Burned (12 page)

We Went Inside

To our separate rooms, where the walls formed

boxes around us. And I

wondered what Aunt J was doing, alone in her own private cubicle.

Closed in by plaster, question after question

infiltrated my aching

head. What about Stan?

Hadn't Aunt J loved

him at Ieast a little?

Was she crying over

Kevin? Cursing Dad?

Had she tucked it all

back away into that

terrible space where

nightmares are born?

How could a sheriff

swear to uphold the law

when his allegiance lay

elsewhere? How could

Grandpa Paul send Dad on an armed mission?

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Would Dad really have

pulled that trigger, killed his sister and Kevin, just because they were in love?

The obvious answer kept

me awake half the night.

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J
ournal Entry, June 10

I learned some terrihle things

today--all about Aunt J and her "forever love," Kevin.

It seems my wonderfui father

drove them apart. With a gun.

Maybe that shouldn't surprise

me. But it does.

How many more miserable

things has Dad done, things I'll never know about and don't really want to?

How does he darejudge me?

I want Aunt J not to be lonely.

I want her tofind another love, but she says we only get one

real love, and only ifwe're lucky.

Will I be lucky? Ifl am, will

someone drive him away?

Someone like Dad?

Someone

like

me?

233

Thought About Ethan a Lot

Over the next few days.

Weird, I know, that

someone

you've never met could

thaw the ice damming inside, warm

you like a summer morning, even though he's not yours to hold.

I thought of Aunt J, the love of her life dissolved into dreams.

Did she hurt every day? Or

had she locked away all

memories of him, condemned them to that muddy well only

drawn from in times of strangling

loneliness? Would I find

forever

love? Did I really want to, when forever was a word without meanin?

234

tuesday Evening

Aunt J and ourselves on the porch to watch the out, twinkle by twinkle, in the slate

blue sky.

It was a nightly affair, and one no city

dweller

could ever take notice of, amidst

sodium and neon lights.

Cutting through the blossoming darkness, headlights

appeared on the road, slowed,

Turned into the driveway. Ethan

shimmied down from the pickup

cab,shiny

even under the muted glow of gathering

moonlight.

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Evening, ladies. Just thought I'd drop by
on my way

home with that new pair of reins. Came in
today.

Thank you,

Mr. Carter,
said Aunt J.
Sit on down and stay

awhile. We haven't had dessert yet.

Homemade

strawberry pie.

He did just that.

We spent the next hour or so .

immersed in lighthearted conversation, strawberries, and whipped

cream.

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After He Left

Aunt J noted,
I think he's

taken with you, girl.

Taken with me? "No way.

Why would he be?"

She shrugged.
He could have

hrought the reins on Sunday.

Whieh proved exactly zip.

He was driving by . . .

Even if the reins were important, he didn't have to stayfor dessert.

"Maybe not. But I'm not

good enough for him."

Why would you say such a thing, Pattyn?

"Have you looked at him,

Aunt J? He's beautiful."

Have you looked in a mirror

lately? So are you. So are you.

"Me? Beautiful? I'm

plain as cardboard."

That may he how you see yourself but the rest ofthe world would

be hard put to agree. You shine

brighter than the Milky Way.

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Now there are those who might

try to take that from you, but you don't have to give it away.

Keep on shining, Pattyn.

And when the right young man

comes along, he'll love you all the more for giftin' this sad

planet with your light.

238

I Didn't Know

How to respond, but with a simple

thank you. Then

I excused myself and went in to bed.

I sat in the rocker, staring out at a corner of the Milky Way,

Aunt J's words

floating in my head.

I'd never thought of myself as any-

thing but banal.

Could I see myself as beautiful instead?

Smaller steps, maybe?

"Pretty" would do, or even "cute." Still, this was territory I

almost feared to tread.

239

I felt like a snake, perhaps a bit afraid of the brand-new

serpent, commanding an old sldn to shed.

240

The Morning After

Found me antsy, so I borrowed

Aunt J's .22 and hiked back up into the summer-kissed hills.

Before I left, she insisted I clean the rifle, which had sat, unused, for more years than she could remember.

I'd never cleaned a gun before, and as I thought about it, I began to wonder

why Dad had never taught me the skill.

A dirty gun is no kind of weapon,

Aunt J said.
You could take out
an eye as easily as hit a target.

Anyway, she showed me how, and as I walked, the scent of gun oil

blended with evergreen. Heavenly!

It had been several weeks since

I'd shot a gun and for ten or fifteen

minutes I felt as rusty as tin in salt air.

241

But then it all came tumbling back and for quite some time I amused myself, shooting ever-smaller pinecones from the trees.

As I wandered farther and farther into the belly of the forest, a flash of beige brushed the corner of my eye.

I froze, and so did the doe, heavy with fawn. We gave each other a stout once-over, then she flinched and vanished, a whisper.

It came to me that I never considered

raising that gun and taking aim, not that a .22 was much in the way of a venison rifle.

And in a moment of clarity, I understood

that while killing for meat can be tolerated, killing for passion might very well be easier.

242

By Friday Afternoon

I decided my bottom had healed

enough to practice a bit on Old

Poncho. I didn't want to look like a complete fool in front of Ethan.

(The best-laid plans . . .)

Aunt J was taking a nap when I

wandered down to the barn, clipped a rope to Ponchos halter, and led him to the tack room.

(That much I remembered.) I

slipped a blanket over his back, topped it with the saddle, reached for the cinch. That's when things

got a bit hazy memory-wise.

(I'd only seen it done once!)

Through one ring, pull it tight, now some kind of a knot?

Okay, it didn't feel exacdy right, but I calculated it might do.

(Math was not my best subject.)

Whatever I did, it managed to hold my weight as I stepped up into the stirrup and pulled

myself into the saddle.

(Thereby increasing my confidence.)

243

I'd forgotten the bridle completely, but Poncho didn't seem to care.

He steered just fine without a bit, at least while circling at a walk.

(Building my confidence even more.)

I knew I had to trot sometime, master whatever technique

stopped one from bouncing.

I nudged him to pick up speed.

(Things started to go wrong immediately.)

Plop-plop-plop.
Bounce, bounce, bounce. Maybe faster was better?

I kicked once. Poncho upped his pace.

Still bouncing, I kicked again.

(In retrospect, it was a bad move.)

Poncho had had quite enough.

He feinted right. I leaned right, just as he shifted left. Completely

baffled, my body kept right.

(About then, I suspected something was amiss.)

The saddle moved along with my weight, cocking sideways.

I grabbed the horn and planted

my feet in the stirrups.

(Not exactly the right thing to do.)

244

Poncho put on the brakes, resulting in the saddle and me

coming to a sudden halt, at a ninety-degree angle to the horizon.

(Hilarious, if it had been someone else.)

About then, I happened to glance toward the driveway, where a shiny

blue Dodge Dakota had parked.

Ethan stood beside it, grinning.

(Like I said, the best-laid plans . . .)

245

No Way Off That Horse

But to look like a total idiot and fall butt-first in the dirt, so that's exactly what I did.

I thought your problem was sitting a trot, not gettiri off the horse.
Ethan stood over me.

Aunt J
told
him? My face

bubbled heat. "Apparently,

Fve got multiple problems."

Ethan's grin broadened.

He offered a hand, pulled

me to my feet.
Don't we all?

Poncho snorted and moved to one side, and the saddle

slid completely under his belly.

Hard to sit a horse sideways,

Pattyn, least that's what

I've always believed.

"Really? Well, I didn't have much of a problem with the sideways

thing. Now, straight up and down . . ."

He laughed out loud.
We'll

have to work on that, okay?

Ready to put the old boy away?

246

We'll
have to work on that? Why

did I so like the sound of that?

God, he was good-looking!

Ethan undid what was left of my

cinch knot, hoisted the saddle up over one Shoulder.

I led Poncho back to his pasture,

Ethan so close his scent--

sunbaked skin---engulfed me.

l'm glad you could spend the summer with your aunt. She doesn't get

much Company out here.

At least she hadn't told him

everything.
"I'm glad I came."

Getting gladder by the minute.

247

Ethan Helped Me

Feed and water
the
livestock, all the time making small talk.

He was working at the feed störe to help pay for his next semester at UC Davis. He was going to be a veterinarian.

I told him I had no clue

what I wanted to be
.

His mom had

recently died and his dad lived, single, on
eighty

acres, just a couple of miles from where we stood.

I told him my dad should

have stayed single
.

He had no brothers or sisters and was, in fact, lucky to have made it into this world.
His

248

mom had had problems

carrying babies.

I told him my mom was the goddess of fertility.

He'd had a girl at

Davis, but when he brought her home for a visit, she took a good look around and decided Caliente was beneath her--

meaning he was too.

I told him not even Death

Valley was beneath my ex.

He wasn't Mormon.

I told him I wasn't sure

I was either.

249

If He Thought I Was Nuts

He didn't say so, or even give me a look

that did. The more we talked, the more

I liked him, and that didn't scare me a bit.

Finally, it strack me that he must have

come over for some particular reason.

Turned out, Aunt J had invited him to dinner. As we wandered back toward the house, she came out onto the porch.