. Look at the time!”
I peeked at the clock on the wall. Seeing we were close to running late, I inhaled the rest of my breakfast and we hightailed to my truck. Lifting Mom into the cab was easy, she was no bigger than a hiccup. Her wheelchair folded flat and went in the rear and we were off.
“If you bring your new hand to go fishing let me know ahead of time. I’ll make frybread tacos.” I glanced at her holding her tiny bag with her swimsuit, swim shoes, and nose plugs. The wind was sending her hair into her face. She was smiling. Mom smiled a lot. “Does he like those?”
“Who doesn’t?” I replied as Willie Nelson sang about seven Spanish angels. Mom laughed lightly.
We pulled into Copper Falls with about ten minutes to spare. Mom wheeled herself into the YMCA after giving me a list of things to pick up at the tiny grocery store. I lingered around the lobby of the Y, watching closely as Claire, the swim class instructor, helped Mom into the pool lift. Mom looked great in her bright yellow swimsuit. Cheery and sunny as always. They spied me watching and waved. I raised a hand. Once Mom was in the water she was like a fish. Ever since the accident and therapy afterward she’d been swimming. She’d always loved the water and had been on the swimming team in high school. The therapists had all recommended it and over the years thanks to the ADA several changes had been made to the pool here. The elderly also made use of the lift chair and other handicapped alterations to the facility.
Seeing that Mom was in the water and chatting with the seniors who took this same class, I left her to her time in the pool. Copper Falls didn’t have much, but it had a hell of a lot more than Lead River. For one thing, it had a library. Not a massive one but a decent sized one. That was my first stop. Removing my hat when I stepped into the cool brick building on Main Street, I moseyed through the aisles, stopping in the philosophy and practice section. Nothing new to read here, so I moved past the comfy reading area to look over the books on ancient Greece. I nosed around a bit, managing to find a YA story about Leonidas when he was a youth training at the agoge. The book I had at Kenruh’s was set later in the famed leader of the Spartan’s life so I checked it out for some insane reason.
All the while I shopped for Mom the library book I’d put in the truck kept whispering to me. Perhaps it had been stupid to sign out something for Will. He seemed disinterested in reading in general but maybe if it was a topic that he enjoyed he’d be—
He’d be what? Willing to sit down and talk tomes with you?
“Maybe,” I whispered to the peach I’d been squeezing. Maybe he would read it and sit down beside me at a fire some night. Maybe he would tell me that he was touched that I’d thought of him. Maybe he’d reach for me, his hands on my face, and place his mouth on mine. Maybe we’d have a moment, a real moment, something pure and true. Maybe he’d see me as more than a freak who spent all his time with horses and books.
Maybe gold nuggets will fly out of your ass! Shit, Perry, step out of fiction world. Will Abbott is like the moon. Pretty to look at but untouchable.
The sensation of juice slipping between my fingers pulled me back to reality. I shoved the mangled peach into a bag, threw several more in with it, and made a mad dash to the toilet paper aisle. Face hot with shame I wiped my hand on my jeans and was instantly transported back to that night in the Lone Vale cabin. Will, me, and a bottle of booze. His spunk had felt similar when it had coated my hand. Warm, sticky, and probably just as sweet. I spent the next five minutes staring at rolls of toilet paper to let my erection fade. The urge to lick my fingers was so strong I bit down on my lower lip until I tasted blood. That sharp bite of pain was enough to get me through paying for the few items in my cart. The sky overhead was indigo blue, a few shades deeper than Will’s powder puff blue eyes. Ugh. For fuck’s sake!
“Get the hell out of my head,” I huffed aloud. There had to be some way to purge Will Abbott—who I was supposed to still be mad at—from my head. Maybe I needed to get back to the YMCA. Seeing old men in saggy wet swim trunks should wipe clear just about anything. I ran to the Y as if my ass were on fire, Mom’s fruit slamming against my thigh with every step. Poor peaches.