From the Hat Down, page 15
“Fuck,” she said, and her voice sounded shaky even to her. Moonshine’s clammy nose pushed against her bare leg and she automatically stroked his head and scratched his ears. “Just a nightmare, buddy. That’s all it was.”
She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Five-thirteen. She petted Moonshine for a long time before she stood. Vestiges of the dream remained raw in her thoughts and she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway so she turned on the light and went down the hall to her bathroom. She stood under the shower, the water turned as hot as she could stand it, trying to wash the dream away.
Once dressed, she called Moonshine and at the steps, she picked him up and carried him downstairs, where she set him carefully on the ground. He followed her to the kitchen’s back door but he didn’t go in. Meg entered and Alice looked up from the counter where she was slicing fruit. Meg heard Sheila and Tina in the dining room, probably setting up for the breakfast buffet.
“Morning,” Alice said. “Coffee’s on.”
“Thanks.” Meg poured herself a cup and didn’t bother to add anything. She sipped.
“What’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Alice’s brow creased.
“Something like that.”
Alice watched her for a moment but when Meg didn’t elaborate she went back to slicing bananas.
“Do you believe in dreams?” Meg asked after a while.
“The kind you have at night?”
“Yeah.”
Alice shrugged, eyes on her work. “As fortune, no. As indications that you’re working on some things, yes.”
“So you don’t think they necessarily foretell things that are going to happen.”
Alice stopped and looked over at her, puzzled. “It’s not happened to me. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen to anyone else. I think of them as things that you need to process that are moving through.”
Meg nodded slowly and took another sip of coffee. In the early morning light, here in the kitchen, the ragged edges of her nightmare dulled.
“Bad dream?”
“Yeah. Just a dream, though.” She topped off her cup and started toward the dining room so she could eat with the hands and Stan, but she stopped and went back over to Alice. “Thanks,” she said. “And thanks for another awesome birthday dinner.” She kissed Alice on the cheek then pushed through the swinging door into the dining room.
Phil arrived after Meg had finished. He joined her after he piled a plate with biscuits, gravy, eggs, sausage, and bacon. He had a glass of orange juice with him.
“Hungry?” She asked innocently.
He grinned. “A little. Altitude, I guess. Clean air.”
“I’ve heard that about Wyoming. Did you get a chance to talk to my dad?”
“I sure did,” he said between bites. “Great guy. He gave me some names and contact info. I’m feeling pretty good about things because I do have capital and I do have contacts.”
“When’s the big move?”
“Probably the end of July.”
“That’s coming up.”
He nodded and swallowed. “Yeah. I’m looking forward to it, actually.” He shifted his gaze to her face. “Sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe back there. I can’t be who I want to be, I can’t hang out with who I want. I can’t love who I want.” He paused. “That must be sort of what it’s like for you. Except I don’t have to deal with the gay thing.”
“Quite a bit. But I think things will be better for you and Alicia in Denver. Hold on. Let me get you a business card.” She stood and went through the kitchen out the back door where she retrieved a card from the visor pocket of her truck. She returned and handed it to Phil.
“My email’s on there. Drop me a line. I’m working on a business plan of my own and I could use all the help I can get.”
“What kind of business?”
“My own practice.”
“That’s great. And yes, I think I can help you out. A couple of my dad’s friends are vets, and I worked a little bit with one when he was just starting out.”
“That’s excellent news for me. And if you need anything when you and Alicia get out here, drop me a line or call. I’ve got contacts in Denver.”
He smiled up at her. “That’s really nice. Thanks.” He set the card on the table and took his wallet out of his pocket. “Here’s mine. The phone number and address’ll change, but my email address won’t. I’d sure like to bring Alicia up for a few days when we get out here.”
“We’d love to have you.” Meg took his card and slipped it into one of her shirt pockets. He put hers in his wallet and returned the wallet to his pocket. She sat down just as her mother made her entrance. “Here we go,” she said under her breath and Phil stifled a laugh as Irene beelined for their table.
“Oh, how lovely to see you two here this morning.” She didn’t say “together,” but Meg knew that’s what she meant.
“Hi, Mom. Grab something to eat.”
“Hi, Mrs. Bard.”
“Well, I will.” And she swept off to the buffet table. Today’s outfit consisted of a denim skirt with ruffles, a red form-fitting blouse with pearl snaps, and blue cowboy boots that Meg knew had never seen the light of day before now. Irene returned with a plate once again marked by a small portion of fruit, one sausage, one piece of bacon, and one pancake. She set it down along with a small glass of apple juice.
“So how are you two?”
“I’m fine. I can’t speak for Phil, though,” Meg said.
“Good,” he said. “Had a great time yesterday. I might go for a quick ride this morning with Jake.”
Irene’s fork paused at her lips. “Are you going, Meg?”
“Nope. I was hoping that maybe you’d go for a ride with me, though.”
Irene’s eyes widened. She finished the bite and chewed slowly before swallowing. “I don’t know…”
“Why not? Dad tells me you were a hell of a horsewoman. He says I must’ve gotten some of it from you.”
Irene blushed. “He said that?”
She nodded. “So how about it? We never really get to spend time together. A ride? For old time’s sake?”
“I’ll think about it.”
Meg knew she’d say no. Irene always said no to situations that put her one-on-one in person with her daughter. But at least Meg had tried, and extended the olive branch. She stood. “I think it’d be fun. I’ll be over at the paddock. Phil, when do you have to leave?”
He looked up at her. We should probably get on the road after lunch.”
She glanced at her mother. “See? Plenty of time. All right, I’ll be around.” She took her cup into the kitchen and left through the back, where she inhaled deeply and let her gaze roam the eastern Medicine Bows. The dream had settled somewhat, but now she was dealing with an inexplicable urge to call Gina’s parents.
What would she say? “Hi, Mrs. Morelli. This is Meg. I know you haven’t heard my voice in years, but I had a really fucked-up dream about Gina and I just wanted to make sure she’s okay.” Although of anyone, Marcella would probably understand. She still wore a necklace that was supposed to ward off the evil eye.
She caught herself. She’d just email Gina when she got home and thank her for the video. And Gina would respond in a day or two—maybe more—and include a story about something funny that happened on one of her journalism meetings. And everything would be fine.
Meg chewed her lip, thinking. What would it hurt, to call? She could use it as an excuse to see if Gina had a mailing address overseas or something. Mary knew that she and Gina were talking a bit more and she’d probably told her parents. Or Gina had. So it wouldn’t be that weird. She started walking toward the paddock. She’d think about it later. Right now, she had to get through the morning with Irene.
True to form, Irene didn’t get around to riding with Meg. In fact, she had packed up quickly, just as desperate to leave as Meg was to have her gone. Meg chatted with Phil as he loaded the car, then shook hand and wished him luck. Irene managed to hug her briefly before she sank gratefully into the passenger seat.
Meg and Stan watched the car ease up the one-lane dirt track that linked the ranch to the county road, and Meg felt kind of bad for Phil, because Irene would want to know what he thought of her daughter, and push to find out if maybe this was the man that would finally turn Meg straight.
“There but for the grace of God,” Stan said quietly.
“I tried.”
“You did. Not your fault. If she won’t meet you halfway, nothing you can do about it. Sorry, hon.”
She shrugged. “It’s not your fault, either.”
“Might be. I married her.”
She snorted a laugh and followed him to the office. By three o’clock she and Moonshine were on their way back to Laramie. She thought about the dream but the rhythms of daily life at the ranch had helped the images fade. The urge to call Gina’s parents was stronger, however. She could use that address claim she’d thought about.
She pulled up in front of her house and helped Moonshine out before she retrieved her backpack from the floor of the passenger side and locked up. Moonshine waited for her on the porch, wagging his tail.
“I hope we can get a few more years out of you, buddy,” she said as she let him in and followed him through the kitchen. She let him into the back yard then sat on the couch with her phone and started punching the phone number in for Gina’s parents. She had never put it in her phone, because it felt kind of weird, since they were her ex’s parents and it had been a long time since she’s spoken to them. In spite of that, she had the number memorized. She stopped dialing halfway through. This was stupid. She pressed “End,” but thought about the dream and started punching numbers again then sat, nervous, drumming her fingers on her thigh, thinking about what she’d say. One ring. Two. Three.
“’ahlo?” Luisa, Gina’s grandmother, answered. That was unusual. Generally, she stayed on the farm.
“Hi. . .Mrs. Giordano?”
“Yes, yes. Who is this?” she asked in her heavily accented English.
“It’s Meg. Meg Tallmadge.”
Long pause. Then, “Meg? Doctor Meg?”
Meg smiled. “Yes.”
Luisa let loose a volley of Italian but it wasn’t directed at her. Instead, she seemed to be talking to someone else in the room and her voice increased in volume. Confused, Meg held the phone a little away from her ear.
“Hello? Meg?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s Mary. Oh, my God. I cannot believe you called. Did you get my email?”
“With the file Gina sent, yes—”
“Oh, my God, no. Not that one. I couldn’t find your phone number. You don’t know.” Her voice choked with tears and ice suddenly clogged Meg’s throat.
“Know what? What’s going on?”
Mary inhaled. “Gina—she was. . .” Mary took a deep breath. “She was injured in a bombing yesterday.”
Meg sat, stunned, but couldn’t find the words to respond.
“We don’t know much except that she’s alive and the people she was with got her to a doctor really quickly.” Mary’s voice shook.
“What happened?” she managed to ask, her voice harsh.
Mary drew a shuddering breath. “The first news reports are out. She was getting ready to go to Italy and they were driving to the airport. There was an earlier incident on the way so they were re-routed but because they’re reporters, they stopped to get a story. I am so fucking pissed about that,” she said with frustration. “And apparently as they got closer to the scene, another bomb went off. They weren’t too close, but close enough. Fortunately, nobody in their group died but a couple of them are seriously injured from flying debris. We don’t know specifically what happened to Gina. Her boss called. He said that the blast was strong enough that it knocked her against a car. Thank God she wasn’t closer than she was. As it was, it was like a high wind pushed her off a wall. They don’t think anything’s broken, but they’re not sure. Two of their cameramen got to her and got her out of there.”
Meg was biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. The thought of Gina, beautiful vibrant Gina, tossed through the air and slammed against a car made her physically sick. “Where is she?”
“Her boss said she’s stable enough to travel and she’s going to the base in Ramstein. Frank’s stationed there, and he’ll be able to go to the hospital and let us know more.”
“Oh, my God,” Meg whispered. “I don’t know what to say.”
“She’s alive and that’s what matters. Her boss said that as far as he knows, none of her injuries were life-threatening but they will put her out of commission for a while.” She said something in Italian to someone else in the room. “Mom wants to talk to you,” she announced suddenly.
Meg waited while Mary transferred the phone.
“Meg?”
“Hi, Mrs. Morelli. I don’t know what to say or do--”
“You did what you needed to do. You called,” Marcella said firmly. “We’ll let you know what happens. What’s your phone number?”
Meg automatically rattled off her cell phone number. She then provided her land line as well.
Marcella repeated the numbers back to her. “Very good. Meg, it’s good to hear from you. You’ve been a stranger much too long. I know Gina wants very much to see you. Please don’t wait for events like this or holidays to contact us.” She laughed, but it sounded forced.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Morelli,” she said, feeling like a little girl who’d been caught doing something her parents had told her not to.
“Marcella! Meg, how long have you known us! Marcella!”
“Yes, Mrs.—Marcella.”
“Good. We’ll call you with news as we get it.”
“I don’t care what time it is. Just call me. Please.”
Something in Meg’s voice must have triggered something in Marcella because she softened her boisterous, brittle tone. “She’s alive, Meg. Our Gina is alive. Let’s be thankful for that.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Okay,” she managed.
“Now go about the business of your evening. We’ll let you know,” Marcella said, not unkindly.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you for calling. I’ll give you back to Mary. Bye, now.”
“Meg?” Mary asked.
“Yeah.”
“It’s okay. Someone will call you as we find stuff out. She’s on her way to Ramstein, and she was stable enough to fly, so that’s good.”
“All right. Thanks, Mary.”
“Take care. Bye.”
“Bye.” Meg hung up and stared at the blank screen of the TV. She wiped at her tears and used the remote on the coffee table to turn it on so she could flip to CNN. Twenty minutes later news about the bombing in Istanbul appeared on the screen. Three people dead, scores of injuries, including five American journalists. Photos flashed on the screen. Three men, two women. An older photo of Gina appeared. Her hair was much shorter and she was wearing sunglasses. CNN didn’t know much about the injuries. Instead the announcer said that the bombing was potentially the work of some terrorist organization loosely linked to a larger one that might or might not have been Al-Qaeda.
Meg made a disgusted noise in her throat and went to her office to see if she could find any other news on the web. As she read the emerging reports, she began making phone calls, needing to feel as if she was doing something, as if she was coping. Gina was alive. That was all that really mattered.
Chapter 12
With almost physical effort, Meg focused on work the next day, on the fact that animals and their caretakers needed her. She finished another cat vaccination and stood at the receptionists’ counter staring blankly at the appointment book. For the thousandth time she glanced at the clock above the door into the back. She wasn’t sure why. Watching it wasn’t going to change anything or make Mary call her with an update. She picked up the clipboard by the phone and looked at the schedule to see what her next appointment was, but ended up staring at the sheet without reading it. She went into the back to check on animals. A few minutes later, Sandra, Kelly, Nicole, and Gary appeared from the front, Sandra carrying a chocolate cake with candles blazing. Kelly held paper plates, napkins, and plastic forks.
“Happy birthday, Doc T,” they said in unison.
She’d forgotten her birthday. “I—wow. Thanks.”
“Think you can blow all those out?” Ginny asked innocently. “I know sometimes you’re capable of a lot of hot air, but. . .” she looked at the cake with mock skepticism.
“Hot air, huh? How’s this for some hot air?” She leaned in and blew all the candles out.
“Good thing your lung capacity hasn’t diminished with age,” Ginny teased.
Sandra set the cake down and Ginny cut into it with a bread knife she must have brought from home, creating uniform wedges.
“Maybe you should be doing the surgery around here,” Meg said as Ginny handed her a plate with a piece of cake on it.
She smiled and Meg took a bite. “Wow. This is excellent. Another one of your creations?”
“Dang right,” Gary said. “Ginny should open a bakery, too.” He took the piece Kelly handed to him. “We’d all go.”
Sandra took a piece and returned to the front.
“Ah,” Mark said as he emerged from one of the patient rooms. “You’re finally twenty-one? Congrats.”
Nicole handed him a plate and he took a bite of cake. “Mmm, I’d know one of Ginny’s cakes anywhere.”
The phone rang and a few seconds later Sandra appeared in the doorway. “Your dad,” she said to Meg. “Couldn’t get you on your cell.”
She set her plate down and picked up the receiver on the wall phone in the back. “Hey, Dad.”
“Happy birthday, hon,” he sang in fake lounge singer’s voice.
She laughed. “Nice. Maybe you should bail on Wyoming and try a whole new career in Vegas.” She leaned against a nearby counter.
