Page 32 of Rolling Thunder

“Anytime, baby.”

Now it was a slow smile that melted her. Apparently, he saw that too, because he leaned in and kissed her, thoroughly taking her breath away. In an instant, she was ready for him again.

“I got more horses to work. I’ll walk you out,” she said, spinning him toward the gate.

He stopped and turned back to her.

“We’re flipping a house with a really nice pool. Wanna go cool off later?”

“Sure, that sounds nice.”

She led Evan out and relocked the gate behind him. Returning to the barn, she wrapped up all her chores just as the sky started to darken, then went inside to clean up and get some dinner.

A light in the trailer across the pasture caught her eye and took her breath for a moment. The old trailer had been just a dark hulking shell on the other side of the property, reminding her of her mother. She hadn’t gone over to it a single time. Tried not to even look that way. But the lights were on now, and the sound of an acoustic guitar strumming a mournful riff drifted on the night breeze. Bill was playing his cards close to the vest, but to be fair, she hadn’t asked him if he was all right. Kay’s death had to be a mighty blow to him. The light across the dark pasture was like a tiny spark of hope.

Tonight, her domestic masterpiece was a frozen pizza that she’d reheated. Did he have food? She had no idea. That thought grabbed her heart as she remembered Gram Kay in this very house, looking out at that same trailer, wondering if Kayla had enough to eat. Gram Kay always made sure that she had. The least she could do was make sure Bill had supper.

Kayla piled a few slices onto a plate and walked out the side door. It was an awkward balancing act to get through the horse gate with a plate of pizza, but she succeeded. Only the desire to do something her Gram would have wanted for Bill was enough to overcome the dread of walking up those rickety porch stairs to the single-wide she’d once shared with her mother. She heard a clang and a curse from inside.

She knocked on the door. “Bill?” she called.

“Yeah!” came a winded response. It was the kind of yeah that indicated she should come in. So she turned the knob and let herself into the kitchen of the old trailer. Bill was on his back, halfway under the sink, banging and clanging and cursing.

“You all right?” he asked, scooting slightly enough that he could see her.

She held up the pizza. “I just brought you supper.”

“Goddam, you’re the answer to a prayer,” he said, pulling himself laboriously out from under the sink. There was an old card table and folding chairs in the kitchen. Kayla didn’t recognize them. Where had they come from? She sat down warily with Bill. “I boxed up some of your momma’s stuff,” Bill said around a mouthful of pizza. Kayla nodded noncommittally.

“Thanks,” she murmured. She didn’t want to see it, couldn’t bear to relive anything that was related to her mother right now. An old polaroid caught her eye, poking out of a discarded hiking pack that looked like it was from the seventies on the floor. It was Bill—back when he was young and blond, with some other young men and a mountain backdrop. There certainly weren’t any mountains in Florida.

“Where was this?” she asked.

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Used to go back and forth between Slab City and the Grand Canyon. I led mule-string tours of the canyons for a while. Slab City—they usually give you some kinda name to remember you by. I was always coming back from the canyons, so they called me Canyon Bill.”

“What’s Slab City?”

“No-man’s-land outside LA. Bunch of drifters camp out there and turned it into a little bit of an outlaw community.”

“Oh.” Sounded like the kind of place Canyon Bill would go.

“Why’d you come back now?” she asked softly. She hadn’t planned on asking it, but he’d been gone a long time… Ten years by her estimation. He’d come and gone many times before, but he’d never stayed gone a fraction of this time. The other question burning her up was, Why did you stay gone this time? That was a harder question to ask.

“Quit drinkin’. Started seeing things more clearly.” He cleared his throat. “Reckon I’d hoped to make amends to your grandma.” Kayla’s eyes shot to his. There was no lingering smell of pot in the trailer. There were no liquor bottles sitting around. Suppose he really had quit drinking? “Reckon I was too late.” The regret was so heavy, she could taste it in the air. Like smoke from the dumpster fire so many people had thrown their unwanted troubles into. She reached out impulsively, touching his hand.

“I was too late too.” she said. “She kept calling me to come visit, and I didn’t.” Her voice broke a little.

“We’re only as sick as our secrets, kid. Can’t change the past. Trust me when I say you ain’t the only one wishing you could.”

“I know I can’t change it. That’s the worst part. I can’t ever fix it.”

“Yeah, you can. You can take care of yourself. You can take care of this farm. That’s all she wanted. I think she knows.” When had Bill become the sober fountain of wisdom? She didn’t know, but this conversation had become way more than she’d bargained for. She just wanted to give the man some supper, not do impromptu family therapy. The emotions welling up now were way more than she felt equipped to handle. She cleared her throat.

“I’m whipped. I’m calling it a night,” she announced.

He met her gaze for a second, and she saw his understanding. He nodded. “Night, fire ant.”

She smiled a little. “Night, Bill.”

---