The Wishing Garden (36 page)

But it wasn’t the police who finally drove up his dirt drive. Eli put out his cigarette and propped open his door, exposing the last of his stolen goods, before he went to meet Emma’s mother. Savannah wore a green velvet dress and black beret, and when she got out of her car, her hands were closed into tight fists, the size of birds’ eggs.

“She’s still in jail,” she said. “Bob Simon is thinking about whether or not he wants to press charges. If he doesn’t, she’ll either be tried by the county prosecutor or her father will take her to California. Either way, I doubt very much you will ever see her again.”

She would never know if her words had the desired effect, because he didn’t show a thing. Inside, though, he could feel his blood going cold, things shutting down. He had just lost the one good thing in his life, and there was no way he was getting it back.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she asked. “Did you suddenly come up with this brilliant plan to sacrifice the one person who loves you?”

Eli shrugged, but had to turn away, so she wouldn’t see his eyes. He prayed she was almost through, because he would only be able to stand there so long. His left leg was already trembling. He looked up once and the sky was blue, but when he looked again clouds were forming. Like always, he was bringing in the rain.

Savannah closed the gap between them and grabbed his collar. “I’ve heard the stories about you. You’ve had it tough. Your parents are pretty messed up. But I’ll tell you the absolute truth, Eli. You’ve got nobody to blame but yourself.”

She pushed him away and walked into his house. By the time the drizzle started and he went inside, she had laid out her cards on the floor. She sat cross-legged beside them.

“I got out my Rider-Waite deck for you,” she said. “I’m not cutting you any slack.”

He nodded. He hoped she wouldn’t. He hoped he would get only the worst cards.

She pointed to his future card. “The Empress. This is the feminine influence. A mother. Sister. Wife. Your intuition.”

“Emma,” he said.

“Oh no. Your crossing card was the Two of Cups, reversed. That’s divorce. Separation. That’s where you and Emma end.”

Eli stood up and walked around his shack. The floor had given out in two more places, and the woodstove wouldn’t burn wood anymore, only melt it down into carcinogenic ash. The worst part was not living in a place like this, or having parents like his, or dropping out of school because he was told he was stupid. The worst part had been accepting all that. It had been assuming life would not get any better. Because when it did, when Emma came along, he had not really believed it. He had known she’d have to leave him, and somehow he’d made certain she did just that.

“Look,” she said, “you’re still the Five of Wands.” He looked at the card, five young men hoisting staffs into the air. It looked like warfare to him. “Even in the Voyager deck, this is the card of oppression. Any way you look at it, you’re trapped.”

Eli stared at her. “You don’t need to curse me.”

“I’m not. You’re already cursed, though not from the reasons you think. You’ve just stopped looking for possibilities.”

They both heard the truck then, but Savannah just stared at the cards. Eli went to the door and saw Jake driving up, only two of his dogs in the bed. Eli had walked out on every job he’d ever had, but he had never felt he let anybody down, until now.

Jake got out of his truck slowly and walked into the house. He didn’t even glance at the stolen stereos. He looked straight at Savannah, and though no one would believe this, Eli could actually spot love when he saw it. He could also see when love was backfiring, twisting a man inside out.

“Are you all right?” Jake asked Savannah.

She stood up slowly. She was shaking, but Eli could tell she was not going to turn to Jake. There was something about mothers and daughters, something a man would be a fool to come between. Her eyes were firmly on Eli. “If you’re interested, your final result is The Moon. That’s the card of delusions, and it’s also a card of movement and change. Believe it or not, Eli, you might very well become a different person.”

She pushed past them both and walked out into the drizzle. She let Rufus and Gabe out of the back of the truck. The dogs knocked her down trying to kiss her. They competed for space in her lap, for the scratch of her fingers behind their ears.

In the cabin, Jake came up beside him. Eli didn’t even brace himself. He wanted a punch that would land him on the floor. He wanted someone to finally put him in his place, but all Jake did was put a hand on his shoulder.

“Emma won’t name you,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean Cal’s stupid. Next time, evidence or not, he’ll haul you in.”

“There’s not gonna be a next time.” And as he said it, he knew it was true. The only thing he wanted to steal was in jail. “I suppose I’m fired,” he went on.

“It doesn’t matter if you are. I’m leaving with Savannah.”

Eli stooped down and gathered up Savannah’s cards. He shoved them toward Jake. “Pick one.”

Jake looked at the cards. He started to take the top one, then instead fanned them out and took one from the middle. He hesitated, then turned it over. Neither of them needed Savannah to read it for them. The card was the Hermit.

“I’ll be damned,” Eli said.

Jake handed back the card and walked out. He walked up to Savannah and said something that made
her snap up her head. He gathered the dogs into his truck and drove off.

Eli still had the cards in his hand when he came out a moment later. His presence turned the drizzle to a downpour.

“What did he say?” he asked.

She didn’t even jump when lightning struck the tree behind his cabin, when she had to shout to be heard. “Sometimes the cards are wrong.”

Eli handed her the cards, but she shook her head. “You keep them. I’m trying to freak you out.”

Water dripped off her hat onto her chin, but she didn’t wipe it away. She had cigarettes in her pocket and dirt on the curl of her cheek. He wondered if she even knew herself anymore.

“You told me before the cards are only our own intuition,” he said.

“That’s right.”

“Then mine tells me I’m gonna get Emma back.”

She stared at him. For a moment he thought she smiled, but he knew that had to be a trick of the dimming light.

After she drove off, he went in and gathered his money. By the time he came back out, the storm had passed. The air that followed smelled too good for a boy like him to believe, so he lit a cigarette. Then before he could think things through, he got in his Corvette and drove to Bronco Liquor.

Bob Simon hadn’t missed a day of work and was behind the cash register when Eli Malone walked in. There was a new piece of acoustic tile on the ceiling and plywood over the bullet hole in the window.

Eli walked up to the counter, then just stood there. Bob Simon got a little skittish and reached for something beneath the register, but all Eli did was shove a hand into his pocket and come out with his
share of the cash. He flung it on the counter, then rocked back on his heels. He could have taken off then, but instead waited for Bob Simon to pick up the phone and call the cops. He waited and waited, until the silence was as good as a scream. He slammed his hand on the counter.

“Well?” he said.

Bob Simon put the money back in the cash register, where it belonged. “Well, what? Are you gonna buy something or not?”

Then the toughest nineteen-year-old in Prescott put his head in his hands and cried.

 S
IXTEEN
 T
HE
H
IEROPHANT
F
ORGIVENESS
 

B
ob Simon called while Cal was swallowing his seventh Advil of the evening. “Got a thief here who won’t stop crying,” Simon said.

Cal had wondered what Eli Malone would do. In Cal’s mind, the boy had two options—either disappear or become another person. It wasn’t as hard as people thought. All Eli had to do was look in a girl’s eyes and turn into whatever she thought him capable of. He had to wake up one morning and decide never to disappoint her again.

“You still got the girl?” Simon asked.

“Yes. Won’t tell me anything but lies.”

“Tell her if she comes in here again, I won’t show her any pity. Tell her to go get some kind of life.”

Cal smiled for the first time that day. He was going to take Bob Simon out to dinner and send all his friends to Bronco Liquor for beer. “I will.”

In another hour, he’d convinced the prosecutor to
drop the charges, as long as Emma left town. But even then, Cal didn’t call Emma’s parents with the good news. He broke yet another rule and let everyone sleep on it. He wanted everyone, himself included, to recognize how quickly a person could slip through their fingers, how much they all had to lose. He stayed at the station and didn’t sleep all night. He kept walking to the girl’s cell to check that she was breathing. At midnight, he pulled up a chair and leaned his head against the bars. Emma was feigning sleep but eventually turned around on the cot to face him.

“Everything’s ruined, isn’t it?” she said.

“No, honey. Not everything. Just give it some time.”

At dawn, he called his daughter Lanie in Philadelphia. She was seven months pregnant with a baby she would call Katherine or Kyle. “Be careful,” he told her. “Just do me a favor and be careful of everything.”

“Oh, Daddy. Don’t be silly. What could happen?”

He didn’t go into everything that could; it would take him all day and, anyway, he had things to do. He called his travel agent next and booked an open-ended flight to Philadelphia for him and Lois in October. They’d bring a pastel layette set and black-and-white picture art. They would stay until Lanie got sick of them.

Cal set his retirement date for October first. That would give the office nearly two months to find a replacement. That would give Lois enough time to get ready for him, because once he was home, he was not going to read a single paper or watch the news ever again. He was going to sit by his wife’s side and study the pattern of freckles across her nose. He was going to bask in the wonder of her hands.

At eight sharp, Cal made two more phone calls. Within the hour, Emma’s parents were in his office.
He glanced at Savannah, but turned away before he could see what his words would do to her. He looked only at Harry.

“Here’s the deal. We’ll drop the charges.” Savannah started to clap her hands, so he hurried on. “Mr. Shaw will take Emma out of state. If she runs away and shows up here again, if I see one glimpse of that face, I’ll book her on felony robbery charges.”

Harry breathed out long and slow. Savannah simply dropped her arms awkwardly to her sides. Neither of them had any idea Cal was bluffing; most people never did. once Emma was gone, the case was closed, period. He’d be glad to get rid of it. He’d take Lois out to a good steak dinner. He’d get her a little bit drunk and maybe even get lucky.

Harry looked at Savannah. “She won’t go anywhere. I can guarantee it.”

Cal hesitated as he walked past Savannah, then reached out to touch her arm. She was trembling underneath, leaning north, and he tried to right her. “I’m sorry, but you know otherwise she’d end up with those punks.”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Of course you’re right.” She surprised him by putting her hand over his. Her palms were moist, her nails short and bare. He wasn’t about to look up and see what was in her eyes. He squeezed her arm, then got out of there as quick as he could.

He went to the cell for Emma. She was still curled up in the fetal position on the tiny cot.

“You have any idea the kids who rot in here?” he asked. “The ones who don’t have any parent, let alone two of them, fighting for them?”

He could see she didn’t, because when he led her to her parents, she backed away from their hugs. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and looked like
she would scream if anyone said a word to her, so no one did. Cal had seen this a hundred times before, but he knew if he saw it once more, he’d go crazy. Turned out it wasn’t a mass murder or grisly crime scene that made up his mind about retirement, it was the brittleness of a wrecked teenager. It was a fifteen-year-old’s sorrow, raw around the edges and charged with desperation. It was the panic on her parents’ faces when they looked at this girl they didn’t know or understand, panic that would not go away until she hit twenty and decided life was worth living after all. Until then, they would hide the aspirin and razor blades and blame each other for her melancholy. They would cry into their pillows and wonder how this could be, when they had loved her more than anything, probably more than a parent even should.