Love Mercy Part 22

She glanced over at Dale's profile, then past him to the Pacific Ocean, a s.h.i.+ny, glossy blue that made her head hurt, it was so pretty. For this little while, she told herself, she could pretend. This would be all she'd have for the rest of her life, this one moment of pretending that he chose her. She knew she should be mad. He was a jerk and a phony and made her feel totally humiliated. Still, she was glad to be with him. As pathetic as that was, she was glad.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked, glancing at her, giving her that c.o.c.ky smile that made her stomach lurch like she would throw up if the car turned too fast.

"I don't know. Just drive."

She looked back at the hills. They reminded her of something she'd seen on television once. A songwriter-she couldn't remember who-told the interviewer that there was a story in everything, a reason to write a song, that you just had to discover what it was. It was kind of like what her grandma had said, that Rett should look at this situation as an experience, pain she had to go through to really understand life. That helped a little and also made her see the hills going past her window in a different way. She tried to study them with a more open mind, not trying to imagine perfect green hills, but appreciate them for what they were right this moment. As she did, she realized they weren't just a plain brown but a complex palate of browns and golds and tans. If she stared long enough, shapes appeared: lazy-looking lions and the shadowed faces of old men, their crevices deep and mysterious with age, the deep green oak trees looking like eyes and mouths. These were, she realized in that moment, the same hills and oak trees that her father saw growing up. What had he thought as he watched them change with the seasons? Did he miss them when he moved to Tennessee? Did they come to him in his dreams like parts of him-his eyes, a word or two, the feel of his hands-sometimes haunted hers? That elusive scent of him, his voice saying her name, like the bridge of a song she barely remembered. She wanted to ask Love more about Tommy. But she was afraid. Maybe her grandma would start crying, and Rett didn't know if she could stand that.

These hills were the same ones the pioneers saw hundreds of years ago and the Indians before them and before the Indians, who knew? They'd been through so much, these hills, these old, gnarled oak trees, these jagged rocks. She tried to imagine that-eternity-time before she existed and time after she was gone. Where did a person go when they died? She knew about heaven and h.e.l.l, what she was taught, but sometimes it didn't seem real to her. Was her father in heaven? Where was heaven, anyway? Her head was starting to hurt with the complexity of it all.

"Looks like you're trying to solve the problems of the world over there," Dale said, chuckling.

She looked at him, amazed at first by his insight, then a little annoyed. He was joking, of course. She wondered what he'd do if she told him, Why, yes, that's actually what I was trying to do.

She narrowed her eyes. "Why did you tell me you loved me when you were sleeping with my sister?"

Her blunt question caught him by surprise. The car swerved to the middle of the road, hitting the divide b.u.mps, jarring her teeth.

"Man, where did that come from?" He pulled the car back to their lane, the road smooth again. "I'm glad no one was coming at us from the other side when you threw that bomb at me."

She studied the side of his face, its unshaven cheeks, his shadowed eyes, full of impossible promises. She knew what those cheeks felt like against her own soft skin, the taste of him, smoky and sweet and full of mysteries she wanted to experience. Then Patsy's face seeped into the picture, a ghost lover, his real lover. As always, Patsy knew so much more than Rett, even in this. Rett wondered for the first time if, maybe, she couldn't have done a lot better choosing her first love. Yeah, right, a little voice inside her cracked. Like a person can choose.

"What in the heck," she said, trying to make her voice hard, "did you think we were going to talk about on this drive? The weather? Your mama's corn bread recipe? Your freakin' upcoming tour of a lifetime?"

He frowned and gripped the steering wheel with both hands: ten o'clock and two o'clock, she remembered from her driving lessons in high school. She could see the tension in his flexing fingers. "I a.s.sumed we'd talk about how you were going to give me back my banjo. Then, well, say good-bye and stuff. That's what I thought we'd talk about." He glanced over at her, giving her a tentative smile. "Look, we had some nice times. You gotta admit that. We had some laughs."

He abruptly pulled over to the side of the road, coasting to a stop. He unbuckled his seat belt, turned to her and took her face in his hands. He looked deep into her eyes, that lazy half smile on his face. She tried to pull away, but he held tight, his warm hands enticing her, pulling her back into that place that both intrigued and frightened her.

"Rett," he said, his voice low. "You know I never meant to hurt you. You are so special." He bent his head close, and she knew if she had an ounce of pride, she'd stop him right now. But she couldn't. She had to taste him one more time. His lips grazed hers, a soft kiss full of promise, fake promise she knew, but she could pretend for a few seconds. He pulled her closer and kissed her again, deeply, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, his tongue tasting like b.u.t.ter, his scent enveloping her in a musky, leathery cloud of longing.

"Oh, baby, I've missed this," he said, murmuring against her lips.

Her spine stiffened. He didn't say her. This. He missed this. Not her. This. She shoved him away. "Stop it."

Not appearing surprised or angry, he laughed, rebuckled his seat belt and turned the ignition. They didn't speak for the next few minutes. He whistled softly under his breath while she inwardly screamed at herself: Stupid, stupid, stupid girl.

Up ahead she saw a parking lot filled with cars, a scenic outlook. "Pull over." Better to be where there were other people so she wouldn't be tempted again. Besides, she needed some air.

He flipped his left turn blinker and pulled into the gravel parking lot. There were about twenty or so cars parked facing the ocean. People stood in front of a fence looking out at the deep green and blue Pacific.

"What're they looking at?" he asked.

She jumped out of the car without answering and walked over to the fence. Down below on the wet sand, right on the edge of the ocean, were hundreds of what looked like silvery walruses.

"Our newest pup is over there," an old man in a blue jacket said to her, pointing at what looked like a smaller walrus. He handed her a pink sheet of paper. "Probably weighs sixty pounds or so."

"What are they?" she asked.

"Elephant seals," he said, pointing to his jacket. The patch above his heart read Friends of the Elephant Seal.

"Bizarre," Dale said, walking up to them.

"Not at all, young man," the old man said. "They're really quite amazing. The adult males swim all the way to Alaska and back during the year. Like to see you try that." He winked at Rett, then walked over to another car pulling up filled with young kids. "Follow the walkway to get a better view," he called over his shoulder. "But stay on this side of the fence. Don't throw anything at them. And no feeding them."

"Yes, sir," Dale muttered under his breath. "Hey, this is kinda lame. Plus they smell. Want to go find someplace to eat?"

"No," Rett said. "I want to see the elephant seals." She started walking along the path that ran along the fence. She didn't look back to see if he followed. He ran up beside her, grabbing at her hand. She jerked away. "Let's go all the way to the end of the walkway." He grumbled under his breath but followed her.

The elephant seals' skin looked silvery in the sunlight, though as Rett looked closer, she could make out an amazing number of shades: gray, blue, white and brown. They reminded Rett of the hills she'd just seen. The seals lay next to each other in long lines, like girls sunbathing at a public pool. Other groups appeared to have been tossed there, like bait-fish in a tank. Some lay alone, basking in the weak winter sunlight. The best were the babies, whose eyes looked like s.h.i.+ny black jewels. She wished she could see closer and envied the people carrying cameras with telephoto lenses. One baby was all alone, down near the edge of the water, and she wondered which of the barrel-shaped seals was its mother. She leaned as far as she could over the fence, trying to see better.

"Here," an older woman said next to her. She held out a pair of huge black binoculars. "You can see more detail with these." The woman wore tan cargo pants and a faded navy sweats.h.i.+rt.

"Thanks," Rett said. She put them up to her eyes. An involuntary "Oh" escaped from her lips. The little seal seemed to be staring straight at Rett, the mysteries of the ocean smoldering in its black eyes.

"Yes, it is quite astounding," the woman said. "Your first time here?"

Rett gripped the binoculars. "They're beautiful."

"Yes, they are. I've come all times of the year, and they are always different. Did you get a brochure?"

Rett nodded, lowering the binoculars to look at the woman.

"They can weigh up to five thousand pounds, and each male has his own territory, where he has thirty to forty females."

"Sounds like a good deal to me," Dale said, grinning.

Rett turned to frown at him. His face flushed. She turned back to the woman, who was brus.h.i.+ng back her kinky gray hair. "They seem so peaceful," Rett said.

"Right now they are," the woman said, gesturing over at a bunch lying in a row as neat as canned sardines. "They started arriving in November and, boy, did they put on a rough-and-ready show. They bellowed and fought like a bunch of adolescent boys." She glanced over at Dale and raised her eyebrows. "The females start arriving in December. You're seeing the first of them. The babies are just now starting to be born, and we'll see pups until early February. I've been lucky enough to witness one giving birth."

Rett glanced over at Dale, whose bored expression kind of p.i.s.sed her off. The lady's remark struck a nerve in Rett, though, a reminder that she and Dale still had Patsy and the baby to discuss.

"Three thousand pups were born last year," the woman said. "There's always something going on: mating, birthing, breeding, pups crying and nursing, females squabbling, males trying to one-up each other. And then they leave. Not all at once, but the females leave their weaned babies to go back out to sea to feed, the babies stay here and learn to swim when the males are out feeding too. Then the juveniles and females come back to molt around March. The grown males come back around July looking like a bunch of homeless wanderers, all scruffy and tattered. Six weeks later after their molting, they are sleek as Vegas con men. The adolescent males are the most fun to watch. They're just big old show-offs." The woman's smile showed beige, even teeth. "I name my favorites, take photos and put them up on my refrigerator. It's exciting if I recognize them the next year. I suppose I should get a life."

Rett listened to the woman, amazed at how she was so excited about these seals, seemed to just love being here. It was cool, really, how people loved things, like she loved making music, like she loved . . . she almost thought, Dale. She turned to look at him. He'd walked away in the middle of the woman's stories. He stood over by the fence, ignoring a duet of squirrels chattering at him, begging for food. He glanced at his watch, then looked over at the car.

"You might want to reconsider that one," the older woman commented. "I've had three husbands. Outlived them all. And trust me, the one I miss the most was my third husband, Mitch. He and I saw life the same way, thought the same things were beautiful. That makes all the difference in the world."

It embarra.s.sed Rett that Dale didn't see how amazing these animals were, how cool this old lady was.

"I'll take that under advis.e.m.e.nt," she said, not remembering where she'd heard that, but she thought it sounded kinda cool and adult.

The old woman threw back her head and laughed. Her frizzy hair blew around her head like a cotton candy halo. "You do that, young woman. I think you can do better, though I do see the natural attraction. He's a fine-looking one."

Rett laughed with her, although if someone had asked her to put into words what was funny, she doubted that she could have. "Yeah, I guess he is."

"Looks fade," the woman said. "A good heart doesn't."

"Thanks," Rett said, handing back the binoculars. "For letting me use these, and, like, all the information."

"Stay true," the woman said, turning back to the seals.

"Let's go," Rett said, when she walked up to Dale. "I've seen enough."

"Yeah, okay," he said. "I mean, seen one seal, seen them all, right?"

She didn't answer.

In the car, he asked, "Where to now?"

"Back to Morro Bay. Drop me off at the b.u.t.tercream Cafe, and I'll fetch your banjo for you."

He nodded, turning on the ignition. "Are we, like, cool on everything?"

She took a deep breath, wis.h.i.+ng she could just let go, scream, hit him, force this car into a ditch. But what would that prove? And who would it help? Be true, the elephant seal woman had said. What did she mean? For Rett to be true to herself, to be a true person, to tell the truth? The truth right now was that she wasn't sure she'd ever forgive Dale. Would she forgive Patsy? If her sister hadn't known Dale was seeing both of them, there wouldn't really be anything to forgive. The fault was all his. Somehow, she didn't believe Patsy knew. For one thing, Patsy was horrible at keeping any kind of secret. And, Rett wanted to believe, she wouldn't do that to her sister.

"No, we're not at all cool. What you did was disgusting. I'm giving you your banjo back because it was wrong of me to take it. And me doing something wrong doesn't even out you doing something wrong. I wish I never had to see you again, but because of Patsy being pregnant, we probably will. Are you going to marry her?"

He held up both hands. "Whoa, where'd that come from? Patsy and I aren't anywhere close to that kind of relations.h.i.+p."

At that moment, if Rett had a knife, she swore she'd stick it in his gut. "You make me sick. You're having a baby with her, you freakazoid! You'd better not let her go through this alone."

"I never said that. But, Rett, baby, this gig I was offered is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Patsy wouldn't want me to give it up."

That's where you're wrong, Rett thought.

"Take me back to town," Rett said, buckling her seat belt. "Then you go back to your hotel and wait for my call. I have the banjo in a safe place. You'll have it by tomorrow. My word."

"Why can't I go with you to pick it up?"

She gave him a look-her Killer Karla look, as she and her sisters called it. One of the valuable things their mom inadvertently pa.s.sed on to them. It never failed. He instantly shut up.

They didn't speak the whole drive back to Morro Bay.

When he dropped her off in front of the b.u.t.tercream, he said, "Are you sure I can't-"

"I'll call you," she said, jumping out and slamming the door.

The coffeepot-shaped clock above the cash register read four thirty-two. The cafe was almost empty, with only two old men in beat-up cowboy hats sitting at the counter eating pie and reading the newspaper. Rett could hear a male voice singing in the kitchen, a Gillian Welch song about a man whose daughter had died and who warned listeners that no one gets everything they want in life and until you die and face Jesus, there's no use wondering why. Rett had always thought it was one of Gillian's best songs.

Magnolia stood in front of the silver and black Bunn coffeemaker singing along with the voice in the kitchen. Rett listened to them, mesmerized by their perfect harmony. Magnolia's voice was as good as any pro that Rett had heard in Nashville. She remembered that Love told her that Magnolia had been a professional singer. Rocky had said she still sang in some bar once a month. Did she ever regret giving up her career in Vegas to be a pastor's wife and a cafe owner? Magnolia belted out the chorus, still not aware Rett was listening. The words tore at Rett's heart every time she heard them. Magnolia's deep, rich contralto had an aching, mountain vibrato that gave the words an authenticity Rett could feel in her bones.

When the last note reverberated in the room, Rett gave in to her spontaneous urge and clapped.

Magnolia whirled around, surprised. "Oh, my land. I didn't know anyone had come in."

Rett glanced at the cowbell that had clamored when she opened the door.

"That thing," Magnolia said, dismissing it with the wave of a red-nailed hand. "It don't even register in my brainpan anymore." She picked up a white bar towel and folded it in half.

"I love Gillian Welch," Rett said, walking up to the counter and sitting down. "I wish I could write like her."

"She is one talented young woman," Magnolia said. She wiped the counter, despite the fact it was clean as a dentist's tray. "What can I get you?"

"See you later, Magnolia," one old man said, standing up. The other man did the same. "Good b.u.t.terscotch pie. It's a keeper."

"Thanks, boys. Y'all come back." She turned back to Rett. "So, are you hungry? How about a piece of b.u.t.terscotch pie? Shug just made it." She nodded her head at the skinny, bald man Rett could see in the kitchen's pa.s.s-through. He lifted a flour-dusty hand.

"Sure," Rett said.

Magnolia cut her a piece, poured her a cup of black coffee, then leaned against the back counter. "So, I see that boy dropped you off. Did y'all get your ducks in a row?"

Rett looked down at the meringue-topped pie. Its sweet, b.u.t.tery scent caused her stomach to rumble. She'd only eaten half her soup for lunch and wondered what Love was going to have for dinner. She took a big bite, then said, "Yeah, I guess so. I suppose my grandma told you the whole pathetic story."

Magnolia nodded. "It's a mess. But not unfixable. I'd say you got the raw end of the deal."

Rett looked up at her in surprise. "I thought everyone would think that Patsy did."

Magnolia contemplated the folded bar towel in her hands. "Oh, I'm not saying your big sister hasn't got herself a hard row to hoe. But at least she'll get people's sympathy when he takes off. And, trust me, he will. Haven't met too many young buck musicians like him who were very dependable. She'll have her some sad, lonely nights. But you have to suffer in silence while you're feeling pretty much the same humiliation. That's hard. I've been there. My younger sister married the man I was in love with, and I had to be one of her bridesmaids. Let me tell you, that was hard. And the worst of it was the dress was ugly as homemade sin. Aqua and gray satin. I looked like a beached whale. Well, I was thinner then. Maybe a beached seal. I always wondered if Rosie picked those ugly dresses out on purpose."

Surprise froze Rett's fork halfway to her mouth.

Magnolia gave a deep laugh. "Girlie, did you think you was the first one that ever happened to? I'm here to tell you, I survived and, frankly, it was darn near the best thing that could have ever happened to me. Hate to imagine where I'd be if I'd've married Varner." She gave a physical shudder. "As it was, their marriage lasted four miserable years. They had three kids, and my sister had to fight tooth and nail for every darn child support penny. Then the flake up and died! Not a speck of life insurance, of course. Whereas I hightailed it out of Chicago to Las Vegas and sang in a variety of nightclubs. I eventually met Rocky, and as they say about history, that's the rest of it." She tossed the damp folded towel into a plastic tub full of dirty dishes. "All I'm saying is it looks like a big old jagged mountain now, but thirty years from now, it'll be a rolling hill."

Rett lowered her fork, thinking about what Magnolia said. "My grandma said I should use the experience, write a song about it."

"Not often Love is wrong about things," Magnolia said. "My advice is you listen to her. She know you were out with that boy?"

Rett nodded. "She was worried, didn't want me to go. But I knew I'd be okay. We drove up the coast and stopped to look at the elephant seals."

Magnolia crossed her arms over her ample chest. "What about the boy's banjo?"

"I told him I'd give it to him tomorrow."

Magnolia raised her eyebrows.

"I wanted to play it one more time. I deserve that much."

"You can't get on with things until you give it back."

"I know." Rett took a last big bite of pie, then pushed the plate back. "I have to go get the banjo. Mel's keeping it for me at the feed store."

Magnolia picked up the plate. "Will you be staying with Love awhile?"

Rett nodded. "At least until I save up some money. I need a job." She glanced around the cafe. "Is being a waitress . . . uh . . . hard?"

"Can be."

Rett stood up. "Well, thanks for the pie." She reached down into the pockets of her jeans.