Broken Things to Mend Page 9

  “Too bad,” Celia said about the failed ride.

  Silas shrugged. “If they don’t get hurt, I think it’s a successful ride.”

  “I guess that’s true. But he probably doesn’t feel the same way about it.”

  “He p-probably would if he got hurt.”

  The arena lights came on while the sky to the west turned gold and pink then indigo. They shared a popcorn and for a little while Celia forgot about her worries and secrets.

  After the last cowboy had ridden and the country music started blaring through the speakers, they stood to leave. The crowd crushed around them and some teenagers squeezed between them. When Silas saw Celia was several steps behind him, he let the crowd move around him and put his hand on Celia’s back. He kept it there until they were in the dark of the parking lot and the press of the crowd had lessened.

  “Hey, Toller. I thought that was you.”

  A big man walked toward them, holding a little boy’s hand. He was soft, the way a man who once was an athlete but now works at a desk is soft.

  “Hi Alan.”

  The two men shook hands and Alan gave him a good-old-boy smack on the back.

  “You gonna introduce me to your girlfriend?”

  Silas glanced at Celia and gave a little shake of his head. “She’s not... She m-moved in with m-my aunt.”

  Even though she knew he was right—she wasn’t Silas’s girlfriend—her heart sank a little at Silas’s quick dismissal, then it hurt for him as he stammered.

  “I’m Celia.”

  “Nice to meet you, Celia. I’m Alan Kilpatrick. Silas and I went to school together. And this is my little boy, Brock. Disappointing showing tonight, huh? Been a long time since only three riders hit eight seconds.”

  “Tough b-bulls, I guess,” said Silas. “Are you still in P-P-Portland?”

  “Yeah. Probably there for good. What are you doing now?”

  “Still here. Working for the forest service. P-probably there for good.” Silas smiled but he looked self-conscious.

  “Whatever happened to Paul? Do you know where he ended up?”

  Silas and Alan talked for a few minutes about former classmates and changes around town. Silas seemed to like Alan, but he looked uncomfortable and Celia wondered if he’d have felt more at ease reminiscing with an old acquaintance if she hadn’t been there.

  By the time they finished talking, the parking lot was nearly empty.

  “Why does he talk like that?” they heard the little boy say as he and his father walked away. Celia felt Silas stiffen beside her.

  “Shh, that’s bad manners.”

  “What? I only asked why he talks funny.”

  Silas didn’t turn around and they walked in silence to the Jeep. What had been a fun evening had taken a very bad turn, and she watched as Silas clenched and unclenched his jaw. The five minute drive from the rodeo grounds to Nancy’s house felt endless. Celia wanted to make him feel better, but she was afraid that anything she said would make it worse.

  The headlights lit up the small shed at the back of Nancy’s driveway. Silas left the car running and stared out the windshield. It was like he’d forgotten Celia was there.

  “Thank you,” Celia said. “Tonight was really fun.”

  Silas snapped out of his reverie and turned to look at her. It took him a moment to replay what she’d said in his mind. “Yeah.” He paused. “Thanks for coming with me.”

  At first Celia felt relieved that he hadn’t stuttered, but then she felt a twinge of guilt that she was paying such close attention to what he said.

  “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” Silas’s face looked like a question. “At the barbecue.”

  “Oh, right. I’ll see you then.”

  Light from the television illuminated Nancy, who sat sleeping in her recliner when Celia entered the house. She stirred when she heard the door close.

  “You’re home. Is Silas with you?” She glanced at the door behind Celia.

  “He headed home.”

  “Oh, I guess you’ll have to fill me in.”

  ***

  Silas pulled out of Nancy’s driveway, and turned down the lane to his house, but instead of parking and going inside, he walked through the back yard and through a field that stretched out behind their property. Beyond the grassy expanse was a line of trees beside a small, bubbling creek. The creek had been a favorite place to play as a child, but after his parents’ accident, it had become a refuge, a place to disappear. The rocks on the bank had been the victims of his varied moods over the years. Small pebbles had been his carefree toys as he’d thrown them at trees on the opposite side of the water. Later, after his parents died, he had sat on the banks, wishing the water was deeper and faster and could carry him away. When he’d tried to give a report at school and made a fool of himself, he’d picked up larger rocks and hurled them against the stones in the water, happy when one would split apart and shards would fly through the air like shrapnel.

  It had been a while since he’d been back here, but the moon was high and he found his favorite spot—a fallen log that extended across the water—with ease.

  He let his mind drift back over the events of the evening—Celia, walking out in clothes he’d seen many times, but somehow tonight she looked different. She’d rolled up the cuffs of her jeans and tucked in the front of her loose-fitting t-shirt. Instead of torn sneakers, she’d worn sandals and her toenails were a soft shade of orange. Her hair was down instead of in the ponytail he was so used to seeing and it made her look less like a scared girl. She had turned to the window when he had told her it was his idea to go to the bull-riding together, but he’d caught her small smile and it had made his breath a little too shallow. As the crowd had filled in around them, they’d been forced to sit closer on the bleachers and their arms had brushed against each other several times. Instead of flinching away from him the way she had the only other time they’d touched, she hadn’t seemed to notice. But he’d noticed. It had put him on edge all night and made him want to scoot even closer.

  If only they hadn’t seen Alan. If only Silas hadn’t stammered and stumbled his way through that awkward conversation. Celia had let him guide her through the crowd with his hand on her back. Her pale blue eyes had smiled up at him as they talked.

  Silas thought about her expression when Alan had asked him to introduce his girlfriend. He didn’t know what he should have said—Celia wasn’t his girlfriend—but somehow he knew he’d said something wrong. He had felt the shift in her mood, in the ease of the evening. And then she’d heard the little boy ask why Silas talked funny. Even as he wanted to curse at the little boy, he knew Brock hadn’t meant any harm. It was a childish curiosity that had led to the question. And why shouldn’t the boy wonder? Silas had been wondering for many years.

  He wouldn’t have cared about the question a few weeks ago. He’d heard things like it before. He might have even laughed it all off and given it no further thought, except for one thing. Celia. It was time to admit the change he’d been feeling for a couple of weeks now. His wariness had changed to concern then the concern had changed to something more.

  He liked her. She intrigued him and surprised him. He liked how her hair, unremarkable brown inside, had golden-red highlights in the sunshine. He liked how pieces always worked themselves free from her ponytail and how pink her cheeks turned when she worked in the garden. He liked that the frightened girl he’d met outside the bus station in Bend sometimes smiled now.

  He thought with disgust about the end of the evening. Celia had smiled and thanked him, trying to recover the pleasantness they’d shared before Alan and his little boy’s interruption. Why hadn’t he gone with it? Why had he sat there stewing in his embarrassment instead of smiling back and walking her to the door? Maybe he could have gone inside and prolonged the enjoyable evening. Maybe Aunt Nancy would have been in bed and he could have sat beside Celia and watched television.

  Silas had spent his life avoiding connections wi
th people. It was easier to be a loner than to watch the discomfort and pity people felt when they were talking to him. If he steered clear of others, he could avoid most of the looks of curiosity or confusion or pity. But Celia had smiled at him and talked to him like he was a regular guy, and until the end of the evening, he’d felt almost normal. Maybe it was time to set aside his insecurities and go after something. Did he dare take a chance and see if a girl like Celia could overlook his flaws and like him back? Could he set aside his feelings of being a freak and the fear that had held him hostage for so long? Maybe he could ask her on a real date. The thought made him feel a little sick. Did he really want to shake up the quiet, steady life he’d built for himself?

  Suddenly Silas didn’t feel like licking his wounds by the stream. He pushed himself off the log and headed across the field. Tomorrow night was the barbecue and dance and Celia would be there. For the first time in many years, Silas felt something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel. He felt eager and motivated.

  He felt hopeful.

  “I’m not sure how many more years Ed will insist on cooking hamburgers and hotdogs,” Nancy said as she and Celia walked past a long row of food trucks pulled along one side of the park. “Most everyone on the committee thought we should skip the hamburgers this year and save ourselves all the work, but Ed says we need to keep with tradition. I say let’s relieve the guys at the grills and let everyone eat from the trucks. As long as there’s food in the park, that’s tradition enough.”

  “Where did they all come from?” Celia asked. She’d seen a taco wagon in the parking lot of the grocery store, but nothing like this delicious-smelling caravan.

  “Some are from The Dalles and Eugene. Probably even a few from Portland.” They walked by a gourmet grilled cheese truck. “Darn it, Ed. I’d rather have a grilled cheese sandwich or a bowl of those noodles than one of his undercooked hamburgers.” She waved at a girl taking orders in front of the truck with a steaming bowl of noodles on the side. “I may be back shortly.”

  Four men stood under the park pavilion at huge grills sporting aprons that said “Rope ‘em and Ride ‘em in Sisters” and wielding long barbecue tools. The whole park smelled like spices and bacon and warm cookies.

  “How’s business?” Nancy asked a woman sitting at a table at the front of the line.

  “Better than I wish it was,” the woman answered. “How are we ever going to get Ed to turn it all over to them”—she pointed at the row of vendors—“if we’ve got lines waiting for his burgers? I thought we could count on you to take your business to the trucks.”

  “It’s tempting. I’m glad there are plenty of out-of-towners to keep ’em busy.”

  “Don’t tell anyone, but as soon as I’m through here, I’m hitting up that mac and cheese truck.” The woman turned to Celia. “You must be Nancy’s new roommate.

  “I keep forgetting not everyone’s met her,” Nancy said and introduced Celia to Julie. “We’ll take three of Ed’s cheeseburgers.”

  “Look at him.” Julie waved the twenty dollar bill Nancy had handed her toward the second grill where a gray-haired man was flipping burgers and cracking jokes, a huge smile on his face. “He looks forward to this every year. I’m not sure we can force him into retirement.” She handed Nancy her change.

  “It’s probably what’s keeping him alive, so I guess in the spirit of geriatric solidarity, I’ll buy a burger as long as he’s grilling. But once he lays down the barbecue tools, I’m headed for the food trucks.”

  “Is this your sister?” Ed said to Nancy when they made it to the front of the line.

  “Oh Ed, I know you’re not that blind yet, so cut the bull.”

  Ed winked and spoke to Celia. “She’s been talking back to me for more than forty years. I hope she’s nicer to you than she is to me.”

  Celia grinned at the old man.

  “I’m here buying your raw burgers, aren’t I? I’d say that’s being pretty nice.”

  Ed had been about to place a hamburger patty on a bun, but he feigned a hurt expression and put it back on the grill. “You want well done, you’ll get well done.” He turned back to Celia. “You think she actually wants it well done or do you think maybe she just wants to stick around and talk to me.” He pointed his spatula at Nancy. “I’ve got you figured out.”

  After a couple more minutes and some silly teasing back and forth, Celia and Nancy walked to a picnic table with cheeseburgers, bags of chips and bottled water for three.

  Nancy scanned the crowd and finally spotted Silas at the back of the food line. She got his attention and waved him over. “We got yours for you. Figured we’d save you the wait in line.” Nancy slid the third plate across the table from her, putting Silas beside Celia.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  While they ate, Silas filled them in on a couple of late entries to tomorrow’s parade, and Nancy and Celia compared schedules for the following day.

  “If you have time in the morning, I was hoping you could look over the garden with me,” Celia said. “There are all kinds of things sprouting up out there but I’m not sure which are vegetables and which are weeds. I was hoping you could help me tell the difference so I don’t pull up the wrong things.”

  “Of course. I don’t work tomorrow until afternoon, but I think it’s supposed to be pretty hot, so let’s get out there early.”

  Nancy sent Silas to an ice cream food truck—her little sign of rebellion—and when he returned they ate gourmet ice cream sandwiches.

  Silas pushed himself up from the table and stepped over the bench. “I’m headed home to feed Winston. Want m-me to stop by and feed Nubia?”

  “I already did. But could you make sure I left the light on for her?”

  “Sure thing.” Silas looked directly at Celia. “See ya at the dance.”

  Celia watched Silas walk across the park. His mood had improved since last night and it was nice to see his smile again. When she pulled her eyes away from his retreating figure, she realized Nancy was watching her, a curious look in her eyes. Hoping to avoid an embarrassing conversation, Celia asked, “Do you need any help setting up the refreshments?”

  “That’s being taken care of. I signed us up for a half-hour shift during the dance and then we’ll help clean up a bit afterward.” A couple with a little girl in pink cowboy boots and a sparkly hat wandered by looking for a place to sit. “We were just leaving,” Nancy said and motioned for them to take the table. “Let’s walk along Hood Street.”

  Celia and Nancy strolled the row of galleries and antique shops as the sun dipped behind the trees. While Nancy stopped in front of Chicken Little Antiques to chat with one of her friends, Celia wandered to the window and looked at an antique sewing machine and a tiny nightlight that looked like icing roses. She was about to turn away when she noticed her transparent image looking back at her. She lifted the hem of the peasant blouse she wore and swung a little as she let it go, watching it move like liquid in the glass, and she felt grateful Nancy had loaned it to her. She felt pretty.

  There wasn’t much Celia could do about her scarce wardrobe right now. It would be frivolous to go buy something new when the next several months would bring so many changes to her figure, so for now she was resigned to wearing the few things she’d brought with her or the blue dress Nancy had bought for her. The dress had felt too dressy for a dance in a field, so Celia had put on her only pair of nice jeans and another t-shirt.

  Nancy had taken one look at Celia, snapped her fingers, and hurried to her room. When she returned, she held up a breezy, white peasant blouse with tiny blue flowers embroidered on the front. “I thought maybe you’d like to wear this.”

  “Oh, that’s okay.”

  “What, you don’t like it?”

  Celia shook her head. “You don’t have to share your clothes with me.”

  Nancy turned the blouse toward her and scrutinized it. “I may be an old woman, but I think I have pretty good style.”

  “It’s beauti
ful. But what if I get it dirty or—”

  “You worry too much. There’s nothing wrong with what you’ve got on, but we’re going to a dance. You want something that catches the boys’ eyes.”

  “I’m not looking for any boys, Nancy.”

  “Well, they’ll be looking for you. Go put this on.”

  So Celia had, and now as she eyed her reflection, the sleeves fluttering in the breeze, she was glad she had.

  “Pretty, huh?” Nancy said over her shoulder. Celia started and felt the heat rush to her face until she looked over at Nancy and saw that she was looking at the little nightlight.

  The car bounced over the rough ground as Nancy followed the cowboy with a handlebar mustache directing traffic. A large field had been transformed for the dance—part of it was now a parking lot, and beyond all the cars was a tent so large it looked like it could fit seven or eight of Nancy’s houses underneath it. Hundreds of sparkling lights crisscrossed the ceiling. Lanterns hung from metal fence posts that had been driven into the ground to light the way from the parking area to the tent. The whole field had been transformed into a magical place.

  On the far side of the tent, a band was setting up their equipment and to the right were the refreshments. Nancy and Celia made their way over to the two steel troughs filled with ice and drinks and the table where they would sell cookies and cupcakes.

  “Nice of you to finally show up.” The woman behind the table sounded angry, but her smile gave her away.

  “I’ll be feeling the same way about you later when you’re snoring away in your bed and I’m over here cleaning up.”

  Celia felt conspicuous and out of place standing by while the two women visited.

  “Nancy, could I borrow the car keys? I don’t want to have to carry my bag around all evening.”

  Nancy gave her the keys and Celia made her way back to the car. The truth was, she wished she hadn’t come. An evening alone at Nancy’s house sounded vastly better than standing around with a crowd of strangers hoping not to be noticed and not knowing what to say. She tucked a couple of dollars into her pocket in case she decided to buy a cookie later on then slid the bag under the seat. Suddenly she felt very tired. Surely Nancy wouldn’t miss her if she rested in the car for a little while and it would spare her a few minutes of standing around conspicuously. She pulled the door shut and locked it, then leaned her head against the headrest and let her eyes close.