Ravens. Part 8

Close up, Romeo could see it wasn't a child at all, but a withered old man. The black man - evidently his nurse - carried him to the bed and laid him down.

Said Wynetta, "He checked out of the hospital?"

"Marcus? What do they. Call it?"

"AMA," said the black man. "Against medical advice."

"That's," said the old man, "me."

Wynetta said, "You gotta go back, Daddy. I'm supposed to go to Tifton today. With Jesse."

"Well. Good."

"But I can't just leave you."

"You can."

"You're too sick!"

"I'm fit. As. A fiddle. Except for the. Dying." He gave Romeo a wink. "Son. What's your name?"

"Romeo."

"Mine's. Claude. Santos. Pleased. To meet you."

Lifting his hand from the bed. Romeo held it a moment, then stepped away when the nurse came back in with his IV setup. The man had a deft touch. He coasted his thumb along Claude's wrist till he found a tender spot, then slid home the catheter tip. Claude never winced but was stoic throughout. Nor did he rebuke his daughter for her whining.

She said, "Dad, what are we gonna do do?"

He replied mildly, "How about. Tennis?"

"Come on, Daddy. Be responsible responsible."

"OK. I'll chop. Firewood. I'll clean. The gutters."

His grin was toothless but went from ear to ear.

He asked Romeo, "Is that really. Your name?"

The sudden fixity of his gaze made Romeo blush. "Well, my mama knew what a lover I'd be."

"Ha! You're Italian?"

"Half. I'm Polish on my dad's side."

Said Claude, "I'm Portuguese."

Romeo smiled.

Claude said, "My grandfather. Came here. For the fis.h.i.+ng. First to Darien. Then Brunswick. He had. Shrimp boats. Him and my uncles."

"Did you work on the boats?"

"Oh yes. My grandfather. Would stand. On the dock. And say, 'Galo pequeno. Quem o ama? O pescador. Idoso. Ama-o!' "

"What does that mean?"

"It means. 'Little Rooster! Who loves you? The old. Fisherman loves you!' "

Wynetta whined, "Daddy, I gotta take you back to the hospital."

"He carried. A netting needle. Made from bone. In his pocket."

"Could you say it again?" said Romeo.

"Say what?"

"What he told you."

"Oh." Claude tucked his chin down and c.o.c.ked his elbows. "Galo pequeno! Quem o ama? O pescador. Idoso. Ama-o!" He was a childlike wraith posing as an old fisherman posing as a roosterish kid. This pierced Romeo.

"Could you say it again?"

But Wynetta had had enough. "I'm taking you back, Daddy."

Said Claude, "No, no."

"I got got to." to."

"This. Is where I'm. Dying. Right here."

Romeo saw that it was time to go. He had no business here. "Well I guess I got things to do. Nice to meet you though. Both of you."

He went out into the blazing day, got in the Tercel and drove off - and then the Brunswick stench hit him. Gone, instantly, was 'The old fisherman loves you.' He s.h.i.+fted forward in his seat and set his face grimly and drove back into the city of Brunswick without seeing anything.

Tara poured the Madeira while Nell showed Shaw her toys: the singing buck, the trophy fish, the sunflower who dipped coquettishly toward the windowlight and sang, "On the Sunny Side of the Street." poured the Madeira while Nell showed Shaw her toys: the singing buck, the trophy fish, the sunflower who dipped coquettishly toward the windowlight and sang, "On the Sunny Side of the Street."

Shaw laughed. "At last! Technology produces something useful! Where'd you get these, Nell?"

"Well, the buck I got at Wal-Mart's. I went to Dollar but they don't have 'em yet. You play poker, young man?"

"Sure."

"You play pot-limit seven stud? Or just that TV c.r.a.p?"

He grinned. "I guess I play pot-limit seven stud."

She said, "We don't cotton to Tedious Hold'em around here. Where you go all-in on a pair of nines and cross your fingers and pray? There's more skill in Bingo. But if you're up for poker poker let's get to it." let's get to it."

Tara downed her Madeira right away, while she was still standing by the sink. Then she refilled her gla.s.s and set her face. Remember how much you love her. Think of nothing else.

She brought the gla.s.ses to the table. Shaw toasted Nell's cats. Nell told him all their names, and he toasted them again. Then he looked at Tara, and Tara told her first lie: "Shaw's an old friend of Daddy's."

"What, dear?" Nell was hauling the coin sacks off their shelf in the china closet, lugging them to the table.

"I said Shaw's an old friend of Dad's. He was just pa.s.sing through and he called Dad, and the two of them went in on the jackpot tickets together."

Nell poured out a mound of coins, and started counting it. She told Shaw, "We like the feel of money money. Chips are for sissies. Sell you twenty dollars' worth, that good?"

"Grandmother," said Tara, "you're not listening."

"I'm not?" She kept counting. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"I'm saying Shaw paid for half of our jackpot tickets. The day we won."

"Oh. Well then, how come he doesn't get half the jackpot?"

"He does. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Are you listening?"

Finally Nell looked up. "You're saying what?"

Do not lower your eyes. "Shaw gets half of everything." "Shaw gets half of everything."

Nell's gaze narrowed. "Why didn't you tell me that before?"

"Because Dad didn't tell us us. He was afraid Mom'd be mad."

"I bet bet she's mad. I bet she's screaming her head off." she's mad. I bet she's screaming her head off."

"Well. She is. But fair is fair."

If it's to save her life, it's not really a lie.

"Well," said Nell, "if your mom ain't mad, I am. You're telling me we're only half half-gazillionaires?" She turned to Shaw. "You get the rest?" get the rest?"

He said, "I'm sorry."

"You little punk. I already had that half-gazillion spent spent. I was gonna buy Brunswick - turn the whole town into my private putt-putt course. You like putt-putt golf? Wait, you gotta see my polar bear."

The bear was on top of her refrigerator. When Nell switched it on, it swung a golf club and sang, "It Don't Mean a Thing If It Ain't Got That Swing." Shaw chuckled. Nell exploded with laughter. Then she shuffled the cards and dealt out a hand.

"I'm winning it back right now," she announced. "All of it. Every penny you stole from us. How much was that again?"

Shaw coughed and murmured, "Um. Pre-tax? Something like. A hundred fifty-nine million?"

"Well, get ready to lose it."

She bluffed right out of the gate. Tara had an ace showing and another ace in the hole, so she stayed with Nell's bets for two more rounds, and even drew a third ace. But when Nell threw forty dollars into the pot, Tara figured her for a straight, and folded. Nell raked in. Shooting Tara a sharp critical look. Tara knew she was in trouble. She was playing too timidly. Was she playing so timidly that Nell would guess something was wrong?

Shaw said, "You ladies mind if I I play a little bit here?" play a little bit here?"

Said Nell, "Not at all. I'm waiting for you. Every last penny." She slapped the deck down. "Your deal."

As he dealt, he started talking. He called the hands as they developed. "Jack, possible straight. Eights a pair. Oh, look, I got three diamonds showing. My flush is in plain view. Well, I might as well bet it big and hope you'll think I'm bluffing."

He threw in five dollars, and Nell folded and Tara did too, and he laughed and tried to bully the next hand as well. Nell caught him that time, and burned him. But he didn't back off. As the hands went by, he kept coming. Tara could see what he was up to. He was covering for her. While she regained her balance, he was distracting Nell, drawing her away from the truth - the way a bird draws predators from the nest. He kept guffawing and gesturing and holding forth: "Doesn't anybody notice I have two cowboys showing showing? I got a posse over here! You don't hear the thundering hooves?"

He lost twenty on that hand.

Nell dealt the next one. He complained, "Gimme some cards, cards, will you? Deal me something for once that isn't c.r.a.p? Pardon my French." will you? Deal me something for once that isn't c.r.a.p? Pardon my French."

Nell, on her third Madeira by now, said: "You take what you get! You get the three of spades!"

The two of them barking, baiting each other, laughing. Tara tried her best to laugh with them - which got a little easier as the Madeira flowed. She started to relax a little.

Then Shaw leaned toward her, pretending to look at her cards, and she snapped, "You cheater!" - and this came out sounding playful.

She noticed that Nell was eyeing her and Shaw. Checking out the chemistry.

As though there might be some kind of romance brewing.

And Tara realized she had found the perfect mask. If she were sweet on Shaw it would explain everything. Her nerves, her stilted laughter, the mousiness of her game. Everything could be chalked up to a new and sticky-sweet infatuation. So on the very next hand, when Shaw was about to bet, Tara tapped his wrist and warned: "Go easy on yourself, cowboy," and made it look like an excuse to touch him - and Nell caught this. And grinned.

A few hands later, Nell went off to the back porch to feed the cats, and Shaw said softly, "Tara. You're astonis.h.i.+ng. You're perfect. You're going to save them all."

His little slant smile.

A sentiment flared up inside her then, which had the shape of a pillar. If it wasn't pride, she didn't know what it was. In an instant it was gone, vaporized by self-revulsion. But it had been there.

Nell came back in and sat and said, "Deal! Let's go!"

And now Tara raised the stakes. She bet thirty dollars on a hand that looked like a bust. Shaw cried, "You got nothun!" and raised her back, but with a kind of manic confidence Tara brought her face close to his and said, "I have an army of scorpions." And reraised - a hundred dollars.

Shaw folded. Nell hollered with delight. Shaw proposed a toast to Tara's cojones, cojones, and they all drank deep. and they all drank deep.

Romeo was parked up Egmont Street from Nell's house. His seat was tilted back so he could barely see over the dashboard, but still he had a clear view into the kitchen. The three of them so festive in there. Playing cards and drinking and throwing back their heads and laughing wildly. Meanwhile, in the Tercel, he sat there silently baking. For two hours, not moving except to brush flies away, to wipe the sweat off his face. At last the alarm in his phone went off. Time to check in. He pressed the number 7. He saw Shaw excuse himself from the kitchen table and come out onto Nell's little portico and lift the phone to his ear. was parked up Egmont Street from Nell's house. His seat was tilted back so he could barely see over the dashboard, but still he had a clear view into the kitchen. The three of them so festive in there. Playing cards and drinking and throwing back their heads and laughing wildly. Meanwhile, in the Tercel, he sat there silently baking. For two hours, not moving except to brush flies away, to wipe the sweat off his face. At last the alarm in his phone went off. Time to check in. He pressed the number 7. He saw Shaw excuse himself from the kitchen table and come out onto Nell's little portico and lift the phone to his ear.

"You're being watched," said Romeo. And he could see, even from this far, how much this annoyed Shaw.

Shaw scanned the street till he spotted the Tercel. "What are you doing here? It's dangerous when you're this close to me! Why aren't you patrolling?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"The smell of this city is making me sick."

"What smell?"