A Gentle Rain (36 page)

Shakey groaned. "What am I gonna do with a harp? What if I get stuck with a harp to sell?"

Dale pointed at his arms. "Jesus wouldn't let you put angels all over your arms if you weren't meant to have a harp."

He shook his head. "Ben. Come on, man. Gimme something useful to work with, here."

Everyone traded mournful looks. Ben rubbed his forehead. "Let's go. I'll sell some of my breedin' stock."

"No." I lifted my hands to the back of my neck. Unfastening my necklace, I held the gold pendant out to Shakey. Mother, Dad. Forgive me for pawning a bit of your ashes. I could barely make myself unfurl my fingers.

The symbolism shook me. Could I let them go? Could I risk losing them, for Mac and Lily's sake? Slowly I opened my hand and laid the necklace on Shakey's paten. "I assure you, Mr. Baker, this is a custom piece. Very high-quality gold. The value is well worth your most generous assessment."

He examined it through a jeweler's glass. When he lowered the pendant it took all my willpower not to snatch it from him. Let them go. If they come back to you, take it as a sin they approve of what you're doing. "This, I can sell," he said. "It's worth maybe two, three-hundred-"

"Don't even try to amuse me," I warned.

"All right, all right." He nodded to Ben. "Throw in another all-terrain vehicle with this necklace and you've got your ten-grand. And I'll give you thirty-day terms with no interest. No interest, you understand? Don't tell m y ma. She thinks she didn't raise any fools."

Ben looked at me somberly. "You sure about the harp and the necklace?"

He didn't know I'd just pawned my parents' ashes. A strange thought came over me. But I still have my parents. I looked at Mac and Lily. They're right here. What heartfelt sentiments we barter when life presses us to make choices.

"I'm sure," I said.

Shakey pointed a fake finger at me. "You and that scar-faced mare? You're racin' for all of us who are missin' a part or two. You probably won't win, but at least you'll get in the game. You're proof that God needs even the angels who are missin' a wing."

A profound speech. We were all somewhat stunned.

I held out a hand. Flesh to faux-flesh.

Shakey and I shook.

Showtime.

I emerged from the hall bathroom into the ranch's kitchen with a faded, Kissme Woomee Mermaid Theater beach towel wrapped around me from neck to knees. Miriam, Lula, Lily and Dale waited impatiently around the table. Rhubarb was sprawled on the plank floor, and Grub was stretched on the counter by the sink. Mr. Darcy wobbled on the back of a chair. "I mean that in a good way," he drawled, apropos of nothing. He'd learned it from Ben.

"Showtime," Miriam confirmed.

I whisked the towel off, revealing a low-cut, red gown.

"Hot damn," Miriam said.

Lula nodded. "Holy Doris Day. I wouldn't have believed it, but Miss Goody Two Shoes looks positively sinful."

Dale covered her ears and scowled. But Lily smiled with tears rising in her eyes. "You're the most beautiful girl in the whole world."

Flattery, yes, but hard to resist. I bowed my head. "Thank you."

Miriam craned her head and stared down between my breasts. "Awright. `Fess up. What the hell does that little tattoo mean?"

I hadn't realized the tattoo on my left breast would be visible. It was no larger in dimension than a nickel, a delicate blue etching tucked inside my shallow cleavage. "It's taken from a mother-daughter totem revered by a Brazilian Indian tribe. The totems are called litjocosil their language. The women carve them out of soft wood each time they have a baby. Their children wear the little carvings on strings around their necks. That way, their mother is always watching over them. My mother and I received matching litjocos tattoos when I was a girl."

Lily crept closer, peeking at the tattoo. "I know your mother's watching over you." Her voice trembled. "That's what mothers do. They never forget their babies."

But you pretend yours never existed, 1 thought sadly. Why?

Miriam distracted me by suddenly latching both hands under my armpits. She tugged upward on rivulets of pleated red material and my tender skin. "God bless Velcro. This bodice is stuck to your strapless bra like white on rice. When Lula first wore this dress in nineteen sixty-one she had to use a full-length, strapless, body girdle under it, and we stitched this bodice to her bra cups. Godawmighty, those girdles were like armor. Get those old girdles out of the museums and send `em to our troops. I betcha bullets would bounce off `em."

I looked down at yards of ruby-red cloth with an empress waistline. The material had aged to a dark patina. "This is an amazing retro style. Very flattering. Timeless."

"Used to have a bow between the tits," Lula grunted. "I lost the bow one night. Gave it away as a ... memento. Jackie's had a bow."

"Jackie's?"

Miriam shrugged. "Everybody was tryin' to look like Jackie Kennedy back then, ya know. Even us hick girls working at the mermaid show. We wanted to look up-town for the college boys on their way to spring break in Fort Lauderdale. We saw a Life Magazine picture of Jackie at some fancy state dinner, wearin' a designer dress with no straps and a empire waist and a cute little bow between her boobs, and we all thought `That's the cat's meow.' Meaning that was the tops in glamour. And it was. She was. Jackie Kennedy. Rest in peace. Anyhow, Lula saw Jackie and said: I want me that dress. In red. I don't care who I have to screw to get it."

Lula looked up from a squinty assessment of my breasts. She grinned. "Only I didn't say `screw."'

Miriam grinned, too. "She got plenty of manly attention after Denny made the dress for her."

I stopped tugging at the bodice and stared at her. "Denny? Denise Thocco? Ben and Joey's mother?"

"Yep. Denise. We called her Denny. She could sew like a New York designer."

"Rest in peace, Denny," Lula said quietly.

Miriam nodded. "In peace."

We all grew quiet. I ran my hands over the beautiful old garment. I was dressed in the memory of Ben's mother. I thought of a quote from some obscure philosopher. Eternal life can be seen in the simple inheritance of a flower's bloom.

Or in a beautiful dress.

"I'll try my best to honor Denise Thocco and her lovely creation." The dress and Ben.

Lily pulled something from a pocket of her denim jumper. She shyly held out a nickel-sized piece of artist canvas with a tiny daisy she'd painted on it. "Maybe you can carry this. For good luck." Her mysterious fascination for daisies had no bounds. Her eyes filled with more tears. "Would you mind if I help your mother watch over you?"

My throat knotted. I took a safety pin from a container on the kitchen table and pinned Lily's hand-painted daisy inside my bodice. "There," I said hoarsely, wishing I could look inside Lily and see her memory of me. 1 wish I knew the truth about you and Mac. What happened the night I was born? How could you be so loving, so maternal and paternal toward me, now, and yet not have wanted me, then? Why aren't you willing to admit you once had a baby?

"I'll wear your daisy over my heart," I promised.

She nodded happily. "That's where daisies belong."

Ben

Mac, Roy, Cheech and Bigfoot stared at me like I was a stranger. Possum squatted behind one of the living room's cane-back chairs. He peered around the woven cane at me.

"Aw, Benji used to wear a tuxedo in Mexico all the time," Joey said.

"You look like James Bond," Bigfoot said. "And not just any James Bond. The best James Bond. Roger Moore."

The others frowned at him. "Por, favor, but it's Sean Connery," Cheech said.

Bigfoot loomed over him. "Naw. Roger."

"Sean."

I held up my hands. "Thanks, either way."

Mac stepped forward shyly, but the set of his jaw said he had serious business to talk about. "Is K-Karen gonna be s-safe at this poker ggame?"

"You have my word on it."

"Me and L-Lily, we worry about h-her. We'll m-miss her."

"It'll only be overnight. She'll be treated like a lady. You have my word."

He exhaled. "Okay." He held out his hand. On his callused palm was an old but ordinary buffalo nickel. "Glen says this is worth a lot. It belonged to our grandpa. He made lots of money in pine trees." Mac paused, thinking. "I g-guess he got paid in n-nickels."

By pine trees, Mac meant turpentine. The Tolberts had been big in the turpentine business back at the turn of the century. In those days, poor folic scratched for money in our part of Florida. If they couldn't ranch it, farm it or fish it, they went to work for a Tolbert and spent their days in the steamy pule forests, dodgin' rattlers while scrapin' holes in pine trees to collect the sap. They got paid a nickel a gallon. Maybe that was all Glen thought Mac deserved of the family money.

"You want me to have your prize nickel?" I asked gently.

Mac nodded. "So, if you don't w-win the p-poker game, you can still b-buy Karen some s-supper."

I tucked the nickel inside the tux's breast pocket. "Thank you, Mac."

"Ifyou lose all the money and the n-nickel, too, it's okay." He looked around at the others, and they nodded. "We 1-love you for trying."

"I'm gonna do my best, I swear to you."

"He'll win," Joey said firmly. "He's my Benji. He'll win."

Godawmighty.

Chapter 21

Kara

I should have guessed Ben had a tuxedo and a pilot's license.

After all, El Diablo did.

As curious herons peered from the shallows and Gator slithered away in dismay at the engine noise, Phil Montegras descended from the sky and neatly landed a small seaplane on the marsh. I stood back, protecting my canvas tote from the spray, while Ben, Mac and Bigfoot secured the seaplane to a narrow wooden dock meant for small skiffs, canoes and swamp boats. Phil was loaning us his plane.

Amazing. I'd assumed Phil flew only by night, when he turned into a bat.

"Have a lovely flight," Phil said to me in French. He tossed my tote into the small plane. His tone bore a distinct trace of predatory challenge. Ben was busy giving last-minute instructions to Miriam and the others. Mr. Darcy sat on Lily's shoulder and gently played with her gray-red curls.

I'd convinced Lily to let her hair grow out a bit from its severe, short cut. I waved at her while saying aside to Phil, in cool and crisp French, "So tell me, Phil, when you introduced Ben to Cassandra, did you know she was a child molester?"

He smiled. "In many countries, a teenage boy is considered a man, and a young man who wins the heart of a rich and admirable older woman is considered very fortunate."

"I don't think Ben remembers the situation that fondly."

"You're right, but you should ask him why he still considers me a friend."

"Because he's loyal. Because he's generous and forgiving. Because he has sympathy for any creature of the night who can never know real human warmth."

"You wound me. Give me a moment. I have to pull your stake from my heart." He held out a hand to help me into the passenger seat. I ignored it and seated myself. He bent near me and said in a low voice, "Can you really justify your self-righteous attitude, Ms. Wbittenbrook?"

I froze. He knew. I took a moment to steady my voice. "Did Ben ask you to investigate me?"

"No. In fact, he told me not to. I just couldn't resist. Especially when you left your fingerprints on an expensive bottle of wine. I love the fact that the very richest people have their children fingerprinted as a security measure. It makes it so easy to track them down."

"I have the resources to find out a great deal more about you, too, Mr. Montegras."

"Perhaps."

"But I'd rather not play that game."

"Why is one of the world's richest heiresses working on a Florida ranch under an assumed name?"

My stomach churned. "I have my reasons, and there's nothing sinister about them. Please believe me, and keep this conversation to yourself"

"I may not look sentimental, Kara, but Ben and his brother are like family to me. I will honor your secret as long as I feel you have their best interests at heart."

"I do. I promise you."

His dark eyes bored into me. "My friend is struggling. His money is almost gone. He has a very big heart but it's brought him overwhelming responsibilities because of the people he has taken under wing here. His brother is very ill. Do not be the straw that breaks his back."

"I want to help him. I would, if he'd let me."

"He won't take your money."

"I'm not trying to buy him. I'm not Cassandra."

"Then why are you here?"

"That is none of your business."

"Why do you care so much about this barrel race?"

"Because it means something to Joey, to Mac and Lily, to Ben-"

"Why do you care about people you only met a few months ago? Don't push me. I want an honest answer."

He rattled me. I took a desperate chance. "Because a few months ago I learned that Mac and Lily are my birth parents."

He searched my face as ifpeel ng the skin off my skull. Finally, a flicker of admiration lit his dark eyes. "I believe you're telling me the truth."