Finding Casey: A Novel Page 15

  Sunday morning, Halle and Glory had gotten up early so they could walk the dogs down Canyon Road.

  “This place reminds me of Mykonos,” Halle had said, pointing to a blue door with clavos studs and millwork that looked as if it had been imported from the Mediterranean. “That is the exact same color as the Aegean Sea. I wonder if I’ll ever go there again.”

  Glory squeezed her arm. “You can go anywhere you want if you want it bad enough.”

  Halle tried to smile. “Yeah, by myself.”

  “Halle, look at me. I thought after Dan died that was it for me. Now I have Joe.”

  “It’s just that the first step seems so steep. I don’t know where to start.”

  “Sure you do,” Glory said. “You’re coming back here. As soon as you get back, we’ll walk every day, and go to lunch at El Farol. We’ll pretend we’re rich Santa Fe ladies. We’ll go in the galleries and ask questions about forty-thousand-dollar paintings.”

  Halle laughed. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to be too pregnant to do that, but you can buy me a margarita.”

  “I will.”

  “I’m holding you to that promise.” They stopped to look in a gallery window, filled with paintings and sculpture. It was too early for any of them to be open, but Glory made sure to point out which ones put out water bowls on the steps for dogs. “Santa Fe is dog-friendly,” she said.

  “Maybe I’ll get a dog,” Halle said. “Maybe Gopher’s grandmother can sell me a Borzoi. Wouldn’t that be the most alluring accessory, a Russian wolfhound on the arm of a newly single woman?”

  “Men have fallen for less,” Glory said. “Borzois are as independent as cats, though, so don’t expect a snuggler like Eddie. They need room to run, and will chase prey to their own detriment. You might want to start with something smaller, like a Silken Windhound. I can look for a breeder that tests for FADS.”

  “Why can’t I just adopt one? All the time you’re telling me to get a shelter dog.”

  “And I still believe that. But if you’re after a certain breed, find a breeder who tests for genetic faults. They usually have adult dogs to adopt, already housebroken. Believe me, training a puppy is more than you want to take on. Come on now, we need to turn around or you’ll miss your plane and Mom will go crazy and we don’t want that.”

  “Yeah, because she’s already wacky enough.”

  Glory laughed. “She’s just worried for you.”

  “Funny way of showing it,” Halle said. “Just once I wish she’d come right out and say so. All my life it’s been one dire warning after another. I guess they finally proved true.”

  “Halle, you just hold your head up and walk on. Lots of people get divorced. In the long run it’ll probably prove to be a blessing. You never know what incredible thing is on its way to you. Look at me.”

  “Yes,” Halle said. “My larger-than-life sister who looks like she’s about to give birth to triplets.”

  Glory laughed. “This baby will be born wearing a size extra-large, I’m sure of it. But won’t it be fun to dress her up like a little cowgirl? And not preach dire warnings to her? She’s going to love her auntie Halle, that’s for sure.”

  “And I plan to spoil her rotten, just like I have Juniper. Is it horrible for me to be jealous of you?”

  Glory smiled. “I’m going to remind you of that when I’m in labor. Seriously, Hal, I’m going to need all the help you can give me. Children are a lot harder than puppies. I expect I’m going to get an education and a half.”

  They turned around, and just like barn sour horses, plodding on the way out and in a hurry on the way home, the dogs picked up the pace.

  All Glory could think while they ate breakfast was that this was their last morning together. The days seemed to fly by and Sunday had come far too quickly. Having houseguests meant extra laundry and meals, but having her family nearby made up for it. Joseph had gone all out making Sunday breakfast. He made his broiled brown-sugar bacon, baked blueberry scones, and a perfectly browned green chile egg puff, which now sat on the kitchen table she’d found on Craigslist and oiled and waxed until it glowed. This morning she covered it with oilcloth patterned with cherries. Set on top of it, the blue calico Staffordshire dishes she’d bought at the consignment shop looked homey and striking at the same time. She planned to pass them on to Juniper one day. Maybe her daughter didn’t care about such things now, but one day she would.

  They shared the newspaper, which was mostly ads, while Ave did the New York Times crossword puzzle. For no reason Glory could imagine, Juniper got up and took Ave’s walker and raced around the house pushing it in front of her, completing one full circuit, the dogs chasing after her. Everyone was laughing. “Time to name your walker, Gran,” she said, and Topher called out, “It has to be Luke, Luke Skywalker,” and even Ave laughed until she was bent over from the effort. When Juniper returned to her seat, she was out of breath and smiling, and that was when it hit Glory that in a matter of hours, they’d all be gone.

  “Mom, are you sure you have everything?” Halle asked as they stood in Glory’s driveway, and Ave gave her a cranky look.

  “What could I possibly have forgotten? Luke Skywalker is hard to miss, and my underwear and my pills fit in my purse. I’m not the one who went on a shopping spree and bought so many new clothes the airline will charge you an arm and a leg for an extra suitcase.”

  Halle smiled gently. “I told you, Mom. They’re winter clothes. I’m leaving them here because I’m coming back, after we find you some home health care.”

  “And I told you I don’t want some stranger poking around my house. I’ve gotten along fine without your father my whole life.”

  “You’ll need someone to take you to the senior center, and your doctor appointments.”

  Ave pouted. “Maybe I’ll take driving lessons, and buy a new car, too. A little yellow Mercedes twin to yours, so we can both pretend money grows on trees.”

  “Ave,” Joseph said. “You don’t want a German car. Talk about charging an arm and a leg. A hundred bucks to change your oil. Buy American.”

  “This coming from the man who drives a Toyota?”

  “Guilty as charged,” he said. “When it falls apart, my next car is going to be a Ford Escape. Those are made in Louisville, Kentucky. Hey, I have a good idea. Why don’t you rent out your house and come back with Halle? We’ll add on a bedroom. I have a cousin who’s a contractor.”

  Halle gave Glory a tense look. “That’s a great idea,” Glory said, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

  “And fall and break a hip in the snow? No, thank you. I grew up in New Mexico, and I don’t miss their blizzards. I’m too old for change. Besides, who would feed my birds?”

  “Mom, there are hungry birds in Santa Fe, too,” Halle said. “We could find you a lovely place of your own if you like. There are senior centers right nearby that have bridge tournaments and outings to the casinos. Think how much fun gambling would be.”

  Ave waved her hand. “Not doing it, so stop your babbling.”

  “Look how nice a day this turned out to be,” Glory said, quickly changing the subject. The sun was out and the sky was blue, but the temperature was as cold as if they stood on a mountaintop in Angel Fire. Glory scanned the sky as if doing so would make their drive to the airport and flight home smooth and quick. Hopefully, Ave would fall asleep on the way home. Juniper and Topher came out of the house hauling swollen backpacks and grocery bags filled with leftovers. Topher had the micaceous pot Juniper was taking back to the dorm under his arm, wrapped in bubble wrap. He seemed to warm up the last few days, playing cards with Ave, helping Joseph carry in firewood, clearing the dishes from the table, helping Juniper load the dishwasher. Glory was suspicious of all that help. No guy lifted a finger like that unless he was feeling guilty about something. She planned to bring it up to Joseph in a few days, to get his assessment of the situation.

  “Thanks for your hospitality, Mrs. Vigil,” he said. “I had a gre
at time.”

  Joseph shook his hand. “Keep playing that guitar, man,” he said, as if Topher was the next Eric Clapton. Glory read the subtext of the conversation as clear as if it were skywriting. Adios and good riddance, you lazy, ambitionless vato. Any day now my daughter will realize she can do much better and dump your Mayflower jackass.

  “Daddy, we have to go,” Juniper said.

  “You have a full tank of gas?”

  “Yes, and I changed the oil last week, and I don’t need any cash. Bye, Gran. Bye, Aunt Halle.” She grinned. “Or I guess I should say, see you later?” She gave Joseph a hug, then turned to Glory. “Take care of yourself, Mom,” she said. “If you need me to come home for anything, just text me, okay? I can be here in fifty-nine minutes.”

  “You know how I feel about speeding,” Joseph said.

  Glory laughed. “Honey, I’ll be fine. You study hard and be safe, and we’ll see you at Christmas,” she said, looking at Juniper and noticing a definite change. She leaned in for a kiss and whispered in her ear, “You’d tell me if something was bothering you, right?”

  “Of course I would,” Juniper mumbled. “You know. It’s just the holidays.”

  Glory knew. Given the chance, memories of Casey, her mom dying, and her dad deserting her moved right in like bossy tenants. Maybe it would always be like that, but Glory was trying her best to make new traditions and good memories for the girl she’d come to love. She had a fleeting moment of insight that maybe they should name the baby something else, that hearing Casey’s name for the rest of her life might do Juniper more harm than good. She needed to start thinking about other names.

  “Will somebody help me with this dad-blasted seat belt?” Ave said, and Topher stepped forward.

  Once Ave was settled, Topher folded Luke Skywalker into the trunk. He slid his guitar case into Juniper’s car and turned to wave good-bye. Glory held up her hand and felt Joseph at her side. “Safe travels,” he said, just as he always did, and Juniper said just as she always did, “Dad, Albuquerque’s only one hour away.”

  After the two cars drove off, he and Glory turned to walk toward the house. To her eyes it looked impossibly big and lonely. Not even the Christmas farolitos Juniper and Topher had put up could help that.

  “I think somebody has a case of the post-holiday blues,” Joseph said.

  “It’s probably hormones,” she answered. “I can’t help but worry.”

  “About what? Our daughter is earning a 4.0, your sister is coming to stay, and your mom has a superhero for a walker. I imagine we can talk her into moving eventually. Especially once our little bambina arrives. Did I mention you’re gorgeous?”

  “I’m fat,” Glory said, and kissed her husband, but the unease remained. I ate too much at breakfast, she thought. I’ve got to get back to watching my diet.

  Two days later, Joseph went to visit Fidela, Rico’s widow, and her two boys who had recently moved up to La Cieneguilla on the other side of town. Fidela needed help putting together bunk beds for the boys and a million other tiny fixes a husband could take care of, if only Rico hadn’t died in the accident that injured Joseph.

  “I’ll be back in time to make you dinner,” he told Glory. “Promise me you’ll take a nap?”

  “You don’t have to talk me into it,” Glory said, and right after he left, she did lie down on the bed and shut her eyes.

  But there was no peace in it. She thought of how she still had a nursery to put together. The crib was still in pieces in its box. A can of low VOC apple-green paint needed to go up on the walls, but Glory couldn’t manage a paintbrush, even though she wanted to. Five yards of pink-and-purple cotton fabric—was that enough for crib bumper pads and curtains? The pattern was there, but the fabric hadn’t even been cut. There were diapers to stockpile, bottles to buy and baby lotion and wipes, but somehow Glory couldn’t summon the energy to do any of it. Halle would help when she arrived, right? Maybe she’d throw her a baby shower, help put things in their places. Right now, with an empty house and a few hours to herself, this was the only opportunity to grab a nap before she had to do something else. She thought of her hens roosting in their warm coop in the snowy weather, the dogs in their flannel beds by the fire, and Eddie glued to her side. She was nearly asleep when the weird metallic groaning started up.

  Ahhhwwwoooaaawww. Then silence. Dolores, or plumbing?

  Glory remembered her first night’s sleep in the new house, around two A.M., when the same low groaning made everyone sit up straight in bed and call out, “You okay?” Eventually they gathered in the kitchen with mugs of warm milk.

  “Daddy Joe,” Juniper said. “Find a reasonable explanation for that, please?”

  Glory said, “Jenny warned me when she first showed me the property that any house this old had a ghost or two, but I thought she was kidding.”

  “There’re no such thing as ghosts,” Joseph insisted.

  “Really?” Juniper said. “Come on. If there are no such things as ghosts, then why are there like nine million ghost stories in Santa Fe? La Fonda’s gambling salesman, the headless horseman of Alto Street, Casa Real Health Center, La Residencia Senior Center—man, would Gran love that—the Grant Corner Inn, and what about the Mission San Miguel? That whole block is supposed to be haunted.”

  “You listen to me, arbolita. It’s easier to be superstitious than it is to replace plumbing,” Joseph answered. “Whatever that noise was, it was mechanical. When we have the money I’ll call my cousin Pedro the plumber. He can figure it out in no time.”

  As if the ghost had waited for him to get high up on his horse, the groaning came again. Glory watched Joseph’s face turn pale. “I hope it’s not the boiler.” He got up to fetch his toolbox and began muttering in Spanish.

  Glory and Juniper sat where they were, laughing, and then Juniper said, “Our ghost deserves a name. Since she’s such a pain in the butt, how about we call her Dolores?” and that was that. They said good-night to Dolores, went to bed, and slept through the night.

  The Vigils grew used to the noise the same way they did to the out-of-plumb doorways and the guest room always being chilly. Just when Glory was sure they’d heard the last of Dolores, it would happen again. She seemed to be fondest of the dinner hour, especially when they had guests, or the early-morning hours, but Glory remembered the one time she had the chimney man over to sweep out the living-room fireplace. He was sitting at the kitchen table going over the estimate, and Dolores let loose with one of her howls. “What the heck was that?” the man said, and Glory laughed. “My husband thinks it’s the plumbing, but I’m pretty sure we have a ghost.” The chimney sweep got up from the table and walked out the door without another word. They ended up having to find another company to do the work.

  Much to Joseph’s dismay, a peek into the plumbing and heating system didn’t reveal any explanation for the periodic groaning. Dolores wasn’t predictable, and of course she never groaned when they wanted her to. Glory had a theory that Dolores only visited 103 Colibri Road part-time, and when the house was quiet, she was out haunting other homes, sort of like a spirit time share.

  Glory had no fear of ghosts, but the dogs had other ideas. Two seconds after the groan, here they were, as always, butted up against Glory in a king-size bed that now felt more like a twin. Dodge was shaking and even Caddy seemed upset. Glory suspected it was more digestive fallout from Ave’s endless treats suddenly coming to a halt than the ghost, and Juniper and Gopher’s fault, too, for getting them accustomed to long afternoon walks that Glory suspected the kids took for the opportunity to kiss rather than exercise the dogs. Cadillac kept nosing her in the side with a tennis ball, and now Dodge was trying to get Eddie to play, leaping about on the mattress, sprawling his front legs in a pose that always reminded Glory of yoga, barking the supersonic cattle-dog bark that made Dolores’s groaning theme song sound like a lullaby.

  “Off the bed,” she said, but they were having none of that. She tried pushing them away, but they wer
e heavy and hunkered down. Eddie ignored Dodge’s overtures for a while, but even an Italian greyhound couch potato had his limits. Suddenly he leapt off the bed, clearing Glory’s belly by a hair. That did it. She sat up. “You guys need a walk,” she said, and began getting out harnesses and coats. The dogs went berserk, yipping and jumping at the good fortune of two walks in one day, because little did she know that Joseph had walked them early this morning while she slept in.

  It had been months since she’d worked with them, and when training stopped, bad behaviors returned. When Halle got here, Glory would make a list of things she was too pregnant to do, and dog walking would be number one on that list.

  Glory found her gloves and scarf, pulled on her down coat that barely reached her sides, thanks to her belly, and tucked her hair inside a knit cap. Getting her boots on took some effort, but finally she managed, though she gave up on zipping them. She held Dodge and Caddy’s leashes in her right hand, hoping that Caddy would keep Dodge in line. Eddie’s leash was in her left hand, not a balanced walk, but the best she could manage under the circumstances. They went out the door, turned into the alley that connected them to Canyon Road, and walked through the newly fallen snow, dog breath steaming in front of them like smoke. Glory never got used to how beautiful winter could be here: Chimneys puffed out smoke, snow dusted adobe walls decorated with farolitos, both old style with candles in paper bags and the modern electric kind, illuminating the streets at dusk with an old-world charm. They reminded her of votive candles in the red glass holders that Joseph sometimes stopped in to light at the cathedral when he was sending up special prayers. The scent of burning piñon wood made her feel a little drunk. Bare cottonwood branches starkly contrasted with the blue sky, and while cottonwoods were lovely, they weren’t Solomon’s Oak, her beloved old tree in California, under which the modern-day druids worshiped, couples married, and photographers, like her Joe, loved to photograph.