Authors: Fern Michaels

Sara's Song (17 page)

BOOK: Sara's Song

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Dallas pulled the light coverlet up to his chin. It was comfortable now that he'd turned off the air-conditioning. The ointment was helping also. He felt a thousand percent better now. As he listened to the field reporters his thoughts took him back to the tarmac earlier yesterday when he talked to the pilot before takeoff. He understood now why the authorities thought he was dead. They didn't know the pilot's brother had been on the plane. The bodies were charred beyond recognition. Who would mourn them? No one. Don and Bruce had no family. Who would take care of the charred remains? The airline? The Pilots' Association? Was there such a thing? It occurred to him then to wonder what had happened to the plane to cause it to spiral to the ground. They were talking now about a black box that would have the answers. Did planes just fall apart in midair? How had the rear end of the plane been ripped off? Why had he survived and not the others? Was it supposed to mean something? He wished then that he was more religious. Divine intervention. Why? He needed to call Adam and Sara and tell them he was alive.

Walk away into the sunset with a new name and new identity.
The pilot couldn't do that, but he could.
If he wanted to.
Maybe this was the reason he had survived the crash. Maybe he was meant to start a new life somewhere else. Was this divine intervention? He wasn't even sure what the words meant exactly.
Walk away into the sunset with a new name and new identity.
If he walked away, things would fall apart. He'd never see Adam or Sara again. He could do all the things he wanted to do but never had the time to do. For starters he could get himself a dog so he'd have a buddy. He could check into one of those special places and get himself evaluated. Sara said there was nothing wrong with him. With special help he could learn to function in Adam's world. He wondered if he had the guts to commit to such a thing. He could do it.
If he wanted to.
Maybe he should just check into a hospital and ask for “the works.” He thought then about the mess he'd left on his bed back in the canyon house. If he got help, the day might come when he'd be able to sort through it and actually understand what it was all about.
If he wanted to.
Of course Adam would chew his ass out for doing something he considered reprehensible. But then, maybe Adam would be proud of him once he learned he could function on his own in the world. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to picture the pride in Adam's face. He wouldn't have to stay dead forever. At some point in time he could resurface and concoct some kind of story that would make things right.
If he wanted to
.

Dallas punched at the pillow behind his head. He needed to be clear in his mind who he was going to be doing this for, if he decided to do it. Himself or Adam? “For me. I want to be like everyone else,” he mumbled. As he watched the commentary on his life unfold via CNN, Dallas let himself daydream about walking up to Sara's front door with a bouquet of yellow roses and ringing her bell. He'd be dressed like Adam in a suit and tie with a regulation haircut. He smiled to himself when he pictured her wide smile as she threw her arms around him and kissed him soundly on the lips. Sara deserved the best. Maybe in time he could become the best. If not the best, then maybe he could become just a regular guy in Adam's shadows If things went right, he might even want to go to college someday. It was never too late to get an education.

The big question staring him in the face was where was he to get the money to do all this? He had a wad of cash that he'd planned to gamble with in his duffel bag. It would last him a while, possibly a year if he was frugal. Back in the canyon he had money in a special safe he and Billy Sweet had built into the floor of his walk-in closet. Even Adam didn't know about the safe. There were two things in the safe, money and the harmonica Adam had given him. In the beginning he'd only planned to keep a few thousand in the safe for emergency money, but Billy had said, “Man, what's the point? You need to fill this sucker up in case things go bad.” He'd taken his friend's advice and as near as he could remember he had close to a million dollars in tight, compact bundles. Having the money and getting to it were two different things at this point in time. As Adam always said, where there's a will there is a way. He didn't need to think about that now.

Dallas gulped at the bottle of warm cherry soda that Maggie had left with his dinner. He longed for a cold root beer. He grew tired of seeing himself on television, so he started flipping through the channels, but he always came back to CNN. So far he hadn't seen Sara. He wondered why. He listened to the announcement concerning his brother. He snorted when he heard that he was going to make an announcement later in the day.

What to do. Should he do it? How to do it?
Make up your mind, Dallas. Either you're going to do it or you aren't. If you aren't, you need to find a pay phone and call the authorities or Adam and Sara.

Dallas rolled over in bed. What was it Adam always said? When in doubt, do nothing. If it was good enough for Adam, it was good enough for him. He slept again, soundly, deeply, and restfully.

At eight o'clock, Maggie Deering rapped on Dallas's door. “Breakfast's in ten minutes if you're hungry.”

Dallas hopped from the bed, stunned to see his clothes washed and folded. He put them on, sniffing as he did so. They smelled like a sunny day after a hard rain. The money from his trousers was on the dresser. He scooped it up. He walked gingerly over to the main cabin. He ached from head to toe, but his sunburn was definitely better. He was also very, very hungry.

“How are you feeling this morning, Jack?”

Dallas looked over his shoulder for Jack until he remembered;
he
was Jack. “Much better, thank you. Thanks for washing my clothes and leaving me the food. It tasted so good I ate it all.”

“Get your appetite ready because I serve up a hearty breakfast. My man, he liked. a hearty meal on wakening. Steak, potatoes, saw mill gravy, and biscuits. You aren't getting that, though. I whipped up some pancakes, eggs, bacon, and sausage. I also have some homemade apple dumplings with real cream.”

“I'll have some of everything,” Dallas said. He drank his first cup of coffee in two gulps, the second in three gulps; the third he sipped as he ate. When he was finished, he said, “I don't think I ever ate this much at one time in my whole life.”

Maggie preened. “Everybody says that who eats here,” she said with no show of modesty. “I love cooking. We're having roast chicken tonight if you're staying on. Are you?” she asked bluntly.

Dallas surprised himself when he said, “I'll be staying for three or four days. I still feel kind of rubbery if you know what I mean.”

“The desert sun can kill you. Good thing Moses found you when he did. He was fretting here all night worrying about you. He ate when the sun came up. Moses is a good man. An honest man. You can't hardly find men like him any more. My man, he was like that. Where you from, Jack?”

“I move around a lot. Mostly California.” Obviously this kind lady wasn't into rock stars or rock music. “What's going on in the world?” he asked as he pointed to the television on the counter.

“Not much. A plane went down in the desert yesterday. Everyone on it was killed. Sad, real sad.”

“How many people?” Dallas asked.

“Two. Some singer and the pilot. I didn't pay much attention. I don't like hearing stuff like that.”

Dallas nodded. “Me too. How far is the nearest town?”

“Dumont must be ten, maybe twelve miles. Is that where you're headed? Moses said you were rolled.” She clucked her tongue. “Did you win big?”

“Yeah. I got some left, though.”

“They take your car?”

He hated lying, he really did. “Yeah. I have to get another one. Do you think Moses will take me into town?”

“Sure. He doesn't do anything all day but wander around. Once in a while he kills a rattlesnake.”

“How does he live?”

“He is not a bum if that's what you're thinking. He has a ton of money socked in the bank over at Dumont. Used to own a big junkyard. There's money in junk. He's from the East somewhere. He came out here to the desert because of his lungs. He likes to watch game shows on television. Once in a while he goes into town and has some beers and plays a little poker. He likes the simple life. He isn't as old as he looks. The sun did that to him. Told you, the sun is a killer. Walk on back. He's sunning himself outside.”

“How much do I owe you, Maggie?”

“Nothing. Moses gave me your fifty dollars and you still have a credit after the room rate is deducted. Most likely I will be owing you a refund when you leave. Will you be here for supper?”

“Yes, ma'am, I will.”

Dallas walked around the back of the motel office. Maggie was right, the crusty old man was taking the sun, his weathered face peaceful. Dallas stared at him a moment longer than necessary.

“You committing me to memory, son?”

“In a way. You look contented. Peaceful. I don't think I ever felt that way in my whole life.” He sat down on a wooden crate, his eyes puzzled.

“Howzat?”

“Decisions, responsibility, life. Sometimes it seems like it's going to choke the life out of me. Even when I take a day off I know that the next day will be the same. I just put off things and taking that one day off makes it worse. I heard from Maggie you had a junkyard back East.”

“Mighty stressful, junk. Had to hire security to protect all that junk. Had to get guard dogs to watch the security people. Money started going out faster than it was comin' in. Decided to pack it in and come out here to the desert when my wife died. Didn't have no kids. I can breathe better here. How much did you lose when you got rolled, son?”

Dallas hated lying. He hesitated a moment too long. The old man's eyes snapped open. “You on the run, son?”

Was he? He hadn't decided yet. He nodded, his decision made. He met the watery gaze head-on. “I need to go to town to get some kind of vehicle. I'll have to pay cash. I don't have a driver's license. It could be a problem.”

“Money can buy most anything, son. You want to jaw about this a little more or would you like me to mind my own business?”

Dallas thought about the question before he replied. “It will probably be better for you if you don't know too much. I want to get a haircut and some clothes.”

“Maggie knows how to cut hair,” Moses said. “Never did cotton to men with long hair. She does a professional job. It don't pay to call attention to yourself if you're . . . avoiding people. About that there driver's license. I think I might be able to get you one that will pass inspection. It will cost, though. I can buy you the vehicle and register it in your name. They know me in Dumont. Money talks. Guess you know that. Town ain't all that big. Nothing much goes on, so people have to spec-u-late. Might be a good idea for me to buy the clothes, too. Do you get my drift?”

“Do you think you could get me a cell phone?”

“Don't see why not. You pay in advance and leave a hefty deposit. Ain't got nothin' planned for today, so we might as well start out. You need to wear a cap and pile that hair on top of your head, son. I think I got a cap somewhere. Maggie can cut your hair when we get back. Folks over to Dumont don't understand a man wearing diamonds in their ears. Dallas removed the stud from his ear and stuffed it in his pocket. He might need to pawn the two-carat diamond earring at some point.

Moses came out of the trailer holding a baseball cap that was as worn and tattered as he was. “This here is my most prize possession. Joe DiMaggio hisself give it to me personally. I'm jest loaning it to you, son.”

Dallas scooped up his long hair and piled it on top of his head before he jammed on the cap. “Put these on,” Moses said, holding out a pair of wire-rim sunglasses. He squinted against the sun. “You don't look a-tall like that there singer now.” He cackled with glee as he climbed behind the wheel of the ancient truck.

“How did you know?”

“Son, your face was plastered all over the news last night. No need to worry. I ain't never spilled a secret. When we get back it might be a good ideer to have that talk. I might be able to help you. They said only good things on the television about you. I'm not sayin' I want to know your business now. What I'm sayin' is you need to think through what I think yer plannin'. A secret's no good unless one other person knows it. You should know that, son.”

“I didn't do anything wrong, Moses. Maybe what I'm planning on doing is wrong but ...”

“We'll talk later. Maggie,will make us some lemonade and we can jaw all day. I git real tired listenin' to her talk about them soap operas she watches all day long. She's a fine woman and a fine cook. She looks out for me. Everybody needs someone to look out for them even when they say they don't. You git my drift?”

“Yes.”

“How come a big strappin' feller like you ain't got hisself married?”

BOOK: Sara's Song

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