Borderland (25 page)

Cal
looked up from the Bible. "You're worried about him, aren't you?"

Nolan's
mouth twisted. "Let's just say he hasn't been himself lately. If I didn't
know better I'd say he was on drugs."

Cal
closed the book. "Can I ask you something?"

"Only
if I can answer it."

"You
can. Where have you been going at night?"

"Out."

"I
know that," Cal said in annoyance. "Where?"

"Just
around."

"God,
you can be such a jerk. Have you seen them?"

"Who?"

"You
know who, dammit."

Nolan
smiled. "No, I haven't, as a matter of fact. I don't know what the hell
they're up to. Maybe they went back to Texas."

"I
knew that's what you were doing," Cal said. "And Mom thought the same
thing. But she thinks they're just waiting. I do too."

"For
what?"

"For
us to either drop our guard or go. By now my grandmother will have found out
about the money Darwin left us. She knows we'll leave the state once we get
it."

"You
think they'll ambush you on the way out?"

"I
don't know. It makes sense. These guys are just a couple of racetrack hoods who
usually do collection work for my grandfather. My grandmother Clarice is probably
behind any strategy they come up with. They're not smart enough to think for
themselves.”

Nolan
smiled again. "I'll have to tell Al you said that. He's been worried about
mob connections."

Cal
straightened. "Are you going to see him today?"

"When
Vic gets back from church," Nolan answered. "I talked to Al last
night on the phone and he said he signed the papers on the yard. The buyer'll
be taking possession the first of the month."

"Can
I go with you?" Cal asked.

"Not
this time."

"Why?"
The sudden coolness in Nolan's voice caused anger and more than a little hurt
to swell in Cal's chest. "What did I do to make you mad? You haven't
wanted to—not that I care or anything, but for the last few days you've been
acting like you're an open sore and I'm a disease. Is it because of Mom?"

"No.
Look, we had fun fixing the cars, but I'm not your—"

Cal knew
what was coming. "I fixed the cars, you asshole. And I didn't need your
help. I could've done the whole thing by myself. All I needed were the parts. I
was only humoring you by letting you think you were teaching me something. I've
been messing with cars on the sly since I was nine. How do you think Mom's
Mustang lasted this long?" Cal was mortified to feel a hot tear roll down
his cheek. He quickly turned and wiped it away. "I don't know why I was
defending you to her. She was right. You're just like my dad was. You're even
worse."

Nolan
extended a hand. "Hey, come on."

Cal
jerked away and threw the aged Bible to the ground. "Why don't you just
leave? Nobody here likes you. Your own friend doesn't even like you."

Slowly
Nolan withdrew his hand and bent to pick up the Bible. Without a word he tucked
it under his arm and turned away. When he disappeared around the side of the
house Cal went back to his screens and sat down hard on the ground.

"Asshole,"
he muttered as another tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away and looked
up with a start as Nolan strode into view again. His mouth was tight. "All
right, you smart little bastard. You're coming to Al's with me. We'll see just
how goddamned much you know about a car when you're behind the wheel."

Cal
swallowed in surprise. "Driving? Me?"

"You,"
Nolan said. Then he turned on his heel and stalked away, his bare shoulders
gleaming in the sun.

Cal
quickly glanced at the house to see if his mother had been in hearing range.
She'd have kittens with mittens if she knew what Nolan was planning for him.
Only once had he been allowed behind the wheel of a car, resulting in the
necessity of finding a new rear bumper for Darwin's Lincoln. His father, who
had refused to use his own car, yelled so much that Cal had become nervous and
backed into a truck at town. The owner of the truck, a huge man with a silver
crew cut and impossibly white teeth, had gotten into a frenzied shouting match
with his father—until a wad of cash appeared. Cal never saw the big man again.
And since his father had been kicked by a horse and killed shortly afterward,
Cal had never received any additional time behind the wheel.

His
mother, too nervous and protective to teach him herself, asked him to wait
until they moved to a city with a driving school. He wasn't old enough to
obtain a license anyway, she argued. And she wanted him to have a teacher she
could trust.

Cal
grinned to himself as he abandoned his fishing screen to go inside and wash up.
What his mom didn't know wouldn't hurt her. And besides, he trusted Nolan, even
if he was a jerk.

CHAPTER 21

Christa
didn't want to ride in the front seat with her daddy and the old man named
Jinx. She didn't like the way the wrinkled man's eyes looked when he smiled at
her. And he was always trying to tweak her nose or pat her on the bottom. She
told her father she preferred to ride in the back where she could use a
seatbelt. It was state law, she informed him. The man Jinx laughed and asked
Andy if she wanted to ride in front on his lap. Andy had looked at Christa
before shaking her head. She would ride in the front, she said, but she wanted
to sit next to her daddy.

They
were taking Jinx home to eat dinner with them. Last Sunday it had been the big
man called Al, and now it was the smiling, wrinkled man. Christa didn't think
Myra knew they were having company. She told her daddy so, and he said not to
worry; they were going to spend some time with the horses—two more were coming,
remember—so Myra would have plenty of time to cook something. Christa did
remember that two more horses were coming, but she also remembered what Myra
had done to Uncle Nolan last Sunday. She didn't want Myra to be mad again.

She sat
in the huge back seat of her grandfather's car and listened to her father talk
to the wrinkled man. He laughed and joked a lot with Jinx, more than he did
with anyone else. But it didn't sound like her daddy's usual joking voice, and
his laugh sounded as if something were caught in his throat. When they
mentioned something about a trip they were going to take, Christa leaned
forward.

"Daddy,
where are you going?"

"New
Mexico," Jinx answered. "He's gonna come and baby-sit me for a few
days."

Christa
ignored the old man and looked at her father. "When Daddy?"

"Thursday,"
he told her. "We should be back sometime Sunday evening."

"Are
we going too?" Andy asked.

"No,
you'll be staying at home with Myra. This is business, honey. We'll be too busy
to look after you."

"Police
business?" Christa inquired.

"You
could say that," Jinx said with a grin. "They'd probably like to make
it their business, anyway."

Christa
saw her father frown at Jinx before glancing in the rearview mirror to meet her
eyes. "Just town business, sweetheart. It's only for a few days."

"Who's
going to be the police while you're gone?" Christa asked.

"Ed'll
come out of retirement to fill in," Jinx said. "Don't you worry,
little sweetie. Your daddy'll be with old Jinx." He stroked Andy on the
bead. "You're just the cutest little thing. I'll bet you ain't
worried."

Andy
flipped her hair and squirmed closer to her father. "Are we almost home,
Daddy?"

"Almost."

"Good.
The kitties are probably hungry. They need their milk."

"Got
kitties, do you?" Jinx said. "Little ones or big ones?"

"Both,"
Andy said. "More little than big."

Christa
saw the old man's mouth curve. "You know you got to rub 'em just right
behind the ears to make 'em feel good, don't you? Like this. . ." He
lifted one veiny hand and reached for Andy's ear.

"We
know," Christa said loudly. "Cal taught us how to tame them. You
don't have to show us."

"Christa,"
her daddy said in a warning voice. "Be nice. Jinx is just being
friendly."

"He
smells," Andy said. "He smells old."

Jinx's
mouth twitched, then he began to laugh. "I am old, cutie pie. I'm just as
old as I can be. You know how old I am?"

"A
hundred," Andy said.

"Close,"
Jinx said, still chuckling. "Christa, sweetie, how old do you think I
am?"

Christa
eyed him. Her voice was flat. "Old enough to die."

Jinx
twisted around to look at her. The fierce light in his dirt-colored eyes made
her shrink back in her seat.

"I
ain't gonna die for a while yet," he said to her. "Not for a while,
little one." He smiled suddenly and twisted back around. "How you
been feelin' lately, Vic? Better than you was, I hope?"

"A
lot better," her father said. "Auntie Em's twister could pick up the
house and I'd sleep through it. Makes a helluva lot of difference when you get
a good night's rest."

"That
it does," Jinx said. Then he sighed. "I hope Myra ain't fryin'
anything for dinner. I'm tryin' to cut down on my cholesterol intake."

"She
bakes and broils mostly," Christa heard her daddy say. "She doesn't
like to use oil or lard."

"That's
good," Jinx said. "That's real smart. I sure love my fried chicken
and hash browns, but Doc says I got to stop eatin' such things. Bad for the
ticker."

"Red
meat and all that junk too, huh?"

"Lord,
no. You couldn't make me give up my steaks for anything." Jinx pointed
then. "Is that Cal standin' out there? I ain't seen that boy in
ages."

"That's
him, all right," her father answered, and Christa undid her seatbelt to
sit up. Cal was standing beside Uncle Nolan's car. His arms were crossed over
his chest in a pose of waiting. She waved as they neared him but she didn't
think he could see her. When the car stopped she quickly got out before Jinx
could open her door for her. Andy scooted out after her father.

"Hi,
Cal," Christa said.

"Hi,
Christa. How was church?"

"Boring,"
she said. Then she ran past him to go in the house and tell Myra they had
company for dinner again. She looked in the kitchen and the pantry and the
living room and finally decided that Myra was upstairs. She passed Uncle Nolan
on the way up and he merely grunted hello at her.

"Is
Myra in her room?" she asked him.

"Where
else?" he said before continuing down. He looked mad. Or sad. It was hard
for Christa to tell with Uncle Nolan. She rushed up the stairs and went to
knock on Myra's bedroom door. A hard bumping sound followed her knock, as if
something had been thrown at the door.

"I'm
fine!" Myra shouted from the other side. "Just take him and go!"

"It's
me," Christa said cautiously.

Seconds
later the door opened. "I'm sorry," Myra said. "I thought you
were someone else. What is it, Christa?"

"Have
you been crying?" Christa asked. "Your nose is all red."

"I
had a nosebleed," Myra said.

"I've
had one of those before," Christa told her. "I had to put my head
back and put ice right here." She pointed to the bridge of her nose.

"That's
what he wanted to do," Myra muttered. "Mr. Friendly Fire—anyway, it's
stopped now. What did you want, honey?"

Christa's
brow lowered. "Daddy brought Mr. Jinx home for dinner."

Myra
made a face. "Great."

"And
he doesn't want anything fried," Christa reported. "But Daddy told
him you didn't fry stuff." She eyed Myra's pink nostrils again. "What
made your nose bleed?"

"I
don't know," Myra said. "I felt suddenly cold and then weak and…
light headed. But I'm better now."

Christa
nodded knowingly. Sometimes she felt the same way after Drusilla appeared. It
was like Drusie needed some of Christa's…something…for herself. After Christa
felt the cold she always got tired. But then she would see Drusie again and she'd
forget about being tired.

"What
are we having for dinner?" she asked.

Myra
smiled. "With Jinx here I think I’ll serve cold cabbage soup."

"Ugh."
Christa wrinkled her nose. "He won't ever come back here to eat."

"That's
the idea," Myra said.

"You
don't like him either," Christa observed with relief. But she didn't want
to eat cold cabbage soup for dinner and she told Myra as much.

"I
was teasing you, Christa. We may not like Jinx, but we have to be civil to him
because he's your father's guest. Come on. Let's go see what's in the
cupboard."