Sharing Sam (10 page)

She nodded, chewing on a fry.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“How old I would be in half a century. Sixty.” She seemed relieved. “Sixty. That’s really old.”

I smiled. “Ancient. Petrified, practically.”

“Okay, then,” she said, brightening. She handed me a fry, and for some reason I felt a little better too.

We had just passed the sign for Jungle Gardens, one of those mini-attractions with grayish alligators and tired bird acts, when Sara pointed to a figure on horseback up ahead, moving sluggishly along the shoulder of the busy road.

“That’s gotta be an act from the show,” she said.

“He shouldn’t be out here in this traffic,” I said.

“He’s got a parrot on his head. What else could it be?”

I put on the brakes. Ahead of us, other cars slowed too, eyeing the little figure on the aging nag as the two meandered through a Jiffy Lube lot.

“And there are dogs with him,” Sara continued.

A cop car ahead of us pulled into the Jiffy Lube. “You think they’ll arrest him?” Sara asked. “I mean, it’s not like it’s a crime to be weird in this country, is it? Poor old guy, he looks lost.”

“He is lost.” I pulled into the lot next to the Jiffy Lube.

“Why are we stopping? I’ll be late.”

“The man on the horse. He’s sort of a friend of mine.”

I parked the car. The cops were already approaching Morgan, waving their arms. He saluted back.

“You know that guy?” Sara asked.

“Yeah.” I sighed and pulled the keys from the ignition. “We went to Vegas once.”

It took a while, a long while, but I got everything worked out. I called Sam at his job and he came over right away. The police were very nice. After all, the state was loaded with little old people who didn’t know where they were going.

I volunteered to ride Clementine, Morgan’s horse, home, and the cops drove Morgan back to his trailer. Sara had her choice—cop car or motorcycle ride with Sam. No contest. She climbed on the bike and hugged Sam gingerly, as if she were holding an expensive, very breakable vase on loan. Then she gave me a victorious grin and they roared off together.

When I got to Morgan’s trailer I found Sara and Morgan sitting on the front steps, talking animatedly. Sam was sitting in the Cadillac, the top down, sipping a Coke, his eyes somewhere else.

“Once again, Alison to the rescue,” he said as we clomped up.

“Well, technically, I’m supposed to ride up on a white steed.” I dismounted and stroked the horse’s mane. “How old is this gal, anyway?”

“Very. Morgan used to own a ranch in New Mexico. That was after a stint as a logger in Oregon. And his bouncer-in-Vegas phase.”

I glanced at the old man. I felt certain that if a stiff breeze came up he’d dissolve in the wind like a dandelion puff.

“
Morgan
was a bouncer?” I asked.

“At a casino.”

“Al! Watch this!” Sara called. The parrot was on her shoulder. She whistled, and the pack of dogs surrounded her. A clap, a twist of her hand, and all four did a simultaneous backflip.

I blinked in disbelief.

“Oh, yeah,” Sam said. “I forgot the part where he trained animals for the Ringling Brothers circus.”

“You’re not kidding.”

Sam smiled slowly. “Nope. Morgan’s had quite a life.”

“Is that how he ended up here, in Sarasota?” The city had been the winter home of the circus for many years.

“Yeah, he had a lot of friends here. They’re dead now, mostly. Or gone.”

“The little dogs ride on the big ones’ backs, too,” Sara called. “And the poodles can ride Clementine.”

“Not right now,” I said. “She’s had a tough day. She needs to be cooled down, then hayed and watered.”

“I’ll do it,” Sara said. “Okay, Morgan?”

Morgan nodded vaguely. He looked impossibly tired, but very content.

“I can’t believe Morgan was able to ride that far,” I said softly. “To tell you the truth, I can’t even believe he managed to climb on.”

“It varies,” Sam said. “Sometimes he’s perfectly coherent, some days he doesn’t know his own name. He’ll lie in bed for a week at a time, then he’ll get full of energy and pull some stunt like this.”

He glanced over at Morgan and a look passed between them.

Sam’s jaw tensed.

I gave Clementine to Sara and went over to Morgan.

“Well,” I said. “Quite an adventure, eh? You must be tired.”

“I am,” he said. “A little.”

“How about a nap?”

“Poker after that?”

“We’ll see. Come on.” I held out my arm and he took it.

Inside, the trailer was dark and tidy. There was a small bed, a couch, an ancient and very tiny gas stove, a TV set with an aluminum foil antenna. I led him to the bed in the corner. He lay down obediently but with a hint of distaste, like a tired little kid conceding naptime. I covered him with the old handmade quilt at the foot of the bed.

“Morgan?” I asked. “Where were you going today?”

He worked his mouth, looking past me. “I guess,” he said, “I never thought to ask.”

“I was just curious.”

He closed his eyes. “Tonight we’ll go to Vegas. Or else Wisconsin.”

“Either one would be fine,” I said, but he was already asleep.

The sun was blinding after the shadowy trailer. I joined Sam in the car.

“He didn’t used to be that way,” Sam told me, running his finger around the nubbed rim of the wheel. “It’s just the past year or so that he’s changed. He was always so—” he looked up at the sky, as if he could find the words there, “so much more
real
than anyone else I knew.”

I reclined my seat and let the sun melt me into it. “You must have seen him a lot when you were a kid, huh? My grandparents are all up north.”

“It wasn’t like that, exactly.” Sam turned in his seat. “Hey, you want some lunch or something? I owe you.”

“No, thanks. I kind of like just sitting here.”

“I’ll take you back to get your car whenever you want.”

“No rush. Sara’s having a blast with the greatest show on earth over there. She was supposed to go to a basketball game, but I think the bike ride with you trumped it big time.” I closed my eyes. “Morgan told me we were going to Vegas tonight. That, or Wisconsin.”

“He lived in both of those places. And a hundred others,” Sam said. “I’d go see him every summer, sometimes during the school year too. Didn’t matter where he was.” He shook his head. “Once I spent four weeks with him on a shrimp boat in the Gulf.”

“How old were you?”

“Seven. It was great. I decided I was meant to be a pirate. Turned out I was allergic to seafood.”

“I can’t believe your mom let you go.”

“She didn’t let me go. She sent me.”

I sat up just as Sam reclined his own seat. “She sent you? Your mom sent you away to a shrimp boat when you were seven?”

Sam closed his eyes. “She sent me all kinds of places, me and my two brothers.”

“Did she send you here, too?”

Sam shook his head. “No, this I did all on my own. She thinks I’m slightly crazy, coming down here.”

“I don’t understand.”

He didn’t reply. I leaned on my elbow, watching him. His cheeks and arms were reddened by the sun. With his eyes closed, he looked younger, more vulnerable.

He reached out for my hand. I hesitated, then I took it, and he held on tightly. His eyes were still closed, his other arm was back behind his head, his feet were up on the dash. He might have been taking an afternoon nap, except for the way he squeezed my hand.

“When I was growing up,” Sam said, “it wasn’t all that good. My mom and dad fought. A lot. They were pros at it. When summer rolled around, my mom would ship us off to wherever my grandfather was. My grandmother died when she was still young, and my grandfather was kind of footloose, but I suppose my mom thought it would give us kids some breathing room. In her own weird way, she was trying to do us a favor.” He sighed. “When I was nine or so, my dad split for good. For years my mom swore he was coming back; it was pretty pathetic. I always liked Morgan for that. I’d ask him if my dad was coming back and he’d say that was about as likely as pigs flying.”

“Well, your mom … she was probably trying to protect you.”

Sam opened his eyes. “Sometimes it’s better just to hear the truth and get it over with, Alison. Anyway, my mom kind of lost it for a while—a nervous breakdown, I guess you’d say. They were all set to stash us in foster homes, but Morgan showed up right as they were packing our bags, literally.” He laughed ruefully. “Talk about your white knight. He took care of us till my mom got better. After that he moved around some more, and then he ended up here.”

Sara ran through the field, flanked by the dogs. Watching her, we both smiled. “So why did you come down to Florida?” I asked. “You said your mom didn’t want you to.”

“Morgan took a Greyhound up to Detroit for a visit this last Christmas. A neighbor took care of the animals. Only problem
was, he ended up in Kalamazoo, not Detroit. I mean, he was really out of it. So my mom started thinking that maybe it was time to put him in a home. But when she mentioned it Morgan went ballistic. Mostly because he couldn’t bear to leave the animals, but also, I think, because he knew it meant … you know, the beginning of the end. I mean, those homes will kill you. My mom didn’t want to do it, it really tore her up, but there didn’t seem to be any alternative. Until—”

“Until you decided to come down and look out for Morgan yourself,” I said.

“Well, that’s the idea, anyway. Mom’s worried I can’t handle him, but I had to try. Morgan was always there for me when I needed him.”

Sam let go of my hand. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, staring at the trailer affectionately. “I just want to … you know, keep an eye on things. Not forever, I know it can’t last forever, but for a while longer. If I can just keep Morgan under control, I know I can make it work. My mom’s sending me money, and I’ve got my job, and Morgan had a little cash saved up …”

“But you’re missing so much school, Sam. And the police today, and Morgan taking the car out—”

“I know.” He clutched the wheel. “Believe me, I know.” He reached into his jeans pocket and handed me a folded letter. “From the vice-principal. One more unexcused absence and I’m history.”

“They can’t do that.”

“Actually, Lutz has been pretty cool. He knew the situation going in, and he and the teachers have cut me a lot of slack.”

“I think … I think what you did, coming down here to take care of him, was really sweet.”

“Yeah, I’m one sweet guy,” Sam said. He looked at me, his eyes damp. “If only you’d known him before, Alison. I mean, he just loved life so much. Nothing scared him. He was so free.” He scowled. “Those homes are like cages. When my mom brought it up, it was the only time I’d ever seen Morgan cry.”

He dropped his head onto the wheel. “God, you must be thinking I’m insane.”

“I don’t think that at all,” I said. “I think it’s wonderful, what you’re trying to do.”

He turned his head toward me, still leaning on the wheel. He looked so hopeful, it hurt to see it.

“There’s this neighbor, Jane. The one you saw here the other day? Her husband had Alzheimer’s, so she knows what it’s like. And she’s really fond of Morgan. Sometimes she comes over and keeps an eye on him for me. I think that if I can just work out the scheduling, I can pull this off. I can’t be with him all the time, obviously. But I’ll do the best I can. I just have to make him understand that this will work only if he’s on his best behavior.”

“I could help,” I offered. “I could come over sometimes, when you’re working.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I can’t drag you into this too.”

“I like Morgan,” I said. “He told me I have a nice caboose.”

“That was his parrot. Although it’s true. Thanks for offering, though.” Sam cocked his head. “What are you smiling at?”

“I was just thinking … I’d heard all those rumors about you, and I’d considered all sorts of bizarre possibilities. This one never occurred to me, though.”

“You think I’m demented.”

“Actually, I think you’re amazing. In a demented sort of way.”

Sam leaned toward me. He cupped my face in his hands, gazing at me as if he were seeing me for the first time. The barest breeze rustled the grass. After a moment he let go and we sat there silently, watching as Sara marched the dogs across the field.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said suddenly.

“About what?”

“Izzy and all that. I want to help. I just … I couldn’t pretend that way.”

“It was probably dumb. Demented, you might even say.”

“Not demented. Noble.” Sam grinned, but I could tell he was serious. “Altruistic.”

I thought about my mom’s words the day before. “Not so noble.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe there’s a tiny amount of guilt mixed in.”

“What kind of guilt?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Part of it is that it seems wrong to have something good happen to me right now. You know, when something so bad is happening to someone I care about.”

“And the other part?”

“Never mind. I’ll sound like I’m twelve.”

Sam smiled knowingly.

“Okay, guilt, as in …” I hesitated. “As in I liked you from the day we met, but then only a few hours after that, Izzy said she liked you, and I didn’t want to bring it up because she’d just found out about being sick.” I came up for air.

“You liked me.”

“Yes.”
I love you
, I added silently.

“And now you’re willing to give me up for the good of mankind.”

“No. For the good of Izzy.” I opened the door. “Look, I should get back to my car,” I said. “I’ll go get Sara.”

Sam drummed his fingers on the wheel. I could see he was working his way to a decision about something.

“Alison,” he said at last, “I have bad feelings about this. I think it’s a mistake. Not for you and me, but for Izzy.” He paused briefly, then added, “Whatever we do, we have to make sure we don’t hurt her.”

Suddenly I realized what he was saying. I felt a strange, combustible mixture of elation and defeat.

“Of course we have to make sure we don’t hurt her,” I said softly.

“You’re still convinced this is a good idea?”