The You I Never Knew (13 page)
“Yeah. I knew Edward Bliss from the circuit, he needed a partner for Lonepine, the town needed a doctor, so it all worked out.” What the hell, Sam thought. He might as well level with her. He wanted to be in the place where he had been with Michelle, where his dreams had been born and where hope had lingered in spite of everything. “And I figured I’d see you again.”
She had no reply to that, but contemplated it with a silence he couldn’t read.
While they ate, he thought about the night he’d left. The old Valiant had puttered through the quiet streets of Crystal City, passing the Truxtop and the feed store and the Lynwood Theater, the one-screen cinema where he and Michelle had sat holding hands in the dark. He remembered the yellowish beam of the headlights, the cigarette smell of the blanket covering the seat, the tinny sound of the radio playing a cowboy song, the too-quick rasp of his mother’s breathing.
She was nervous, even though Sam, full of outrage, had wanted to stay and fight his accusers. “I didn’t steal a thing,” he insisted. “Not a damned thing.”
“I know that,” his mother had said with weary resignation. “Do you think that matters? Gavin Slade doesn’t want you hanging around his daughter. This is his way of telling you that.”
“Let’s not run away, Mama. It’s a free country—”
“Gavin Slade owns this town. If he wants us gone, we’re gone.” She had looked at him sideways, peering through the darkness. “You’re not the only one they’ve decided to pin something on.”
He braced himself. “What do you mean?”
“I had a little visit from Deputy O’Shea this evening. Seems he suddenly discovered a couple of hot checks, a couple of parole violations, and at least two outstanding warrants in Colorado. And that
wasn’t
a set-up. I’ll have to do time, son. Is that what you want?”
wasn’t
a set-up. I’ll have to do time, son. Is that what you want?”
“What I want is for us to quit running.”
“Well, we sure as hell can’t afford a lawyer. And I sure as hell don’t want to be a guest of the state for the foreseeable future. So off we go.” Tammi Lee had reached out to punch in the cigarette lighter. “I guess it won’t help much to tell you I’m sorry,” she said. “I screwed up. Again. Just when you were starting to like living around here.”
He had a fierce urge to fling himself out of the car. For years he’d been fleeing with her, but now he had someone to fight for. Michelle. And his own innocence. But he knew he had to stick with his mom. Tammi Lee Gilmer would never survive without him.
Michelle would.
“At least let me stop and say good-bye to her,” he’d said.
Tammi Lee grabbed his arm. “This is serious, son. It’s the real world. People like us can’t take a risk like that. We set foot on that property, and we’re toast.”
Sam knew what she wanted him to say.
It’s okay, Mama. We’ll find someplace else. Something will work out for us….
That’s what he always said to her, every time they left a town on the lam. Well, not this time. This time, he wasn’t going to tell her everything was okay.
It’s okay, Mama. We’ll find someplace else. Something will work out for us….
That’s what he always said to her, every time they left a town on the lam. Well, not this time. This time, he wasn’t going to tell her everything was okay.
The full moon rode high in the cold November night, and he could see Blue Rock Ranch on the way out of town, a snug compound in the distance, lights twinkling from the windows, a twist of smoke coming from the chimney of the main house.
’Bye, Michelle
.
.
Knowing her had taught him something medical school never could—that the human heart could sing. He had vowed that night to come back to her once he and Tammi Lee settled down somewhere. But there was no time to call the next day, or the day after that, and when he finally scrounged up a handful of change to call from that pay phone in Oklahoma City, he was too late.
“I left Blue Rock the day after you disappeared,” she said softly, after her long silence. “My father wasn’t terribly understanding about my pregnancy.”
Now, that didn’t surprise him. Gavin Slade was a man devoted to his own image. The perfect acting career, perfect stock to parade at rodeos, perfect daughter… until she had turned out to be human and flawed. After that, she couldn’t be part of his image. He had excised her swiftly and cleanly from his life.
“I wish I’d known that,” he said quietly.
She sipped her water, a droplet gleaming on her lower lip. Sam tried not to stare. “There’s probably a gloat factor involved in my coming back, too,” he admitted. “Maybe on some level I wanted to say ‘screw you’ to guys like—” He broke off, catching himself.
“Guys like my father.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“He should have told me you were living here. But I can’t seem to get all worked up over old business like that. His illness makes everything else seem so petty.” Michelle set down her water glass with a nervous rattle of ice. “So tell me how you did it,” she said. “Tell me how you became a doctor.”
“Rodeo.”
“What do you mean?”
“I used rodeo money to put myself through school.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, ma’am.” He took a bite of his steak. “I passed my G.E.D. and got into a combined degree program, so I could get my bachelor’s and M.D. in six years. It was a pain in the butt, living on the road, sleeping in a horse trailer most nights. I lived on autopilot for a lot of years. Didn’t look left or right, didn’t let myself falter. I stayed focused on that one and only goal—to get through school and residency, and I didn’t let up until I made it.” He picked up a breadstick, snapped it in half. “Sometimes I wonder what I missed in those years.” A shadowy wave washed over him. “The birth of my son, for one thing.” He took one look at her face and said, “Aw, shit. I didn’t mean to—”
“I want to know the rest. What about your mother?”
“She’s okay. On the wagon, living over on Aspen Street.” It sounded a hell of a lot simpler than it had been. With Sam pushing, sometimes bullying her into rehab, she’d fought every inch of the way. But each time she stumbled, he picked her up, checked her back in to rehab or sent her to yet another AA meeting. Sometimes he had to be harsh with her, because sometimes that was the only thing that worked. The experience had given him an edge of ruthlessness he didn’t particularly like.
Finally, after years of battling Tammi Lee’s addiction, sobriety stuck. She had been sober for five years.
“Really? That’s great, Sam.”
“She works at LaNelle’s Quilt Shoppe in town.” Ah, Christ, he thought. He was going to have to tell Tammi Lee about Cody. He had no idea how she’d take it. She was sober, but she’d always be fragile. You never knew what might set her off. “So what about you? I’ll bet you’ve got paintings hanging in the Met.”
She stared down at her salad plate. “Maybe the
rest room
of the Met. I work for an ad agency.”
rest room
of the Met. I work for an ad agency.”
“Functional art, then.” He immediately wished he could reel his words back in.
She laughed, but the sound was brittle and forced. “Oh, yeah. Pictures of scrubbing bubbles and industrial extrusions.”
He felt a sinking regret. She had been so vibrant, so damned talented that people caught their breath when they saw her paintings. She had loved art the way most folks loved food or air. “So is painting a hobby for you now, or—”
“I don’t paint, Sam.” She stabbed her fork at her salad. “I never had the time. I was busy with Cody.”
Shit.
“You should have found me,” he said, an edge in his voice. “Should have made me help.”
“Oh, right. In between roping championships? Clinical rotations? Trips to Mexico?”
“I want those years back,” he said brusquely. “All those years I didn’t know I had a son.”
“You weren’t there. I couldn’t find you.”
“How hard did you look, Michelle? It wasn’t like I was in hiding.”
“Neither was I,” she snapped.
“But I wasn’t keeping anything from you, goddammit.”
“If I’d tracked you down, would it have mattered? Would you have given up rodeo and medical school for us?”
“Why would I have to choose? We could have done it all, Michelle.”
“You’re dreaming. I tried doing it all, and it’s too hard.”
He thought of the drawings and paintings she’d turned her back on. Was it because her passion was gone, or because she just didn’t have time? “Okay, so I missed my son’s childhood. We can’t get back the years we lost. But maybe we can go on from here.”
Even as he spoke, he wondered why he thought he could succeed with Michelle, who was infinitely more complicated, more demanding, more challenging than any woman he’d known.
“I don’t understand.”
“Damn it, Michelle, I’m not going to apologize for my goddamned life. You got the kid, I got the career. Which one of us should be gloating?”
She winced. “Sam. Please.”
He reminded himself that her son had been injured while in his care, and that she’d been in Missoula all day with a transplant team questioning her, poking at her. “What say we change the subject?”
She relaxed against the back of the red Naugahyde booth. “Think we have anything in common after all these years?”
A son. A boy I never knew
. He forced himself not to say it. “Keep talking, and we’ll see.”
. He forced himself not to say it. “Keep talking, and we’ll see.”
The tension eased up a little. Never in a million years did Sam think he’d be here, with her. Watching her pick at her meal, he wondered what she thought about, what she wished for, these days. When he’d first come back to Crystal City he figured he might see her now and again when she visited Gavin. But local gossip had put that expectation to rest. Everyone in town knew Gavin Slade and his daughter were estranged. But no one knew the reason.
“So where do we start?” he murmured.
She set down her fork. “You mean, telling Cody about us?”
He wasn’t sure what he meant. But he nodded, because it made sense. “Yeah. Do you want to tell him yourself or together or what?”
“Um, I guess I thought I’d do it myself. I’m not used to consulting with anyone on decisions that have to do with Cody.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“Oh, Sam. I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to be realistic here. I raised Cody alone. I made some good choices and some bad ones for him, just like any parent. I never expected to have to deal with
this
.”
this
.”
“You say
this
like it’s a case of VD or something.”
this
like it’s a case of VD or something.”
“That’s not what I mean. Damn it, Sam. You jump on everything I say. Just like—” She shook her head in bewilderment. “Just like Cody does.”
“How do you think he’ll take the news?”
“After today?” There it was again, that soft smile that drove him crazy, reaching across the years to remind him of how well he used to know her. “He’ll be amazed.”
“Yeah?”
“He’s a complicated kid. Used to be a pretty great kid, actually. You’d never know it to look at him now, but this is a boy who used to bring me the paper in bed every morning. He’d sit in my lap and fiddle with my hair while I read him the funny pages.”
Sam closed his eyes. And he saw the picture so clearly it nearly choked him.
Why couldn’t I be there? Goddammit, why couldn’t I be in the picture?
He felt a jolt of anger—heated, irrational.
Why couldn’t I be there? Goddammit, why couldn’t I be in the picture?
He felt a jolt of anger—heated, irrational.
“Anyway, he’s not so warm and fuzzy anymore,” Michelle said.
Sam opened his eyes. “Hell, I noticed.”
“Some days I don’t even think I know him. But I believe he’ll be… glad to learn you’re his father.”
“Glad. What do you mean by glad?”
“Just… glad. Wouldn’t you, if you finally met
your
father?”
your
father?”
“Assuming my mother knew for sure who he was. But yeah. Maybe I’d be glad.” He cleared his throat. “Once we—once you tell him, what do you think about asking him if he’d like to stay with me for a while?”
She reared back in her seat.
“What?”
“What?”
“You heard me, Michelle.”
Her hand closed into a fist. She seemed to grow in stature, a lioness defending her cub. “Out of the question.”
“Why?”
“We didn’t come back here for good. We live in Seattle.”
“You said yourself he was giving you a rough time—”
“That doesn’t mean I’m willing to give him up. He’s not a dog you take back to the pound because he turned out to be a pain in the neck. Jesus, Sam, what can you be thinking?”
“That I have a son you never bothered to tell me about. I want to find out what he’s like, what his plans are for college.” He hesitated. “I intend to contribute to that and everything else.”
She pressed her palms on the table. How clean her hands and fingernails were. They used to always be smeared and spattered with paint. He remembered that about her, remembered her paint-smudged hand touching his cheek, his chest, lower…
Damn
.
Damn
.
“Child-support payments? I don’t expect it, Sam. And I certainly don’t need it.”
“Too bad. I intend to contribute anyway.”
She stared off into space. “That’s the kind of father I had. The one with the checkbook.”
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