Down by the River (18 page)

He leaned the tree against the truck as June neared. She could see that he had another right underneath and a couple of cardboard boxes that she imagined would contain lights and ornaments unearthed from his cellar.

He turned and looked at her. She smiled as she looked at him.

He nodded toward her stomach. “You gonna make Christmas?”

“Oh, yeah. And then some.”

“Looks iffy to me,” he said, grinning.

“Sam, I heard about all you did.” He shrugged. “You’re about the nicest man this town has ever known.”

He shrugged again. “What else am I going to do with my time. Huh?”

It was nearing closing time when Ricky Rios came into the café for a cup of coffee. What made this event odd was that he wasn’t wearing his uniform. Ricky was on duty so much of the time—as were all the valley police—that to see him without his uniform was strange indeed. Of course, he still drove the squad SUV because, like Tom and Lee, it was the only vehicle he had.

“Can I get you anything else?” George asked him.

“No, just this. You’re getting ready to close up, aren’t you?”

“No rush, Ricky. You take your time. Have some pie.”

“Thanks, but I was just wondering if I could talk to Frank.” The boy’s head popped up from behind the grill where he was busy with dishes and cleanup. He had a nervous and bewildered look on his face that made Ricky smile. “Just wondered if I could give you a lift, Frank. I wanted to tell you about a couple of groups for young men that might interest you.”

“Why?” Frank asked.

Ricky shrugged. “Because you’re a young man?” he posed as a possible answer.

“I got my bike,” he said.

“We’ll throw it in the back.”

“Go on, Frank,” George urged. “Ricky don’t bite.”

“Not real hard, anyway,” the deputy said.

Frank just muttered something under his breath while he wiped the grill down.

“What was that, son?” George asked.

“I said, if I have to!”

George shook his head. “He’s just contrary, Ricky. Sixteen. You know.”

“I know,” Ricky said.

A little while later they were under way, the bike stowed in the back of the squad car, Frank slinking down in the front seat like a criminal. Ricky glanced at him and had to struggle not to laugh out loud. What misery! What energy it must require to maintain all that gloom and negativity.

“Lighten up, will you, Frank?”

“What?” he asked.

“I’m not taking you to jail, for God’s sake. I’m just giving you a ride home. I wanted to tell you about this group out of Paradise that I belong to. Big Brothers. I thought if you signed up, and if it’s okay with your mom, maybe I could be your big brother?”

“Why?” he asked, sitting a little taller and straighter, but totally perplexed.

“Well, there isn’t a group in Grace Valley because there aren’t enough big brothers or enough kids who would sign up. But if I’m going to have another brother, I’d like it to be closer to home for me. Plus, we have a lot in common.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I had an abusive father, too, so I know what that’s like.”

“Oh, yeah?” Frank returned sarcastically. “And I suppose your mother knocked off your father, too.” He sunk into the seat again, but he felt bad. He had no idea what made him always react that way, as if he was constantly enraged. And he always screwed things up, too. Like this thing with Ricky. Frank was interested, but a part of him just couldn’t believe Ricky would really want to be his big brother. So he reacted as if unworthy, hoping that Ricky would just go away quietly and Frank wouldn’t face the risk of proving inadequate.

Ricky acted as if he didn’t know what Frank was getting at. “Our situation was a little different, and I was a lot younger. My parents are Mexican. I was born in California, so I’m naturalized, but my mom
wasn’t legal. My dad put her in the hospital a bunch of times, so there was no doubt he was going to kill her eventually. We had to run away and hide. There was this group that helped people with places to stay and changed identities and all that. We moved around for years. I don’t think I ever went to school in the same town two years in a row. But by the time I was in high school, we were finally safe, my father had been in jail a couple of times, and we settled just down the road in Paradise. My mom got her education and citizenship.” He looked over at Frank. “But it was hard. I know what it’s like.”

Frank looked at him but didn’t say anything.

“I know what it’s like to be mad all the time, too,” he said. “And I also know the damn craziness of it being Christmas, and even though you still hate the son of a bitch, you wish he was around sometimes. Doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

“Does everybody know that about you?” Frank asked.

“I think so. We never tried to hide it, my mother or me. That’s why she likes working in Child Protective Services, where she can help.”

“Wow,” Frank said. One of the hardest things for him was that everyone
knew.
Wherever he went, he felt that people looked at him, thinking, There goes that kid who’s jackass father used to beat up the whole family till his mother killed him. “Everybody knows about me. About my family.” He looked over at Ricky. “I mean, there was a
trial.
”

Ricky didn’t respond to that. It was beside the point. If they got together in this program, there would be plenty of time to talk about that stuff, to meet with other big brothers and their little brothers and share experiences and, better still, share solutions to their coping problems.

“There’re lots of guys like us,” Ricky said.

They rode together quietly for a little while. Sometimes not talking with someone can be as important and revealing as trying to talk it all out. Frank had been with people who understood his situation, like his mom and George. Like Tom Toopeek and the counselor, Jerry Powell. And then there was that anger-management group, full of pissed-off teenage boys just like him. But this was the very first time he was with a guy like Ricky—a guy he secretly thought was awesome—and they had come from the same place of pain! That gave Frank hope he could end up having a cool life after all. He had started to think that wasn’t ever possible for him. He thought he was doomed.

“So, what do people in this brothers thing do?” Frank asked.

“Mostly we like to keep it simple and just have fun. We have some organized sports in summer—softball, soccer and volleyball. But everyone’s busy, so there’s no pressure. We might catch a movie, get together with some of the guys and go to the lake, whatever we want. I want to get you in the program as soon as possible because I really think your little
brothers are going to need that, too, as they get a little older.” He looked over at Frank and grinned. “You have any idea how many times, growing up, I could have used a big brother?”

“Man,” Frank said, overwhelmed. “Life is just one big piñata after another.”

“I guess that’s a good thing?” Ricky asked, feeling every bit of thirty next to this kid.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing,” he said. And then he smiled. A rare thing for Frank.

Christmas Eve started out with the usual damp air and threatening skies, but with the temperature dropping, there was every possibility for snow. When John called June and asked her if she had time to dash over to the clinic to put some sutures in little Robbie Gilmore’s chin, Jim insisted on riding along in case she ran into trouble. “It’s slick out there,” he said. “I’m not taking any chances on Christmas Eve.”

She never saw it coming. Even when she pulled into town and there were cars everywhere, she still didn’t get it.

“Drop me off in front of the café,” Jim said. “I’m going to see what’s going on while you put your stitches in.”

“Well, wait a minute,” she argued. “I want to know, too!”

“Do your stitches first!” he ordered, jumping out of the truck.

Pouting like a punished child, June parked behind the clinic. With all those cars and trucks in the church and café parking spaces, she couldn’t tell if the Gilmores had arrived or not. She went into the clinic, turned on the lights, and scribbled a message on a sticky note. She stuck it on the unlocked clinic door. “I’m at the café. June.”

Although June knew she was loved, she was always a little naive about how much. She knew the townsfolk appreciated her, as they appreciated her dad and John Stone, but she had trouble grasping that there was a difference. June was
their
girl, born and bred in Grace Valley. Her patients were her lifelong friends, her town and its people her first priority no matter what, whether she was in love or lonely, whether she was feeling great or ill, no matter what. And they knew that, and did not take it for granted.

So when she walked in the café, they got her.

“Surprise!” they shouted.

Her hands went to her face to hide her open mouth, then to her stomach to guard the baby from the shock of it.

She had never seen the place so full. There were streamers and balloons, presents everywhere and absolutely every person she loved.

Jim separated himself from the crowd, pulling a woman toward June. “June, honey, I have a surprise. This is my sister Annie.”

June was so stunned, so touched, all she could do was say, “Oh!” and reach for the woman to hug her.
They’d spoken on the phone a couple of times, talked of wanting to meet, but there had never been so much as a whisper of a plan.

“And here is her husband, Mike, and daughter, Tracy, and this one we call Mo because he’s Mike Junior.”

“Mo?” she asked.

“Yeah,” the fifteen-year-old said, grinning. “For Mo Mike.”

For some reason, she hadn’t thought about something as obvious as a baby shower. It hadn’t crossed her mind. There was so much else going on, what with Christmas. And there were other things to divert her attention, like Morton’s return, like Nancy and Chris having their problems. And there was Harry, she remembered.

How had they done this? she wondered as she was led to the place of honor. So secretly, without giving off a single hint? How had Jim gotten his family here without going to the airport? Clearly there were conspirators and co-conspirators galore.

The presents went on forever, but there were two gifts that stood out in her mind. One was the quilt, lovingly designed and sewn by her circle of friends. It depicted in beautiful appliqué blocks the life of June Hudson: a baby in the arms of her mother with her father looking on; jumping rope with what had to be Tom Toopeek and Chris Forrest each holding an end; a twelve-year-old girl in an arm cast standing under a large tree with a tree house in it and two boys
peeking out the windows; June in her cheerleading uniform with pom-poms; a med student carrying books with a stethoscope around her neck; and finally, in the center block, June standing at the forest’s edge with Jim. A story quilt, lovingly created by her dearest friends.

The other gift waited for her at home and she wouldn’t find out about it until much later.

They celebrated, ate cake and filled the back of the truck with gifts for June and the baby. Jim and Mike took all the new things plus the out-of-towner’s luggage back to June’s to unload and set up the baby’s room as a guest room and lay out sleeping bags in the attic loft for the kids. June and Annie went to Elmer’s to work on Christmas Eve dinner.

“I’ve never seen my brother look happier,” Annie told June.

“Well, if you had known me before today, you’d be saying the same of me.” They put both leaves in the dining table and began putting out plates. “This is the best Christmas I’ve had since my mother was alive.”

“How long has she been gone, June?”

“Nine years now. But it still seems like yesterday.”

“We lost our mom about a dozen years ago. And our dad not long after, so I think I know how you might feel.”

“Annie, are you okay with the fact that Jim and I haven’t married?” she boldly asked.

Annie shrugged. “I haven’t given it a lot of thought. I understand you haven’t really known each other all that long. Not a year yet, is it?”

“That’s right,” June said gratefully. At least here was someone who understood the basic reason for patience. “I’m having a little trouble getting my dad and my godmother, Birdie, to understand. But they’re older….”

Annie laughed softly. “Don’t worry about them, June. The one you have to figure out how to explain this to is your son or daughter.”

June froze. Something leaden weighted down her arms and legs. “Son,” she said quietly.

Then, as if on cue, Mo burst into the house through the kitchen door, Tracy on his heels. Their jackets were covered with the damp glistening of snowflakes. Their faces were flush with excitement, eyes aglitter and cheeks charged red. “Mom!” Mo yelled. “It’s snowing! Doc says it only snows about once every twenty years on Christmas!”

“That means good luck, doesn’t it, Mom?” Tracy asked.

Annie put an arm around June’s shoulders and said, “Definitely!”

June held on to her swollen stomach.

Through dinner Jim’s family was entertained with town and family stories, from the barely returned Morton Claypool to the ghost at Angel’s Pass rumored to have helped motorists in trouble over the
decades. Though it was late by the time they all made the journey back to June’s, no one was tired in the least, not even June.

Jim had something to show her, and took her by the hand to the bedroom where the cherry cradle sat next to her side of the bed. “You
made
this?” she asked, stunned.

Right behind them in the doorway, Annie said, “You
made
that? You did?”

“Yes,” he answered.

Mike pushed through the door. “Hey.
You
made that? You?”

“Yeah. Me.”

Tracy and Mo shoved in. “Whoa, Uncle Jim! You build things? You?”

“Come on, you didn’t do that!”

“Jeez! I did, too! I had a little help, but I did it myself!”

“Wow.” His doubtful family laughed. “Who knew?”

“It’s beautiful, Jim,” June said. “So beautiful.”

“You’ll have to excuse us,” Annie said. “Not only has he never done anything like hang wallpaper or build furniture, he’s been living out of a suitcase for about twenty years.”