Shake the Trees (6 page)

CHAPTER 7

“I don’t care about the raise, the time off, or even going back to school.  I don’t care about any of that.”

Sandi turned away so Sam couldn’t judge the depth of her feelings.  She had been taken by surprise and was trying to keep her emotions in check.  She took a deep breath and turned back to him.

“I don’t trust that woman, Sam.  I don’t trust what she’s telling you.  Are you sure about this?”

“I’m not sure about any of this, Sandi.  But I need to find out.  I need to check this out.”

“So what if it checks out?  Then what?”

“Sandi, San Luis is where my heart is.  But this could be a good thing for both of us.  For a while.”

“This is about San Diego, isn’t it?”

“You know about San Diego?”

“You haven’t googled yourself, have you?”

Sam shook his head.  “There’s no such thing as privacy anymore.”

“Is that what this is about?  About proving yourself?” 

“I failed, Sandi.  I failed and this is where I ran to hide.”

“You’ve proven yourself here, Sam.”

Sam looked up.  Her statement touched him, and he paused a moment before speaking.

“There’s more to it, Sandi.  And you know it.  Why are we still just friends after all this time?”

Sandi looked shocked.  An unspoken taboo in their relationship had been breached, and she wasn’t expecting it.

“I . . . uh.  We work together, Sam.  That’s very difficult.  I don’t know if . . .”

“Lots of people work together.  It’s more than that.  You know it is.  It’s me.  It’s something I need to fix or at least find out about myself.  Maybe this will help.”

“Sam, I don’t understand.  But if this is something you have to do, I’ll support you.  I’ll support you any way I can.”

Sandi was a welcome surprise to a father approaching fifty and a mother well into her forties; she came nearly sixteen years after their last child.  She had grown up on a ten thousand acre ranch, which in the semi-arid high country sounded like a lot more than it really was.  The land had been in the Rimes family for four generations.  Five generations if one of her two big-city brothers eventually returned to the valley, though their off-ranch success made that appear unlikely.  Ranching had always been a difficult way to make a living, and with the run-up in property values the options were now more tempting.  The Rimes family was land rich and cash poor.  But for many men like Sandi’s father, the options were never given serious consideration.

Rodger Rimes loved his God, his family, his country, and his land - in that order.  He appreciated the cowboy lifestyle and admired the sacrifice made to acquire and hold onto the land by those who came before him.  His great-grandfather had homesteaded the ranch, and every generation since had worked it and improved it.  He wasn’t going anywhere.  Except for nineteen bloody months in Korea, Rodger Rimes had spent his entire life on his ranch, and he expected and hoped to die there.

“It’s about time you two knuckle-heads talked about it, for god’s sake,” Rodger said to his daughter the morning after her emotional conversation with Sam. 

Sandi was having morning coffee with her parents in their sprawling adobe-style ranch house.  It was part of her daily routine.  She lived in the old foreman’s cabin, which was nearly a quarter mile from the ranch house and sat next to the “maternity ward”.  The maternity ward was a narrow and lush area in a box canyon where the cows that were “springing”, or expecting to calve soon, were pastured. 

Actually the term “box canyon” was a bit of a misnomer, because the tiny valley was open to the rest of the ranch on the end where her cabin stood.  The log cabin was separated from the well-watered pasture by a split rail fence.  Inside the pasture stood a simple three-sided lean-to structure made out of old telephone poles, rough-cut cedar siding, and a tin roof.  The building gave the cattle relief from the sun in the short summer and protection from the snow and cold wind in the winter.

After driving Dustin to the bus, which stopped on the highway at the end of the dusty two-mile-long ranch road, Sandi headed back to the maternity ward.  Her tasks there essentially involved checking on the health and well-being of the prospective mothers and newborn calves.  Her father had assigned her those duties ostensibly as rent for the cabin.  But she knew how the old man’s mind worked - it was all to remind her about the circle of life after her husband died. 

She understood the unspoken plan and it probably helped.  It was hard to keep thinking about death when new life was celebrating its entrance into the world just outside your front door.  The newborn calves - kicking up their little hooves on spindly awkward legs - always brought a smile to her face.  Even through tears.

Sandi cleaned up at the cabin before stopping by the ranch house on the way to her “town job”.  Among ranch people a job in town was just that - no further description was necessary.  It was a way to make ends meet.  But Sandi enjoyed her in town job more than most.  Next to her Dad, her boss was also her best friend.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sandi shot back as she stared across the kitchen table at her father.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.  You two have been doing this dance for going on four years.  It’s about damned time.”

Sandi looked down and became serious.  “Why? 

“Why what?”

Why have we been dancing?”

“Why him, or why you?”

“Why him.”

“I’d like to talk about why you first.”

“I figured.”

“How long has it been since you buried your husband, Sandi?”

Betty Rimes was across the kitchen preparing some part of one of the meals she would serve that day.  She’d heard enough and picked up a frying pan air-drying in the plastic drainer next to the sink.  “Rodger Rimes, I’ve been married to you for nearly fifty years, but I swear to God I’m gonna come over there and put a knot on that thick overgrown skull of yours.”

Sandi had married Joe Johnson a little more than one year after she graduated from high school.  He was a cowboy like her Dad, and everybody thought they made a perfect couple.  Dustin came along in a couple of years; there was never enough money, but always plenty of happiness and joy in the little family.  Joe loved the outdoors and loved to rodeo.  He actually made a good bit of money riding the bulls.  At least until he landed wrong on a sunny Saturday afternoon and nearly severed his spinal cord at the base of the skull.  He would have died immediately if there hadn’t been an ambulance and skilled medical personnel a few yards from where he lay.  As it turned out, that wasn’t a blessing.

Rodger Rimes was very close to Joe.  He loved him nearly as much as Sandi did.  The way he looked at it, he’d finally acquired a son who wanted to ranch.  And they were a lot alike.  Rodger knew what he would want for himself under those horrible circumstances, and he knew what Joe would want as well.  Rodger insisted that the neurologists and Sandi assemble in Joe’s hospital room, and fully explain the dire situation.  Joe could not breathe on his own - a ventilator did that for him.  All he could do was blink.  No one offered any hope that his condition would ever change for the better.  Joe was trapped in a slowly deteriorating body.

Rodger Rimes shocked Sandi and the doctors when he asked Joe if he wanted to live that way, and then asked Joe to blink once for yes and twice for no.  Joe blinked twice.  Rodger told him he’d be back every day.  And he did come back.  Every day until the doctors and Sandi agreed to unplug the machines.  It took almost three months.

“Who are you mourning for, Sandi?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you sure as hell aren’t mourning for Joe.  He’s in a much better place.  I know you believe that as much as I do.  And you’re not mourning for Dustin.  He’s too young to remember his father.  He just wishes he had one.  You’re mourning for yourself, and I think six years is long enough.  No, it’s too long - it’s selfish and it’s not fair to the people who love and care about you.  The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, and while we’re here the Lord expects us to celebrate and enjoy his gifts.  Life is for the living, Sandi.”

Sandi began to cry and responded angrily.  “You’re not the one who pulled the plug on her husband.  You’re not the one who killed the father of her child.  You wouldn’t understand.”

“Honey, I’m the one who put you in that position.  You didn’t have a choice.  If you need to blame somebody for the hand you were dealt, then blame me.  And I do understand all about the taking of life.  I understand it far too well.”

Sandi was doing her best to compose herself.  “Can we talk about why him now?”

Rodger smiled softly.  “That’s an easy one.  You’ve googled him haven’t you?”

Sandi shook her head yes as she dried her tears on her shirtsleeve and blew her nose in a paper napkin.

“Let me tell you about a guy in Korea.”

Sandi was more than surprised that her father had made two references to the war he had fought.  Two references in the last five minutes.  He never spoke about it.  He tersely ended all conversation that even touched on it.  Maybe the old man was finally dealing with some demons of his own.

“He was in my platoon, and woke up with a hell of a hangover one day.  Claimed he was sick and reported to the infirmary.  So his platoon got ambushed that morning and took god-awful casualties.  His best friend was killed.  They had always covered each other’s backs.  After that, he volunteered for every dangerous mission that came along.  Everybody said he was trying to commit suicide by volunteering.  Probably was.  But he had to do it.  It was the only way he could deal with the guilt and prove that he wasn’t a coward.” 

“Did he make it?”

“Somehow.  Got a bunch of medals.  Everybody said he was a hero, but he knew better.”

Sandi understood his point.  Sam also had something to prove before he could move on.  It was time to lighten up the mood before she left for work. She gave him her best dumb blond look.  “So you’re saying Sam’s trying to commit suicide by taking this job?”

Rodger scowled.  “It’s a comparative metaphor, not a literal one, bonehead.”

Sandi challenged the old man with her tone.  “Where do you get all those big words?  Do you even know what they mean?”

“Yeah, I do.  Because I read instead of sitting in front of the flickering mind mush machine all night.  It’s a good thing that kid of yours doesn’t take after his mother.”

Sandi smiled.  “He is a smart one isn’t he?  Says he wants to be a vet like his Uncle Jack.”

“Well, you tell him his Uncle Jack’s a wuss.  Cows and horses need vets a lot more than poodles and hairless cats.”

Betty Rimes was roused out of another task.  “I warned you once already, Rodger.  Why don’t you put your boots on and think about getting a little work done around this place.”

“Oh, settle down.  I’m just kiddin’ around.  But Sandi has a point about Dustin.  Looks like I’ll need some more grandbabies around here if I’m gonna con one of ‘em into taking over this place someday.”

Sandi jumped up and planted a big kiss on her father’s cheek.  “It’s definitely time for me to go.  And I really am late.  I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too.  You have a good day, honey.”

It was 11:15 on a bright fall morning.  Sam was using both hands to maneuver the creaking Land Cruiser around the spiraling entrance ramp to the short term parking garage at Albuquerque International Airport.  Sandi sat next to him and eight-year-old Dustin occupied the back seat.  Even though it was a three-hour drive from San Luis, she had insisted on going along.  After dropping Sam off, she would hit Costco and Sam’s Club for supplies for herself and several others before returning home.  The return leg of Sam’s ticket was open, and he would call her with the details as soon as he knew.

“You guys really don’t need to do this.  They don’t let you go to the gate anymore, and I don’t want you driving those mountain roads after dark.”  Sam looked concerned.

Sandi smiled.  “Plenty of time.  I know Costco and Sam’s like the back of my hand.  I’ll be out of there in no time.  Besides, you have over two hours before your flight leaves - we still have time to hit the Tia Vera’s in the terminal.  It may be your last chance for some decent food for a while.”

Dustin piped in.  “Tia Vera’s.  All right!”

Sam chuckled.  “Okay.  Okay.  You’ve convinced me.”

Tia Vera’s was a family owned restaurant as well as an Albuquerque institution.  Actually, there were three stand-alone restaurants and one at the airport.  They served authentic northern New Mexican cuisine.  Wonderful combinations of pork and beef, corn meal, hominy, red and green chili and other spices.  And sopapillas for desert - a pastry that ballooned into a puffy and crisp hollow delight when deep-fried, and was meant to be ripped open while still warm and filled with honey.  It wasn’t diet food.

“Can I have one more sopapilla, Mom?  Please?”

“Dustin, you’ve already had two.  Don’t you think that’s enough?”

“Please?”