What I Remember Most (31 page)

What? With the sheik?

“Put him to sleep, though, then I did what I needed to do.” Eudora pointed to a brooch on her jacket.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re hinting at someday?” Was she telling the truth? I looked at those high cheekbones, the elegant beauty, the sleekness and smarts. Swing me a cat, I bet she was.

“Maybe over tequila.”

Kade winked at me when I raced out of there to start my shift at Tildy’s.

On Monday I asked around about doctors. The name Camille Johnson came up several times. I made an appointment for Rozlyn. I wrote down the appointment and gave Rozlyn the information.

She burst into tears at her desk. She had an ice pack sitting on her head like a hat.

I gave her a hug. “You have to go. Your headaches are making me feel ill.”

She nodded. “Okay. I think I will. It’s probably hormones.”

“Yep.”

“Or stress.”

“Absolutely.”

“Or I’m dehydrated.”

“Sure. Drink up.”

Alice, My Anxiety, skipped up another raggedy notch.

That night I started working on the collage with the woman in a ball gown from the late eighteen hundreds. I painted part of the background first, the dark forest and trees, then sketched and painted her. I laid out the trinkets I would use on her dress. The charms, the shiny buttons, the sequins . . .

I must art, or I don’t exist.

Children’s Services Division

Child’s Name: Grenadine Scotch Wild

Age: 13

Parents’ Names: Freedom and Bear Wild (Location unknown)

Date: January 18, 1990

Goal: Adoption

Employee: Angel Hollis

Grenadine has been removed from Hugh and Rose Hutchinson’s home as the police raided their compound and arrested them for a large marijuana-growing operation last night.

Grenadine is inconsolable and says she will “run away” and go back to the Hutchinsons. She said she has not been a part of the Children’s Services Division for five years because we “suck the big one” because of what happened to her at the Berlinskys and that Daneesha Houston only came to see her as “a friend.” She said that Hugh called Daneesha “sister,” and they were all part of a big family.

Grenadine said she is the Hutchinsons’ daughter.

Children’s Services Division

Child’s Name: Grenadine Scotch Wild

Age: 14

Parents’ Names: Freedom and Bear Wild (Location unknown)

Date: March 5, 1990

Goal: Adoption

Employee: Angel Hollis

Grenadine was picked up by the police after her foster parents, Aaron and Shelley Corrinder, reported her missing. This is the fifth time. She was trying to hitchhike to Silverton City to be with Mr. and Mrs. Hutchinson, who are out on bail.

We have returned her to the Corrinders. I explained to Grenadine that she will not be able to live with the Hutchinsons again and that they are going to jail for selling drugs.

She said, “But they didn’t sell them to me, and they don’t do drugs, and it’s just mowi wowi, so why can’t I live with them?”

She vows to run away again. She said, “You got a moose up your butt? Get it out and get moving.”

I told her I didn’t understand what that meant, and she said Rose taught it to her and it means that I need to get the moose out of my butt and help her.

I am crushed for Grenadine, and I have arranged counseling at her school and privately, but she refuses to go. She is losing what she considers to be her family after five years. I will go and see her in a few days and see how she is doing.

Children’s Services Division

Child’s Name: Grenadine Scotch Wild

Age: 14

Parents’ Names: Freedom and Bear Wild (Location unknown)

Date: March 6, 1990

Goal: Adoption

Employee: Angel Hollis

The Hutchinsons have asked that Rose Hutchinson’s mother, Margaret DeSalle, be allowed to take care of Grenadine. That is not going to be possible, as Margaret’s second husband is an ex-felon, arrested for robbing multiple banks years ago.

They then asked if Hugh’s mother, Clara Hutchinson, could take custody, but Clara was arrested for assault last year when she pistol-whipped her husband because he was “flirting with a slut.”

The Hutchinsons then asked if Rose’s sister, Tulip Tenley, could take Grenadine, but Tulip was released from jail only three months ago for running a prostitution ring. You may have seen Tulip’s quote in
The Oregon Journal
: “I didn’t have any girls working for me, only women over twenty-one and they wanted to do it. Hell, they make $95 an hour, set their own schedules, and can quit anytime. Plus I paid their health insurance. Where’s the abuse?”

Many other relatives have stepped up to care for Grenadine, but for various reasons—including criminal records, probation, out on bail—they are not suitable. (It should be noted that none of Rose or Hugh’s relatives have records for any crimes against children or women. It’s bar fights; a war with one of the neighbors, which reminds me of the Hatfield and McCoy feud; assaults against other antigovernment, gun-toting hotheads, etc.)

The Hutchinsons say they are going to sue like a (expletive) tornado to get Grenadine back, and they have told me that I am (expletive) colder than a cow’s tit in December. How they believe they can sue us from jail they could not explain. They are both livid and swear up a blue moon when I talk to them, and say it’s all been a governmental plot. Then they cry and I can’t get off the phone.

Grenadine is near hysterical, furious, and says she feels like her second set of parents has died. She told me she feels like “a rabbit flattened under a steamroller.” She also told me she hates CSD, hates me, and that she hadn’t been in the program for years so what was I doing there?

I have applied for personal counseling myself, as this situation has been tremendously upsetting, with everyone crying, but I have not heard back from the counselor. Who do I talk to?

Children’s Services Division

Child’s Name: Grenadine Scotch Wild

Age: 14

Parents’ Names: Freedom and Bear Wild (Location unknown)

Date: March 13, 1990

Goal: Adoption

Employee: Angel Hollis

Hugh and Rose Hutchinson were arrested today for disorderly conduct and harassment when they came here to talk to me and a supervisor about Grenadine. They were accompanied by Rose’s mother and stepfather, Hugh’s parents, Rose’s sister, Tulip, and about ten other assorted relatives whose names I can’t remember.

Two of them were wearing hunting clothes and three were in camouflage—that’s something I remember clearly. I am not embarrassed to say that I was concerned about guns.

The Hutchinson family, and company, insisted on getting Grenadine back. We told them that was not possible. Our discussion went on for a long time. They said that they knew the government had been spying on them and they were going to start a revolution.

Hugh, Rose, Tulip, and their parents cried and became highly emotional and said something about swinging a cat, then Hugh kicked a desk and yelled “by shots and by fire,” which made me nervous. Rose threw a chair. The police were called. Hugh and Rose were shouting and said that we were keeping their daughter hostage and it was all a government plan.

Hugh said because he was out on bail, he should be able to parent his “princess,” and Rose said that Grenadine was her soul daughter and without her she was missing her soul.

They were, again, told that they could not parent Grenadine. Hugh protested with a liberal use of the f word while Rose told a police officer to shove it. When the police officer told her to leave, Rose said she wasn’t leaving until she got her daughter back. When a police officer grabbed her elbow, she swung and hit him. The police officer restrained her, Hugh swung at him and told him to get his (f word) hands off his wife, and that was when chaos started.

All of the relatives engaged the police with verbal threats, arguing, slugging, or pushing. All of the Hutchinsons resisted arrest, and more police officers were called.

Hugh and Rose were crying. Hugh kept yelling, “I love you, Rose, we’ll get her back from these (f word)!”

Grenadine is in her new placement. She will not be allowed contact with the Hutchinsons. Her new foster parents, Bill and Sal Golden, say that she was, at first, almost hysterical, then she cried silently, and now she won’t speak at all and has a dead look in her eyes.

It is my personal opinion that Grenadine should go back with the Hutchinsons while they are out on bail. She was safe and happy there, there is no indication that she was on drugs or even that the Hutchinsons smoked much marijuana, and never in front of Grenadine. (That’s what they told me.)

Is shipping her from foster home to foster home for the next four years the best idea? I don’t think so. I would like to request a meeting to discuss this situation . . .

“What’s your favorite color, Kade?”

He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms. He was packed.
Muscle
packed.

“Hmm.”

He looked right at me across the table in his office. Outside it was beginning to snow. Light, fluffy flakes, swirling around.

“I think my favorite color is about the color of your hair.”

“Funny.” We laughed. I was trying to get him to choose a paint color for his walls. “So a burned orange with some brown thrown in?”

“I’d call it fire. That’s my favorite color.”

I thought of orange walls. “No can do. Orange won’t work. What other colors?”

He smiled. “Blue.”

“Blue? I can work with blue. Okay, here’s what I’m thinking for your office.”

I had brought paint chips with me. I pulled all the blues. He looked at them, moved them around with his hand for half a minute while I thought carnal and lusty thoughts, and said, “I’m a guy and I’m confused already. I don’t decorate. This is your gig, Grenady.”

“How about this one?” I held up a light blue-gray. “I call it steel blue. It’s manly, hint of gray.”

“A manly paint color. I like it.”

“I was thinking that, in terms of the décor of your office, we could consider the history of your company. What do you think?”

“I don’t really know where you’re going with this, but I think that’s another good idea.”

“Tell me about your business. How did you start it? How did it become what it is today?”

“You might regret asking that question, but I’ll keep it short so as not to bore you to death. I came up here after I was released from prison and got a job in a mill. Nights and weekends, I made furniture. I rented out a back room of Grizz’s house. I know you know Grizz.”

“Yes, I love that man.”

“Me too. He’s generous. Helpful. Anyhow, he rented me a room and let me use his garage to make furniture. I even told him about my background, and he said, ‘I’m not here to judge you, son,’ and that was it. I’ve always been grateful for that.”

“He told me you built him a desk, dresser, and bed.”

“I did. My gift to him for helping me. The rent he charged was nominal. He deserved it. Anyhow, at first I sold the furniture through a man in town who owned a shop, but he took twenty percent commission, and that didn’t make sense to me to lose that much. I sold three tables in three days through him, then dropped him.

“I took out ads in the newspaper with photos of my furniture, and the orders started coming in. I was selling tables, chairs, desks, you name it, out of Grizz’s garage and out of the back of my truck. I also bought an old, beat-up trailer and took the furniture to shows.

“I’d be in and out in three hours. Every piece I made I sold immediately. Soon I had enough money to rent out a heated pole barn. I worked in half of it and lived in the other half. When I had enough customers, savings, the saws and equipment I needed, and I was sick of working seventy-five hours a week, I quit my mill job and made furniture full time.”

“That must have been one of the best days of your life.”

“It was. I could never go back to working for anyone else.”

“You hired people pretty quick, didn’t you?”

“Within a month of moving into the pole barn. I had done the math and knew that I could make more money if I could hand off part of the construction, then I would do most of the carving. I hired Sam and Angelo first, then Petey. I was selling the furniture to private parties, but I knew I had to expand to businesses, so I did.

“I cold-called hotels, lodges, other businesses. Sent them my information, photos, met with them, took orders. I hired Eudora to organize everything. She had just arrived in Oregon. I didn’t know much about her when I hired her. She said she worked in D.C. for the government but wouldn’t say much about what she did. All I knew was that she was supersmart and quick. Anyhow, it went from there.”

“And your pole barn?”

“I kept having to hire. I knew I couldn’t live there much longer—too many people, equipment, saws—so I rented a house nearby. I run a tight ship and I saved money, so when we outgrew the pole barn, I was ready with cash in hand to build this, with little debt, which has since been paid off.”

“Do you happen to have photos of the pole barn and Grizz’s garage with your saws? Maybe your pickup truck that you used to haul the furniture around?”

He thought about it. “Maybe. I have a box of photographs somewhere at home. I’ll look.”

“Thanks.”

“What are you going to do with them?”

“It’s a secret, cowboy.”

“A secret?” He chuckled. “I don’t like secrets.”

“You’ll live. Buck up.”

He tapped a pen. “In addition to my office, I want to hire you to make me a painting, too, when you have time. I know you’re busy right now, so no stress.” He held up both hands. “Whenever you can.”

I sucked in my breath. Art. For Kade. Oh boy.

“What would you like me to paint?” This would be nerve-racking. What if he hated what I made? “Have any ideas, Smart One?”

“Nope. Again, I’m a guy, Grenady. G.U.Y.”

I thought quickly. “How about if I make a painting, a collage of Hendricks’ Furniture? Of the building itself?”

“I already can’t wait to see it.”

“It’s a neat building, all the brick, the red barn doors, the trees, the deer. I’ll paint the sign and put some of the furniture out front.”

“Go for it.”

“What season do you want the background to be in the collage? Fall is always pretty with all the leaves changing colors, but maybe you like the snow?”

“Let’s do fall. You started working for me in fall, too, and it’s my favorite season.”

“It’ll be fall, then. I don’t want to mess with your favorite season.”

“Good.”

Kade was the exact opposite of Covey. Kade could knock the snot out of Covey.

“Good,” I said, not able to look away. “And good.” He smiled. I liked his teeth.

I worked until seven that night. On Tuesday, I worked until three o’clock, then Kade, Cory, Petey, Angelo, and I painted Kade’s office. It was fun. We joked and laughed. It was done quickly. At five o’clock I headed for The Spirited Owl. It took me a little longer to get there because the town was reenacting a cowboy-to-cowboy, 1850s shoot-out and there were people lined up and cheering them on.

I was wound up after my shift at The Spirited Owl, because two women launched into a fight over a man. When their voices pitched, I walked around the bar, put my arms around both of them, and gazed at the man in question, who had a smirk on his face. I knew he was enjoying the ruckus and the attention, because I knew him, and said, “Lorene, McKayla, do you think that Eric’s worth all this? Take a hard look. I mean, would either one of you want to spend the rest of your life with him? Are you kidding me?”

They stopped catfighting.

Lorene’s shoulders slumped. “He’s like a game. I wanted to beat McKayla. We always compete over everything. Have since we were ten.”

McKayla humphed, then said, “I don’t want Eric for my whole life. Yuck. I only want him for the weekend to get my libido under control.”

“Don’t ever ruin a friendship over a man,” I said. “They’re never worth it.”

“Hey!” Eric, who is not that bright, said, “I’m worth it.”

“No, buddy,” I said. “You’re not.”

I brought home pasta primavera and a slice of raspberry pie, then took a bath for an hour.

Lights off. Candles on. Bubble bath.

Bliss.

On Sunday I woke at six o’clock in the morning to turn the heat on higher. There was snow on the ground and fog stuck on the mountains. I closed the drapes to keep the fog out and went back to sleep until eleven. My body was breaking down, I could feel it. Too much work.

I grabbed coffee and went back to bed until Cleo came up. She was wearing a Superman outfit, a green tutu that hung to her knees, and pink high-tops.

“I’m lovin’ that outfit,” I said.

“Thanks. I’m a superhero who can dance ballet. Want to watch me?”

“Sure.”

She jumped and pirouetted, then turned around and pretended she was fighting a zombie with a big gun.

She said, “If I came back as a piece of art supplies, I’d come back as a paintbrush. What about you?”

I told her I’d come back as paints because then we could make a painting together.

She said, “I wish I had three ears” and “Why is dirt brown?” and “There are billions of stars, billions of aliens with one eye. Cyclops City!”

“You sure think a lot.”

“I know. It’s like my brain”—she made spinning motions with her fingers by her ears—“it doesn’t stop thinking of weird stuff. Do you think I’m weird?”

“Sort of.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“I’m weird, too, Cleo. Be proud of it.”

“Okay, weirdo.”

“Nerd.”

“Nerd rhinoceros.”

I called Rozlyn. Rozlyn was weepy. Her head was hurting again. I told her we should go to the ER or, for sure, the doctor’s tomorrow. She insisted we wait until she had her appointment. I walked over and argued with her. She wouldn’t move. Her headache made me feel sick.

Cleo and I watched a Disney movie while Rozlyn took a nap, then we made brownies out of a mix and added extra chocolate chips. We ate two brownies each, then got Liddy, and she followed us around the property like a dog.

Later, I studied the quilt Rozlyn was working on. Three women, about Rozlyn’s size, in black bikinis, doing the cancan onstage.

“That’s Mommy saying she can do what she damn well pleases,” Cleo said. “And this quilt”—she unfolded one on a shelf—“is Mommy saying that women need to get out and see the world and the tigers and lions.” It was a woman in a Jeep on a safari, animals all around. The woman was wearing a silvery cape.

I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up with Cleo curled up next to me. I checked on Rozlyn and gave her an ice pack for her head, which was pounding.

Something was wrong. We both knew it.

“Found them.” Kade dropped an envelope on my desk.

“The photograph of your truck with your furniture in the back?”

He nodded. “Grizz took it.”

“And maybe a photo of Grizz’s garage and your saws and equipment inside when you first started?”

“Got it.”

“And the pole barn?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Perfect.” I about wriggled with joy.

“Now what are you going to do with them?”

“That’s a secret for me to know and for you to find out.”

He had such a sexy smile. “I told you, I don’t like secrets.”

“And I told you to buck up and too bad.”

He laughed. What a sexy laugh.

“Okay. Keep the secret. And why don’t you take Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday off, too. Don’t come in here. Stay home. Paint my picture.”

“I don’t need to—”

“I asked it as a question, but I didn’t mean it as one. Your schedule makes me tired. Stay home. Paint the picture. I’ll see you on Friday.” He held up a hand. “No arguing.”

I was wiped out. I was frazzled inside and outside. I thought about painting in my apartment, padding around in my slippers and pajamas all day, making a collage. It was like my old life, before Covey. I missed that life.

“But what about—”

“Friday. Besides, Grenady, I have more work than I can handle, and I don’t need any more, thanks to you.”

A vision of drinking coffee while I worked came to mind. Being alone. Sleeping in a tad. I would still have to be at The Spirited Owl at five-thirty, but... “Thanks, Kade.” My eyes burned.

“You’re welcome.”

I sagged with relief.

“Sleep, Grenady, please.”

His softened-up eyes about undid me.

I stayed home.

I loved it. I slept in. I outlined Kade’s mural on my sketch pad in bed, drinking coffee. I dropped off the photos he gave me at a photo shop and told them what I needed. I bought frames and mats. I put together a six-by-three-foot canvas, then started outlining my collage on it. I ate chocolate cake and a lemon cookie. More coffee.

I went to The Spirited Owl, had a good night in tips, and was home by eleven. I slept in until eight on Wednesday and Thursday, and worked on Kade’s collage, humming, lost in my art, the world gone, until my bartending shifts.

On Friday I went back to Hendricks’ and was buried. E-mails. Calls. Clients. A meeting with Kade about sales, Rozlyn about pricing for pieces, and Eudora about logistical stuff with the company, but I felt better. Not quite as exhausted. Those days at home reminded me of how much I love working at home. I’m a homebody at heart, that’s for sure.

I slept in Saturday, then worked on Kade’s collage until my shift at The Spirited Owl. I was nervous. I wanted Kade to like it. How humiliating if he didn’t. Plus, he would feel compelled to hang it in his office so it wouldn’t hurt my feelings.

Cleo came up to visit while I worked. She was wearing a red, blue, and yellow hat with one of those twirly, spinny things on top of her head. She was also wearing one red tennis shoe and a tap dance shoe because today was “mismatch shoe day.”

“Can I paint with you? I want to paint a picture of a monster with black teeth and a red cape.”

I laid out newspapers for her on the table, then realized that the front page story was about that serial killer again. Ugh. I didn’t know why the story was bothering me so much, other than the usual reasons, but I didn’t want to look at it. I snatched it up quick and put the comics down for her. I gave her a small canvas. She painted the monster while I worked.

I didn’t know that Cleo was watching me until she said, “Grenady, you are the best artist on the planet and on Pluto.” She fist-bumped me. “But do you know how to make friends? I’m having problems with that. Except for Liddy. We’re best friends.”