Firebird (The Flint Hills Novels) (12 page)

At first he was concerned that his presence beside Annette might make tongues waggle, but Council Grove was just far enough removed from Cottonwood Falls to keep them out of range. Annette came this far to mass to avoid the inevitable gossip that would plague Charlie if it were known that his daughter and granddaughter were faithful Catholics. Ethan, on the other hand, divorced, engaged to remarry, estranged from the church, was drawn to this little enclave by its renegade spirit. The priest was an old Irishman who had long since pruned himself of his stern ways and had mellowed into a witty, self-deprecating and deeply loving old buzzard whose deafness seemed particularly acute in the confessional. In all, Ethan liked his Sunday mornings. He soon began to look forward to them.

* * *

The worst complication about December was Christmas. Christmas baffled Ethan. He was a deeply caring man, but he was also tight with his money. His gifts to others were thoughtful, practical, greatly appreciated, but always slightly off target. He never seemed to get it quite right. Lacking the spontaneity of his romantic poetic idols, he gave sides of beef to his parents and sheepskin-lined gloves to his girlfriends. He'd given flowers only once in his life, to Paula on the occasion of his son's birth, and things like perfume and chocolates and jewelry seemed tarnished by a vague notion of self-indulgence, something close enough to sin so that, hovering in his unconscious, it steered him clear of such luxuries with the same moral determination that kept him ever faithful to a slab of beef on his plate every night (fish and chicken be damned). Ethan's father had raised him on the proverb "He who feasts will never be rich," and Ethan took the maxim to heart. He worked hard for his money, and the first year he earned a six-figure income, he celebrated by taking Jer out for a beer. Jer ordered a Chivas but Ethan stuck to his Bud.

In the days of consumer debt and gluttonous overspending, Ethan was a dinosaur. He had $10,000 stashed away in a catastrophic medical fund, a nice chunk in a college fund for Jeremy, and he made generous yearly contributions to his retirement account. He had taken out a loan for the construction of his house, but he had been ready with a hefty down payment; the land had been purchased outright in cash. Except when traveling Ethan operated without the benefit of credit cards, and apart from his soon-to-be-finished house he didn't have a penny of outstanding debt.

Katie Anne, sitting on her own family fortune, took little interest in Ethan's money. She was used to his frugal ways by now and his miserliness annoyed her only around the time of her birthday and Christmas, when her expectations ran pretty high. This Christmas she was expecting an engagement ring. She had given up waiting for Ethan to take her into Kansas City to look for diamonds, and she had driven in with Patti and narrowed down her selection to a half-dozen gorgeous stones at two different jewelers.

Three days before Christmas Ethan called Jer in a panic.

"Pal, you've gotta do this for me."

"You're crazy. If Katie Anne finds out, she'll be madder 'n hell."

"She won't find out. She's already got it narrowed down so whichever ring you choose will be fine. You can tell me exactly where you went, who sold it to you..."

"This isn't like you, buddy. You don't pull these kind of tricks. Why don't you do it yourself?"

"I've got too much work to do."

"You're afraid you're makin' a mistake, aren't you?"

It was the closest Jer had ever come to psychoanalysis, and the startling effect of this straightforward cowboy reading between the lines of Ethan's muddled inner dialogue jolted Ethan into silence.

He replied after a long hesitation and his voice was unusually high, as if someone had him by the balls.

"Well... will you come with me at least?"

"Sure. I'll come with ya."

Ethan picked him up an hour later and they reached the Plaza a little after four o'clock. In the first store, Ethan glanced cursorily at the rings Katie Anne had chosen and listened impatiently to the salesman's pitch as he carefully withdrew each ring and replaced it, habituated after long years of selling a product that was generally not purchased in a hurry. On the way to the second store, Ethan proposed they stop somewhere for a beer.

"After you buy the ring," Jer said firmly. He looked down at the square of paper in his hand. "Take a left here. Should be right down this street.... Yeah. There it is. Tiffany's."

While the jeweler brought out the rings Katie Anne had selected, Jer's attention was caught by a display of gold necklaces.

"Pardon me, ma'am, but do you have any Saint Christopher medals?" asked Jer.

"Yes, we do," said the jeweler as she set out the three rings for Ethan to examine and turned to help Jer.

"What do you want with a Saint Christopher medal?" asked Ethan.

Jer ignored him and watched as the mild-mannered woman gently removed a display of medals and crosses.

"It's for a lady," he said very quietly. "Needs to be small. Something feminine."

She selected a finely crafted solid-gold medal and arranged it on the black velvet cloth before him.

"Who are you buying this for?" demanded Ethan as he stepped up behind him.

Jer turned and whispered in his ear, "Just go buy your ring and leave me to my business. Okay?"

Ethan only pretended to admire the rings; he was listening to Jer. The transaction was done quickly. The medal and chain were priced at over $900, but Jer forked it out in cash and quietly slipped the box in his pocket.

"No, thanks, ma'am. Don't need a bag."

The jeweler turned back to Ethan and held up the first ring for him, describing the cut and quality of the stone, but Ethan cut her short, pointed to the largest of the three, a carat-and-a-half perfect marquise solitaire, and said, "I'll take this one."

Without missing a beat the jeweler quickly returned the other two rings to the cabinet. "Would you like to put this on a credit card, sir?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Ethan answered.

As Ethan signed the receipt, he noticed the price and his expression froze. With tax, the ring was $23,700.

"You have impeccable taste, sir," said the lady. "That's a very fine piece of jewelry."

Her commendation might as well have been a condolence, because Ethan was having a serious panic attack as they walked back to the truck in silence.

"What the hell have I just done?" Ethan groaned as he stabbed the key into the ignition.

"I'll tell you what you've done. You've made Katie Anne one very happy lady," Jer answered. "She deserves it after puttin' up with your shit for three years."

Ethan felt like his best friend had abandoned him.

Neither he nor Jer mentioned stopping for a beer, and they drove directly back to Cottonwood Falls. They talked about cattle and ranching, and no more was said about engagement rings. Ethan didn't have the courage to ask about the Saint Christopher medal.

Chapter 14

Christmas at the Mackey ranch was a tradition that Ethan thoroughly enjoyed. Family and friends converged from all over the state, always to be received with gracious hospitality. Betty Sue Mackey greeted uninvited guests with the same warmth she lavished on her next of kin; she gladly squeezed in an extra plate and rounded up another chair. Tom Mackey, dressed in his hallmark Santa suspenders, a crisply starched white shirt and brand-new jeans, moved around the house filling champagne glasses and telling jokes, and by the time they sat down to eat, everyone was infected with his exuberance.

This year the big news was Katie Anne's engagement, and her marquise diamond was the star of the show. She flashed it at everyone, throwing glances at Ethan that were so full of tenderness and pride that he found himself quietly commending himself for the purchase, a feeling due in part to the effects of the champagne. His greatest disappointment was that Jer was not here. Jer had been invited to Annette's for Christmas dinner but said he'd stop by later in the day for a piece of Betty Sue's pecan pie. Early in the evening Ethan found him in the kitchen, sitting by himself at the table piled with empty serving dishes, eating the double slice of pie that Betty Sue had put aside for him.

Ethan laughed at him. "Didn't you get enough to eat over there?"

Jer swallowed his bite of pie and jabbed his fork in the air. "I tell you, that lady's one helluva cook." The fork dived into the pie and he snapped the next bite into his mouth. Jer waggled his head in lieu of words until he could speak intelligibly. "Except for this weird stuff she put in the turkey. Chestnuts, I think she said."

Ethan noticed the glow on Jer's face.

"Looks like you've had a fair share to drink, haven't you, buddy?"

Jer nodded. "Wine," he mumbled. "Had French wine with the dinner."

"Must have been good, judging from the way you're lit up."

Jer stabbed his fork at Ethan and gave him a loose smile. "You've never tasted anything like it, I swear. Annette drove all the way to Kansas City to get it." He paused, stared at the pie, momentarily reflecting. "Hell, I don't even like wine. And before I know it, here I've gone and had three glasses." He suddenly burst out in a bellow of laughter. "Shit, that was good stuff," he commented, as though still in a state of disbelief.

Jer scraped up the last crumbs, then rose and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Well, we sure missed you over here, pal," said Ethan, and he sincerely meant it. Jer sat back down next to him and took a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He showed the pack to Ethan. It was squat and blue with the outline of a winged helmet printed on the front.

"Look what she gave me." He drew out one of the cigarettes. They were short, fat and unfiltered. Jer grinned. "That's what I like about that lady. Hell, she's the first woman I've met in years who hasn't started lecturin' me on quittin' smoking."

"Well, maybe she just doesn't love you like we do." Ethan shook his head sadly. "They'll kill you, Jer."

"Maybe," Jer said, holding it under his nose, sniffing the tobacco. "Maybe not. Maybe I'll get kicked in the head by a horse."

He lit one up, took a gulp of coffee, leaned back in his chair. "I thought I'd ride out tomorrow and help you with the fencing on your new place."

Jer had never been one to fret much about life, but neither had he ever shown much enthusiasm about anything. The contentment that shone on his face that evening, smoking his Gauloises and drinking his coffee, was as close to beatific as he had ever come.

* * *

The Sunday after Christmas Annette and Eliana were late to mass and Ethan didn't see them until the service was over. Annette was buttoning her coat when he caught up with them outside but he got a glimpse of the tiny gold medal against her black sweater.

The comment that escaped Ethan's mouth was so unexpected that it seemed spirited out of him.

"Morning, ma'am. And a belated merry Christmas. Nice necklace." A startled look appeared in Annette's eyes for only a second, then it passed, but Ethan blushed solidly all the same.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Mr. Brown."

"Ethan, look!" Eliana waved a child's white cowboy hat and fixed it proudly on her head. "See what Jer gave me for Christmas?"

"Well, don't you look pretty!" He got down on one knee and said, "How about a ride?"

"Really?"

"Hop on," he said, and he turned around so she could climb onto his shoulders.

Ethan jogged off over the grass with Eliana squealing and giggling. After a few turns around the lawn he circled back to meet Annette as she waited at her car.

"I hear you had one darn good Christmas dinner."

Through Annette's mind flashed the uneasiness, the tension that had sat upon them all that afternoon like an ugly, squat devil. Her father had disapproved of her purchases, the wine, the endives, the imported Roquefort, even though she had paid for everything herself. He scowled at her throughout the entire meal, but mostly it was the child that annoyed him. Eliana giggled and draped her napkin over her face; Eliana interrupted him when he was speaking; Eliana took a large second helping of potatoes and left them uneaten on her plate. While he was saying grace Annette had stolen a glance at his face and wondered how such a soul, so intolerant of human frailty, so scornful of childlike behavior, could possibly have any communion with God. Then they had sat down, and even the pretense of good cheer as they passed their plates and praised the meal could not lift the pall that hung over the table. She ate only a few bites of turkey and drank some wine, and she tried very hard to protect Eliana from her father's wrath and to keep Jer and Nell engaged in easy and pleasant conversation, and to defuse her father's anger whenever she heard it rumble in the distance. Sometimes she would look up and see her mother sitting in the rocking chair in the living room, and when she did, the ugly devil squatting in the middle of the table would disappear.