Vegas Sunrise (23 page)

“There is no need. If I lived to be a hundred, neither I nor my family could ever repay your family for all you have done for us. It is our pleasure.”

Sage felt flustered. Rarely did the old Chinese ever bow or revert to his old ways. He could count the times on one hand that it had happened and usually, if his memory was correct, Chue only did it in times of crisis. His stomach started to churn.

“My son-in-law will drive the truck to the UPS terminal in the morning when you're ready to leave. You will put the shipping labels on the boxes, yes.”

“Yes.”

Sage drove into the courtyard. Would Iris be in the kitchen or would she have gone to bed? When he saw her sitting in the rocker by the fireplace, he let out a sigh that could be heard across the yard. He carried the bulky boxes into the kitchen and stacked them neatly. Out the corner of his eye, he watched Iris working on the dolls in her lap. He had the cartons taped and labeled and a cup of coffee in his hand within fifteen minutes. He sat down opposite his wife.

“We need to talk, Iris. What's wrong?”

“What makes you think something is wrong?”

“Iris, I know you. For weeks now you've been acting strange. At first I thought it was your pregnancy and the fact that you're carrying twins. That's not it at all. I know you, Iris. We never had a problem talking things through before. You go to bed as soon as I get home. You feed the kids separately, and you stay in bed in the morning. We never see each other. We don't talk anymore. The house is a mess and what
was
that stuff you made for supper? Whatever it was, don't ever give it to me again.”

“It was Hamburger Helper and Jake made it. As you can see, I've been busy. I'm trying to do my share for your family.”

“If you're overburdened, let's get some household help.”

“I don't want anyone underfoot. When this is finished, I'll try to live up to your expectations. I'm sorry if I'm less than perfect in your eyes. I'm sorry I'm getting fat, I'm sorry I don't look glamorous, I'm sorry the house is a mess, and I'm sorry dinner wasn't up to your standards. Maybe you should come home more and cook it yourself.”

Sage stared at his wife, a helpless look on his face. “Iris, to me you are the most beautiful woman in the world. You are the mother of my daughter and you will be the mother of our twins. You are also a mother to Jake and Polly. To me that's the most important thing in the world. I'm not into glamour. You know that. As for the house, I don't care if it fills up with dirt. Help is just around the corner. The kids can do a little more if it's too much for you. They can stack the dishwasher, make their beds, and carry out the trash. We did it when we were kids. I can do the laundry if you don't have time. It's something else you aren't sharing with me. I feel it, Iris. Whatever it is I bet you shared it with Ruby. I had this strange feeling she was spying on me. Now, why do you suppose that is?”

“That's ridiculous. There is nothing wrong.”

“Then why won't you look me in the eye? If nothing's wrong, let's go upstairs and make love.” The panic on his wife's face brought Sage up short.
Christ Almighty, what the hell is going on here?

“I'm not in the mood,” Iris said coolly.

“Since when? You're as lusty as I am. Do I smell? Am I getting to look my age? What do you want me to do? You're breaking my heart, Iris, because I don't understand why you're withdrawing from me. I feel like I'm losing you, and I don't know why. Will you please say something?”

“I'm very tired. You sound like you have a guilty conscience and are trying to blame me for something. I didn't do anything. I sit up here on this mountain and do what I agreed to do when I married you. If that isn't good enough, then it's your problem, not mine. If you really want to do something, work on these dolls while I take a nap. I plan to work through the night. I don't want to let Ruby down.”

Sage's voice dropped to a miserable whisper, “I guess what you're saying is it's okay to let me down but not Ruby. How did this happen? What the hell did I do? I know I must have done something to give you such an attitude. You don't even want to be around me anymore. Do you want me to move out? If that's what you want, I'm gone. I won't beg you to look at me, to smile at me, to talk to me. Where the hell do you get off treating me like this? I hope to hell this bullshit doesn't have anything to do with Sunny's kids . . .”

“You're being ridiculous. Are you trying to pick a fight, so you'll have an excuse to leave us? If that's your intention, I'll pack your bag for you.”

Sage slapped at his forehead. “Where the hell did that come from?”

“You tell me,” Iris snapped. “I'm going upstairs to sleep for an hour or so. You can work on these dolls or not.”

“Do you want me to leave, Iris?”

“Is that what you want to do?”

“Hell no. I just want to know what's wrong? Why are we fighting? We never fought before. We had discussions, sharp words from time to time, but we never fought like this. You owe me an explanation since I'm not a mind reader.”

“I'm going to bed,” Iris said.

Sage stared at the empty rocking chair for a long time as he racked his brain to figure out what was wrong with his wife. His fingers worked automatically, twisting and tying the yarn on the dolls that Iris had worked on earlier. He thought about calling his mother but nixed the idea almost immediately. Should he call Sunny and burden her with his problems? No. Birch wouldn't understand, or would he? With a wife like Celia, he doubted it. That left Billie, who was going through her own private hell at the moment and didn't need any extra problems. Ruby would be a good person to talk to but she was on Iris's side. Did he have a side? How could something so right go so wrong so quickly? He wished he could cry the way he had when he was a kid. He always felt better after a good cry when his mother gave him a cherry Popsicle. He was off the chair in a split second, rummaging in the freezer for the Popsicles Iris always stocked for the kids. He relaxed immediately.

“Sage.”

“Jake, is something wrong?”

“Kind of. I know it's late but . . .”

“Want a Popsicle?”

“Sure.”

“Lemon, lime, or cherry?”

“Cherry. I got a letter from my dad two days ago. He wants to know if me and Polly can visit him over Thanksgiving. He wants us to meet his other son. Iris said it was my decision. She told me I should talk to you.”

“Do you want to go, Jake?”

“Yesterday I did. Today I don't. It was a nice letter. I think he wants me to answer the letter.”

“He's your dad, Jake. That's never going to change. Iris and I adopted you and Polly, but that doesn't change who your dad is. Do you think it would be nice to meet your half brother?”

“I suppose so. Should I mention it to Mom?”

“I think I would. Your mom always gives good advice.”

“I wish Pop Pop were here. He always had the right answers. I didn't do good on my history test today. I got a C- because I kept thinking about this and couldn't concentrate. Polly won't like going on a plane. I know she'll get homesick. She'll cry and then she'll throw up. Four days is a long time. I don't want to go.”

“Okay. Do you want me to call your dad?”

“No. If it's my decision, then I have to tell him. Is it okay if I write the letter tonight? I know it's late, but I won't sleep unless I do it now.”

“I think it's okay. You're sure about your decision?”

“Yeah, I'm sure. It's what Pop Pop would have decided. Is it okay to invite my dad for a visit?”

“Anytime, Jake. This is your home, and he's your dad. If it feels right, then you do it.”

“That's kind of what I thought. The Popsicle was good. Thanks. You look sad. Is something wrong?”

“I have a lot on my mind.”

“Boy do I ever know what that's like.”

“I talked to your uncle Birch today, and he said your mom went snowmobiling with Harry and they had a great time. They went sled riding and had a real sleigh ride with horses with bells around their necks. Harry never saw snow before. Did you know that?”

“I didn't know that.” Jake started to giggle and couldn't stop. “I'm trying to picture Mom and Harry on a sled. Who do you think steered the sled?”

“I think it had hand controls.” In spite of himself, Sage grinned.

“I'm doing the right thing, aren't I, Sage? I don't want Mom or you and Iris to be disappointed in me.”

“I told you, if it feels right, then it's right. Jake, Iris and I will never be disappointed in you. Nor will your mom. Never ever. Not even in a million years. Get going and do your letter. I'll mail it for you in the morning.”

Sage poured himself a second cup of coffee before he adjusted the volume on the small portable kitchen television set on the counter. He listened to the ominous-sounding words of the weather forecast as his ruler traced the pattern of an approaching storm headed across the plains and up the East Coast, where a second storm, born in Canada, was heading in a southerly direction. The two storms, he explained, would meet up somewhere over the New England states. The ominous-sounding voice became more dire with each passing minute as Sage stared at the set on the counter. To drive home his warnings, the weatherman used his ruler to tap at colored masses floating and swirling on the map in front of him.

A headache started to wage a war inside Sage's head. He looked at his watch: 9:30. How fast did a storm move? Maybe he should call the station. What kind of weather stations did they have in Vermont? Probably the best, since the ski resorts made their living from snow. Freak snowstorms at the end of October were something to pay attention to. A second war birthed itself inside his stomach.

A snowstorm was a snowstorm. He and Birch had lived through many of them when they were in college in Pennsylvania. The university had been closed on three separate occasions during blizzards. Both of them had considered it a lark at the time. This was different. He and Birch hadn't been in wheelchairs the way Sunny and Harry were. He'd feel a lot better if the dogs were with his sister and Harry. He continued to watch the colored swirls until his eyes started to ache. What time was it in Vermont? He looked at his watch again: 10:45. It was a quarter to two in the morning in Vermont. He should go to bed since there was nothing he could do. The war in his stomach met up with the war in his head, where they clashed. He should go to bed. He should also stop drinking coffee so late at night. He knew if he went up to bed, no matter how quiet he was, Iris would wake and come downstairs. He could sleep here in the comfortable rocking chair. All he had to do was close his eyes. But, if he did that, the demons that had been plaguing him these past weeks would invade his dreams.

Sage leaned his head back against the padded headrest. He was asleep within seconds.

 

Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed, careful not to disturb the covers or to make a sound. He pulled his chair close to the bed and, from long years of practice, hefted himself into the cushioned seat. His eyes still on Sunny, he waited a moment before he engaged the hand control that would allow him to move his chair backward. Satisfied that Sunny's breathing was normal and that she was sound asleep, he wheeled himself to the window. Mesmerized at the beauty outside the window, he gasped. He'd seen all kinds of beauty in movies and magazines but nothing compared to the wonderland he was now staring at. His shoulders slumped. A single tear rolled down his cheeks followed by another and still another.

Caught up in the beauty of the night, he almost didn't feel the light touch to his shoulder. “It's so beautiful it takes your breath away, doesn't it? It's okay to cry, Harry. I feel like crying myself. You want out there so bad you can taste it. I do, too. Let's do it, Harry! I can see us skimming across that snow in those snowmobiles. The snow and wind will be in our faces. It'll be the best thing in the world, something we'll probably never get to do again. I'm not afraid. Are you afraid?”

“Petrified would be a better word.”

“I woke up a little while ago and heard the snowblowers. I bet they cleared a path to the utility barn, where they store the snowmobiles. There has to be a path. If the storm gets bad, it will be the only way to travel. The roads will be impassable. The mechanic in charge of the machines told me he gasses them all at the end of the day. We could whiz around for hours on a tank, Harry. No one will know. The mechanic might suspect when he sees the tanks are empty, but he went home with everyone else. I saw him getting into the shuttle bus. It's just plain old snow. The storm isn't supposed to hit until tomorrow around noon. It's two in the morning, Harry.”

“What if something happens? We aren't like other people, who can get up and walk away. We could get lost.” Harry's voice and tone said “convince me.”

“The roof could blow off this lodge. The gas fireplace could explode. If there was enough snow, there could be an avalanche. There could be an earthquake. We know how to take care of ourselves. We'll do it by the book. If we don't do this, you'll always regret it. Am I wrong?”

“Probably. You make it sound so logical. If Libby finds out, she'll fry our asses. She might even quit, and where will that leave us?”

“She isn't going to find out. We're going to be very quiet. You and I are the last people anyone in this lodge would think of who would do something like what we're planning. You forget, Libby is falling in love with Birch, so she isn't going to do anything. Trust me.”

“I don't know, Sunny. If we do it, we'll be flouting everything they taught us at the rehab center.”

“Once. This is one of those once-in-a-lifetime things. Did you ever think you would be able to make a snow angel? No, you did not. You did, though. We can make another one. We'll be together. Nothing's going to happen. I thought you said you trusted me.”