Dead Dry (34 page)
Authors: Sarah Andrews
MARY ANN WALKED INTO THE COMMUNITY CENTER with her head held high. Helga Olsen was there to meet her, and greeted her with a hug. “Mary Ann! I’m so glad you made it,” she caroled. “Come meet the others. Hey, everybody! This is Mary Ann Nettleton, a new hand!”
The heads of ten other citizens of Douglas County turned to welcome the new member of their group.
“Welcome!” said a young woman.
“Fresh blood!” joked a middle-aged man.
“This is hard work,” said Helga. “Developers pay eighty percent of the county commissioners’ campaign contributions, so it’s an uphill battle, but we aren’t easy to shout down.”
“Pull up a chair,” said a kindly faced elder gentleman. “I’m Fred Beauregard. Help me sort these envelopes, would you? I ran a law firm for forty years, but I must confess that I barely know how to alphabetize. Can’t spell, either. My wife used to cover for me, but she’s gone to her reward, where I can’t embarrass her anymore.” He winked
at Mary Ann. “But they keep me around here because I understand the law,” he added in mock confidentiality.
at Mary Ann. “But they keep me around here because I understand the law,” he added in mock confidentiality.
Everybody in the room laughed and introduced themselves.
Mary Ann laughed, too, and took her place within her community with a smile and a job to be accomplished. It was a difficult job that she knew would be filled with frustrations but also many joys as she learned more about her world and put her shoulder to the wheel with the other fine people who shared it with her.
RAY AND HIS SPONSOR SAT ON THE WALL AT THE FOOT of the University of Utah campus enjoying the changes in the colors of the sky as day traversed into night, their stomachs contented with the sausage special from the Pie Pizzeria a half block down the hill. For a long time nothing needed to be said.
Ray’s sponsor was an older man, stooped and careworn, and his face was pocked with the remnants of bad acne, but to Ray, he shone with the brilliance of Almighty God. The sponsor picked at a hangnail, releasing a stray piece of grit. “Is she okay now?”
“Who?”
“Em Hansen.”
Ray smiled. “Yes, I think so. Yes, she is.”
“What was it like, being with her in that moment? Please tell me again.”
“You mean, when she was … when her Jeep was rolling?”
“Yes.”
“It was terrible. I was driving a car myself when it happened, and I saw everything spinning around me. I had to pull over. It was just as if I was looking out through her eyes. It was terrible. Just like the night my wife …”
“But the other part, Ray.”
Ray smiled. “You mean the light.”
The man closed his eyes and smiled. “Yes.”
“I knew Em was in trouble. I knew I was seeing what she was seeing. So I got on the radio and had the dispatcher patch me through to Douglas County, and I described the vehicle and which way to go to find her. Then I closed my eyes and prayed.”
“And?”
“And I saw this lovely golden light, all shimmering.”
“Ahh …”
Ray shook his head, smiling. “Life is such a mystery.” He turned and studied the furrowed face of his friend. “What do you suppose that was?”
The man opened his eyes. “I don’t know. But I’d like to call it a connection. You sent your love.”
“Funny, it felt like I was letting go of her, not grabbing hold. And I could have sworn it was coming from her, not the other way around.”
“Maybe that’s the truest kind of love. The kind where we give with no need or expectation of return. And then, mysteriously, we find that we are still connected. A bond with no bind.”
“Em and I have always had a connection. Always will. She saved my life once, you know?”
“You told me.”
Ray smiled. “I suppose she’s saved me a number of times, in a number of ways. Those guys on the radio out there looking for her thought I was nuts. They kept saying, ‘Where are you calling from?’ and ‘How is it you know this?’ but it was the least I could do for her.” He laughed. “It’s a good thing I’m with the Salt Lake PD, or they’d never have listened to me.”
Ray shook his head in wonderment. “What do you suppose … you
must
have some notion, at least … that light! It was so beautiful!”
must
have some notion, at least … that light! It was so beautiful!”
The man pondered this question a while before answering, “I used to think I knew, right down to a gnat’s eyelashes, but I don’t anymore.” He shifted slightly, and stared into the sunset. “But a woman like Em, she burns
bright. We want to draw close to them, to warm ourselves in their heat. It’s comforting. It’s life-giving. And then we get to fearing that we’ll get burned. But here’s what I sense: It takes one to know one, Ray. Life is the fire. We are the flame.”
bright. We want to draw close to them, to warm ourselves in their heat. It’s comforting. It’s life-giving. And then we get to fearing that we’ll get burned. But here’s what I sense: It takes one to know one, Ray. Life is the fire. We are the flame.”
“And when we die? Does that fire go out?”
The man laughed. “You know the answer to that one, Ray.”
“Some days I’m not so sure.”
The older man picked at his fingernail again. “The best part of us never dies.”
Ray smiled. “Not if memory is any guide.”
They sat a while in silence, then the older man asked, “Is that why you joined the police force?”
“Is what why?”
“Her dying like that. Your wife.”
“I guess. It’s certainly
when
I joined.” Ray threw a twig into the street and watched as the tires of a passing car crunched it into bits. “I wanted to help people. Protect people.” He shook his head as if to rattle loose such wishes.
when
I joined.” Ray threw a twig into the street and watched as the tires of a passing car crunched it into bits. “I wanted to help people. Protect people.” He shook his head as if to rattle loose such wishes.
“You do help. You do protect.”
“I see people hurt and dead all the time, and I can’t seem to do much at all.”
“But if you and others weren’t there to enforce the law, more would get hurt, and more would die.”
“I suppose.”
“But none of that brings your wife back.”
“That is correct.”
The two men sat on the curb for a while longer in companionable silence, letting the relative coolness of the stone curb soothe them. Ray shot several more twigs into the street and was rewarded with two hits out of three under the tires of passing cars.
One twig had landed toward the center of the lane. It sat there, defying him; in harm’s way yet magically safe between the murderous wheels of passing cars. He thought for a moment that he would name it Em, but then realized
to his surprise that he didn’t need to. In that small, silent
ah-ha,
a weight shifted off his shoulders that he had not noticed he had been carrying. He smiled.
to his surprise that he didn’t need to. In that small, silent
ah-ha,
a weight shifted off his shoulders that he had not noticed he had been carrying. He smiled.
The sponsor said, “What was her name?”
“I called her by her middle name. Amelia.”
“That’s a beautiful name.”
Ray’s smile widened into a peaceful grin. It was the first time he’d been able to let those silken vowels pass his lips in all the years since her death, and to his surprise and great joy, it tasted just as sweet as ever.
I FLEW BACK TO SALT LAKE CITY WITH FRITZ. HE didn’t say much to me during the flight. He had said all he needed to say to me before driving me away from Julia’s, which was, “Don’t ever ask me to do anything like that again.”
I had replied, “Okay.”
I was tired, bone tired, and bruised from Julia’s two attacks, but the worst hurt was not the kind that left a visible mark on one’s body. I hurt in my heart. I hurt for Samantha and Timothy, who were as good as orphaned now, and I hurt for Julia, who wouldn’t be able to see much of either of them for a long, long time. I hurt for every woman who ever poured out her love to a man who didn’t love her in return. I hurt for people who couldn’t understand that love is a forgiving thing that keeps on giving in the gentlest of ways even when there’s been betrayal. I hurt for those who haven’t discovered that the truest kind of love can never be taken from them, because it comes from within, welling up as the purest of gifts, with no requirement or expectation of return. And for the moment, I hurt
for myself, because even in the intensity and shock of what she had done, I still loved Julia for all the times that had been better.
for myself, because even in the intensity and shock of what she had done, I still loved Julia for all the times that had been better.
All these thoughts consumed me as we flew over the great, knotted spine of the Rockies on the way home to Salt Lake City. For it truly was my home now, the place I had chosen to send down my roots and make a life for myself.
When we landed at Salt Lake International Airport, I thanked Fritz one more time for his help and caring. He didn’t say anything. He drove me around to the commercial aviation side of the airport, where I had parked my truck. And as he dropped me off, he didn’t get out or say anything, only nodded and drove away.
I let him go. That’s another thing love does, it gives a friend his space when he needs it.
But I didn’t leave things like that for long. I gave myself ten days to recover. I walked with Faye, played horsy with Sloane, helped Michele wrap the case as the final evidence came in, and got back on the task of being just another geologist working for the Utah Geological Survey. I saw Michele and Trevor one evening, enjoying a meal at the restaurant across from the Salt Palace Convention Center in Salt Lake City where she had now located an eyewitness who was willing to testify that he had spotted Todd Upton the night of the murder, wearing dark glasses and a ball cap to obscure his bald head. Upton would eventually go to trial, as defiant and self-pitying as Julia. I wondered sourly if they might eventually have become friends if she hadn’t punched him.
Over the next days and weeks, the horror of the two times Julia McWain attacked me ebbed, and I began, bit by bit, to feel normal again. I checked the mirror each morning, watching the scratches and bruises fade, and to counteract the vortex of trauma, I thought of Fritz. I thought of his calm presence, and, like the yin-yang symbol with the little bit of darkness in the light and the speck of light in the darkness, I began to find some calmness in myself.
When I was ready and hoped that he was too, I phoned him and invited him to go for a walk.
We met at dusk that evening and strolled under the spreading trees that lined the Avenues, passing quiet homes where families were tucking their children in with bedtime tales of princes and princesses who did heroic things. I ambled along beside him in companionable silence, listening to the small sounds our feet made on the sidewalk.
Fritz walked with his hands in his pockets, his eyes lost in contemplation. The air hung with the fading heat of summer. It would be fall soon, and the leaves above our heads would lose their vitality and drop away as the trees prepared to sleep through another winter.
We came at last to a small park and turned in to a place where the trees gathered together to form a space more private than the neighborhood around it. Fritz spied a bench and gestured toward it. I shook my head. “What I’ve got to say to you I’ll say standing up,” I said.
“Okay.” He remained standing, too.
“You made a request of me, and I mean to keep it,” I said.
“What was that?”
“About what happened in Denver, when I asked you to spot me while I tried to get that confession out of Julia. You said, ‘Don’t ever ask me to do that again.’”
He nodded.
“I won’t.”
His gaze didn’t waver. It rested upon me like a feather, light yet strong and graceful in every detail. He said nothing.
“But I’ll ask you to do something else instead,” I said.
Fritz took a moment before asking, “And what is that?”
“Love me.”
“I do, Em.”
“I mean like a man loves a woman.”
His voice caught in his throat like he was in pain. “I do. I always have.”
I put a hand out and touched his face with my fingertips. “I’m so sorry that I hurt you like that.”
He stared into my eyes a moment, then averted his gaze, but leaned toward me ever so slightly, pressing his cheek against my hand.
I found my voice again. “Fritz, I love you, too.”
His eyes locked onto mine. He waited.
I said, “I needed time.”
“I know.”
“And you waited. Thank you.”
His eyes swam with tears.
I said, “And I want to marry you and be with you always.”
Every muscle in his body tensed.
I said, “I—I hope you’ll consider it, anyway. Consider marrying me and taking me as your wife. I want to have children with you, one child at least, if I haven’t waited too long. And I won’t take on dangerous cases because that wouldn’t be fair or reasonable to do if I’m somebody’s mother and somebody’s wife, and I’m real certain that I don’t ever want to go through anything like that again anyway. But Fritz, I’ve got to do something that scratches my itch to dig into things, like maybe consult on cases but not actually go out on collars or anything, because … because, you see, I’ve looked into you and you’re so still you’re like a mirror. You’re like a mountain lake first thing in the morning, the surface so smooth it’s reflective. I look into you and I see your depth and your stillness and your incredible ability to face things that are scary. And in that mirror I see myself reflected back. That confused me at first because I was seeing my own uncertainty and I thought it was all of me, but now I see the other half, the warrior me, the part I’d like to knit back together with the rest by not being so alone, and that’s why I love you so much, or a part of it, but also you’re just … so … loveable. And I’m not making sense at all, but I’m afraid to shut up because if I do maybe that’s the end of things, and I don’t want them to end, ever.”
Fritz had pulled his hands out of his pockets and put them on the small of my back and had begun, ever so
slowly, to draw me into a hug that used both arms. “You’re making perfect sense,” he said, a huge smile curling his lips. “I’m with you—every word, every breath, every beat of your heart.”
slowly, to draw me into a hug that used both arms. “You’re making perfect sense,” he said, a huge smile curling his lips. “I’m with you—every word, every breath, every beat of your heart.”
“Well, good, because I couldn’t stand it if you thought I was crazy. Or if you didn’t maybe want me as much as I want you!”
“Shhh …” He pulled me nearer, closing his arms tightly around me, now bending his body to meet mine, his hips tight against me and rocking gently, his heart pounding, his lips nuzzling against my hair.
“Fritz,” I whispered, as I raised my face to meet his, time and space falling through the dark warmth he was creating within me. “I have so much to tell you.”
His breath filled my ear with a whispered reply. “We’ll have years and years to say everything we need to say, but first things first.” His lips brushed my forehead, my cheek, my nose, then hovered so close to mine that I could feel their heat, and I fell into his kiss.
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