Chapter Thirty-One
Curtis
One week later, Allie and I were finally about to head out on that ride I had promised her. We talked about it in eager tones over a breakfast of maple-roasted bacon, fried eggs, and hash browns at Mama’s house.
“It’s weird that we’ve been dating for almost a month now, and we still haven’t done this,” said Allie. She took a sip of her chilled orange juice. “I mean, we went out riding that one time, but didn’t go much further than the end of the street.”
“It’s probably more exciting for you because you’ve never done it,” I said. “Some of us have got to do it every day.”
“You’re not excited about going with me at all?” asked Allie, looking disappointed.
“Only because you’re goin’ with me,” I replied. “I’ve seen the trail before. I suspect it’ll look about the same today as it did on Friday.”
Allie took a long swig of her drink and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. “Well,” she said, “maybe having me out there with you will help you to see it with fresh eyes.”
“Wish I could go with y’all,” said Dad, “but Yankee Doodle Dandy is playing on TCM this afternoon, and your mom has been begging me to record it.”
I grinned at him from across the table. It was just like Dad to make up a convoluted story about why he couldn’t come along, when the reality was that he wanted me and Allie to have a day to ourselves.
As we were heading out the door, I asked Mama, “By the way, how are Marshall and Braxton doing?”
Mama shook her head in disgust. “Marshall had to file a restraining order on him because he went down to the Nightshade one too many times looking for trouble.” The Nightshade was in Sulphur Springs and owned by Marshall. Upstairs in its red-velvet-upholstered billiard rooms, well-heeled gentlemen came to smoke, drink, and place bets. “Apparently Marshall’s bodyguards carried him out into the street and gave him a good beating. Not a—but you know what I mean.”
“Is he okay?”
“He spent most of last night in the hospital,” said Mama. “He’s got a bruised black eye, and the entire left side of his face is bandaged. He’s threatening to sue the club, but Marshall swears up and down he had nothing to do with it.”
“Yeah, hmmm,” I said with a shrug of my shoulders. “I hope they get that straightened out.”
“Me, too,” said Mama, “or Thanksgiving is gonna be awkward as hell.”
This time, Allie and I rode about a mile further than we had during our first ride together. I led her out to a ridge from the edge of which we could see the land for miles around: rivers snaking along in the canyons to the north, lakes dotted with crocodiles and white herons, ranches fringed with scrub and protected by barbed wire.
“This is my favorite spot to visit when it’s not too hot out,” I told her as she surveyed the scene in stunned silence. “You feel so small down here looking up at everything. I come up here, and the cares of the moment—brothers fighting and family quarrels and even my own grief—are all put in their proper place.”
Allie drew a deep breath. “You must still think about her all the time. Don’t you? You never talk about her, not unless I bring her up, but there are moments when I can see the wheels in your head turning, and you’re in a different place. It’s like for a moment I’ve lost you. But then you come back to reality as if you were never gone.”
That was one of the perils of getting so close to someone: they could see straight through you to the other side. “It’s gotten to where I can go whole hours without really thinking about her, but I don’t really have to. She’s always there in the back of my mind. And it’s hard being by yourself because those memories come to the surface and don’t let go. When that happens, I’ll do anything to distract myself.”
I shifted uneasily on my horse, still staring out at the vast landscape around us. “I don’t guess I ever told you how she died.”
Allison’s voice was so quiet I almost didn’t hear her response. “No, you never did.”
“We were out on a ride one Sunday, one of those perfect summer Sundays in June when the rains have just ended and you can ride around without feeling you’re being burned to death. To this day, I don’t know how it happened. One minute we were talking and laughing, arguing about whether Hank Williams or Hank Williams, Jr. was the better singer. And then I guess the horse wasn’t watching where he was going, because he stumbled over a boulder, and Christine, who wasn’t prepared, went flying out of the saddle.”
“I’m so sorry, Curtis,” said Allie, who seemed to be struggling for words.
“She didn’t die immediately,” I went on. “I called Dad, and he tore out here in the pickup and carried her to Fleet-Mitchell Memorial. She held on for a few hours and—” I couldn’t help it, my voice getting choked up “—they said she died of her injuries.
“I’ve never told anyone this, but she might have survived and recovered if it hadn’t been for another little wrinkle. See, Christine and I had gone out riding that day to celebrate the fact that she was pregnant. She was about three months along, and not a single other soul in the world knew because she herself had just found out. We were plannin’ to come back to the house and share a glass of raspberry lemonade and eat ice cream and maybe watch a movie. That champagne is still in my pantry, waiting to be opened.”
Allie looked like she had been utterly crushed. I knew if she hadn’t been on the horse, she would’ve come over and flung her arms around me. But perhaps it was just as well. I wasn’t looking for sympathy. I just needed someone to know.
“And so now you know,” I concluded. “It wasn’t just losing her, although that was bad enough. I feel like I lost two souls that day. One I had known for a long time. The other I had just met, but was already part of the family. Mama’s been pushing me to go out and meet new girls, and I told her I just didn’t have the energy, but the truth is, I’ve been scared. Because who wants to go through all that trouble again? Knowing they can be taken away in a second?”
“You know something,” said Allie, and there was a fierceness in her voice that hadn’t been there previously, “I don’t think I knew until just this second, but you have to be one of the bravest men I’ve ever met. The fact that you would even think of going out with me after what you’ve been through—”
I shrugged. “Well, it wasn’t hard once I met you. You were too good to let go.”
“Not as good as you,” she said. “There are horrors in your past I can’t even imagine. And you’ve kept them hidden this whole time. And somehow you haven’t been consumed with bitterness and anger. You’ve kept your heart open, and I don’t know whether I would have the courage to react in the same way if I had experienced even a tenth of what you’ve gone through.”
“Well, thank you for saying that,” I said with a small smile. “But it’s not as courageous as maybe you think. It was necessary, if I wanted to keep going. The only way to live in this world is to keep your heart open.”