So I said, “Hey, Dad, do you remember that old mule you used to keep up at the ranch?”
Dad was whittling something, and he looked like he just realized at exactly that moment that Sam and I were on the deck with him and said, “What? Yeah, I remember. Molly was her name.”
I said to Sam, “Dad loved that old mule so much,” and Dad snorted and said, “I didn’t love her. But I liked her well enough.”
And I said, “He loved her like his first love until she kicked him in the ribs.”
“That was that,” Dad said, and went back to whittling.
I grinned at Sam, who was looking at me weird, like he couldn’t make out the message in the mule story. He was probably thinking he was the mule. He was, but there were two mules in this story, and naturally, I had to spell it out to him.
“He still loves her,” I said. “But she kicked him, and it made him mad, so now he acts like he didn’t love her so much.”
“She was a goddamn mule, Leo,” Dad said, like he was insulted I would imply he could love a mule. But he did. Every night at supper he’d chuckle when he told us what old Molly had done that day. Mom once told him to go sleep with Molly if he liked her so much.
“My point is, don’t do what Dad did. Get over your mad and go see Libby. You don’t want to turn her into glue.”
Dad got pissed at the reminder of what happened to Molly and said, “What the hell is the matter with you, Leo?” And I said, “I have MND,” and Dad stomped off. But Sam laughed.
Anyway, that’s all I said to Sam, because who should come walking up just then? If you guessed Emma Tyler, you’d be right. She was wearing these killer tight pants and sweater, and I’ll just say this, I’m glad Marisol wasn’t there, because in the last month of her pregnancy, I think she would have scratched Emma’s eyes out. Emma was bringing me some chocolate pudding and Sam was suddenly much less interesting to me. He got up to go and I said, “Hey, don’t forget the race! We gotta make this happen, because I am running out of time!”
Sam really looked startled, and I said, “Not that time. I mean, yeah, I’m running out of that time, but I meant time to get a van before the game.”
“We’ll make it happen,” Emma said, and I wasn’t sure she was even talking about the race, so I had to explain to her that Methodists are great, but they aren’t that flush in the pockets, and then I had this great idea to call a family meeting to review where we are with the funds, and Emma was hanging on my every word, and when I looked up, Sam was gone.
Just like that old mule, Molly.
THIRTY-THREE
Sam knew that she ran at the high school track every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. She generally ran alone, and she ran if it rained or snowed.
Libby Tyler was on a mission.
At first, Sam just drove by, watching her jog around the track. After a couple of times of that, he started to pull over. He knew that she saw him but she wouldn’t look at him. She just ran by.
One day, he got out of his truck, hopped over the fence, and ran behind her. He kept his distance, twenty yards behind her. Libby looked back once, and picked up her pace.
So did Sam.
He came Wednesday and did the same thing. She turned around once and shouted, “Whatever it is you’re doing? It won’t work!”
“Free country!” he shouted back at her.
Sam came back again on Friday. He had no idea what he was doing, really, but he liked running behind her. He liked the way her butt bounced, the way she held her form, her torso upright, her arms tight at her side. He liked just being in the same vicinity as her.
“You’re crazy!” she shouted at him. “A stalker! I could call the cops!”
“So call them!” he shouted back at her.
Sam had heard around town that the Turkey Trot was already a success, that a thousand people had signed up to run, double what she’d hoped. After the city personnel and permits were paid, the race would clear more than enough to get Leo the van. Everything else was going to Homecoming Ranch, which was in the process of being converted to a military veteran’s rehabilitation ranch.
This, Sam had heard from Tony, who had been invited to serve on the board of directors.
“You must be feeling better,” Sam said when Tony told him the news.
Tony had smiled as he lit a cigarette. “I have my moments, I won’t lie. But I’ve got a couple of guys around me now to help. And, you know, Cindy has been coming around.”
Sam knew Cindy and figured she’d last about five minutes. But it was a sign of progress, and baby steps were necessary for Tony.