Saving Allegheny Green (7 page)

Mama had been hysterical, unable to cope. The doctors had kept her so medicated she’d stumbled through the next few years in a total daze. With one of his last breaths, Daddy, his frail body no more than flesh-covered bones, had taken my hand in his.

“Promise me you’ll take care of your mother, Ally. And Sissy, too. They’ll never make it without you.” He squeezed my fingers. “Promise me, so I can die in peace.”

“I promise, Daddy.”

I’d made that vow with the most solemn of intentions. And I’d kept my promise. Ah, the old triple threat, duty, honor and guilt. What powerful motivations.

Don’t forget fear,
the voice in the back of my head piped up.

Fear? I wasn’t afraid of anything.

And yet the question nagged. Was I afraid to let go of my family? Was I afraid to be alone, to fashion my own life? Was I actually using their dependency as an excuse, hiding behind it so that I didn’t have to face the truth?

Was Allegheny Green afraid of not being needed?

The idea was startling, disturbing and I didn’t want to consider it anymore.

I hitched in a deep breath and opened my eyes. The sun was hugging the horizon in a vivid splash of orange and pink. I smelled honeysuckle and the odor of fish.

Home.

I parked my butt in a lawn chair on the dock, and watched the perch come up to feed, blowing bubbles on the water’s green surface. I heard the back door creak and footsteps padding down to the river.

“Aunt Ally?”

Glancing up, I saw my nephew, Denny, standing in the twilight. He was a cute kid with big brown inquisitive eyes and a chocolate-colored cowlick that insisted on flopping over his forehead no matter how much hair gel he slathered on it.

“Hey there.” I held out my hand to him. He sauntered over the dock’s planks and let me pull his lanky body onto my lap. It wouldn’t be long until he would resist such closeness. I knew that and I savored his warm, slightly sweaty body pressed against mine.

We sat for the longest moment, staring out across the river, breathing together as the stars began to speckle the sky.

“Are you mad at Mom?” he asked.

“I’ll get over it.”

“I hate that Rocky fella.”

I smiled at his unintentional pun. “So do I.”

“When Mom’s with him she forgets about me.”

No matter what my opinion of Rockerfeller Hughes might be, I had to be diplomatic when dealing with an eight-year-old. The poor kid had never known his real Daddy. Hell, Sissy wasn’t even sure who the father had been.

“Your mother never forgets about you, Denny. She loves you very much.”

“Yeah? Well if she loves me so much how come you’re the one who packs my lunch and drives me to school and takes me to the dentist?”

“Denny, I like doing those things. I like taking care of people. That’s why I’m a nurse.”

“I wish my mom liked taking care of people the way you do, Aunt Ally.” He leisurely swung his foot, kicking me lightly in the shins.

“Your mom is good at other things besides taking care of people.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Denny challenged, turning his head so he could see my face.

“She’s a good singer. And a good dancer. Don’t you two have lots of fun when she turns up the radio and dances around the living room with you?”

“She doesn’t do that much anymore. Not since she started hanging out with fart-face Rocky.”

“Denny,” I said. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Why not? Mama says fart and worse.” He folded his hands into his armpits so that his arms looked like wings.

“Your mother shouldn’t say such words, either.”

“I know.”

What was one supposed to do with a wise kid? I had no idea. I only wished my sister would grow up and realize what a treasure her son truly was.

“Aunt Ally?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You won’t ever go away will you?”

“Of course not.” I looked down at him, guiltily remembering that a few minutes earlier I’d been contemplating escape. “What makes you ask that?”

Denny shrugged. “I heard Gramma telling Aunt Tessa you need a boyfriend.”

“Well, even if I did have a boyfriend, I wouldn’t leave you.”

“But what if you got married and had kids of your own? Who would take care of me and Mama?”

“I’d never marry someone who wouldn’t let you and your Mama live with us.”

Denny made a face. “I don’t want you to ever get married.”

“Don’t worry about it, champ. If I ever get married, it’s a long ways off.”

“Aunt Ally? Can I ask you a favor?”

“For you, anything.”

Denny took a deep breath. “You know my Junior Adventurers troop is having a campout the weekend after next.”

“Yes.”

“Mama said she would go but now she says she can’t.”

“Oh, Denny, I’m so sorry.” Fresh anger at my sister welled inside me.

“Will you do it, Aunt Ally? We need another grown-up to help chaperone or they’re going to call off the trip.”

“Why sure, Denny. I’ll be happy to. I’ll switch my work schedule at the hospital with Rhonda.”

“Really?” He beamed.

“Sure.”

He hugged me. “You’re the best aunt in the whole wide world.”

Unexpected emotions crowded my throat. I ruffled his hair. “Come on, let’s go inside. The mosquitoes are nibbling you up and it’s time to start dinner.”

Denny followed me into the house, a pensive expression on his face. I knew that he was worrying about his mother and his own future. We were a lot alike, my nephew and I. Both worriers, both willing to take on the weight of the world.

I wanted to tell him it wouldn’t do any good. That no matter how much you worried bad things still happened. But who can tell an eight-year-old something like that?

Instead, I shook off my own gloominess and took Denny by the hand. I wasn’t afraid to be alone. I’d made my decision a long time ago. I belonged here. On the river. With my family. The people who counted on me. There would be no trips to foreign locales. No boyfriends and no marriage. No matter how I might dream that it could be different, there simply wasn’t enough room in my life for Sam Conahegg.

I
WAITED UP UNTIL
midnight for Sistine to come home. Finally, I dozed off in the rocking chair in the living room, Mama’s hand-crocheted afghan thrown across my lap. The back door creaking open jerked me awake a little after 2:00 a.m.

The low-watt kitchen venti-hood bulb illuminated Sissy in silhouette. She crept into the house carrying her thick-soled, sling-back pumps in one hand and her purse in the other. She wore one of those barely there tank tops like the female characters on a
Friends
re-run and a spandex skirt that didn’t cover her thighs.

Reaching over, I clicked on the floor lamp.

Sissy squinted, raised her arm to block her eyes. “Hey, sergeant, cut the light, you’re blinding me!”

“Where have you been?” I asked, trying not to sound like a nagging parent but failing miserably.

She’d been drinking. I could tell by the too bright sheen in her eyes. Her mascara had smeared, causing her to look like a raccoon. “None of your beeswax.”

“Very mature, Sistine. Want to tell me how you got those hickeys?”

She wagged her tongue at me, showing off her gold stud. “Jealous?”

“Were you with Rocky?” I asked, an awful feeling slithering through me.

“What if I was?”

“I thought you were finished with him.” My frustration knew no bounds. I wanted to throttle my sister for her stupidity and idly wondered if Conahegg would arrest me.

The notion of Conahegg and handcuffs generated immediate sexual imagery. I’d love to cuff him to the headboard of my bed, strip him naked and trail a feather oh so slowly over his body. The thought of the strong, imposing sheriff completely within my power rocked me with a shudder that dove clean through my pelvis.

“Rocky’s changed, Ally,” Sissy said, shattering my scorching daydreams and bringing me back to grim reality. In that instant I understood why Mama spent so much time in her fantasy world. It was fun.

“Changed?” I blinked. Back to big-sister mode. Forget about Conahegg. Forget about handcuffs. Forget about bondage and feathers and orgasms.

“He told me that getting shot in the toe gave him something to think about,” Sissy continued. “It made him realize how much he loves me.”

“Excuse me?” I shook my head. The vestiges of my flights of fancy completely dispelled. “The man caused you to be beaten by a loan shark, Sistine Eileen Green. Have you forgotten about that? Your bruises haven’t even faded.”

Sissy waved a hand. “It was a misunderstanding.”

“Stop!” I held up a palm. I couldn’t absorb anymore. Sissy back in Rocky’s arms. “What about his wife, Darlene?”

“He’s divorcing her, then we’re going to Vegas to get married.”

“Sissy, don’t let him play you for a fool.”

“Can’t you be happy for me?”

“Sit down.” I rubbed my face with my hand. “I have something to tell you.”

“Don’t start ragging on me, Ally.”

“Sissy, this is important.” I pointed at the sofa. “Sit.”

“Screw you, you’re not my mother.”

“I’ve got bad news and it has nothing to do with Rocky. Please, have a seat.”

“Let me guess,” Sissy sneered. “You got passed over at work for employee of the month.”

I’d meant to tell her about Tim in a delicate manner but my self-destructive sister was making diplomacy impossible. “Tim Kehaul is dead,” I said bluntly.

Sissy blinked at me as if she hadn’t heard me.

“Your ex-boyfriend committed suicide.”

Then just like that, her knees buckled and she crumpled to the carpet. Dang. Hadn’t I told her to sit down?

I leaped from the rocker, ran to her side and braced her with my arm. “I’m so sorry.”

“Tim?” She whimpered. “Dead?”

“It was an accident.”

Sissy frowned. “But I thought you said he committed suicide.”

“He did. Except not on purpose.”

“I don’t get it.”

I explained what had probably happened and Sissy began to cry.

“Shh,” I soothed, brushing her hair with my fingers. “It’s all right. Shh.”

“Poor Tim.” She sobbed.

“I know.”

Her shoulders shook and she leaned against me.

“You were with Rocky, right? Didn’t you see the patrol cars at Tim’s place?”

“I met Rocky at Zydeco’s,” Sissy said, referring to a trashy country-and-western bar located at the Parker County line in
an area known as Whisky Corners, which consisted of Zydeco’s, a strip club called Tits-a-Poppin’, a Majestic liquor store, a bingo hall frequented by the blue hair set, a massage parlor professing to specialize in Rolfing and three cut-rate gas stations renowned for watering down their petrol.

“What was he doing out of the house?” I asked. “He’s supposed to be recuperating.”

“He had cabin fever.”

“Please, tell me you’re not serious about marrying Rocky,” I begged.

“Well…”

“Think of Denny.” I clasped her hand. “Think of yourself. You could do so much better, Sissy. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“Rocky says he’s got a surefire way to make a lot of money,” Sissy blurted.

“Even if it’s true, there’s more to life than money, Sis. What about love?”

“What about it?”

“Do you love Rocky? Does Rocky love you?”

She shrugged. “I loved Tim and look what happened.” The mention of his name brought fresh tears. “No one ever treated me as good as he did. Then he turned gay on me!”

“Tim didn’t turn gay, Sissy. He was always gay. He just happened to come out of the closet while he was dating you.” I took a deep breath. Analyzing my sister’s choices was beyond my expertise. She needed professional help. “It’s late and we’re both tired. Why don’t we talk tomorrow?”

Sissy nodded and I helped her to her feet.

“I do know of one young man who loves you very much, Sissy.”

“Who’s that?” She looked at me expectantly, eyes wide. The sad thing was, she didn’t even realize who I was speaking of.

“Your son.”

T
HE NEXT MORNING
I hit the gym before work, tackling the StairMaster to relieve some of my frustration over Sissy. An hour later, exhilarated with exhaustion, I started for the showers only to stop in my tracks as I passed the weight room.

There, in all his half-clothed glory, was Conahegg hefting barbells over his head.

Like a kid drawn to a cheap carnival ride, I sidled over to him. “Hi. Hello. I didn’t know you came here.”

Conahegg simply grunted and lowered the weights. He inhaled, then exhaled. “Hey,” he finally said.

I couldn’t seem to stop my gaze from skittering out of my control and attacking him. He wore a red muscle shirt and black cotton shorts. I think he had on Nike runners but to tell the truth I didn’t pay much attention to his feet.

There was not an ounce of fat anywhere on his body. And his forearms! God, what forearms. There ought to be a law against such perfection.

I wanted him. With a physical hunger unlike anything I’d ever known. My hormones must have been out of whack. Estrogen overload. That had to be the answer. By nature, I was not a lusty gal. I did not drool over movie stars or gaze longingly at the backsides of handsome construction workers. I did not throb for romance novel heroes nor did I daydream of riding rugged cowboys.

But there was something about Conahegg that floated my sexual boat. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to deny my obsession.

You’re a sick, sick puppy, Allegheny Green.

It’s okay. It’s all right. No harm in fantasizing. As long as he doesn’t know how you feel, everything is hunky-dory.

But if I didn’t put my eyes back in my head soon he was going to figure out my secret.

His gaze flicked over me. Steady. Controlled. Yet deep inside those gray depths I saw something else. Something that wasn’t the least bit steady or controlled. Something primal, something elemental. Something that made my toes curl.

“Well,” I said awkwardly, flapping my white towel around like a flag of surrender. “I saw you here and wanted to come over and say hi.”

Inwardly, I cringed. How inane!

He smiled. Just the tiniest bit. “Hi.”

“Didn’t mean to interrupt your workout.” I was shifting my weight, nervous as a grasshopper in a pen full of chickens. “You have fun.”

One corner of his mouth lifted a little higher.

“I better be going. See ya. Bye.”

Then I zoomed away.

If someone had asked me to take a ride on the space shuttle leaving for Mars, I would have jumped at the chance. Instead, I threw myself into the shower and blasted the cold water.

Take that, you oversexed ninny.

A few minutes later I changed into my scrubs and sneaked out the back door of the gym, desperate to avoid Conahegg.

I stopped by McDonald’s for coffee and a breakfast burrito to help calm me down before heading to my first appointment.

By seven-thirty, it was already hotter than the day before and I ended up turning on my air-conditioning along with the morning show on Q102. I took farm road 413 off highway 51 and drove past rolling ranch land to a small frame farmhouse dropped in the middle of ten acres, eight miles out of town.

Miss Maddie Farnsworth was my favorite patient. She’d once been my fourth grade homeroom teacher. She should have sold her house and moved into Cloverleaf long ago but Maddie had her own way of doing things.

She’d come to need my services by way of a fractured hip
and a nasty nosocomial infection. She’d been released from the rehab hospital two weeks earlier and had been healing nicely but still had to receive antibiotics to stem the tide of methicillin-resistant staph aureus circulating in her blood.

Because she’d never married and had no children, Maddie lived alone, but she was never lonely. An obsessively cheerful woman, she’d spent forty-five years in the Cloverleaf school system. She knew everyone in town and everyone knew her. Her former students, members of her church and other friends dropped by on a daily basis to keep Maddie informed on current events in Cloverleaf. Plus, she had an addiction to the telephone, which she happened to be on when I arrived.

I knocked on the door, announced myself and walked on in.

Maddie beamed and waved at me from her wheelchair. “Gotta go, Evie, my favorite nurse is here. Call me back in an hour.” She switched off her cordless phone and rested it in her lap. “Good morning, sunshine,” she welcomed.

Sharp blue eyes peered at me. She hadn’t changed much over the years. A little thinner, her shoulders a little more stooped but she still possessed a quick wit and a keen mind.

I smiled. “Morning, Maddie.”

She’d been a strict but fair teacher and I’d long ago forgiven her for making me stand at the front of the class with gum stuck on the end of my nose. I’d violated one of her ten commandments. Thou shall not chew gum in Maddie Farnsworth’s class. The consequences of ignoring the rule were a humiliating experience but she had broken my gum habit.

“You look tired,” she announced. “Francie dropped by with poppy seed muffins and a pot of green tea. Would you like for me to heat you a cup in the microwave?”

“No, thanks, I just finished my coffee.”

“Coffee? Honey, that stuff revs you up. You need to calm down.”

Calm down? Could she tell my pulse was still racing from my encounter with Conahegg? How? Did I have that “I wanna get laid” look about me?

“I need revving up,” I lied. Anything to dispel the notion that Conahegg had done anything to increase my core body temperature.

“Pah! You’re too young to be tired.”

“I had a rough day yesterday,” I murmured, suddenly realizing I needed a little sympathy, a little mothering. Something I rarely got at home.

“I heard.” Maddie clicked her tongue. “So sad about young Tim Kehaul.”

“You know about that?” I arched an eyebrow. She never ceased to amaze me.

Maddie nodded. “I even know you were the one to find his body. Can’t hide anything from me.”

That was true. She knew everything about everybody in Cloverleaf and the surrounding area.

I sat on the couch beside her wheelchair, opened my bag and began to remove the medical supplies. Syringes, heavy-duty antibiotic ointment, gauze, a vial of vancomycin, alcohol preps, Betadine wash, sterile drapes, IV tubing, normal saline.

Maddie had zero veins, so instead of dismissing her with a saline well as they normally did, the hospital had put in a subclavian catheter. It was my job to keep a hawk eye on the insertion site for any signs of an infection developing there.

“I knew that boy was headed for trouble,” Maddie sighed.

“You did?”

She unbuttoned the top button on her lace blouse and I spread out the drape under the subclavian catheter sewed into her neck vein. I’d never seen Maddie in a nightgown. She was always up and dressed whenever I arrived, her hair combed, her lipstick on.

“He had such a gambling problem.” Maddie shook her head.

“He did?” News to me. “We’re still talking about Tim?”

She nodded. “I imagine that’s why he hung himself, poor boy—got so far into debt he couldn’t get out.”

I didn’t tell her about the autoerotic asphyxiation theory. She was seventy and I didn’t want to shock her.

“He really got bad after they legalized horse racing in Texas. Before that he was limited to driving to Shreveport or his annual trip to Las Vegas.”

“How do you know?” I asked, as I prepared her subclavian catheter for the treatment.

“I have my sources,” she said cagily. “And I remember all you kids. None of us changes much. Tim always liked to take a gamble. So did your sister, Sistine. You always played it safe. Quiet, calm, serious.”

“What about the time I chewed bubble gum in your class? That wasn’t playing it safe,” I said, grasping at straws as it dawned on me that Maddie was right. I had been dull my entire life.

She smiled. “Well, there is a spot of rebel deep down inside you.”

I beamed. It’s pathetic, I know. I wanted to cling to the hope that yes, I could be wild if given the opportunity. Then I surprised myself by asking, “Did you ever have Sam Conahegg as a student?”

“You know Sam?”

I could have bitten my tongue off. Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him? It wasn’t as if I didn’t have enough stuff to worry about.