Eleanor (25 page)

“I do,” she said.

A silver car drove up the curb, over the sidewalk, across the grass, and to the gazebo. Ten feet from the grill, it stopped and honked three short toots. Everyone looked.

“Is there a David Venn here?” a man called, stepping out the car. He smiled broadly and walked up.

“David Venn?” he said to Brian.

“Over there,” he said. David stepped up.

“I'm David Venn.”

“This, my dear boy, is for you,” said the man. He dropped a set of keys into David's hand. “Happy sixteenth birthday from your father overseas,” he said.

“What?” said Karen. “There must be some mistake.”

“He said you'd say that,” the man said. Karen pulled him aside. The teenagers rushed to see the car. David watched them astonished.

“It's a Mercedes,” Midge said to Eleanor. “That's a nice car.”

David glanced at Eleanor and then his mother talking to the salesman. Then he wandered over to see the car himself.

Eleanor followed slowly but focused her senses on Karen.

“Nine thousand dollars?” she said, almost crying.

“I knocked it down to eight,” the man said. “A vet and all.”

“Where did he get that kind of money?”

“You're asking the wrong guy.”

“He's only sixteen,” she argued.

“Lucky kid,” he said. Another car pulled up and honked. “That's my ride. Here's my card. If you ever need a quality used car, I'm your guy.”

“You've got to take it back,” she said. “We don't have eight thousand dollars.”

“It's paid for. If you don't like it, sell it,” he said. “Come see me. I'll give you a good price.”

“You've got to see this, Eleanor,” said Aubrey. “It's practically new.” She ushered her to the car.

It wasn't new. It was five years old, had twenty thousand miles, and looked as far out of place in a Wyoming country park as a tie on a horse. Barbara glowed in admiration. Everyone congratulated David. “It was pretty cool,” they all agreed.

Karen watched the excitement from a distance, chewing her lip. Everyone wanted to be the first to take a ride.

“Can we, Mom?” asked David. “Can we go for a drive?”

“After the party,” she said. “We still have cake and other presents.”

It was hard for David to concentrate on the other presents and no one seemed to blame him as he ripped through the papers as fast as his mother would let him. Barbara gave him a new Stetson hat. It wasn't cheap. Brian had given him tickets to a concert in Cheyenne in July that caused almost as much jealousy as the silver E320 parked on the grass.

When all the gifts were opened and everyone had had all the cake they wanted, Mrs. Venn relented and let David take three people at a time for short drives around the park.

“Five minutes,” she commanded. “And be careful.”

David opened the door for Eleanor, but she shook her head. “I'll go later,” she said. Barbara was already in the passenger seat anyway. Two more piled in the back seat, and David pulled the car into the lot and then cruised away.

Mrs. Venn watched them go and then set about cleaning the gazebo. Eleanor helped.

“Thanks,” she said. “We don't get our twenty dollar deposit back if we leave it dirty.”

She watched the car return and shook her head as a new crowd piled in for a ride.

“That's a really nice car,” Eleanor said.

“Damn fool thing,” she muttered then seemed to realize that Eleanor was right there.

“How's your mother?” she said. “I saw her Thursday. She looked better.”

“Thanks, ma'am,” Eleanor said, walking away. Mrs. Venn didn't notice she'd ducked the question or that she left.

Finally everyone had had a ride but Eleanor.

“I don't want to,” she said. “I've got to get home.”

“You didn't give me a birthday present,” David said.

“I'm sorry,” she said, ashamed.

“For my birthday you have to go for a ride with me,” he said. “A long ride. Say, to the top of Wild River Canyon.”

David looked to his mother. Her arms were crossed tight against her chest. She looked at Eleanor and said, “Well, I guess it's alright. But it's up to Eleanor. The party's over now anyway. The little-leaguers will be here any second.”

“Well, Eleanor?” he asked. “What do you say?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

“Y
our mom wasn't pleased with the car,” Eleanor said.

David was ecstatic. He drove smoothly out of Jamesford, heading north up the highway. He knew a lot about cars and told Eleanor about the turbo and automotive computer technology. She couldn't share his excitement, but she was glad for him. It was a very nice car. Very nice.

“She's just jealous because it's nicer than hers,” David said.

“Why did your father give it to you?” she asked.

“What, don't you think I deserve it?”

“That's not what I meant. It's so expensive.”

“It's used. It wasn't so bad,” David said defensively.

The canyon road was narrow and winding. It ran through evergreen pine forests that suddenly broke into broad grasslands and crumbling cliffs. It followed a fast-running river swollen with mountain runoff.

“I guess it is a little showy,” David said after a while.

“It's nice,” Eleanor said. “It's really nice.”

“I'll need a car,” he said distractedly. “I'll be driving a lot to Riverton.”

Eleanor rolled down her window and let in the cool forest air.

“This thing has a great heater,” David said and turned knobs on the console. He then rolled down all the windows and let the wind gust through the car while heat blew on their legs. He dug in his backpack and found a sleeved CD. He slid it into the dash and turned it up loud enough so they could hear it over the gale.

“This is the one I made for prom,” he said.

David drummed the steering wheel and sang along.

“Angels made these arms and legs, Take me as I am. This is how the world has made me, Love me as I am.”

It dazzled her senses. Hot-cold, music-wind, happy-sad. Eleanor closed her eyes and leaned her head out the window and absorbed it all, knowing this moment would be forever cherished.

David leaned over and crooned on Eleanor's shoulder. She laughed and let herself be drawn into the song.

“I'm on the right track, baby. I was born to survive!” she sang.

They let the music and wind speak for them as they drove.

At the top of the canyon was a picnic overlook from where the entire valley could be seen. It was deserted when David pulled the silver car to a stop, and they got out.

“Sure is beautiful,” Eleanor said, sitting on a picnic table. “I'm going to miss it.”

“You'll only be down in Riverton,” David said. “I'll visit you all the time. Every weekend. I promise.”

“I don't think I'm going,” Eleanor said.

“Barbara said they were taking you Monday.”

“She should mind her own business.”

“She's not so bad,” David said. “Was she right?”

“She's awful,” Eleanor said. “But she's not wrong. I'll be gone by Monday.”

“By Monday? You mean you might go sooner?”

She nodded.

“You're running away,” he said flatly.

She nodded again. “I have to. I have no family.”

“Tabitha will be down there. Are you going to leave her?”

“Tabitha doesn't need me anymore. I won't be sent to a foster family.”

“It might not be so bad,” he said.

“Could you live with people who didn't know you? Who didn't love you?” she said.

David slumped dejectedly. It was his birthday, and she was hurting him.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “Let's not talk about it.”

“I'll come with you,” he said. “I have a car. We can go tonight.”

“Don't be stupid, David. I'm not your problem. It's not even funny for you to say that.”

“You asked if I could live in a house where no one knows me or loves me? Well, I have. You want to know why my Dad gave me this car? Because he feels guilty about how terrible he is to me all the time. Because he's never there, and when he is, he's nobody you want to know, let alone love. I don't know him. None of us do. He doesn't know us. You know why he's back in Afghanistan? To get away from us. He hates us. He hates me. And I hate him right back.”

The bitterness startled Eleanor. David shook in rage.

“David,” Eleanor said. “I didn't know.”

“I'd hear them fight. For years, I'd hear them fight. They'd say the most horrible things to each other. And you know what I did? I hid under my bed and pretended I was with you. Side by side, we were coyotes eating frogs. It kept me sane. When my dad took a belt to me, I'd tell myself that I'd get away and find you. You were there just outside the house, waiting for me.”

Eleanor stared at him. He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“Eleanor,” he said. “I've known you my entire life. I've felt drawn to you from the moment I met you. My mom says I don't know what love is, but she's one to talk. What I feel for you is overpowering. I want to help you. I want to protect you. I can't bear to be away from you. I'll do whatever it takes.”

“David, you don't know who I am. What I am,” she said.

“Yes, I do,” he said. “I know more than you think I do.”

Eleanor paused. “Don't believe rumors,” she murmured.

“Give me credit, Eleanor. I'm not a dummy. I know who you are. I'd know you anywhere.”

Speechless, she could only stare.

“I would go with you,” he said. “I owe you that much.”

“You owe me nothing. It was your imagination,” she said.

“Russell would have hurt me bad. Wendy too, probably.”

“I had nothing to do—”

“Don't lie to me!” he shouted. “Not now. Please, not you, not now.” His eyes held her in hard command.

“Okay,” she said softly.

He looked away. “Look at me boobing away on my birthday. What I must look like.”

She scooted beside him and put her arm around his shoulders.

“You're confusing me,” she said.

He slid his arm around her waist. “You're freezing,” he said.

“I don't feel cold much. Not really. It's genetic.”

He took his red school jacket off and draped it around her. She took it gratefully.

“You keep that jacket,” he said.

“Thanks.” She buried her face in the collar. She loved the smell of it.

“Everything is confused,” he said and touched his forehead to hers. “It always has been. Everything except one thing.”

“What's that?” she whispered, feeling his warm skin on her face.

“I love you.”

He turned his head and their noses touched. He ran his cheek against hers. She inhaled his tears, felt his heat. A sudden vertigo seized her. She was light as a cloud, and when he bent in close to kiss her, she kissed him right back.

Nothing in Eleanor's experience had prepared her for the quickening of that moment. Her skin blazed as if sunburned. Her ears were deafened from the drumming in her chest. Her tongue darted and played with his and savored it. She'd tasted many things, kissed other men, kissed her father, her brother, and family, but nothing had ever been like this. It was chemical. It was electric. It was magical, Pop Rocks, and dreaming. She was drunk.

When they pulled apart, Eleanor had no sense of time. She fell over and rolled on her back laughing wildly like a tickled baby.

David fell beside her. “Oh, wow,” he moaned. “Oh, wow.” He was out of breath, too.

She couldn't tell how long they lay on their backs staring at the sky before a camper pulled into the overlook and disgorged a pack of pent-up children into their moment.

David turned on his side to face Eleanor.

“Wow,” he whispered.

“Wow,” she agreed.

Eleanor's body was still tingling when they got back in the car and drove down the canyon.

David watched the road and stole glances at Eleanor on every straight-away. His grin was so broad and constant, Eleanor wondered if his cheeks hurt. Hers certainly did.

When they got in sight of the highway cutoff, Eleanor's heart jumped. A semi roared by, heading north, the direction Eleanor had decided to take the next morning.

“What should I do, David?” she asked.

“It'll all work out,” he said, but the words dampened his smile.

“I can't live with strangers,” she said. “I can't. It's impossible.”

Another truck rumbled past.

“I'll go with you,” he said.

“I can't let you do that,” she said.

“Let me decide,” he said. A car behind them honked for David to pull into traffic.

David glanced in his mirror and pointed the car to Jamesford.

“I need time to think,” Eleanor said as the first evening lights of their little town appeared on the horizon. “I need another plan.”

“What does Tabitha think?” he said. “They can't just break up a family. Not if she's well.”

Eleanor sighed.

“She's not well is she?” he said.

“Take me home,” she said.

“It'll be okay,” he said, more to himself than to her.

He drove the new, silver car into town and slowly meandered the dirt side roads to Eleanor's house, lengthening the drive as much as he could.

They turned onto Eleanor's block as the last rays of the evening sun faded behind them.

“Oh no,” David said.

Startled from her woolgathering, Eleanor looked at her house.

Three police cars were parked in front. An ambulance had its red and blue lights flashing. Stephanie Pearce's Volkswagen was parked in against the curb. The social worker stood on her porch and talked to Sheriff Hannon. Someone had draped a blanket around her shoulders as if she were in shock. The Sheriff consulted a notepad and asked questions. Pearce nodded agreeably.

“Stop the car!” Eleanor yelled.

David slammed on the brakes. The heavy car slid on the crackling gravel and stopped crossways in the road.

“I've got to get out of here,” Eleanor shrieked and reached for the door handle.

“Where are you going? It's got to be your mother. Don't you want to see? Where are you going?”

She ripped at her seatbelt and finally found the button release. She tumbled out the open door and into the road.

“Eleanor, what's wrong?”

She scampered behind the car and watched the house. It was
too far to hear, even for her excited ears. The message, however, was unmistakable: she had no more time in Jamesford.

As a policeman stretched yellow tape around her fence she saw a medic in white clothes appear at the garden gate. He and another led a steel gurney out from the back yard. On it Eleanor saw a black plastic sack the size and shape of her dead mother.

Eleanor ran.