“What do you mean?” Jack whispered hoarsely.
“I'm sorry, Evans. They planted a bomb in the car.”
“Wendy?” Her name came out in a spasm of agony.
“All of them.” The words were spoken quietly and with a finality that rocked his very soul.
A desolate silence followed while the enormity of the words sank into Jack's mind. Grief, then anger so black and great that it seemed to explode in his head, brought a roar of rage from his throat. He leapt to his feet and grabbed the fat man about the neck.
“You bastard! You goddamned bastard! You protected a goddamn criminal and let him kill my little girl! I'll kill you…I'll kill you—”
He came to much later on the floor. George was bending over him, holding a wet cloth to the large lump on the side of his head; he had been hit by the man's partner, who had burst into the room thinking that Jack was about to kill the man. Jack looked at George with dazed eyes, then rolled over, hid his face in his arms, and cried endless tears of despair.
A week later, after he had buried his daughter, he locked his house, mailed the key to George, and drove out of the city.
Even after four years there were still times when grief and frustration almost tore him apart. This was one of those times.
“Goddamn the law! Goddamn the courts, the FBI, and the whole stinkin', rotten system!” He lifted his head, shouted into the emptiness, and banged his fist down hard on the table, scattering papers and pencils.
Jack lowered his head miserably. His eyes flooded with tears as the memories came rushing back: silky blond hair in braids, sad green eyes, small arms about his neck, wet, sticky kisses on his face. After a while he turned out the light and felt his way in the dark to the bed, threw himself down on it, and prayed for the sleep that he knew wouldn't come.
He lay staring into the black night, the room silent except for the groaning of the floorboards when he shifted his weight on the bed. Out of the blackness came a woman's face, a perfect oval with a small fine nose and full soft lips, honey-gold hair, clear, tawny-gold eyes filled with fear and uncertainty. He felt a deep hunger for the companionship and sweetness of a woman to share his life. The lonely years stretched ahead—
“Get out of my mind,” he whispered, almost savagely. “I don't
need
anyone and I don't
want
anyone.”
By nine
A.M.
the motel and campgrounds were empty except for Gloria, Peter, and Ethel. Gary left on a run that would take at least five days. Before he left he promised that on his return he would fix Gloria's car, and he attached the U-Haul to the pickup so she could take it to Lewistown and turn it in.
Gary was a cheerful, easygoing man in his mid-thirties. There was almost a mother-son affection between himself and Ethel; he teased her, and she scolded him. He appeared to be genuinely glad Gloria and Peter had come to live with Ethel.
“The old girl needs someone with her,” he confided to Gloria just before he climbed up into the cab of his big eighteen-wheeler. He handed her a card with the address and phone number of a freight center in Kansas City. “I'll be there most of the time. If you should need me, and I'm on the road, send word out on the CB; the truckers will pass it along.”
Gloria felt a tingle of apprehension and looked over her shoulder to be sure they were alone before she spoke. “Do you think Aunt Ethel is…unwell?”
“She's slowed down a lot the last few weeks.” He glanced over at where Ethel and Peter were putting a rope on the clothesline for the puppy. “She put on a good show last night for your benefit, but she's not up to running this place alone. I've tried to get her to see a doctor, but the old girl's got a mind of her own.”
“Thank you for telling me. It confirms my suspicions. Do you know if she's had a checkup lately?”
“Not that I know of. She used to take the pickup to town on Saturday. But lately she's been giving me a list to fill when I go to Great Falls to see my little girl. I don't think she trusts herself to drive the pickup anymore.” He climbed up into the cab and grinned at her. “I'm glad you're here. See ya on Friday.”
Gloria went to stand beside Ethel and Peter, and waved to Gary as he pulled the big rig out onto the highway. The two long, powerful blasts of the horn delighted Peter, scared the puppy, and jarred Gloria's eardrums. She slipped the card he had given her into the pocket of her jeans and turned to look at her aunt. She was still looking at the truck, and she continued watching it until it went over the hill and out of sight.
The morning passed quickly. By lunchtime the rooms had been cleaned and the soiled linen piled in the laundry room. Gloria had done the majority of the work, over the protest of her aunt.
“I'll learn faster by doing than by watching, Aunt Ethel. Sit down and tell me what to do.”
It wasn't until the middle of the afternoon, while Peter was napping and they were sitting at the kitchen table planning the evening meal, that Gloria had the opportunity to bring up the subject that had been on her mind all morning.
“Is your doctor in Lewistown or Great Falls, Aunt Ethel? I brought along Peter's medical records, and I should get a doctor lined up for him. He'll need booster shots soon.”
“I don't doctor much. But there's one in Lewistown, and it's closer. Is there something wrong with Peter?”
“No. But in case there is, I want a doctor who is acquainted with his medical history.”
“Pshaw! What good'll that do? One's as good as 'nother when you're sick. They mostly guess, anyway.” Ethel avoided Gloria's eyes and shuffled through a notebook of handwritten recipes.
“Aunt Ethel.” Gloria uttered her aunt's name in a way that compelled the older woman to look at her. “When did you last see a doctor?”
“About a year after me'n George came here,” Ethel answered staunchly. “We both went. George made me go.”
“You haven't been back since?”
“I haven't been sick. Doctors don't know everything, by a long shot! Sometimes I think all they're good for is to set broken bones and sew up holes. They said George was fit as a fiddle, and a few months later he was dead. What'll happen'll happen, and there ain't no sense in worryin' about it.”
“Will you go with me when I go to take Peter's records? I want to be sure you're all right, Aunt Ethel. You're…very dear to me.”
“We'll see. Anyway, we have to wait until Gary's here before we both can leave,” Ethel said with a perky smile, and Gloria knew her aunt's “we'll see” meant no, she wouldn't go.
Ethel continued to chatter. “Now, what do you think about having Swiss steak for dinner? I'm looking for Harry and Neil tonight; they're truckers who make a run up to Kalispell every week. Bill Woler is due too; he's an auto supply salesman out of Bozeman. They'll call me on the CB when they get within calling distance, which in these mountains is about twenty miles out. And, you can't tell, we may have a tourist or two stop for the night. The weather is still nice. Although after school starts the bottom falls out of the tourist season.”
Gloria knew her aunt was talking because the subject of going to the doctor had made her nervous. She said nothing more, deciding to wait until Gary was back to help in persuading her aunt to have the checkup.
Several days went by, and the pickup with the U-Haul attached still sat in the parking area. Gloria and Peter adjusted to life at the motel far more easily than she had imagined they would. She had no desire to go to town, and kept putting off the trip to return the trailer. In a couple of days the work pattern was established. Gloria insisted on doing all the cleaning, and Ethel filled the big washing machine and folded the clean laundry. Together they planned the evening meal and cooked it, Gloria maneuvering her aunt into the “sit-down” portion of the work. The time always passed very quickly.
Gloria had set boundaries for Peter, and he played happily with the puppy or rode his Big Wheel up and down the walk in front of the motel. The first few evenings found her exhausted, but it was a tiredness she welcomed. At night they watched a few hours of television, and then went to bed as soon as the VACANCY light was turned off.
Most of the people who stopped for the night had been guests of the motel before. The occasional new tourists who came by were usually those caught between towns late in the evening. Most of them were delighted with the home-cooked evening meal; it saved them from having to rely on snacks from the machines. Of course, there were exceptions.
The first night Gloria had charge of the desk, an older couple in a new Cadillac drove in and wanted to inspect the room before they signed the register. She understood their concern and cheerfully led them to the room, waiting patiently while they lifted the covers to see the condition of the mattress. They rejected two of the towels because of some small rust spots, and wanted paper to cover the toilet seat although Gloria assured them it had been washed that morning with disinfectant. They haughtily refused the offer of the evening meal, and when they turned in their key the next morning they just as haughtily refused the offer of coffee and fresh rolls. Gloria was glad to see the last of them, and secretly hoped they would get a flat tire before they reached Great Falls.
“Don't let 'em bother you,” Ethel said. “For every one like them there are dozens of really nice people.”
Peter asked Gloria several times when Jack was coming back. Whenever he heard the sound of a motorcycle coming down the highway, which wasn't often, he ran out to watch it pass, then turned away with a disappointed look. Gloria had to admit to a quickening of her own pulse when she heard the sound, and was sure that what she felt was relief when the cycle kept going instead of turning in to the drive.
On the fourth day, the day before Gary was due back, Gloria heard the roar of a motorcycle coming from the west. Somehow she knew it would be
him.
She was right. She glanced out the window of the room she was cleaning and saw him turn in to the drive and stop in front of the office.
“Jack! Jack!” Peter jumped off his Big Wheel and ran to him as fast as his stubby little legs could carry him. They talked for a moment, and then Jack took off his helmet and set it down on the boy's head. He picked him up and carefully placed him on the seat in front of him, then rode around the circular drive several times before stopping in front of the office again and lifting the boy off. Gloria thought he would drive away, but he turned off the machine and put down the kickstand.
“Mom! Mom! Jack's here,” Peter screeched as he ran down the walk.
“Don't shout, Peter.” Gloria wheeled the vacuum cleaner out the door, down the walk, and into the next room.
“C'mon, Mom. Come see Jack.”
“I've got to finish this room first. You run along.” She unlooped the cord and plugged it into the outlet.
“Hurry, Mom. Jack! Jack!” he yelled. “Come see Cisco. Aunt Ethel says he needs a pen. She says he might get with a skunk if he goes to the woods. Can you stay for lunch, Jack?”
Gloria watched her son grab Jack's hand and drag him toward the door. She turned on the vacuum cleaner and moved it across the carpet vigorously while her mind churned. Damn that man! He wasn't the type of man she wanted as a role model for her son.
It's the motorcycle that fascinates Peter,
she told herself. Well, she'd put a stop to that!
It's disgusting for a grown man to be so oblivious to conventions that he'd let himself look like something that escaped from the zoo. No job, no responsibilities. What contribution would he ever make to society? How does he live? He's probably collecting a pension on some imaginary injury, letting the taxpayers support him.
She swept every inch of the carpet, several times, before she turned off the sweeper and leaned on the handle.
“
Va…room! Va…room!
” Peter's version of a roaring motor accompanied the rattle of the plastic toy he loved.
Gloria's eyes were drawn to the window. Peter, with the blue helmet on his head, was riding his Big Wheel down the walk, his small legs pumping energetically, pretending to be riding the black Harley-Davidson parked in the drive.
Being here
has
opened a whole new world for him,
she thought as she watched him. Having a puppy, being able to play in the dirt and shout without being chastised, and exploring among the trees were experiences he had not had before.
“Glory hallelujah! I thought you'd never turn that thing off.”
Gloria spun around. Jack stood in the doorway. She had forgotten how big he was and how much hair he had. Today he wore a black jacket and a red bandana around his head. He stood looking at her, absently cleaning his nails with a long, thin-bladed knife. He tilted his head at an angle, his green eyes, full of amusement, holding hers.
Gloria pressed her lips tightly together, noting with disgust a gold earring dangling from his right ear, shining brightly against his black hair.
“H
ELLO, GLORY. AREN'T
you about ready to hightail it back to the city?”
“Good morning, Mr. Evans.” Gloria spoke lightly without looking at him and pulled the plug from the outlet, looped the cord over the sweeper handle, and pushed it determinedly toward the door.
“Peter said this was your last room.” He stood there, his big frame blocking the doorway.
“It is, but I have other things to do. Excuse me. Please—”
“You didn't answer my question.”
“No, I didn't. It's none of your business.” She hated the nervous quiver in her voice.
“You're right.” He chuckled. “I'm only curious.” His eyes toured her figure in the faded jeans and the T-shirt, proclaiming in bright-red letters, YOU'VE COME A LONG WAY, BABY, that accentuated her small, firm breasts.
Gloria felt the heat that flushed her cheeks. She hated it when she blushed. It was his fault, and she wanted to slap him. He didn't budge from the doorway, so she backed off and smoothed the spread over the pillows on the bed in a purely superfluous gesture. She gave the room a sweeping, critical glance to make sure everything was in place and moved toward the doorway again in a businesslike way, determined to not let this bear of a man intimidate her.