“I know of the place,” Elmer said. “Has an outstanding reputation. They do a lot of community service work. Free clinics for poor women and the like.”
She sat back. “Dr. Fairfield is an insufferable ass.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Maybe that best explains John’s departure….”
“He doesn’t have much nice to say about John,” she said. “Apparently they didn’t part on the friendliest of terms.”
“Ah, I see your problem. You don’t know what to believe.”
“Exactly!”
“June, you should try to talk to an office manager. Or someone who worked alongside John, like one of the nurses. His ‘Charlotte.’ An ideal resource.”
“Of course,” she said, relieved, reaching for the phone. “You never know how little you know about things like this until it’s upon you. I’m used to knowing people half their lives before I consider them for employment.”
“Haven’t you waited a little long for this? The man’s been seeing patients here for a couple of months.”
“Hmm,” she said. “Been busy.” But Elmer was frowning. He knew. He didn’t know what he knew, but he knew she was far more efficient than this.
Before she could lift the receiver, the phone rang. “June Hudson,” she answered.
“June, dearest,” came Birdie’s high-pitched and lilting voice. “Are you very very busy?”
“Oh…no more than usual. Are you all right?”
“Oh perfectly. But I was wondering if you’d do me an enormous favor.”
“If I can.”
“There’s a large box on my porch. It has a couple of rugs, a couple of pictures, some fabric, miscellaneous stuff I picked up at a thrift shop in Rockport…and Judge has the little truck. Would you be a darling girl and put that box in your Jeep when you’re done with work and bring it out to Leah’s farm?”
“Leah’s?”
“Yes, dear. A couple of us are out here helping her get organized, and that box of stuff is meant for her.”
“Sure,” June said slowly. “Anything else I can bring?”
“Well, these boys do love their sodas. Regular Coke, if I’m right.”
“My pleasure.”
“You’re an angel. Bye.”
Again June was left staring at the phone. “Birdie,” she said to her father.
“Yes, that’s why I came over. There are some neighbors out at Leah’s, getting her farm straight. She’s darn near missed planting. She won’t be able to do as much, but we can’t have her miss seeding altogether. So I’m taking that big barbecue grill from out behind Fuller’s Café and I’m going to cook some burgers and weenies a little later to feed the whole bunch. You’re welcome for dinner, if you’re in the mood.”
“Wow. Who’s organizing this?”
Elmer stood. “I don’t rightly know. You know how these things happen.”
Gus Craven had isolated his family on their farm at the edge of the valley, and the whole town knew he abused them. His benders were legendary and his violence terrifying. Since no one could seem to do anything about it, people got used to it and left them alone. It always seemed more dangerous for Leah and the boys if neighbors tried to intervene, so they held back, soft-pedaled and prayed for the best. But for a few visits from the police, that old bad seed was left to do his trouble. That was the worst of small town life—that everyone knew and no one could do a damn thing about it.
And this was the best of small town life—that there were people present at Leah’s farm, trying to help her get back on her feet, trying to set right what Gus had for too long mishandled.
Gus had been behind bars for just two months; by now the bruises were healed. What money Leah had, if any, had been used up several weeks ago. June knew that Birdie had looked in on Leah to see if there was anything she needed, though it was well-known she and the boys needed everything. Women from the Presbyterian Church visited her, took some rummage sale clothes and gathered up nonperishables. But what June saw as she drove onto the Craven property took her breath away. Smoke billowed from a large picnic grill where her dad and George Fuller turned burgers and hot dogs. Trestle tables had been set up in the yard along with folding chairs she recognized from the high school cafeteria. She saw her aunt’s old Cadillac in the yard beside the Barstow sisters’ car, and thanked God they weren’t cooking. Sam Cussler was up on a ladder, painting the house. The bakery truck had pulled up to the back porch and its doors stood open; Syl and Burt were unloading fresh buns.
June parked the Jeep and carried the box to the front porch. There she found Tom Toopeek’s father, Lincoln, methodically stretching new screen over the front door. She could smell the fresh paint, lemon oil, vinegar and cookies. She put the box on the porch and stepped through the portal to the living room, where the activity became still more exciting. The old carpet had been stripped away and a new one, rolled, lay against the wall. At another wall Susan Stone and Julianna Dickson were consumed with laughter as Julianna tried to peel a runaway sheet of wallpaper off Susan’s back. “Um, I think that goes on the wall,” June said, and they almost fell to the floor in their hilarity. The fumes of too much wallpaper paste, maybe?
She was nearly knocked over by some little ones racing through the house. It turned out to be Sydney Stone, little Stan and one of the Dickson kids. “Syd!” Susan shouted. “Slow down!”
“They can’t slow down,” Julianna said. “Too much sugar.”
Leah and Birdie were smoothing a table linen over a dining room table. June barely recognized Leah. Her color was rich, her hair clean and silky, and she wore khaki slacks, a collared shirt and hiking boots instead of her usual limp and colorless housedress. She looked years younger. She smiled at June, who realized Leah was only thirty-three. Life with Gus had made her look haggard. His absence had brought back her natural vitality.
“June, look what Birdie found for us! We’ve never had dining furniture before. And a hutch, too! And enough chairs for everyone to sit at one time.”
“It was Rakinstock’s old piece,” Birdie said. “You know how they’re always trading out furniture faster than Judge changes socks. They were just going to donate it anyway, and I said, I’ve got just the place. Now I guess we have to be on the lookout for some special glass and china pieces to fill up that breakfront.”
“There’s a time I didn’t want glass in the house, but maybe now… I never imagined anything so…so beautiful,” Leah admitted.
Another shriek of uncontrolled laughter made June turn to find Susan and Julianna on the floor, holding each other up, crushing a huge snarled piece of wallpaper underneath and between them. June couldn’t suppress a smile of envy; they made cute girlfriends.
She recognized her aunt’s hat slowly descending the stairs, the wide brim seeming to float. “Birdie…Oh, hello dear,” Myrna said. “Birdie, we’re ready to start painting the master bedroom, but we need another tarpaulin. Will you send one up?”
“I’ll get Judge to bring it up. He’s on the back porch fixing the kitchen window. Be just a minute.”
As the sun slowly sank westward, June saw a transformation take place at the Craven farm. The house was redecorated and furnished, clothes were hung in closets and folded into new chests of drawers. The cupboards were filled with food and dishes, the fields closest to the house were planted and everything that needed repair was seen to. There was a smile everywhere she looked. The police chief who had carted Gus off was sanding down a porch rail so it could be painted, and the judge who’d locked him up was installing new doorknobs and water faucets.
People kept coming through the afternoon, and George Fuller kept dragging more and more meat out of a huge cooler in his truck. There were sodas and chips and potato salad and pickles and cookies galore.
When the sun went down, a bonfire was lit. Tired workers dragged folded lawn chairs out of car trunks and truck beds, coffee and cocoa brewed, children roasted marshmallows and Burt Crandall passed out huge slices of pie and cake.<
br />
June had no idea when this barn raising had been planned, who had done the calling or how the chores had been divvied up. She supposed Birdie was at the helm of this project, but people around Grace Valley caught on very quickly. They dug into their basements and attics, sheds and barns for items that would be needed. They were resourceful and giving by nature. And trusting, usually…
“June?” John Stone sat on the ground beside her. “Isn’t this the best thing you’ve ever seen in your life? This is what I’ve always wanted. This is what I thought I might get close to when I made that deal with the government to practice a little rural medicine.”
“It was a little too rural for you, though, was it?” she asked.
“The reservation isn’t the same as a quaint small town,” he admitted. “I know my limitations. I’m not gritty enough for that work.”
“John, you still have creases in your jeans, tassels on your shoes….”
“What can I say? I’m a fashion plate.”
“Right out of Esquire…”
He laughed. “Grace Valley won’t be ruined by a little style.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Here are the names and phone numbers of a few people who I worked with at the Fairfield Clinic. I’d have given this information to you sooner if I’d known you were going to check references that far in my past. Here’s the office manager, medical assistant, OB nurse. You would get a more accurate picture of what I was like to work with from any of them. Dr. Fairfield hates me.”
She was momentarily taken aback by the force of his words. As she took the paper from him, she asked cautiously, “Mind telling me why he hates you?”
“June, it’s strictly personality crap, absolutely nothing professional. The old man and I didn’t see eye to eye on anything. Don’t worry, I didn’t break any laws or anything. I left the Fairfield Clinic over six years ago, and I left because of the stress of working in an environment of almost constant haranguing and disapproval. This place is a fresh start for us. I think Susan and Syd are going to be really happy here. I can’t tell you what it felt like to hear that Dr. Fairfield was waiting on the phone to talk to you. It was like that old man’s animosity was going to follow me around forever.” He stood. “I left all that behind me a long time ago—and gladly. Fortunately, almost everyone else at the clinic respected me and liked working with me. But don’t take my word for it. Call some of these women. They’ll vouch for me.”
“Okay. I’ll be happy to.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it. I’d better get Princess Sydney and Susan home.”
“I’m heading out myself, still have a couple of stops to make.”
“Anything I can help with?” he asked.
This was so hard. What was not to like about this guy? “No thanks, John. Just a couple of people I like to check on on the way home most nights.”
“You’re good to this town, June.”
“This is a good town, John.” She hoped there hadn’t been a warning tone to her voice, but it just may have crept in.
She was surprised that Mikos hadn’t come to the Craven farm. She was glad he hadn’t, but surprised. As she turned down his drive, she could see that the house was dark. It was early for him to have turned in. As her headlights strafed the front of the house, she saw his silhouette sitting in the chair on the porch. She also saw the table, the pitcher of tea and Sadie Five at the porch edge, wagging. “Oh no.”
But then she knew this was what she’d always expected—and the reason she stopped regularly. Because he was not interested in medical intervention, and his symptoms could certainly have been life threatening. He had the stoic acceptance of a man ready to cross over. She thought it was partly because he missed his wife so much. When she reached the porch and greeted Sadie, massaging her neck, she found something she had not expected. There was a ribbon that attached a note to Sadie’s collar. It said, June, take care of Sadie Five. You girls need each other. Mikos
Twelve
June made three phone calls from Mikos’s phone—one to Mikos’s daughter, Maria, one to the funeral director in Garberville and one to Tom Toopeek, still out at Leah’s farm. That last brought Tom and Elmer.
June was accustomed to her father’s feistiness, to his nosiness and high energy. But as Mikos was lifted onto the gurney to be taken away, Elmer seemed to shrink and age. It jolted June to see it. Even though he was past seventy, she was nowhere near ready to accept losing him.
“Do you think he gave up too soon?” Elmer asked in a small voice.
“Yes! Don’t you?”
“I don’t know, June. He was satisfied with his life. He missed his wife. He knew his heart was giving out….”
“Yes, he knew, and there was still a lot we could have done, if he’d only let us get involved!”
“He didn’t want to mess around with it. He was pretty much done, I guess.”
“Well, there might be children and grandchildren who will take that decision a little personally!”
“Don’t get mad at Mikos, June. I’m not going with him.”
She let out her breath. She was sorry. She didn’t mean to be so abrasive, but it suddenly threw the fear of God into her. Just the thought of losing Elmer was more than she could bear.
The sharp edge of her anger gave way to tears when she saw her dad clutching Mikos’s hand and leaning over him, saying goodbye “It was a mighty good time, old boy. You were always the best part of the journey. Thanks for everything.”
Elmer let them take his old friend away, and went to stand beside his daughter.
“I will never be able to say goodbye to you in that way,” she said. “Is that clear?”
“Come on, June. Let’s go to George’s and have another piece of pie. He’s probably got a little something under the counter to help get the bug out of your ass.”
“Just so you know,” she said stiffly.
She had to collect Sadie’s dishes and food and put them in the Jeep, and though she looked around for a leash, she knew she wouldn’t find one. “Things will be different when you’re not on a farm,” she told the dog. “You’ll have to be very well behaved if you’re going to stay with me.”
Sadie made a yowling sound that closely resembled, “All right,” causing June to do a double take.
June should have expected the old guard, the official mourners, lined up at the lunch counter with coffee cups and pie plates in front of them: Sam, Lincoln, Judge, Burt, and Bud Burnham. George was behind the counter. Sadie came in beside June, wagging happily at all the old men, and June gave George one of her dishes. “Sadie will have a water, straight up, and I’ll settle for black coffee.” She sat on a stool at the end of the bar.
George reached under the counter and brought out a bottle of Jack Daniels. With coffeepot in one hand and liquor bottle in the other, he passed down the line. Sam tapped his coffee cup twice, with two fingers. Lincoln waved a hand over his cup for coffee only. Judge held up one finger, Burt made a gun out of his thumb and index finger and shot it into the cup, Bud indicated an inch level and June had already asked for black coffee only. “Give me hers,” Elmer said, and his cup was generously laced with bourbon.
“He was a good man, lived a good life.”
“May he sleep well tonight and every night….”
“…And may the streams be full where he fishes…”
“…And his friends and family happy to see him…”
“Good night, old friend,” Elmer said, lifting his cup.
“Good night,” they all chorused. And drank to him.
June was awakened in the middle of the night by the sound of Sadie squeaking and pawing at the back door. June was accustomed to being jolted out of bed by the phone, but this was a new sound, so she came awake slowly, trying to make sense of what she heard.
When she got to the kitchen, she said, “I bet you’re used to having your very own door at the farm, aren’t you? We might have to do something like that if you’re g
oing to stay with me. I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to come to the office with me.”
Sadie craned her neck to look up at June, and made a sound of agreement, a pleasant yowl. June liked the sound and smiled down at her new roommate.
“Okay, try not to be long. It’s been a hard day and I’m ready to get back to sleep.”
Sadie stepped out onto the back porch and stood, sniffing the air. She was motionless, nose up, concentrating.
“Remember to put it on the grass, Sadie,” June said.
Sadie was not distracted. She continued to sniff the air, and the only thing that moved was her twitching nose.
“Well, I guess there’s a process to everything,” June said aloud. She hadn’t had a dog since she was sixteen, the year her old terrier, Lucky, died. She didn’t get another dog because she was going away to school, then because she was working long hours, then because it had been so long since she’d had a dog she didn’t feel that pull anymore.
She went to get the coffeepot ready for morning while Sadie did her thing. June glanced out the window and saw that Sadie was now standing in the yard, sniffing the air. “We’re going to have a real problem if you have to get up at 2:00 a.m. to go outside and look around, have a smell. This is a little, you know, inconvenient.” She scooped coffee into the basket, filled the pot with water, and then it hit her. She had not had a dog because she was afraid of the emotional bond. She always knew she could love another dog as much as Lucky, and love it deeply. But she wasn’t sure she could take a pet’s death again. It was too much. It was astonishing how horribly that could grieve a person, how much pain could come with that loss.
She looked outside but could no longer see the dog. She went to the back door, out onto the porch and called, “Sadie! Come here, girl!” As she whistled, it all come back to her—the sounds, the calls, the feelings.
But Sadie didn’t come.