Finding Casey (18 page)

No one came into the café. He cleared his throat, said, “Hello,” and waited patiently. After a few minutes he called out in a loud voice, “Hello? I'd like to buy some lunch.”

Minutes passed, with the only signs of life being Joseph's own breathing. Eventually a lanky kid with an Amish-style beard came through the door. “Café's closed,” he said.

“Oh,” Joseph said, wondering if it would have killed them to put up a “closed” sign. “How about the hens? I called earlier, ordered a wyandotte?”

“I can help you with that,” the youth said, and Joseph followed him out the door, lunch uneaten.

The chickens had a nice patch of dirt to run in and a red painted coop. It abutted the corrugated metal barn, every window of which was shuttered, painted the same red. He saw the padlock on its door and wondered what that meant. Expensive equipment, or a pot farm? He was about to ask when the little girl came running by, calling, “Mama, Mama, my flutter by is
hatching!” and she sped out of sight toward one of the yurts. “Cute kid,” Joseph said, but the chicken salesman didn't bother to comment.

Jamie wound up her phone call, startling Joseph out of his thoughts. “Any chance I could prevail upon you to take this to the notary on Cerrillos?” Jamie said.

“Happy to. Anything else I can do for you?”

She grinned. “Joseph, your wife is one lucky lady. No, I'm fine here. Sorry you had to wait so long. What do you need?”

“The board-meeting notes from six months ago, if you have them. Some figures I want to compare with this month's.”

“I'll e-mail them to you this afternoon.”

“Great.”

“I guess I'll see you in the new year. Any festivities planned?”

“Just a quiet Christmas at home with one very pregnant wife. How about you?”

Her phone rang again before Jamie could say a word. She had to answer it. Joseph initialed the invoices, paper-clipped them together, and set them into Jamie's in-box. He placed the papers for the notary into an envelope and got up to leave.

Leaning on his cane, he walked through the main shelter area. Over the years the memory of the Farm café occasionally nagged at him, like a recurring dream. He saw the Pueblo dancers in bright paint, heard the heartbeat thrum of the drums, and wondered if the woman who came to the Pueblo had ever gotten her money back. Doubtful. The only way to look at it was as an expensive life lesson. He could see that café as clearly as a still-life painting, its old-timey vibe so appealing that he wished he had gotten to try the food. But it was the padlock on the barn he could not get out of his mind. His cop's intuition had sent him a clear message: Something's not right here. Ask questions. But it
had happened years ago. He mentally calculated how near the commune was to Española. There wasn't time to go today, but maybe he could phone Elena Gonzales, see if she knew anyone there, or drive up to the Farm himself after Juniper and the
vato
returned to the university, and Glory's mom and sister to California. His heart ached for Halle and what she was going through. Ending a marriage was agony, even when the love had departed. Such feelings of failure had dogged him for years. One day your life was about the two of you and the next you stood alone, wondering what to do next. Last he'd heard, his ex had moved to Michigan. He hoped she was happy.

People dropped into New Mexico with expectations of an easier life, more meaningful circumstances, but the truth was, one place was pretty much like another. Yes, a sunset at Bandelier or a view of el Pedernal did soften things, but if you wanted a life change, you had to do the work. He got into his car and drove to the notary on Cerrillos. The big box pet store was next door. Why not go inside and buy some Christmas presents for the dogs? This year Glory was going to need help getting ready for Christmas.

Juniper sat looking out the windshield of her car, which was rapidly becoming covered with snow. It was near dusk, and she and Topher were in the theater parking lot because the movie was over. She could hardly even remember what it had been about due to the words he'd whispered in her ear just as the movie started.
After the movie, why don't we use some of the cash your aunt gave you to get a motel room at the Cactus Lodge?

She'd had other activities in mind: Head on home and help Topher write a kick-ass Western Civ paper. A quick turn through Double Take, to see if they had any cowboy shirts that would fit Topher, because he would look so handsome in one while he was playing his gigs. Call her parents and say they were going to La Choza for red chile, her favorite, and would be home later.

The motel idea made her hot all over, although it was snowing again, and her windshield was icy. As she stood there in the wind scraping it clean, Topher had been kissing her neck, too, eventually taking the scraper out of her hand and doing the job himself when it started to hail. Santa Fe weather was crazy. Why settle for a snowstorm when you could have wind and hail to go along with it?

The Cactus Lodge was on Cerrillos, one of those places she usually drove by without even noticing. Not in a great part of town, but not the worst, either. If only they could afford La Fonda, her favorite, or the Eldorado, peacefully lit and filled with a spa-like quiet. A room with a soft bed, six pillows, linens with a thread count higher than she could count—now that was the kind of place to make love for the first time. Not in a tiny room with icky carpet and a bedspread you were afraid to sit on because you knew it had a million other people's gross skin cells and whatever on it. She and Topher had been together for three months and six days. How did a person know when the right time was to have sex? Not that it would truly be her first time, thanks to her stupidity nearly five years ago when she traded her virginity for a stupid tattoo. It would still be a really big step in their relationship. A game changer.

Her dorm suitemates all had sex with their boyfriends. They teased Juniper that she was more interested in old bones and rocks than sex. Actually, she would choose three hours in the lab with bones over sex every time. There were stories in bones, the voices of people long gone, like Casey, and insights you gleaned from the past informed your future. But sex was like the final piece to a puzzle, right? That was how adults showed their love. Her parents did it; duh, Glory was so pregnant that she looked as if she'd explode if she coughed. But shouldn't Juniper want sex as much as Topher did? Next to her, he was texting his parents. They'd called him on Thanksgiving and Juniper was surprised he hadn't called them back.

“Why don't you just call them?” Juniper asked.

“Because it's cocktail hour. The only thing worse than having to talk to them is having to talk to them when they're hammered.”

That kind of broke her heart, but maybe he was exaggerating, ragging on his parents like every college student did. “So what are you telling them?” Juniper asked. If he answered, “What a great Thanksgiving I had with your family,” or if he said, “That I want you to come home with me for spring break,” she would say yes to the motel and that would be that.

“How terrible the cafeteria food was on Thanksgiving, and how lonely I am sitting here by myself studying my ass off in an empty dorm room.”

“What? You mean they don't know you're here? With me and my folks?”

He laughed. “Of course not. They think I stayed at the dorm to finish my makeup work.”

“But Topher, that's a lie.”

“So? Who's going to know?”

Her, for one. “You don't know how bad lies can be. Tell one and pretty soon you have to tell five more to cover it.”

“My dad went batshit when he saw my grades. If I don't pass Western Civ, he says I have to move home and get a job.” He shuddered. “Believe me, that's worth lying about.”

Juniper rubbed her gloved hands together, trying to get warm. “Maybe we should just go back to my house,” she said. “I'll help you with your paper and then you'll pass the class just fine. That way you won't be totally lying.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“If it's important enough that you lied to your folks about it then it's important enough to get the paper done right.”

He turned her face to his and kissed her. Oh, if only he wasn't such a good kisser. It felt as if the kiss moved straight to her core. Bernadette and Lily, Juniper's suitemates, told stories about boys who had no clue how to kiss, how they planted
sloppy wet ones on you that felt like a giant snail had walked across your mouth. When Juniper said, “Ick,” they laughed so hard about it that it got them screaming. Bernadette had a very short list of boys who kissed perfectly, Topher being one of them. Evidently he'd kissed a lot of girls before Juniper. He was experienced; Juniper might as well be a virgin. Yet she had felt the pressure to have sex from the first time she met him for coffee at the Standard. Every day, every time they were alone, it was like this pulsing, amorphous entity between them that wanted to be fed and stoked and brought to life. “When are you guys going to do it?” Lily and Bernadette tag-teamed her. Topher said, “
When
we do it,” as if the matter were already decided. Shoot, even Glory had hinted as much when she took her to the gynecologist for her yearly checkup.
If you want to go on the pill, just tell the doctor
, she said,
but remember, condoms are the only way to protect yourself from STDs
. Actually, Juniper was surprised Topher had waited this long. Most guys would have moved on to someone else more accommodating.

When the kiss was over, Topher looked at her with those Caribbean-blue eyes that were just plain criminal for a boy to have when hers were the color of mud with some yellow specks of pollen floating around. He rubbed her arm and touched her cheek. “What's the problem, Junie? You know I love you, right?”

“Yes.” But a little voice inside her begged to differ. He never actually said the words straight out. They were always shoved in behind “You know,” or sung in a song lyric that could have applied to anyone. But he'd written that song “Blue Tattoo” just for her. No other girl he knew had a bluebird tattooed on her neck. That meant something.

He kissed her again. “Is it the money? I'll pay you back for
the motel room as soon as my dad transfers my allowance into my account. I just want to be with you. Don't you want to be with me?”

She nodded. There has to be a first time, she thought. So what if it isn't good? Bernadette said it was like Dance Dance Revolution; the more you practiced, the better you got. Juniper used to dread writing essays, but Daddy Joe had taught her how to write them, and now she could just
kill
on an essay test. Even a surprise, write-it-in-class-right-now essay. She loved essays. Maybe she'd love sex. She certainly loved his kisses, and the way he was running his fingertips down her cheek was unreal sick awesome tantalizing. She hadn't even liked dogs before Caddy, and now she hated to spend a moment without him.

“How about if you pay half?” she asked him, and turned the key in the ignition.

“All right!” he said. “Call your parents and tell them we're going out to dinner.”

How could she lie to them after all this time of telling the truth? Years ago, when she was first living at Glory's, lying had gotten her into a terrible mess. She'd stolen money, drugs, run away, and no one outside her family knew it until she blurted it out today with Halle—she had even tried to kill herself. She was relieved Topher hadn't pressed her for details, and hoped that would be the end of it. Daddy Joe would be really disappointed if he caught her in a lie. There were a hundred reasons to say no, from the popcorn stuck in her teeth to how bad she felt about lying, but only one reason to say yes. She loved Topher and he loved her. That decided it. “All right,” she said as she flipped her phone open. “But right afterwards we're going home to play progressive rummy with my grandmother.”

“What the heck is that?”

“A card game.”

“On the computer?”

“No, with actual playing cards. It's really fun. I'll teach you.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“Shut up,” she said, and laughed. She had her home number on auto dial so all she had to do was press HOME and the call went right through. What a relief when Aunt Halle answered. “We're going out to eat. Be home soon,” she said, grateful she hadn't had to lie directly to either of her parents. She drove east on Cerrillos and there it was, the ugly beige Cactus Lodge, its neon vacancy sign blinking. At least the snow softened the edges a little.

“You have to turn the lights off or I won't be able to relax,” she said, looking at the stupid mirror that took up most of one wall.

Topher was already stepping out of his shoes onto that disgusting carpet. He laughed. “I can't believe how shy you are,” he said. “In class you have no problem telling somebody when they're wrong, but you're scared for me to see you naked?”

“That's different. I study hard and I know things. My body is … different.” She only knew what it wasn't, which was pretty, sexy, or in any way spectacular.

“I already love your body,” he said as he pulled back the ugly bedspread. “You want to check the sheets for bedbugs?”

“Topher! Why did you have to say that? Now I'll start itching.”

He got into bed and lay back against the scrawny pillows. She could see the outline of his penis through his boxer shorts. “Turn the light off.”

“All right, I'm turning it off, but I can still see you.”

“Then close your eyes.” She waited for him to turn the light off. When he did, a flood of relief rushed through her. She quickly shucked all her clothes except her bra and underpants, making sure to lay everything on the desk/dresser so it would touch only the surfaces that got cleaned the most. She waited until she was in bed before taking off her socks, which she set on the bedside table that was bolted to the wall. On top of the table was a clock radio that blinked 12:00 in red digital numbers. She turned it around before lying down because it let off light, not that much, but enough so that Topher could see her ordinary boobs and thick waist. She ran like a maniac, counted calories, did yoga, but her waist never got even one inch smaller. How unfair was that?