Page 52 of Cowboys at Coconuts

“Sure, it was all over the news, but that was in another state. No one put the information together, most likely since it was a couple who had been killed. We never dreamed Gypsy was Montana—”

“Truman. Her last name is—was—Truman,” Hope said, as she edged forward on the bench and studied Larry’s blank face.

Running her fingers through her hair, Hope asked, “Can you tell us anything else?”

The nurse stared upward as if for an answer. “We did the best we could to keep her comfortable. She kept to herself, didn’t speak, and dearly loved making those plant holders. We gave her a white board to communicate. I remember she dotted her I’s with hearts.”

“That’s her, all right.” Hope sniffled. “Anything else you can remember?”

The kind nurse smiled. “Gypsy filled her days by watching soap operas and dearly loved music. She would write down requested sixties songs when we had live entertainment.”

Hope brightened and elbowed Larry. “You both love the same music.” He nodded but remained quiet.

“At least I can picture her days now,” Hope said. “I’m glad you took care of her instead of that mean nurse.”

The kind nurse smiled. “No comment. Gypsy’s favorite day of the week was Pretty Nails Monday. She absolutely loved getting her nails done and always chose crazy blues, greens, and purples.”

Smiling, Hope said, “I bet she loved that. Montana had always been too poor for such a luxury.” She stared at her own bare nails. “I think I’ll get a manicure with a crazy color in her honor.” Hugging the nurse, Hope said, “You don’t have any idea how helpful you’ve been. This will help my”—she glanced at Larry—“ourgrief process immensely since we’ve already lost her once before. At least we have renewed memories of how she lived.”

The nurse patted her hand. “Remember the happy times, dear.”

Standing, Hope hugged the nurse. After she stepped back inside, she jangled the car keys. “Ready to go to the cemetery?”

“You promised something about a honky-tonk,” Larry said.

I give up. Maybe it’s better that he doesn’t remember this sad chapter. Montana loved music, so maybe she would want us to celebrate her life.“Okay, okay. We’re going to pay our respects first. Then, I’ll take you. A promise is a promise.”

Chapter 49

Driving in a shroud of strange silence since Hope was sad, yet relieved she had some closure, but Larry seemed stumped. Crossing the busy highway, Hope drove through the arched entrance for all of three minutes before she found Montana’s plot. The tiny marker on the grave simply read GYPSY.

“We need to pay our respects.” They both climbed out of her Honda and stood before the grave. Bending down, Hope kissed the blue macramé planter Montana had crocheted and wrapped it several times around the marker. She tied a knot so the wind wouldn’t blow it away. “Bye, Mom.Again.” Her voice cracked. “I can’t believe I’ve lost you twice. I’m sorry we didn’t know you were here.” Her voice wobbled. “Every time I look in your beautiful, cracked mirror, I’ll think of you. I promise you’ll never be forgotten.”

Larry bent down and patted the marker. “See ya, Old Lady.”

Still crouching, Hope stopped mid-stand. “Do you remember her now?”

Rubbing his chin, Larry said, “That plant hanger rings a bell.” He shrugged. “But that’s about all. Sorry. I know you’d like for me to remember more, but I don’t.”

“It’s okay.” Hope wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Want to say a prayer?”

Glancing at the sky, Larry said, “I’m usually private about that but Montana, whoever you are, I hope you rest in peace.”

“Amen. Rest in peace, Mom.” Her voice broke. “We love you and miss you.” Eyes welling with tears again, she sniffled and reached for Larry’s arm. “Let’s go. It’s getting dark.” She fished in her purse for car keys. “We can always get that marker corrected with her proper name. I’ll talk to Paul.”

“Who’s Paul?” Larry asked.

“My biological dad, remember?”

Larry brows knitted, looking more puzzled than ever. “I thought you said I was your dad?”

Hope threw up her hands. “Get in the car and I’ll explain it again on the way to the honky-tonk.” Far too tired and sad to go to a bar, she knew she had to hold up her end of the bargain and take Larry.The timing is beyond weird, but I can surely manage an hour since he gave up his weekend to come on this trip.

Easing onto the highway, she said, “I told you earlier, but maybe you forgot with all of the commotion and long drive. Paul Taylor is an attorney and my biological dad. You and Montana worked for him. You both adopted and raised me. I discovered all of these details after Montana’s funeral. Herfirstfuneral.” She waved her hand. “That’s enough for today.” She noticed the golden arches on an exit sign and pulled into McDonald’s. “I need some coffee to get through the rest of this night. Want a small or large?”

“I don’t have a lot of bread on me,” Larry said.

“It’s on me.”Some things never change.For once, she was happy to have the memory of his sad sack life and familiar sixties language. “I hear your phone ringing.”

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