Twenty-seven
They were in the air less than an hour later, on a southeasterly
course toward the state capital. Alex had used a quarter of
that hour to get herself looking human again. She had washed
her face in cold water, applied fresh makeup, brushed her
hair, and changed into a pair of wool slacks and a sweater.
Whatever she wore to the meeting in the morning could come
out of her closet at home.
On the way to Purcell's municipal airfield, Reede stopped
at a hamburger joint and picked up the order he'd phoned
ahead for. There was a single-engine Cessna waiting for them
on the tarmac when they arrived at the landing strip. The
sheriff knew how to pull strings.
Purcell was no more than a patch of glittering light on the
black carpet beneath them before she thought to ask, "Does
this plane belong to you?"
"Minton Enterprises. Angus gave me permission to use it.
Pass me one of those cheeseburgers."
She devoured almost half of hers--Sarah Jo's cucumber
sandwich hadn't gone far--before she came up for air.
"When did you learn to fly?"
Reede munched a french fry. "I was about eight."
"Eight!"
"I had salvaged an old beat-up bike from a junkyard and
repaired it well enough to get around on. I pedaled out to the
airfield every chance I got."
"It must be three miles from town," she exclaimed.
"I didn't care. I'd have gone twice that far. The planes
intrigued me. The old guy who ran the place was as testy as
a rattlesnake, a real loner, but he kept a strawberry soda pop
waiting for me in his ancient icebox. I guess I pestered the
snot out of him, but he didn't seem to mind all my questions.
One day, he looked over at me and said, 'I gotta check out
this plane. Wanna go along for the ride?' I nearly peed my
pants."
Reede probably didn't realize that he was smiling over the
happy memory. Alex remained silent so he wouldn't be reminded
that she was there. She enjoyed his smile. It attractively
emphasized the fine lines at the outer corners of his
eyes and those around his mouth.
"God, it was great," he said, as though he could feel the
surge of pleasure again. "I hadn't discovered sex yet, so
flying was the best thing that had happened to me. From up
there, everything looked so peaceful, so clean."
An escape from the awful realities of his childhood, Alex
thought compassionately. She wanted to touch him, but didn't
dare. She was about to venture down a rocky, hazardous
path. One wrong word or turn of phrase would spell doom,
so she felt her way carefully.
Quietly, she asked, "Reede, why didn't you tell me that
my mother was pregnant when she came back from El
Paso?"
"Because it doesn't make any difference."
"Not now, but it did twenty-five years ago. She didn't
want to marry my father. She had to."
' 'Now that you know, what does it change? Not a goddamn
thing."
"Perhaps," she replied uncertainly. After another brief
silence, she said, "I was the quarrel, wasn't I?"
He looked at her sharply. "What?"
Letting her head fall back on the headrest, she sighed. "I
wondered why the two of you didn't kiss and make up when
she got back that summer. Knowing how much and how long
you had cared for each other, I wondered what could possibly
keep you apart after a silly lovers' spat. Now, I know. It
wasn't silly. It was more than a spat. It was me. I kept you
apart. I was the quarrel."
"It wasn't you."
"It was."
Grandma Graham had said it was her fault that Celina had
been killed. Everything Alex uncovered was bearing that out.
Had Celina, by having another man's child, driven her passionate,
jealous, possessive lover to kill her?
"Reede, did you murder my mother because of me?"
"Damn," he swore viciously. "I could strangle Sarah Jo
for telling you about that. My quarrel with Celina wasn't over
you--not originally, anyway."
"Then, what?"
"Sex!" Swiveling his head around, he glared at her.
"Okay?"
"Sex?"
"Yeah, sex."
"You were pressuring her to and she wouldn't?"
His jaw tensed. ' 'It was the other way around, Counselor.''
"What?" Alex exclaimed. "You expect me to believe--"
"I don't give a rat's ass what you believe. It's the truth.
Celina wanted to get a head start on our future, and I
wouldn't."
"Next, you're going to tell me that you had an unselfish,
noble reason," Alex said, tongue-in-cheek. "Right?"
"My own parents," he said without inflection. "My old
man got my mother pregnant when she was barely fifteen.
They had to get married. Look how great that turned out. I
wouldn't take a chance on the same thing happening to Celina
and me."
Alex's heart was thudding with gladness, disbelief and
emotions that were too complex to examine. "You mean that
you never--"
"No. We never."
She believed him. There was no mendacity in his expres-
sion, only bitterness, and perhaps a trace of regret. "Hadn't you heard of birth control?"
"I used rubbers with other girls, but--"
"So there were others?"
"I'm not a monk, for crissake. The Gail sisters," he said with a shrug, "lots of others. There were always willing girls
available."
"Especially to you." He shot her a hard look. "Why
weren't you concerned that you'd impregnate one of them?"
"They all slept around. I would be one of many."
"But Celina would have slept only with you."
"That's right."
"Until she went to El Paso and met Al Gaither," Alex
mused out loud. "He was just a means to make you jealous,
wasn't he?" On a humorless laugh, she added, "She overshot
her mark and manufactured me."
They lapsed into silence. Alex didn't even notice. She was
lost in her turbulent thoughts about her mother, Reede, and
their unconsummated love affair.
"It's really beautiful up here at night, isn't it?" she said
dreamily, unaware that almost half an hour had passed since
they had last spoke.
"I thought you'd fallen asleep."
"No." She watched a bank of clouds drift between them
and the moon. "Did you ever take my mother flying?"
"A few times."
"At night?"
He hesitated. ' 'Once.''
"Did she like it?"
"She was scared, as I recall."
"They gave her hell, didn't they?"
"Who?"
"Everybody. When word got out that Celina Graham was
pregnant, I'll bet the gossip spread like wildfire."
"You know how it is in a small town."
"I kept her from graduating high school."
"Look, Alex, you didn't keep her from doing anything,"
he argued angrily. "All right, she made a mistake. She got
too hot with a soldier boy, or he took advantage of her.
However the hell it happened, it happened."
With the edge of his hand, he chopped the air between
them in a gesture of finality. "You didn't have anything to
do with the act or the consequences of it. You said so yourself,
just a few hours ago. Remember?"
"I'm not condemning my mother or stigmatizing myself,
Reede. I feel sorry for her. She couldn't attend school, even
though she was legally married."
Alex wrapped her arms around her sides, giving herself a
huge hug. "I think she was a very special lady. She could
have given me up for adoption, but she didn't. Even after
my father was killed, she kept me with her. She loved me
and was willing to make tremendous sacrifices for me.
"She had the courage to carry me in a town where everybody
was talking about her. Don't bother denying it. I know
they did. She was popular; she fell from grace. Anyone harboring
malice toward her was delighted. That's human nature."
"If they were, they didn't dare show it."
"Because you were still her knight, weren't you?"
"Junior and me."
"You closed ranks around her."
"I guess you could put it like that."
"Your friendship probably meant more to her then than
at any other time." He gave a noncommittal lift of his
shoulders.
She studied his profile for a moment. The rocky path had
led her to the cliff, and she was about to take the plunge.
"Reede, if Celina hadn't died, would you have gotten married?"
"No."
He answered without a second's hesitation. Alex was surprised.
She didn't quite believe him. "Why not?"
"Lots of reasons, but essentially, because of Junior."