“And?” Muriel asked.
Shelby laughed. “For someone who insisted marriage and family would never be in his future, he can’t wait. If it was up to Luke, we’d take off for the justice of the peace. But his mother would absolutely kill him if he did that.”
“You’d better plan enough in advance so I can make it,” Muriel warned.
“Really?” Shelby asked. “You’d come?”
“Of course I’d come. It’ll take some planning, and maybe some conniving, if I’m still on this movie when you do it.”
“Muriel, are you anxious to get back to the movie?” Vanessa asked her.
“In a way,” she said with a shrug. “Sometimes the chemistry is so good on a set, with all the people involved, that it’s like forming a family. That’s not typical. It’s like all the planets lined up—the script, the cast, the crew, the direction. And I think the fact that we’re going to Montana rather than New Delhi or Greenland gives everyone a real positive attitude. Montana in the summer—a great idea. A lot of people are bringing families.” She was quiet for a moment. “They could have filmed here,” she said as she moved her mare down the river path, right between Vanni and Shelby on their mounts. “The setting is just as good, the weather just as wonderful in summer.”
“You’re going to miss the general,” Vanessa said.
“Oh, yes,” she admitted. “I wish he’d come to Montana. At least for a visit. They rented me a small house up there.”
“Have you asked him?”
“Uh-huh. Something about that idea bothers him. He keeps saying we’ll see. Maybe it’s because I’ll be putting in long hours—I had to tell the truth about that. But really, I suspect Walt doesn’t think he can fit into my world.”
“Are you two serious?” Vanni asked. Muriel shot her a look and Vanni actually blushed. “I mean, are you… I mean, you don’t have to say anything…. I mean, I was just wondering if— Oh, hell, mind your own business, Vanessa!” she self-admonished.
“What’s serious?” Muriel asked. “Do I think he’s just about the greatest man I’ve ever met? I do. If I started to list all the things that make him wonderful, we wouldn’t have time. Are we going to get married or anything like that? No. But could this fantastic relationship we have go on for a long time? Why not?”
“I hate to put my foot in my mouth all over again, but why are you so sure you won’t get married?” Vanni asked.
“Darling, I’ve had five husbands and a number of steady guys. Why would I attempt that again? I’d like to think it was their fault, but what if I’m the one who’s not so good at it? And why would Walt take a chance on a woman who’s had five husbands and a number of steady guys? Especially when this friendship we have feels… Well, it feels perfect. I wouldn’t want to screw it up. Besides, there’s no panic—my clock isn’t ticking. Hell, I threw it against the wall years ago.”
“But aren’t you afraid of—” Vanni shut her mouth before she did it again.
“Afraid of what, darling?”
She took a deep breath. “Afraid of growing old alone?”
Muriel laughed lightly. “Oh, you’re so young. No, I’m not afraid of growing old alone. I’m afraid of growing old trapped.”
They were quiet for a few long seconds. Then Shelby said, “Wow. I never even thought of that.”
“Why would you? Either of you? You’re young, in love, have long, steady lives ahead. And I certainly don’t feel that ending up with a man like Walt would trap me in any way, it’s not that.” She looked steadily at Vanni, then Shelby, then ahead at the gloriously rising mountains covered with towering trees. “I don’t think I could live with myself if I trapped him. What if there was another role that intrigued me, that I wanted to try? I thought I was ready for retirement, to leave the movie business behind, but then a great role for a fifty-six-year-old woman came to me and I found it irresistible. And here I am, not wanting to pass it up, yet not wanting to leave Walt and this wonderful life behind.” She laughed. “It’s been years since I’ve faced a dilemma like this. Really, I had sworn off men.”
“I’m just guessing here,” Vanessa said. “But somehow I don’t think Daddy would feel trapped by you or your career.”
Muriel was quiet for a long time. Then she said, “I don’t know about that. He keeps asking me when the filming will be done, but he won’t even commit to a long weekend visit in Montana.” Then after another few minutes of silence, Muriel said, “I probably should have given up acting to breed horses years ago.”
There was a time, before Jack had two children, Preacher had his two, Mike and Paul one each, before the living quarters at the bar were enlarged for Preacher’s family and before everyone had their own homes on the outskirts of town, that it was standard for the same gang to meet for dinner several times a week. Now they had to make an effort to all be there on the same night.
It’s not as though this bothered Jack much—he saw everyone every day. Sometimes a day or two went by without his seeing one or two of the women, but the guys would always stop by for lunch or a beer or something. He was missing the old squad, though. Time for a Semper Fire union. He wanted the brotherhood around to bolster him. All this came to mind because he was leaving in the morning for San Diego; he was going to pick up Rick and bring him home.
Rick didn’t want the escort. He told Jack to stay home and if it wasn’t too much trouble, catch him at the bus when he got in. Like Jack was some neighbor guy he didn’t want to impose on or something. The kid was coming home after being blown up in Iraq, and Jack, who loved him as much or more than anyone, shouldn’t go to any trouble? That wasn’t how it worked. Not in his experience.
Mike walked in the back door and right behind the bar. He liked to get his own beer. He also liked to stand back there with Jack. Then, not a minute later, the sound of Paul kicking the mud off his boots on the porch could be heard, and he walked in. He sat up at the bar and tapped it twice, his signal that he was ready for a beer.
Another minute passed. Then Paul said, “Ready to go?”
Jack should have known they were there to give him a little moral support. The whole ordeal with Rick had been a load for everyone, but clearly hardest on Jack. “Yup,” Jack said. “I’ll leave at about 5:00 a.m. if I sleep in, then drive down, spend the night, scoop him up and bring him home.”
“Be good to have him home,” Mike said.
“He’s not like he was,” Jack said. “He’s got a peg leg and a giant bug up his ass.”
“None of us were like we were. For a while,” Paul said. “He’s a kid. He’ll get through it. Or we’ll get him through it.”
“Mel’s working on finding someone for him to talk to. A professional,” Jack said. “I have PT all worked out, but he needs other stuff, too.”
“Liz know he’s on the way home?” Mike asked.
“Yeah. Because I told her. Rick couldn’t be bothered to pick up the phone when she called him, or call her back. Almost two months and he didn’t take even one of her calls.” He grimaced and shook his head. “Really, I want to choke him, but I know what’s going on. And I know he can’t help it.”
“He’s screwed up,” Paul said.
“He just doesn’t know how tough it’s going to be when he’s ready to start unscrewing himself, if he keeps burning all his bridges,” Jack said. “Ask me how much I look forward to ten hours in the truck with him?”
“Maybe he’ll sleep.”
“Go easy on him, Jack. You said it yourself—it’s not like he wants to be messed up.”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s just tough. I’ve always been amazed at how strong he is. Right now—his glass is not half-full. Know what I mean?”
“Well, everyone’s entitled to be imperfect sometimes,” Mike said.
“Yeah. It’s just that…”
“What?” Paul asked.
“It’s just that I can take about anything but self-pity. Anything. But feeling sorry for yourself is the most candy-assed thing you can cave into.”
Mike chuckled. “Because you never indulged? Oh my brother, I did some self-pity that would’ve put your head on fire. Man, I was in a hole so deep…”
“But you got out,” Jack said. “You climbed out.”
“Not when you were ready, Jack. When I was,” Mike said. “Go easy.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Maybe I should go,” Mike suggested. “Jack, you never really got shot up. Or blown up. Maybe I should go.”
“I’m going,” Jack said. “I’ll go easy.”
The next morning, Jack pocketed the cell phone he only took when he would be out of the mountains and had reception. He threw his duffel in the back of the truck and Mel said, “Jack, try to be patient. Your expectations of him have always been high. You miss him, you want him to bounce back, be his old self because you care about him, because you miss him.”
“I know,” Jack said. “And because I don’t want him to feel any pain. Everyone is so ready to help him with any pain or fear or worry he has, and he’s got this wall. It’s awful.”
“Let him talk. Try not to tell him how he should feel.”
“I know,” Jack said. “And if he doesn’t talk?”
“Remember that you want him to talk because you miss him. If he doesn’t want to talk yet, let him be quiet.”
“I just want to know why he couldn’t at least call Liz and tell her what’s—”
“Jack, that’s between them. When he gets home he’s going to have to work it out because she’ll be around and he can’t send her to voice mail when she’s standing right in front of him. Jesus, this is your weakness. You, who didn’t fall in love till you were forty, think you can fix up everyone’s relationships.” She shook her head. She got up on her toes and kissed him. “Well, your heart’s in the right place, that’s for sure. Make sure your mouth is in the right place, too. Closed.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And for God’s sake, drive carefully. I need you back.”
Nine
When Cameron got to the clinic in the morning, he had a patient waiting. Mel had arrived early, opened up the office, and checked in a young mother and her eighteen-month-old son who suffered with an obvious ear infection. He had a fever, was batting his ears and crying. Mel could have handled it, but knowing Cameron was due, she waited for the pediatrician.
In no time, he had sent them on their way with Tylenol, antibiotic and decongestant. Then he found Mel in the kitchen. “I usually beat you here,” he said.
“Aw, Jack left this morning for San Diego. He’s gone to pick up Rick. And he’s not handling the situation all that well. He didn’t sleep much, was up by four, anxious to get on the road, troubled about the whole ordeal. There was such a ruckus around the house, the kids woke up too early and they’re all cranky, so I left them having morning naps at their aunt Brie’s. We’re all out of sorts.” She took a breath. “Jack’s so worried about Rick. And sometimes when Jack gets worried, he acts out.” She shook her head. “He has so much love in his heart. He just wants his people—the people he loves—to be all right.”
“God,” Cameron said. “You have no idea how nice that sounded.”
“It did?”
“You can’t imagine what it would mean to me if the right woman said that about me.”