The Better to Hold You (22 page)

“You have a fight with your husband?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then you probably ran away from needing to have one.” We leaned back and looked up at the moon. Then Jackie burst into a little bronchial coughing fit, breaking the silence.

“You okay?”

“I know all about you and Red, you know.”

I turned to stare at her, but she continued looking out at the night, the cigarette a red eye glowing between her fingers. “There’s nothing to know.”

Jackie blew out a plume of smoke. “He wants you. You’ll wind up sleeping with him to spite that husband of yours. And Red’ll get hurt, because when all’s said and done, he’s not your type.” Jackie took a deep drag on her cigarette, leaned back. “You know he’s some kind of Indian shaman? Has to apologize for each little critter he kills, offer its spirit something so it won’t be mad at him.” Jackie looked at the stub of her cigarette almost sadly before grinding it out underfoot. “You probably think that’s all a lot of horse shit.”

“No, I don’t. My mother believes in … alternative realities.”

“He doesn’t have a high school diploma, you know. Just a GED, same as me.”

I sighed, realized I hadn’t been smoking the cigarette in my hand, and stubbed it out. I wanted to tell Jackie I wasn’t some alien New York City snob with designer underwear and subscriptions to avant-garde theater. I wanted to tell her I was book-smart and people-stupid, and book-smart only in a very narrow area. I wanted to tell her I wasn’t all that sure of myself, but somehow I felt that she already knew that. And still thought I was capable of hurting Red.

From somewhere behind and above us, one of the hybrids howled, a perfect solitary wail, and then one of the others answered it.

“That’s beautiful,” I said.

“Mm. That’s why I like having ‘em around. You can get prettier dogs, you can get nicer dogs, but if you want the music, you got to go for a bit of the wild.”

“Do they really howl at the moon?”

“Hey, once a month, don’t we all?”

Not me, I thought, not with my irregular menstrual periods. I’d be the wolf out of tune with the pack, the one lagging behind.

We listened as two more of Jackie’s hybrids joined in, a blending of inhuman voices that filled the night with lupine magic. I wished the sound didn’t remind me of my mother’s movies, of werewolves and curses and the pretty maiden about to get mauled. I wished I could just have the pure experience of it, the raw lament of I am here, Are you there, and the choral response, We are here, We are here.

“I need a pee,” said Jackie.

“Okay,” I said. What are you supposed to say to that, anyway? She tromped off, leaving me alone. I moved deeper into the shadows, and tried to keep my long skirt bunched up and out of the way. I couldn’t exactly see what was I doing and in the end, I got one of my shoes slightly wet. I realized I didn’t have any toilet paper—did Jackie use toilet paper? Not such a good little camper. I was shaking myself off when I heard a sound.

“Wait,” I squeaked, “I’m still peeing!” Why I was so shy of Jackie, I couldn’t say. Except, even as I shook out my skirt, I knew it wasn’t Jackie.

When I looked up, Red was there, leaning against a silver birch. He looked like he’d been there for a while. His face was pale and miserable, maybe hungover. He was dressed only in ragged jeans, his naked chest and stomach furrier and ridged with more muscle than I would have suspected. The howling tattoo on his upper arm looked smaller now that I could see just how large his bicep really was. I realized I was spending a long time looking at him just about the same time he did: Our eyes met and he smiled.

“Red! Are you okay? Jeez, where did you come from?”

“Well, I was born here. But I spent my formative years in a shitty small Texas border town.” His voice sounded rusty, as if he hadn’t been using it for a while.

“No, seriously. Were you lurking around listening to Jackie and me?”

“A little.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. When he looked up at me again, his eyes glittered with some emotion I couldn’t quite name: a hint of something complicit, as if he knew a secret which concerned both of us.

“You shouldn’t eavesdrop.”

“Yeah? Maybe you shouldn’t go into strange men’s cabins and leave your scent all over their beds. Once boundaries are crossed, it’s not so easy to set them back up.”

“Sorry. I didn’t realize I was so … pungent.”

“You’re not.” He grinned rather wolfishly at me and I began to feel uncomfortable. Also warm. “And I like your smell, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Time to change the subject. “Jackie thinks you’re an Indian shaman,” I blurted out.

Red hooked his fingers into the loops of his jeans. “Shaman’s a Siberian term, I believe. My grandfather would say calling an Indian a shaman is like calling a rabbi a Jewish priest.” He tucked his chin and looked up at me. “However, I did meet an Inuit fellow in Canada. Followed him around for a year and learned a hell of a lot about tracking things that don’t always walk on the waking side. But I don’t suppose that makes me a shaman.”

“What do you mean, on the waking side?” I took his arm, eager to get away from what I suddenly realized was the lingering smell of my urine. “You mean you track things down in dreams?”

“Sometimes. I’ve had a few dreams about you, Doc.”

“You have?” I kept my eyes on the ground as we walked. “What kind of dreams?”

“You should know,” Red said. “You were there.” Remembering my own disturbingly erotic dreams about Red, I stumbled. “Easy now,” Red said, his arm keeping me from falling. “Hunter know where you are?”

“I left a message. But he was out.” I didn’t know if I believed that one person could visit another in dreams. A month ago, I would have sworn that such a thing was impossible. But then I recalled standing with Red in my kitchen, his certainty that I had wanted him, too.

Red stroked my hand where it rested on his arm. “Your husband’s probably looking for you. I’ll take you home.”

“But it’s dark out. Jackie said it’s not safe.”

There was a pause and we both stopped walking, and it suddenly became a little strange that I was still holding his arm. Red inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. “Not safe for Jackie, maybe. She’s got the worst night vision in Dutchess County. But I can get you home.”

“Could you? God, I’d really appreciate it.”

I dropped his arm and started to walk back to the trailer. It wasn’t until I got to the door that I realized he hadn’t followed me.

“Jackie? Jackie, Red’s here. He says he can take me home, and if that’s all right with you, I’ll—”

The screen door flew open and Jackie peered out, the outline of her generous breasts visible in an old flannel nightgown. “Red? You say Red’s here?”

“Yes, and since I really don’t want to impose, I thought I’d just—”

“Red? Abra says you’re going to take her home?” She sounded so incredulous that I was a bit taken aback. Surely it couldn’t be that dangerous, could it? Were we going to be attacked by raccoons?

Red moved out of the shadows.

“You sure you’re up to it? The whole way? Like that?”

Truth was, I had wondered why he was dressed just in torn jeans, but had been too startled to ask him.

“I can do it. She should be home to night.”

Jackie shook her head. “You’re a big fool, Red, you know that? Why not just let her sleep here?”

“You know why.”

“Her husband’s not about to go looking for her in some shotgun fury, Red. You saw how he was.”

My mouth went dry. I found myself watching Red, trying to read his response, but his face was a pale blur in the middle distance.

“That was then. This night could be a different story.”

I cleared my throat. “Listen, Hunter’s not exactly the jealous type. If you’re worried he’s going to be crazed that I spent a night out, you’re dead wrong.”

Red took three steps, and I could see the fine sheen of sweat on his face and chest, despite the chill autumn air. “You never know, Doc,” he said. “People change.”

“I don’t think that’s the way he’s changing.”

“You want to stay here?”

I glanced back at the trailer. “Well, if it’s not safe—”

Red laughed, a dry sound, more cynical than I was used to from him. “It’s safe with me. Tell her, Jackie. That she’s safe going back with me.”

There was a pause and I turned to look at my hostess. She seemed older than she had when we’d smoked the cigarettes. “You’re safe with Red, Abra.” Then she turned and slammed the door behind her, leaving me alone with her ex-boyfriend, the redneck shaman.

“I don’t want to cause trouble between you,” I said.

Red made a small amused sound. “It’s not you causing the trouble.”

“But I don’t want to make anybody feel—”

He put his hand on my arm and we both jumped a little. “Shut up, Doc,” he said, but with such tenderness that I half-felt he’d said something else entirely. “Let’s go.” Red plunged off into the night, and I followed him blindly.

The whole way down the mountain, I walked like an automaton, watching my feet in the moonlight to make sure I didn’t trip. Red kept having to stop and wait for me, and at one point, he told me to hold on to the belt loops of his jeans as we shimmied down an embankment. I could feel his awareness of me, and when we stopped at the head of the trail, he was breathing hard.

“You okay?” I put my hand on Red’s jaw, to make him meet my eyes, but it was all false, completely false. I knew he was going to kiss me, and I knew I wanted him to. Not to make love to me. But just to kiss me. I hadn’t ever had this before, this sense of someone’s fierce and specific wanting of me.

“No. Not okay.” His hand covered mine, and for a moment he looked at me, a long, steady, unabashed appraisal. “My Irish granny would say this is the night the spirits go out walking.”

“Do you believe that, too?”

“Northside’s the kind of place that makes you believe. Did you know there’s a big cavern running underneath the cornfield on the east side of town? We don’t advertise it like some of the other places do, and there’s a reason. This place is a crossroads between a lot of different worlds. Let me tell you, being an animal removal operator here is a hell of a lot different than in other locations.”

“I don’t believe in that sort of thing.”

“Then why are you still holding my hand?”

I snatched my palm from his and we resumed walking. Well, he resumed walking, and I resumed tripping. “I can’t see anything.”

“So take my hand again.”

“And feed your ego? I think not. You’ll have to beg me before I hold anything of yours.” Ouch, that didn’t sound quite the way I’d planned.

“It’s not my ego that’s bothering me, Doc. But you’re married. So stop flirting.”

“I didn’t mean …”

“Yes. You did.” Red stopped and turned to face me. “And I am so damn hungry for you that you have no idea how little it would take to break me down. But if I were to take you, come inside your body, your husband would kill me.”

I looked at the ground, where unseen things chirruped and whirred. “Hunter’s not like that, okay? Besides”—my voice was surprisingly steady as I said the words out loud—”I think he’s in love with someone else.”

Red’s hand lifted my chin up. “Then leave him. Leave him and come to me.” He grinned, his weathered face almost boyish with it, all sharp hazel eyes and sharper white teeth. “Stay up all night with me—I don’t sleep much either.”

“How do you know I don’t sleep?”

“I spend a lot of time watching you when you’re around, and a lot more time thinking about you when you’re not. You let things slip, and I pay attention.”

“I don’t know what to say …”

“Well, that says it.”

It seemed a long time before we reached my car. I climbed in and started the ignition, and after a moment Red opened the door to the passenger’s side.

“I guess I’d better see you all the way home.”

“Red, listen—I’m not asking about what you were doing at Jackie’s. I’m not ready to get into all this … complexity right now. But I will think about—”

“Just drive.”

“Want me to take you home first? I know you live close by …”

“I can walk from your house.”

In the enclosed space the smell of him was suddenly strong—male sweat, sharper than I was used to. But not unpleasant. Healthy. I rolled down the windows to let in the night air and as I started the ignition, the sky flickered white in the near distance.

“Storm’s coming,” I said, but Red was looking out the window, focused on something I couldn’t see. His skin was still beaded with perspiration. “Red?”

The rain came suddenly, a few drops, a downpour, then a solid sheet of water. The windshield wipers could not keep up. The headlights could not illuminate anything beyond the rain. The sky rippled with thunder, flashed with light. I didn’t know if I was on the main road anymore. I tuned the radio into the weather band.

“… and a severe weather storm warning is in effect for northern Dutchess and Columbia counties,” intoned the computerized voice. “High winds and lightning and the possibility of large hail. Tornadoes a possibility in the Upper Hudson Valley region around Cooperstown, Milltown, Cedar Plains, Northside …” Red shut off the radio.

My teeth began to chatter from adrenaline. “Red? What do we do?”

“Just keep going. You’re doing fine. Only another two miles to your house if we take this shortcut.” His hand came up to cover mine, and he guided the wheel toward an unmarked dirt road. Thunder rumbled again, and a jagged line of bright white pierced the road, so close to us that I tried to remember how you were supposed to count the distance. I felt that strange disorientation you feel in acute distress, as if you’ve left the rational world behind, entered some strange new twilight zone where, impossibly, it is suddenly possible that you might die.

Something bounded out into the road, a huge shadow, and I slammed on the brakes and the wheels screeched and skidded and we moved in slow motion toward a tree. I had a flash of how the local papers would report it and then Red turned the wheel sharply and we were back in control, and then we were heading toward another tree, more slowly. Red brought my head down into his chest and shielded me so at the moment of impact I was crushed between the sudden billow of air bags and his skin.