Authors: Lynne Hinton
“Frank, I’m not quite ready,” she yelled as she left the sofa.
Trina kept her hand on the door handle when she saw who was standing there.
“Hello,” the girl said. “I know you don’t want to see me, but I just need to talk.”
Trina stepped back and opened the door. “I’m getting ready to leave in an hour,” she said. “So say what you need to say and get out.”
Katie White walked in and Trina closed the door.
R
oger and Malene had decided as soon as they heard about the fliers that they would not attend the Sunday morning meeting. They thought the same thing that Trina thought when she saw one—that it was some attempt to rally the masses.
When Roger received a copy of the flier from his deputy, he was unable to verify who had made them, so he began questioning lots of people to find out who was behind the mass distribution. When no one would take responsibility, he made it clear to everyone that he refused to show up at a town meeting that was not authorized and properly organized. He refused to attend an unlawful assembly and be forced to answer questions he didn’t have to answer from people he thought had no right to ask.
On Friday, before leaving the station, he assigned Danny to handle security detail at the meeting and told him to call if things got out of hand. “Otherwise,” he told his deputy, “don’t call me. And stay out of the discussion. Don’t get involved,” he instructed.
Having decided not to attend a meeting being called for what seemed to them like vengeful and unhelpful reasons, Malene and Roger also decided not to mention it to Alex.
The boy was already so concerned about the town, about what would happen to a village without a church, about what would happen to Trina and to Father George. He wanted to talk about it to everyone, wanted the priest and Trina to work something out together, wanted his grandfather to use his authority as sheriff and order the diocese to build a new church. Alex would work himself up into a terrible frenzy, and it would take hours to calm him down.
After the fliers were distributed, Malene and Roger met Alex’s visitors at the front door and instructed them not to tell him about the meeting. They didn’t want their grandson to learn about what they considered to be a witch hunt.
“If he asks about the church or Father George, just say you don’t know anything,” they would explain. “Do not engage Alex in conversation about what is happening or what has happened in this community. It is much too troublesome for him.”
Roger had stopped by to visit Trina early Saturday morning, not having had an opportunity before then to talk to her. He walked up the stairs in hopes that she hadn’t been spooked by the flier, only to discover that she was gone. The apartment door was unlocked, the place clean and mostly empty, and as he glanced around he found two letters on the table. He sat down, noticed her packed duffel bag near the door, and read the letter addressed to him, realizing then that she was soon to be gone for good. He left the letters there, deciding that he would return to the apartment later.
When he went back to Malene’s to tell her what he had found, they decided that when Alex was a little stronger, maybe in a couple of days, they would explain that Trina had moved back to Texas to be with her family because of her pregnancy and then give him the letter addressed to him, which neither of them had read and hoped would not upset him.
And so, on that Sunday morning when everybody else was marching to church, Malene and Roger sat at the table, drinking coffee, working the crossword puzzle from the newspaper together, Malene calling out clues and Roger guessing the answers, and hoping the phone wouldn’t ring. They were talking about Oris, his trip to Gallup, and how neither of them knew what he was doing or why he had already spent two nights there. Malene decided he must be buying a new car.
When Alex, having crawled out of bed and slid into his chair, wheeled himself into the kitchen, they both jumped from the table in shock. They had not seen the boy out of bed for days. He sat in his chair in the doorway to the kitchen and made the announcement, “We have to go to church.”
At first, Malene thought the boy was delirious and thought they were supposed to be at Mass. “No, baby, we don’t have a church anymore. We can’t go to worship today.”
“We have to go to church,” Alex repeated. “It’s Sunday, and there’s a meeting. We have to be there.”
“How do you know about that?” Roger asked, turning to catch a glimpse of Malene, wondering if she had an explanation.
“I made the fliers,” he confessed. “I made them when Mom was here.”
“What?” Malene exclaimed.
“It was my idea to do a flier. We need to come together. We need the church. We need Holy Family. It needs us.”
And then, just like that, Roger and Malene understood. They understood that the meeting was what he and Angel had been discussing in private when she had last visited and that she had been the one who made the flier, then copied and delivered them all across town. They recalled that before she left the house after her visit she had made the comment that she had some errand to run for Alex, but neither of them had paid any attention. Roger had taken her to the station to use the computer and copier without ever questioning what she was doing. He thought she was contacting old friends on the Internet or making something for the boy. He was busy and never noticed how many copies she ran.
When she left, explaining that her ride was supposed to meet her at the diner, Roger had tried to talk her into staying but then gave up after seeing the look on her face, knowing his pleas were useless. He walked back to his desk, understanding that his daughter had come to town, seen her son, and done what she thought she needed to do. He was not going to make her stay, and all he thought about was how he was going to explain her departure to Malene and Alex. He never considered that she was making fliers for her son to organize the community. And now he realized that she had left the station and walked or driven around town to every house, every car, every establishment, without being seen or recognized, and delivered Alex’s fliers.
“Why?” Malene asked. “Why do you want the town to come together?”
“Don’t you see this is why I can’t be in the hospital?” He shook his head. “Somebody has to tell people.”
“Tell people what?” Roger asked. He had gotten up and moved over to Alex, kneeling in front of his grandson.
“Tell them that we need Holy Family. We need the church,” he repeated. His face was flushed, and Malene began to worry that he was feverish.
“Baby, the diocese will decide that. We don’t get to say whether or not they have a church here. Look, we can go to one of the other places if you want Mass.” She knelt next to Roger, placed the back of her hand on the boy’s forehead. He was warm but didn’t seem to have a fever.
“No,” Alex exclaimed. “The diocese isn’t the one to make that decision. We have to make it. We have to show it is important. And it is important. Pie Town has to have this church. Father George has to stay.” He pounded his fist on the arm of his wheelchair. “I have to tell them!”
“Okay,” Roger said, backing away. “Okay, just calm down. Let me change clothes, and I’ll get your coat, and we’ll drive over in the squad car.” He turned to Malene and shrugged. “It’s what he wants,” he said.
She nodded. “Let me get dressed and I’ll go too.” Then she looked back at Alex. “You want to go in your pajamas?”
Alex glanced down. Clearly, he hadn’t thought about what he was wearing. “Maybe I’ll put on a pair of jeans,” he said and then smiled. “I’m sorry,” he added. “I know how you worry about me, but this is something I really need to do. This place is going to need this church in order to be a home for people. Pie Town is going to need Holy Family.”
Malene nodded. “Okay, fine. I understand. But how about after you put on your jeans, you have some juice and a piece of toast before we go?”
Alex noticed the clock. It was not quite ten o’clock. He nodded, realizing he had time. He took a few deep breaths and seemed to relax. Malene got up and began fixing him some breakfast while Roger wheeled the boy back to his room and helped him get dressed.
“Doesn’t he look good this morning?” Roger said to Malene when they returned to the kitchen.
“You mean Grandma looks good this morning,” Alex replied and smiled. “I saw how you two were gawking at each other at the table.” He added, “It’s sort of disgusting.”
Roger grinned and tousled Alex’s hair. “Well, now that you mention it, she certainly does look good, and it is not at all disgusting.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “You two need to stop pretending you don’t want to be together and just get married again,” he said.
Roger glanced over at Malene, who quickly turned away. “Well, look who suddenly feels strong enough not just to get out of bed but also to start meddling,” he said.
“Here,” Malene said, putting a glass of juice in front of her grandson. “Why don’t you drink something and quit talking? You’re going to need your strength to tell everybody else what to do.”
“Right,” Alex responded with a big grin.
“We’ll be right back,” Malene said after buttering the toast and putting it on a plate on the table next to the juice.
“And then we can go?” the boy asked.
“And then we can go,” Roger answered.
“Hey,” Alex said, and his grandparents turned back to listen. “I love you. It’s hard, I know. Everything, it’s hard, and well, anyway, I love you.”
“We love you too,” they said in unison.
Roger and Malene walked out together and stood in her bedroom.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Malene whispered, looking in the closet, trying to find something to wear. “Suppose everyone’s mad and besides, what’s he going to say that will change anything?”
Roger shook his head. He went into the guest room across the hall to put on his uniform before going back to talk to Malene.
“We’ll just let him say what he wants to say and then we’ll leave,” Roger promised. “Besides, it seems like he feels a little stronger. He does look better, and maybe this will help.”
“Help who?” she asked.
“Him, the town, I don’t know, everybody. Seems like everything is falling apart. Maybe he has the answers we don’t.”
Malene stepped out of her gown and robe and began putting on a pair of pants and a top. “I don’t know, Roger. I think he’s asking too much of himself, expecting too much of this town. You said it yourself: we don’t have a good record of hospitality, of doing the right thing when it comes to new folks.” She suddenly noticed that her ex-husband was watching. “What?” she asked, buttoning her blouse.
“He’s right, you know, you really do look good,” he replied. “I forgot how much I love to see you get dressed.”
“Or undressed,” she said with a smirk. “Okay, focus,” she said to herself as well as to Roger. “We’ll just drive him over, help him out of the car, put him in his chair, and let him make his plea. And then we’re coming home. It’s chilly out there, and I don’t want him catching a cold.”
“I’ll get his coat and a blanket,” Roger said as he turned to walk away.
Malene stood in front of the mirror, looking at herself smiling, thinking about Roger, his comment, Alex’s observation. She thought about her ex-husband, how nice it felt to have him there, how right it seemed for the two of them to be together. She thought about her grandson and the meeting and wondered what Alex could possibly say to bring the community together.
She thought about how upset he was going to be when he found out that a new priest had already been assigned, that Father George had been given another placement, and worst of all, that Trina was gone. She worried about what might happen when he found out his new friend had been run out of town and when the people at the meeting didn’t respond the way he wanted.
Still, Roger was right and she knew it. Alex was stronger, acting more like himself. And if anybody could say anything to make people listen, it was Alex. She just didn’t know what the boy had planned to say and what would be the reaction. She worried that any negative reaction would cause another setback.
“It will only be a few minutes,” Malene said to herself. She reached for a hairbrush on the dresser and started to brush her hair. The curtain over the window fluttered, and just as she glanced behind her, noticed the movement, and felt the slightest breeze drift across her, she suddenly thought of her mother, sensed her presence in the room as if she was passing through, and then heard the crash.
E
ven though Trina had heard Katie’s confession and knew that the girl was planning to tell the rest of the town that she had started the fire, her decision was the same. She was still leaving Pie Town. The trip had been delayed because Raymond’s graduation had been postponed. More than two-thirds of his class had come down with the flu, and instead of forcing sick soldiers to march in an afternoon sun and then pass on the very contagious virus to family and visiting army officers, they had put the ceremony off by a few days. Frank had called Trina just as Katie was walking out the door to tell her they wouldn’t be leaving until Sunday morning.
Trina was disappointed but still determined to go to Amarillo. Just after ten o’clock on Sunday morning, as the townspeople were gathering at the site of the burned church, Trina threw her bag in the backseat of Frank’s car, climbed into the passenger’s side, and closed the door. “Let’s get out of here,” she said.
Frank put the car in reverse and backed out of her driveway. “Nice morning,” he said, and they both glanced up at the sky.
As they headed out of town, they noticed a few people walking on the road, moving in the direction of Holy Family Church. Neither of them spoke of the meeting.
“Did you get breakfast?” Frank asked.
Trina nodded. “I went out awhile yesterday, took a walk, and stopped at the diner and bought some doughnuts.”
“That’s a healthy way to start the day,” Frank responded. “I have some fruit in the cooler.” He reached down and opened the ice chest that sat on the floor between the two of them.
Trina shook her head. “No, I’m good right now,” she said. “Maybe later.”
Frank nodded. He checked the gauges on the car and adjusted the mileage counter. “So, how was your talk with Katie?” he asked. She had told him about the visit when he called to tell her that the trip was to be delayed.
“Fine. She was just trying to ease her conscience, I guess.” She sighed. “She and Rob started the fire.”
Frank nodded. “I figured as much,” he said.
Trina turned to the driver. “Why did you figure as much?” she asked. “I thought everyone in this town thought I started that fire, including you.”
Frank stared straight ahead as he drove. “You never asked me what I thought,” he replied. “In fact, you never struck me as a girl who cared too much about what others thought.”
Trina considered what he said. It was true, she hadn’t asked him. Actually, she hadn’t asked anyone what they thought. And it was true, she hadn’t really cared. She knew what she had done and not done, and what people thought hadn’t concerned her. Not until she had seen the notice stuck in her door. Not until she thought the town was meeting to condemn her, meeting to condemn Roger and anybody who stood up for her.
“Is she planning to tell the group at church?” Frank asked.
Trina shrugged again. “I don’t know.”
The two didn’t speak for a while. Trina watched as they headed farther out of town.
“So, if Katie is going to clear your name, why aren’t you staying?” Frank still did not look in Trina’s direction. He was carefully watching the road.
“My leaving isn’t about having my name cleared,” she replied.
“No?” Frank said.
“No,” Trina answered.
“Then what is your leaving about?” he asked.
Trina glanced over at the driver. “I just don’t belong there,” she replied softly.
Frank then turned and studied Trina. “Well, you’re the first white person to admit that,” he said and smiled.
“Yeah,” she said, “that’s probably about right. Those ranchers around there, they all act like they were the first ones to drive a plow in the fields or walk a horse up Escondido Mountain.”
Frank laughed. “You learned a lot in your short time in Catron County.”
“You don’t have to be here long to recognize arrogance,” she responded.
Frank reached in the cooler and pulled out an apple. He rubbed it on the front of his jacket and took a bite.
“Yeah, I guess white folks have done a lot of taking over of other people’s homes,” she said as she looked out the window. “My granddad used to say human beings were going to have a lot of explaining to do to God on Judgment Day and white folks would be in his office the longest. He was Choctaw.”
Frank took another bite from the apple. He responded only with a smile.
“What about you?” Trina asked.
Frank waited, finished chewing, and then asked, “What about me?”
“Why do you stay there?” she asked. “I mean, I know it’s your home and you have more of a right to stay than anybody, but what did anybody in that town ever do for you? Why would you want to put your business in a place that talks so bad about you?” Trina had heard the racist comments about the Indians when she worked at the diner. She had even heard some things said directly about Frank and his family. Apparently, the homesteaders held long-standing grudges against the Navajo people from the area.
Frank shook his head, thinking about the question. “People will say anything about somebody else just to keep from dealing with their own pain,” he said. “Truth is, we all want to blame somebody for our troubles, and it’s never too difficult to find an enemy.” He glanced over at Trina and winked. “And that’s not just the white folks. We Indians knew how to do that before the Texans moved out here.”
Trina nodded. “So you think I should stay in Pie Town? Set my big ole pregnant belly in everyone’s face and make my claim here too?”
Frank finished his snack, rolled down the window, and threw out the apple core. “I’m not saying what you should do. I’m just saying you have as much of a right to live where you want to live as anybody else.” He rolled the window back up. “You’re going to be a mother, and you need to make a home for your child. You shouldn’t let anybody make that decision for you. If you want to live in Pie Town, then you should live there.”
Trina took in a deep breath and thought about what Frank had said. She remembered how it was for her when she had first come to Pie Town. She thought about the dream and the name of the town on her tongue when she awoke. She thought about the old woman who had nursed her back to health, fed her, given her shoes, how the name had come to her like a blessing. Trina thought about how it was when she arrived, meeting Roger and Alex, how it was to find out she was pregnant there.
She thought about the conversation she had with Father George, the one they had the night of the fire, the one when she told him she was pregnant, and the one when he told her about that girl he met when he was in seminary, the conversation that somehow opened them both up in a way that felt deep and honest and real. She remembered the ease that settled between them, filled them up, the tender way he held her hand. And then by the next morning when the church was nothing but ashes, all that truth was gone, the tenderness vanished, and everything she thought she had with the priest was lost, burned up, and disappeared. She thought about how he would look at her after that, like he was afraid of her, afraid of what she knew and might tell. She thought about the note she found and how she had ultimately chosen to leave and go back to Texas, try to start over again in a state that she knew but didn’t love.
“Did you tell Alex?” Frank asked. He knew how much the boy worshiped Trina.
Trina shook her head. “I wrote him a letter. He’s too sick. I don’t think he’s really concerned about me and my whereabouts.”
“We both know that’s not true,” Frank said.
Trina didn’t respond. She crossed her feet at the ankles and blew out a long breath.
“Angel ever find you?” he asked.
“Who?” she asked. She didn’t remember Alex’s mother’s name.
“Angel Benavidez,” Frank answered.
Trina glanced up at Frank. “What do you mean?”
“She was putting up those fliers for Alex.”
Trina sat up a bit in her seat. “Alex was behind the fliers?”
Frank nodded. “I thought you knew,” he said.
“No, I thought that somebody was trying to organize a meeting about me, to run me out of town.” She remembered the woman she saw distributing the fliers, the one she didn’t know.
“So that’s why you’re leaving?” Frank persisted.
Trina didn’t answer. “Why did Alex want a meeting?” she finally asked.
“To tell everyone you weren’t guilty, I suppose.” Frank seemed concerned. He pulled off the road and put the engine in park. “You never heard any of this before now?” he asked, sounding very surprised. “You never saw Angel?”
Trina kept shaking her head. “Why would Angel want to see me?”
“I don’t know the answer to that,” Frank replied. “I just know that she came by the garage and asked me if I knew who you were, that Alex had mentioned you to her, and that she wanted to meet you. I told her where you lived. I thought she was going to see you before she left town.”
“No, I never met Angel.” Trina leaned against the door.
Frank stared straight ahead. They both seemed to be stunned by what they were finding out.
Finally, it was Frank who broke the silence. He turned to Trina and could see her working through the information. “You want to go back?” he asked. “You want to ride this thing out?”
She waited and then sat up. “I don’t know,” she said. And then she drew in a breath as if the decision was being made as she spoke. “No, I’ve already said good-bye. I think this is best.”
Frank hesitated, looked as if he was going to say something else, and then seemed to think better of it. He turned to face the road. He put the car into drive and pulled back onto the highway. The two of them did not speak of Pie Town again.