Ruby's Slippers (13 page)

I remember my father holding out a copper coin to me when I was young. It was a shiny, newly minted coin. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the coin disappeared. He showed me the palm of his hand. Empty. I grabbed his hand, looked between his fingers, up his sleeve, then dropped down on my hands and knees and searched the floor.

“Better check my elbow too.”

I did, raising his arm high, then digging into his shirt pocket.

“Oh, ho! Look what we have here!”

The warmth of his hand brushed my ear. There was a flash, a glint of light. He held the coin out to me once more.

I grabbed first my ear then lunged for the coin.

He laughed and tickled me.

It became
our
trick, each night when he came home. We’d reenact the same routine night after night. Until suddenly he didn’t come home anymore. I still had the coins, and for a while, I’d dig them out of my drawer and rub my fingers over the shiny pieces. When I was ten, I went out to the cornfield and heaved the coins as far as I could. I never went looking for them, just as I swore I’d never go looking for him either. But things change.

With the same frustration, I toss away the haunting questions as I lean back in the Jeep. I stare out the window at a slice of blue sky beyond the canopy of the redwoods. I don’t have to see the sun to know it’s there. My experience tells me it is. The problem is, my experience, or lack thereof, leaves a gaping hole in my heart.

* * *

“DO YOU THINK we should call Duncan before we arrive?” Tim asks.

“Better to surprise him, don’t you think?” Sophia offers.

“Don’t give him time to escape.” I strap the seat belt across my lap and settle Otto on the seat beside me. Anxious about how my father will respond to my visit, and how I’ll feel seeing him, I remember the promise I made to Sophia. I especially want her to see her son to make up for my bad behavior earlier. “We need to take a slight detour. Remember?”

“We don’t have time for—”

“This is something you have to do,” I say. “There’s no guarantee that we have tomorrow. You don’t want to live with regrets.” Maybe that’s what I’m feeling—regret that I didn’t push Momma to bring Daddy home. It’s too late for some things, but not for Sophia and her son. Not for me. Maybe not for my father. Or so I hope. “Please, Sophia. Let’s go see your son.”

It’s a log cabin deep in the woods. The road leading to it is a dirt path, with grass sprouting between the tire tracks. A bicycle leans against a stack of chopped wood. A barbecue grill holds water, probably from the last rain. The cabin is rustic. No luxuries. No real amenities. No satellite systems or antenna. No curtains in the windows. Still, it looks clean. The crisp scent of pine perfumes the chilly air. I reach over the backseat and grab my leather jacket from atop the luggage. “Are we in California or Oregon?” Tim asks. “Oregon.” Sophia parks the Jeep beside the cabin and opens her door. “Aren’t you coming?” “Is it okay?” I ask. “Of course.” It’s too quiet in these woods. Except for the song of a distant bird, the crunch of pine needles beneath our feet,
it’s still and hushed. Sophia knocks on the door of the cabin. She waits, giving her son enough time to circle the small interior several times. With a determined slant of her jaw, she stands erect, unmoving.

“Maybe he’s not home.” Tim lifts an old ax by the well-worn handle and swings it around to land with a decided
thunk
on the wood stump.

Sophia stares resolutely at the door for another minute. She shifts from one foot to the other, raising her shoulders, pressing her arm against her side in a self-conscious move. With a heavy sigh, her mouth sags with disappointment, and she turns away. “Let’s go.”

“We should wait.” I’m not sure why I say this, but it seems the right thing to do. “We’ve come this far.”

“We still have a long way to go.” Sophia walks away from the cabin, circles a ring of rocks that are charred on the inside as if the site’s been used for campfires. I notice a rope strung from one tree to another, like a laundry line. The simple cabin makes my home in Kansas seem luxurious. We settle into makeshift chairs. Tim and Sophia share a stump. Otto and I make ourselves comfortable on the carpet of soft pine needles. I turn my wrist as if to check my watch but stop myself. We are in a hurry, but I want to do this for Sophia. I want to give her the time she needs. Yet I feel a growing sense of urgency with each passing second as some annoying song circles through my head.

“It’s really quiet here.” Tim looks at me, his eyes imploring as if he wants to magically conjure up Sophia’s son so she won’t be disappointed.

“Leo likes it that way. Always has. He never cared for the city.”

A distant hoot straightens my spine. “Could be wild animals out this way.”

A growl of what sounds like a chain saw ricochets off the tree limbs above. It grinds and reverberates through the woods. Sophia stands first, looking anxiously about, her expression a mixture of excitement and confusion. Tim pushes to a standing position, his brow compressed into worry lines. I pull Otto onto my lap.

A four-wheeler bursts out of the forest and charges forward. The man astride has a mane of shaggy blond hair and a raggedy beard. Sophia gives a mild shriek. Her face breaks into a wide Carol Channing grin. Otto leaps down, runs off a few feet and stands his ground, barking for all he’s worth. The four-wheeler eats up the distance between us. Otto yelps, tucks his tail, and scurries behind me. I scramble to my feet. Tim pulls Sophia out of harm’s way as she waves. The four-wheeler barrels over the ashes of the forgotten campfire remains. Wheels roll past me in a blur of colors and sounds. The man skids to a stop, throws the four-wheeler into reverse, and zips around to face us, his whooping and hollering competing with the
vroom
of his vehicle.

He revs the engine then charges straight for Sophia. She’s practically hopping up and down with excitement. Tim steps in front of her, his arms stretched out wide. Fearing the crazed driver will run them over, I grab a thick stick off the ground and hurl it at the man, thumping him on his head. He turns, his face a snarling growl. He leaps off the four-wheeler and practically hurtles himself at me. I raise my arm as if to thwack him good if he dares touch me.

He stops, glares down at me, then tips back his head and roars with laughter. I blink at him dumbfounded. Then he turns away from me and scoops Sophia into his arms, spins
her around, and releases her breathless. She readjusts herself, as one breast has sagged downward.

Otto ventures forth then and yaps at this beast of a man. The man stalks forward, making a grab for Otto. But Otto isn’t playing this game. He turns tail and runs a few steps away, then stops and barks from a safer distance.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I demand.

He straightens, bracing his hands on his narrow hips.

“This is Leo,” Sophia steps forward. “Son—”

“What are you doing here?” His eyes narrow.

“Your mother,” I glance toward Sophia, “she wanted—”

“It’s the Jeep,” she stammers. “It’s stalling out on us.”

Leo props a fist on his back hip. He wears jeans and a thin white T-shirt stretched over sinewy muscles that spring and bound with stealth-like grace though he’s standing still. “You drove all the way from Santa Barbara for me to take a look at the Jeep?”

“We’re on our way to Seattle. Can you look at it for us, son?”

He rubs his hands on the back of his jeans. “I’ll get my tools.”

The man turns and walks around the back side of the cabin as the rest of us release pent-up breaths. Tim and I look at each other. I’m not sure what’s going through his mind, but I know what I’m thinking.
Let’s get out of here.

I press a hand to my chest to still the thudding of my heart. “What on earth just happened?”

“Is he crazy?” Tim’s gray eyes narrow on Sophia.

“Oh, no.” She laughs. “He’s always been a bit wild. He’s had some rough times lately. Doesn’t like anyone to check up on him. What boy wants his mother stopping by unannounced?
Why I didn’t even think he might have been,” she hesitates and glances at the cabin, “entertaining.”

“Terrific.” I regret suggesting our visit now.

“I thought it best if we act like we need him rather than … well … Is that all right?”

“Works for me.” Hopefully, we can see this through quickly. Maybe he’ll fix the Jeep, then we’ll get out of here lickety-split.

The crunch of footsteps precedes Leo’s reappearance, and our brief conversation comes to a halt. He holds a rusted metal box. His walk is more of a stalking motion—unhurried yet purposeful. His worn jeans are frayed around the pockets and at the ends. He wears tan hiking boots. Sophia follows after him toward the Jeep.

Tim and I linger together. He hooks his arm through mine. “He’s a strange one.”

“Seriously.”

“Do you think he was just joking earlier?”

I shrug. I’ve seen crazy behavior by teenagers in my classes, but this man is no teen. Makes me wonder if he’s on drugs. Or if he needs some kind of medication. Or is this, for him, normal behavior?

“He seems untamed.” Tim’s voice is low enough for only me to hear. He sticks close beside me, as does Otto.

“Wild,” I agree.

Together we edge closer to the Jeep.

Leo rubs the back of his neck and squats down beside the Jeep and peers at its belly.

“Could it be the starter?” Sophia looks at her son as if he holds all the answers.

“Or bad gas.” He straightens.

When I taught school, I always tried to get students with bad attitudes to talk to me. It was better than hostile silence and it often released their anger.

“Sophia said you gave her the Jeep.”

His glaring eyes unnerve me. They seem to size me up and dismiss me at the same time. “Are you saying this is my fault?”

“No! I meant—”

“She gave me a car once.”

“What mother wouldn’t do that?” Sophia reaches a hand toward him but pulls it back before touching his shoulder.

“A son giving his mother a car, that’s a generous thing to do. A generous thing.” Tim is either oblivious to the tension or trying to move the conversation along to, “Thanks, it was nice meeting you.”

Leo shrugs, apparently uncomfortable in the role of nice guy, and digs into his tool box. “I didn’t need it.” He pulls out a wrench and jabs it at something under the hood.

“I’m pretty good with tractors,” I offer, lame as it sounds, and peer under the hood. When it came to the farm equipment, my engine repair technique generally involved banging something hard and metallic against it. I admit, this didn’t always work.

He glances up, stares at me unblinkingly, then goes back to work.

“Dottie lives on a farm,” Sophia explains. “Or she did.”

“Did you look at the spark plugs?” I ask.

“Did you?” he counters.

So much for helping. I turn away.

“Start it, will you?”

“Sure.” I take the key from Sophia and slide into the driver’s seat. “You know you could really use some—”

“Shh!” His sharp glance at me makes me swallow my words.

Leo cocks his head to the side, listening. He stalks to my side of the Jeep. Now what? He whips his arm out and thrusts it into the Jeep, brushing my leg with his forearm. Reaching past me, he cuts the engine. Before I can protest, he pulls away and returns to the front of the Jeep, wrestling with something under the hood. I get out of the Jeep, stand near Sophia and Tim, turning to look at his lonely cabin.

What would drive a man to live out here by himself? He’s not that old. Not old enough to retire anyway. Maybe my age, maybe a bit more. So what gives? A felony? Bad personality?

A rustling behind me scatters my thoughts. I jerk around. This man is unpredictable, unnerving. No telling what he might do. Now he’s lying beneath the Jeep, banging on something underneath. His long legs stretch outward, his work boots scarred, muddy, and askew. His shirt has ridden upward, giving a glimpse of a tan, hairy torso. I look away, uninterested.

“Start it up again,” he calls out.

Sophia, Tim, and I look from one to the other.

“Hey, farm girl!” his voice is sharp, like incisors.

My eyes narrow. “My name is Dottie.”

“Start it up, will ya?”

With a hefty sigh, reminding me of Abby as a resentful teen, I trudge back to the Jeep and turn the key, start the engine, then vacate the driver’s seat so I don’t get in his way again.

But a sudden yelp sends a jolt down my spine. Leo hollers, his legs kicking out crazily.

Panicked, I race for the Jeep, fumble with the key to turn it off. In the silence afterward, I meet Sophia’s wide, shocked
eyes. I jump from the Jeep, coming around the wide-open door, my heart pounding. “Is he okay?”

Leo rolls out from beneath the Jeep, his shoulders shaking, his torso contracting. Laughter rumbles out of him. Laughter.

For the second time I want to kick him.

Sophia chuckles along with her son, pats him briefly on the back as if to reassure herself. “Leo always was a prankster.”

I want to tell her she failed miserably as a mother. He’s like one of the junior high kids I used to teach trapped in a thirty-something body. A nice body. But still … I’m ready to get out of here. “Is it fixed?”

He jumps to his feet, agile as a large, overgrown cat, with a spring in his step that is both surprising and alarming. “Ready as it’ll ever be.”

“Good,” I say, “then we can go.”

I can’t avoid the hurt look in Sophia’s eyes as she watches her son. I recognize the longing and need that I once had looking down that long lonely drive as I waited for my father to come home.

“Where are you headed?” He starts gathering up his tools.

“Seattle,” Sophia answers.

Wasn’t he listening earlier?

“Sophia,” I say, “if you want to stay here …”

“I won’t abandon you.” Her ferocity matches her son’s.

Leo props a fist on his hip and looks right at me with an unnerving stare. “What’s in Seattle?”

“We’re going to find Dottie’s father,” Tim explains.

Uncomfortable beneath the weight of Leo’s stare, I bend down and pet Otto, pick him up, and cuddle him against my chest.

“I can’t guarantee this Jeep will get you there.”

“We’ll be okay.” I’m not sure I believe my own bravado.

“Hold on then.” He gathers up his tools and jogs off toward the cabin.

“What’s he doing now?” Trepidation makes Tim’s voice quaver.

“I don’t know.” Sophia watches for him, her gaze anxious, hands twisting.

I know what it’s like to say good-bye and I don’t want her to have to. Guilt presses in on me. “Look, Sophia,” I manage, not believing what I’m about to say, “if you’d like to invite him along, so you can spend more time with him, then it’s okay with me.”

“Really?” She hugs me quick and hard.

I have a feeling I will regret this. After I settle Otto into the back of the Jeep, I suggest to Tim that he climb in the back too. “It’ll give Sophia and her son a chance to visit.”

“Hold on!” Leo calls. He tosses a bag in my direction.

I catch it against my chest. It’s a small gym bag, light enough to only carry a change of clothes and a toothbrush. Otto barks again. I have the urge to tell Otto to sic ’im, but I wouldn’t put my little dog in that kind of danger. If only Otto were a Great Dane.

“You riding in the back with me?” Leo’s gaze slides over me.

“No, I was going to let you ride up front.”

“Don’t worry, farm girl. I don’t bite. Want a boost?”

“No, thanks.” Clamping my mouth shut, I climb into the Jeep and pull Otto onto my lap.

Leo moves with the ease of a mountain lion, leaping into the backseat. He pulls Abu out from under him. I reach for the monkey, but Leo angles him just out of reach. “This your security blanket?”

“A gift.”

“From a lover?”

I feel my cheeks burn.

He grins and tosses Abu to me. “Much Abu about nothing, eh?”