One From The Heart (11 page)

“Can I see my mommy now?”

Mim faltered only for a moment. “The picture book, you mean?” She held out her arms for Petey to come to her. “I have an album of pictures—Petey’s mother when she was a little girl,” Mim said to Hannah.

“My mommy stayed here and stayed here when she was four,” Petey said.

“That’s right,” Mim told her. “And she always liked to look at my picture book, too. You come with us, Hannah. I have some pictures of you.”

“Let me take your jacket, Hannah,” Ernie said, his hands warm on her shoulders as he helped her off with her wet jacket, the one she’d worn when she stood in the rain and announced the weather conditions for the big station downtown. He smiled into her eyes for a moment, then left her to follow Mim into the living room. Her mind was still in a turmoil from his startling announcement, and she stared after him as he limped into the kitchen. She gave a soft sigh and turned to find Mim quietly watching, her expression unreadable.

“This way,” she said. “Hannah, if you’d bring me the album on the rocking chair.”

The room was lamplit, warm, and pleasant, with more evidence of what must be Mim’s hobby—cross-stitching—on the throw pillows on the couch and rocking chair and in wooden frames hung on the walls. Hannah didn’t want to look at photographs; she wanted to know about Elizabeth, but they were all forced into this conspiracy of silence for Petey’s sake. Hannah brought the album, thinking Mim must have been looking at it before they arrived.

She and Petey sat down on the couch with Mim between them. The album was worn, its cover tooled leather with the name
Goingback Swimmer
printed in gold in the lower right-hand corner.

“Goingback was my grandmother’s name and mine,” Mim said, running her fingertips over the letters. “It comes from the Trail of Tears, from the longing of the Cherokee to go back to their home in the eastern mountains after the Removals to Oklahoma.” She suddenly smiled. “When John Ernest was a little boy, Goingback Swimmer was too much for him. Mim, he called me, and Mim I’ve stayed.”

Hannah smiled, thinking of Ernie as a child. She could see into the kitchen from where she sat, see him standing quietly, looking in her direction. He moved out of the doorway, and Mim opened the album. It was filled with pictures of Elizabeth, pictures of her as a toddler, as a sweetheart of the rodeo, as a prom queen. Petey was clearly fascinated—as was Hannah, if the truth be told. It was strange, seeing all these photographs of Elizabeth’s life unfolding, a life Hannah would have shared if circumstances had been different. She looked at the pictures closely, trying to imagine herself in them and two years younger than the Elizabeth who was captured there. She couldn’t do it.

There was a picture of her mother on a day when she was young and smiling and holding two little girls by the hand.

“Is that Elizabeth and me?” Hannah said incredulously.

“Yes, that’s you there—the little one,” Mim said. “And here’s your father.”

She looked at the young man in a suit and tie. He was standing with one foot on a car’s running board, and he was just that—a young man. She hadn’t known him then, and she didn’t know him now.

“Ernie!” Petey declared, tapping a picture with her fingers.

It
was
him. The picture had been taken recently, and he was with Elizabeth. He was sitting on the tailgate of his no-color pickup truck, his arms wrapped around her. They were both laughing, and Hannah felt as if her heart had been ripped out. There could be no future for her and John Ernest Watson, regardless of his qualified declaration of love. One had only to look at this photograph to know it.

“Mim, I need you a minute,” Ernie said from the doorway.

“Can’t you find the cake?” she asked.

“You got cake?” he asked in mock surprise.

“You know I do, you rascal,” she said as she got up from the couch. “I knew you were coming, didn’t I? Just keep looking at the pictures,” she said to Hannah and Petey. “I’ll be right back. I see you got a haircut, John Ernest.”

“I had to. You’d give me hell if I didn’t.”

“John Ernest, I’ve told you ever since you were a little boy—”

“Yeah, I know, Mim. Get my hair cut and act like I’m
somebody
.”

“And don’t swear—”

They laughed together, and their conversation became muted as soon as they were out of the room. She could see them both just inside the kitchen doorway, and she knew that Ernie was asking about Elizabeth. As she kept Petey occupied with the photo album, she also knew that whatever Mim told him wasn’t good news. His face was grim as he walked back in her direction.

“Cake’s ready,” he said in the doorway.

I wish I didn’t like him
, she thought.
If I didn’t like him so much, I could handle it
. But she did like him. She liked his honesty about his problem with alcohol. She liked the way he cared about Petey. She liked the way the other men at the rodeo seemed to respect him—the man first, and his skill as a rodeo clown second. She liked the way he looked and the way he tasted and the way he felt when she had her arms around him. Maybe she even
thought
she was in love with him.

“You better hurry, Pete,” he said to the little girl who was already off the couch like a shot. “It’s your favorite kind.”

“What kind is that?” Hannah asked.

“
Brown!
” Ernie and Petey said together, and Hannah laughed.

Petey ran on ahead, and Hannah lingered with Ernie for a moment.

“What did Mim say about Elizabeth?”

“Let’s get Petey situated,” he said, reaching up to briefly brush her cheek with his rough fingers. Hannah felt his touch so intensely that she had to close her eyes. “Then we’ll talk.”

“Ernie—”

“Come on,” he insisted, leading the way to the kitchen.

They ate the chocolate cake at the kitchen table.

“Where’s Uncle Michael?” Ernie asked as he handed the plates of cake around.

“Looking,” Mim said obscurely, and he didn’t ask her to elaborate. It seemed that there was no topic of conversation available to them that didn’t sooner or later involve Elizabeth.

“It’s raining, Petey,” Mim said. “Do you know what that means?”

“No,” Petey said, but the tone of Mim’s voice obviously had her intrigued.

“Somebody told me you like to dress up,” she said, winking at Ernie. “I’ve got something new for rainy days: the dress-up box. When you finish your cake, we’ll go find it.”

The box, which Mim kept in a hall closet, was filled with old clothes and hats, purses and scarves and high-heeled shoes. Petey was in absolute heaven.

“Let’s go,” Ernie whispered in Hannah’s ear.

“Where?”

“You’re going to spend the night at my dad’s house in case Libby comes th ere first. I want to take you on over there.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Dad doesn’t stay in Oklahoma much. Right now he’s gone to see one of his old
compañeros
in New Mexico. Mim keeps the house ready for him in case he decides to wander back this way, and she uses it to catch any of the Swimmers’ visiting overflow. Libby knows that. If she wants to be by herself, she might go there first and come here later.”

“Or if she’s looking for you,” Hannah said quietly, looking directly into his eyes. He didn’t have to leave out things on her account whether he “thought” he was in love with her or not. “What about Petey?” she asked.

“She always stays here with Mim. She’s got her own bed.”

“I don’t want to go off and leave her, Ernie.”

“Honey, she’s having a ball. Look at her.”

That was true enough, Hannah thought, watching Petey try to find the right hat. She picked one with a wide brim and artificial pink roses.

“She’s having a ball
now
,” Hannah said, wary of doing anything to make Petey feel any more abandoned than she already did.

“Well, we’ll just ask her. Hey, Pete,” he called. “I’m going to take Anna-Hannah over to the old house. You want to go along, or you want to stay here and play?”

“Stay here!” she said, dragging out more clothes.

“See?” Ernie said.

“You really know how to phrase a question, don’t you?”

“Hannah, Mim will call you if Petey needs you—but I think she’ll be all right here.”

Hannah looked at Petey again and gave a tired sigh. “So do I.
Let’s
go.”

Ernie went to get her jacket, while she intruded on the fashion show long enough to kiss Petey good-bye.

“Hannah,” Mim said quietly while Ernie was gone. “I want to talk to you later. About John Ernest.”

Hannah fully intended to tell her there was nothing to talk about, but Ernie came back with a long raincoat-poncho-looking thing that must have come in handy for riding horses in a storm, and she walked with him out onto the porch.

“I’ll get your things out of the truck,” he said as he put the raincoat on, heading off the question she was about to ask about Elizabeth. “We’re going to walk over to my dad’s place—yeah, I know it’s raining,” he added, “but it’s shorter if we walk, and I want to show you something.”

Petey had moved up from the grocery bag to a nylon duffel bag Hannah had given her, and he brought that as well. She waited on the porch while he took it inside. He had a flashlight with him when he came back out and a somewhat beaten-up cowboy hat, which he plopped on her head without ceremony.

“Let’s go.”

“What did Mim say?” she asked again as she fell into step with him. The hat kept the rain off her, but it was too big. She had to keep pushing it up to see the wet ground in the beam from the flashlight as they crossed the backyard.

“Libby called to say she wasn’t coming.”

Hannah stopped walking. “That’s crazy. She wouldn’t call to say she
wasn’t
coming. She just wouldn’t come.”

“Well, she did. The trick is knowing whether or not she means it. Come on, Hannah, you’re getting wet. Hey,” he said offhandedly when she caught up with him. “You want to come in here with me?” He held the raincoat wide for her, but she hesitated, clutching her own duffel bag to her chest. She had always traveled light, and it wasn’t much to hide behind. And she had a thousand reasons why she shouldn’t go to him and only one why she should: She wanted to.

“Come here, Hannah.”

Oh, that soft, soft voice
…

She went, letting him put his arm around her and cover her with half the raincoat. He held her against him for a moment, and she nearly lost her hat. She completely lost her composure. When he started walking again, she went with him, faltering after a few steps.

“It’s going to be okay, Hannah.”

“No, I don’t think so,” she answered, knowing he meant one thing, Elizabeth’s disappearance, and she meant another, him. They walked on in silence. She could feel the warm pressure of his body along hers, and she felt like crying. How had she gotten into this craziness? He’d spent most of his life taking care of Elizabeth, and even if he hadn’t, he was an itinerant with a drinking problem. He never stayed in one place very long. A Woman would have to be out of her mind to get involved with him even if she weren’t Elizabeth’s sister, but there Hannah was stumbling around in the rain and the dark with him, perfectly willing to follow him wherever he wanted to go.

“Ernie—”

“Wait,” he said, holding up his hand. He stopped walking. “I want you to hear something.”

“What?”

“Shhh. Listen …”

She listened. And heard nothing but the rain.

“I don’t—” She stopped. She did hear something: a dull, melodic sound off to her right. “What is that?”

“What do you think it is?” he countered.

“I don’t know …
Swan Lake?
” she said incredulously. “I hear
Swan Lake!
”

Ernie laughed his endearing soft chuckle. “You want to see? Come on. I want you to see it.”

“What is it?” she asked again, clutching the back of his denim jacket under the raincoat as he abruptly changed directions. She had to take big steps to keep up with him, and at one point he hiked her up on his hip so she wouldn’t have to wade through a puddle along the way.

“It’s some of my dad’s craziness—a musical waterwheel. He made it for my mother right before she died. Man, she loved that thing. I mean, who expects to hear the opening bars of
Swan Lake
out here?”

Who indeed? Hannah thought, smiling to herself as she walked along with him. He stopped when they reached a small pond.

“Look over there,” he said, shining the flashlight at a small damlike construction at one end. “See, the water turns this drum with pegs in it, and the pegs hit these wooden mallets and make them strike some wine bottles. The bottles have got water in them to give them different pitches—what do you think?”

“I think it’s wonderful.”

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed. “My old man hasn’t been able to stay around here very long at a time ever since my mother died. That’s why he moved us to New Mexico when I was a kid. But when he comes back, he always fixes the wheel. One time he said he thinks maybe she comes here sometimes, and he wants her to be able to hear it. I guess that sounds a little crazy,” he added, looking down at her.