“As my maid of honor, will you keep saying things like that now and then over the next few months?”
“Absolutely. Now let’s go round us up a couple of cowboys.”
Shortly, as she drove home with two hearty chicken dinners in the back and Callen beside her, Bodine wondered out loud.
“Have you ever eaten wilted arugula?”
“Why would I?” Turning, he gave the containers in the back a suspicious study. “That’s not in those take-home dinners, is it?”
“No. It’s going to be on Chase’s plate tonight at Jessica’s.”
“That man is sick in love,” he said with some pity. “He doesn’t much like unwilted lettuce.”
“I was thinking the same. She’s getting the better end of the deal, as for him eating it, she watches Silverado.”
“Classic.”
“And a visual feast for the female eye. We’re having us some Cajun chicken, rosemary fingerling potatoes, and asparagus.”
“You’re making me glad I’m not in love with Jessica.”
“Add on some huckleberry cheesecake.”
“Maybe we should get married.”
Laughing, she turned sparkling eyes at him. “Careful, Skinner, some women grab at straws. How about we watch Silverado? I’ve got my own DVD.”
“Got popcorn?”
“I believe I can come up with that.”
“I’ve got the beer.” He reached over, touched her arm. “Alice is sitting out on the front porch.”
Even as he spoke, Alice rose, her hands clutched together at her waist.
As if she’d been waiting for her cue, Cora stepped out.
Bodine pulled straight up.
“I faced it head-on,” Alice said. “I looked in my head and I told Pete.”
“Pete’s the artist. The one Bob Tate brought here today.” Cora slipped an arm around Alice’s shoulders. “Alice has been waiting to tell you.”
“How do you feel about it?” Callen asked her.
“I’m glad it’s over. It hurt.” She pressed a hand to her belly. “I had to stop, and start and stop and start. I’m glad it’s over. You have to look at it. We have one, and Bobby said everybody should look at it in case they know Sir. Ma?”
“I’ll go get it.”
“I like being outside. I like—” Alice stopped, tapped a finger to her lips.
“What is it?” Bodine asked.
“I keep wanting to say things over and over. I’m trying not to. I like being outside,” she said carefully, “maybe because I had to be inside for so long. Coming out whenever I want makes me feel good.”
Now she pressed her lips tight as Cora came out with the sketch.
“This is Sir. It doesn’t look exactly right, but I can’t explain better. His hair got gray like mine did, and his beard—sometimes he had it, sometimes he didn’t. But most times he did. And his face got old like mine. This is how he looks, as best I can explain, now.”
Bodine studied the sketch.
Were his eyes truly crazy, or did Alice only see them that way? In the sketch they had a wild, fierce look about them. The hair hung thin, unkempt, straggly. A grizzled beard covered the lower half of a thin, hard face. The mouth made a cruel, compressed line.
“Do you know him?” Alice demanded. “Do you know who he is? Bobby says he has a real name, not Sir. A real one.”
“I don’t think I do.” Bodine looked up at Callen.
“I don’t, but we know what he looks like now. It’ll help find him and stop him.” Because he knew he could, he stepped up, hugged her. “You did really good, Alice.”
On a sigh, she rested her head on his chest a moment before stepping back. “He’s not as tall as you, but taller than Bobby. That’s what I told Pete. His arms are strong. He has big hands, harder than Rory’s or yours. He has a scar on his palm. This one.” She tapped her left, slashed a line across it. “And one here, like that.” She drew a curve on her left hip. “He’s got a mark—”
She looked at her mother.
“Birthmark.”
“A birthmark here.” She touched her right outer thigh. “Like a smear. I said I’d remember when he locked me up, I said I’d remember when I got away. And I did remember. I remembered. Can we go see Sundown now? I don’t want to think about it anymore.”
“Sure we can. Did you keep an eye on him for me today?”
“I went out this morning, and I went out after I helped draw the face. I gave him a carrot, and one for Leo with the pretty blue eyes, too, and I brushed him and sang him a song.”
“He sure likes when you sing. So do I. Maybe you can sing for us again when we see how he’s doing.”
He offered Alice his arm, made her grin.
“I can see her coming back, more and more,” Cora told Bodine. “And today I watched her suffer through memories and fears. He looks like a monster. He looks like a monster and he had my girl all those years.”
“He’ll never have her again. Nana, he’ll never touch her again.”
“I don’t believe in vengeance. The war took my husband, the boy I loved, the father of my babies. And I grieved, but I never felt hate in my heart. I feel it now. I feel it every day now. My girl’s home, and coming back, and under the joy of that, I feel such hate, Bodine. It’s black and it’s bright, that hate.”
“Nana, I don’t think you’d be human if you didn’t. I don’t know if them finding him and locking him away for the rest of his miserable life will ease that for you.”
“I don’t know, either.” Cora let out a long sigh. “I have to remember to look at her, to see her as she is, as she’s coming back, and be grateful. But it doesn’t stop me from wanting to cut his balls off with a rusty knife and hear him scream.”
After shaking herself, Cora arched her eyebrows at Bodine. “That’s not something most people would smile at.”
“Most people aren’t me.”
“Oh, well. I’m going to put this ugly thing away.” She took back the sketch. “Do you want to ask Cal to dinner?”
“Actually he asked me. I’ve got a couple of take-home dinners in the truck. We’re going to watch a movie in the shack.”
“Now I’ve got something to smile about.”
“I’m just going to run up, grab the movie we’re watching, and a couple bags of microwave popcorn from the pantry.”
“Don’t forget your toothbrush,” Cora called out.
“Honestly, Nana.” On a laugh, Bodine looked back. “Think who you’re talking to. I’ve had a spare over there for weeks.”
*
While Bodine ran upstairs, Callen checked Sundown’s wound. Alice stroked the horse and sang “Jolene.”
“You sure can sing,” Callen said when she finished.
“I sang with Reenie, and I sang to my Rory, and I sang to myself. I couldn’t have a radio or records or a TV. Rory—Reenie’s Rory—gave me a … It’s little and has songs on it and you can put things in your ears and listen.”
“An iPod.”
“Yes! It’s the nicest present. Rory is so good, he’s such a good boy. The iPod is like magic. It has lots and lots of music, and I can listen to it when I can’t sleep.”