“But, lord, you can't take ’em inside. They just can't handle it, all the hustle and bustle. So we leave ’em in the car, git a quick Dr. Pepper, then bring ’em their ice cream. It's the best part of the week.”
“Okay, ma'am,” said the young officer.
“Just checking.
The old lady evidently rolled up the window—”
“Aunt Lucy, you bad girl!”
“And I tried to make ’em see how quick they could run out of air on a hot day. Seen it happen to dogs all the time.
Mama comes back from the grocery with her two kids and Fido’s done bought the ranch in the back seat. Terrible way for kids to learn about dying.”
“Well, I will talk to Aunt Lucy, you can believe me.
She's just got to learn.”
“Be seeing y'all. Hope you come back to Wichita Falls.”
“Well, I certainly hope we do, too.”
The cop passed Lamar, now emerging with two icecream sodas in paper cups, and tipped his hat. Lamar smiled and came around and climbed in.
“Here you go. Aunt Lucy,” he said loudly, and made a show of handing the cup to Richard, but at the last moment pulled it away.
“Aww,” said Richard.
“You blanket-head, Richard,” he hissed as he slid in.
“Goddamn, you couldn't think of nothing but to look at him like you swallowed a goddamned fish?”
“I'm not an actor, Lamar.”
“No, you ain't,” he said, then, turning, "Honey, you saved our goddamned bacon on that one. You done just great. I think you got a future in this shit.”
“Lamar,” said Richard, "can I have my soda?”
“No, you may not,” said Lamar.
“O’Dell gets one soda because he sat cool as a cucumber with a smile on his face, just like I told him, and Ruta Beth gets the other one, because she handled that Johnny Cop slicker'n motor oil. You don't get nothing, Richard. Another second and I'd have had to pop that boy and we're on the run again, for nothing, you dummy. Shit.” He gave Ruta Beth a kiss as they pulled out.
“Thank you. Daddy,” she said.
“Wich-ud wee wee said O’Dell.
“What's that, O’Dell?” said Lamar.
“Honey, did you understand him?”
“He's saying Richard went wee wee said Ruta Beth.
“Oh, Aunt Lucy,” said Lamar, "you are such a baby!”
CHAPTER 12
Nothing panics you like your own blood, but by the time he'd gotten to the hospital. Bud had figured out that he probably wasn't going to die that night. And he didn't:
Stitches underneath his arm had popped when he leaped to celebrate Jeff's home run, but the loss was minimum, though the young emergency room doctor wouldn't release him and so he spent another night in the hospital despite his considerable meanings and groanings about it.
“He complains like that all the time,” Jen told them.
“It's his idea of fun.”
But the next morning, Colonel Supenski himself showed up, with lion eyes and not a lot of old-boy fellowship.
“Bud, you are ragging on me something fierce.”
“Yes sir,” said Bud, glumly.
“Now, I want you to consider doctor's orders my orders.
You can't go roaming about doing God knows what. It's not a vacation.
You're still on duty and your duty is to recover, and return to active duty.”
“Yes sir,” said Bud.
“Bud, I can see in your eyes, something's eating at you.
I know how being shot can make a man call into value a lot of the things he holds dear. I want you to—” Bud fixed the colonel with a glare.
“What are you saying. Colonel?”
“There's talk. Bud.”
“Talk? Talk about what?”
“Bud, as I understand it, somebody's wife saw you and Ted's widow at a diner in Elgin. It didn't seem right.”
“Whose business is it?”
“It shouldn't be nobody's business. Bud. But that isn't the' point What should and what is are different as night and day. The truth is, if you wear the badge and walk the walk, you have to live a life that not only is free of taint, but looks free of taint. It isn't pretty, and it sure isn't fair, but it's what it is and that's the fact, and I know you know same as I do. Now all's I want from you is recovery time. Do you understand?”
Bud took a deep breath. Never in his long career had he ever argued with authority. It wasn't his way. If you enforce rules, you live by rules, that was that. But this time, for whatever reason, maybe just his prickly orneriness or some deeper sense that the universe was now ever so slightly unhinged, he said, "What's going on between Mrs. Pepper and myself is just nobody's damned business but hers and mine and maybe my wife's. That's all there is to it.”
The colonel looked at him hard.
“Bud, a dee-vorce, a scandal, it could cost you so much.
Believe me, I know. I went through one in the Marine Corps fourteen years ago and it took me forever to get back on my feet. I never ever got the love back of my middle daughter and I will die regretting that.
All for a younger woman I thought I loved who is now married to a general.
So I know. Bud. I've been there. Plus, Bud, I got the patrol to think over. You up and marry the widow of the man you were partnered with who got killed when you were along might git some folks talking. Next thing you know, you got those news boys looking for dirt. It's a hard thing.”
“Yes sir,” said Bud.
“I hear you. But what I should tell you is Ted's dying words. He asked me to look after Holly.”
“Okay, Bud, I believe you. Now you just get better and ever damn body going to be fine.”
They let Bud go that afternoon, but before he drove home, he called Holly.
“Hi.”
“Oh, Bud, tell me, it wasn't nothing?”
“No, just some stitches broke, some minor local bleeding, that's all.”
“Oh, that's great. And they're going to let you out?”
“I am out.”
“Oh, Bud, can I meet you?”
“Holly, that's just it. People are beginning to talk. The colonel said something.”
There was a long silence on the line.
“Holly, the last thing either you or I need is some huge mess over who’s with who.”
“So what are you saying. Bud?”
“Well, I don't know.”
Bud thought about how simple it all became without Holly. It was as if all the weight that had accrued on his neck and shoulders over the last few months suddenly took flight and vanished. He saw the future before him as a kind of sentimentalized postcard, golden and pure. Yet even as he could not bear the thought of hurting Jen, neither could he bear the thought of hurting Holly.
“Bud, do you want it to be over?”
“No, Holly, of course not. I couldn't live without you,” he said.
“Bud, I couldn't live without your bad jokes.”
“We just have to be careful for a time is all. This settles down, we get it all straightened out.”
“When will I see you?”
“Well, I got a grand day planned for us tomorrow. I want to go through Lamar's prison stuff. Everyone else has, why shouldn't I? Anyway, that's a long drive up to Mcalester. I could meet you, say, in Duncan, at eleven, we could drive on up, get lunch, I'd go into the house for an hour or two and then we'd come on back and have dinner on the way.”
“Oh, Bud, don't that sound like the prom itself!”
Bud drove on home then, and got there just as Jeff had returned from practice. Jen was back late and, behind, seemed to be manufacturing some despair over the dinner that she felt she had to prepare. The issue was: chicken or fish. Neither sounded like much to Bud.
“Goddamn,” he said, "we got some celebrating to do.
This boy hit a home run, I just got out of the hospital, and you worked too late to put in one more minute here. Let's go out to dinner. I need meat, red meat, freshly killed. The Meers Store. Any objections?”