The Black Velvet Coat Page 22

  “Oh, no. Desert is moody. Every day new.” Betty Lou handed Sylvia a pair of binoculars. “Try these. They’re very powerful.”

  Sylvia had never used binoculars before. She held them up to her eyes, but everything looked blurry.

  “Adjust them here.” Betty Lou pointed between the lenses.

  Sylvia swiveled the focus, and the vision cleared. Suddenly, a giant cactus seemed to jump right in front of them, and she screamed. She pulled the binoculars down to see that the cactus had actually been very far away. “Boy, do these ever work.”

  Betty Lou laughed. “Told you.”

  Sylvia continued to scan the desert with the binoculars. After riding for several miles, she spotted a glint up ahead and yelled, “I’ve spotted something.”

  Betty Lou steered off onto the sand and followed Sylvia’s directions until she told her to stop. They got out and hiked toward the shiny object. Sylvia tried not to step on any of the wildflowers with her boots, but it was impossible. The women soon reached the trailer, which appeared to be all in one piece. In fact, there was barely a scratch on it—just a loose bumper and flat tires.

  “Now what?” Sylvia asked.

  “I’ll get my husband to help.” Betty Lou whistled for Lucy, who had run off. The puppy sprinted back and circled around them.

  “Your husband?”

  “He’ll be back around in a few days.”

  “Won’t someone steal it?”

  “Not with those tires. My man will fix.”

  Sylvia didn’t understand how such a wise woman could be so stupid about a man, but then again, she’d made a similar mistake herself.

  They trudged to the top of a rise that overlooked a dry riverbed with cracked dark mud. Lucy ran down the slope and out into the desert again. Betty Lou whistled, and Lucy ran straight back toward them. Sylvia puckered her lips and tried to make a sound, but nothing came out except silent air.

  “Current seemed to have flowed out that way.” Betty Lou followed a wash of curves and searched the horizon with the binoculars, looking for the T-Bird. She frowned and looked at Sylvia. “I think the desert took it.”

  “What?” Sylvia frowned.

  “I told you, desert moody.”

  Sylvia remembered the first time she saw the T-Bird, smitten with the white top, little round windows, and turquoise hue. The thought of the car fading, rusting, and falling apart like a dead bird saddened her.

  “Nope, no sign of it.” Betty Lou shook her head. “Sorry. It’s probably not meant to be found.”

  “Can’t we keep on looking?”

  Betty Lou raised her hand to the sky and glanced toward the sun. “No, it’s time to go.” As they walked back to the truck, Lucy danced beside them.

  “Do you need to get to the trading post?”

  “No, we’re going to get you home.”

  “Home? To your hogan?” Sylvia looked forward to spending more time there with Betty Lou.

  “No. San Francisco.”

  Sylvia touched the amulet and shook her head. “I can’t go back there.”

  “You must go back and face the truth.”

  “I don’t have enough money to get back there, and besides, I need to take care of the trailer.” They climbed in the truck.

  “How about I buy it from you?”

  “What’ll you do with it?”

  “Move near the hogan. My husband can stay there when he snores with too much drink.” She made a deep belly laugh.

  “How can you be with a man like that?” Sylvia blurted.

  “It’s my destiny. Your destiny is to go home to Paul.”

  “But I’m not ready.”

  “Get ready.” Betty Lou’s deep voice was firm.

  Sylvia fingered the amber. “I might not ever be.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  Sylvia wondered how she would ever have the courage. “But what will happen when the police learn I shot Ricardo?”

  “Don’t know. Paul will help.”

  “How can I tell him what I did?”

  “How can you not?” Betty Lou was right, as usual. She turned on the truck’s ignition, pulled out, and headed south for a while and then east.

  Sylvia pointed behind them and raised her voice. “Aren’t we going to Flagstaff? It’s back the other way.”

  “No, you’re flying out of Albuquerque. Bigger planes there.”

  “How long will it take to get there?”

  “A day or two.”

  “It’s that far?”

  “No.” Betty Lou grinned. “First we’re going to Monument Valley.”

  44

  Arriving at their destination, a fog covered Monument Valley so thickly that they couldn’t even see the red mounts. The murky air looked similar to the moistness back home, but not with the same salty sea odor—just a hot and sticky evaporation from past rains.

  They waited in the truck for an hour chatting, Lucy sleeping on the seat between them, until dark began to set in and Betty Lou shook her head. “Too bad, time to go.”

  Sylvia touched her amulet and closed her eyes for a few moments. When she opened them again, the mist had cleared, and a full moon rose over the red towers. The butted vista was even more spectacular than she could have ever imagined, those sky-high gifts from God.

  Betty Lou lifted Lucy out of the truck to dart around, and the women stood admiring the view. Sylvia remembered the last full moon, which felt like a lifetime ago—on Ocean Beach, as Ricardo’s body fell back onto the waves. That memory had begun to fade, and so had the haunting effects. Her guilt had begun to subside, but she doubted she’d ever forgive herself for killing a man. But at least now she knew she didn’t have a choice in what she had done. Betty Lou had taught her that much. It had all been part of her destiny.

  As it grew colder, Betty Lou whistled for Lucy, lifted her back in, and started up the truck again, and the three of them headed toward Albuquerque.

  On the drive further east, she patiently tried to teach Sylvia how to whistle. “Round lips. Blow air from belly and out.”

  Sylvia blew, but only a little air came out of her mouth. She kept trying until a high squeak finally escaped, but nothing more.

  “Don’t worry. Keep practicing. You’ll get it.”

  Betty Lou checked them into a hotel, and Sylvia slept more deeply than ever.

  In the morning at the airport, Betty Lou gave Sylvia cash for the trailer.

  “Do I really have to go? I don’t think I’m ready.”

  Betty Lou looked deeply into Sylvia’s eyes. “You are.”

  Sylvia gazed down at Lucy in her arms. “I’m sure they won’t let Lucy on the plane. I’d better take the train.”

  “You can ask. If they say no, she can just stay here with me.”

  “No! I couldn’t leave her here.”

  Betty Lou grinned. “Teasing.”

  Sylvia shook her head and walked to the counter. “I see you have a plane leaving soon for San Francisco. Is there any way I can take my dog with me?”

  The clerk’s eyes softened under the brim of his cap. “She’s such a cute little thing.”

  “What do you think?” Sylvia held her breath.

  “You’ll need to pay for her seat and buckle her in.”

  She paid and returned to Betty Lou, who stood on the tarmac next to the plane, waiting with a smile. “Have a good journey.”

  Sylvia tried to smile and swallowed back tears. Betty Lou removed a bandana tied to her wrist, handed it to Sylvia, then pulled a small feather from her pouch and held it up. “This feather carries desires. Whisper yours to it, and they will come to you.”

  Sylvia took it, twirled it in her fingers, and put it in her purse.

  “Lucy Lou, I have something for you too.” Betty Lou held a lamb rag doll up to the puppy. “Made it special for you. Lucy licked Betty Lou’s hand.

  “But how can I ever repay you?” Sylvia asked, putting the lamb under her arm.

  “No need to. Go home. Get strong, and he
lp someone else someday.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  Betty Lou nodded. “You will.”

  “I’m scared. What if the police are looking for me?”

  “When you land, go straight to Paul. He will help you.”

  Sylvia climbed the stairs to the TWA plane, where inside there were twenty plush seats. Finding theirs, she set Lucy down, then reached for the bandana and wiped her own eyes. As the other passengers boarded and walked down the aisle, she must have heard “What a cute puppy” ten times.

  The airplane engines revved, and with shaky hands, Sylvia adjusted her strap and then Lucy’s and gave her the stuffed lamb. “Sweet girl. There’s nothing to worry about.” Never having flown before, Sylvia wanted to reassure herself more than Lucy, and she tried not to think about her parent’s accident.

  She took the feather from her purse and gripped the edge of her seat as the airplane bounced down the runway. It rose, and she leaned back, closed her eyes, and felt her body release. She felt light as the feather she held in her hand, looked down, and fingered the soft black edges.

  The plane leveled off, and a stewardess wearing a pillbox hat came down the aisle. “Coffee or tea?”

  “Coffee, please.”

  Out the window, Sylvia could see dry desert sand, tiny round bushes, and a scattering of buildings. Nearby aqueous clouds shone misty white like milk-glass dishes in the cabinet back home. How wonderful it was going to be to see Ella and Milo again.

  Sylvia held the feather between her hands and whispered, “Here are my desires: (1) the police are not looking for me; (2) I will have the courage to tell Paul everything; and (3) he will forgive me.”

  Off in the distance, there must have been rain because a rainbow now appeared across the sky. The multicolored arc symbolized God’s promise to Noah that the Earth would never be destroyed by flood again. Sylvia wished she had remembered that story earlier when her whole world seemed to be going underwater.

  45

  Anne examined herself in the mirror and tried to brush her hair. The thick waves had grown out of control. She really needed a haircut but didn’t want to spend the money. Her Skype date was in a few minutes, and Sergio would really think she looked like a yeti now. She twirled her hair into an updo. It seemed too fancy, so she refastened it into a long ponytail and draped it to one side for a more casual look. Then she applied mascara and lipstick. A plain phone call would have been much easier but not as exciting. Besides, she really wanted to see his handsome face again.

  She left on her sweats because she’d only be seen from the waist up. Just for fun though, she slid into her Ferragamos. They made her feel sexy. She paused. What if Sergio had a shoe fetish and lurked around galleries in search of the perfect feet? She shook her head. That couldn’t be the case. If so, he probably would have needed to look at her feet to get turned on. That night in the back of the cab and then in his apartment, he sure didn’t need any help in that regard.

  At exactly 6:00 PM San Francisco time and 9:00 PM New York time, they connected. “Can’t see you. Move to the center of the screen,” he suggested.

  She adjusted her chair. “Is this better?”

  “You look gorgeous.”

  “So do you.” Even though the image looked fuzzy, his endearing grin made her want to jump through the computer, give him a big hug, and more.

  “How goes it, Big Foot?” He smiled.

  “Okay. Been doing my art.”

  “Good girl. Find out more about Sylvia?”

  “Not much. Still at it though. Want to see what she looks like?”

  “Sure.”

  Anne took the portrait off the wall, carried it to the computer, and held it up for him to see.

  “She was almost as glamorous as you.”

  “You charmer.” Anne smiled and set the portrait on the floor beside her. “What have you been up to?”

  “Work.”

  “Good boy.”

  “I’ll show you mine, if you’ll show me yours.”

  Anne cringed. “No way!” Maybe he was a pervert after all.

  “I just meant your shoes.” A pant cuff and a man’s shoe shot into view on the screen.

  “Those Ferragamos too?” she asked.

  “My most comfortable pair.” His face appeared on the screen again. “I want to make sure the ones I sent fit you really well.”

  “Okay. Wait a sec.” She now regretted her sweatpants choice and pulled them up to her knees. He probably wouldn’t be able to tell she hadn’t shaved lately. At least the shoes covered her toes that screamed for a pedicure. She stood up, kicked her feet one at a time like a Rockette in front of the computer, struggled to keep her balance, and almost fell into the portrait. “Perfect. See?”

  “Perfecto.” His laugh was contagious.

  “Thanks again.” She sat back down and looked at his big smile. “I really like them.”

  “And I really like you.”

  “Me too. What a coincidence that we met at that crazy art show and hit it off.”

  “Not a coincidence. As I told you, my grandmamma says everything happens for a reason.” He paused. “She might even say we are meant to be together.”

  “Do you think so too?” Anne tried to read his expression to see if he was teasing her.

  He nodded solemnly. “I do. I miss you. When can I come visit?”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  “How about Christmas?”

  That would be a sad day this year since she couldn’t afford to go home. “I have to work that day, but maybe.”

  “Let me know.”

  “I will.” She nodded. “I really miss you too.”

  He grinned at her. “Want to meet me in Milan this summer?”

  Anne laughed. “Sure, why not?”

  “I’m serious. I’m going over for a buying trip.”

  “You mean Milan, Italy?” He must be crazy.

  “Have you ever been?”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  “Every artist should see Italy. After I’m done with my meetings, we can rent a car and drive to Florence.”

  “That’s where Botticelli’s Birth of Venus is!”

  He nodded. “Yes. And David too.”

  Imagine seeing David with her David. She’d ask him to stand next to the statue and compare them. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t afford it.” She sighed.

  “No problem. I’ll pay for everything.”

  “I couldn’t let you do that.”

  “Yes you can. After Florence, we can explore the hill towns. I have friends with a vineyard who would love to host us. Think about it.”

  “Of course. I will. Over and out for now.”

  “Ciao, Big Foot.” He kissed his palm and set it on the computer.

  She blew him a kiss and signed off. Italy! She knew she couldn’t go, but just in case, she’d apply for a passport anyway. Some serious “woo woo” was needed now. In her relationship corner, which happened to be in the bathroom, she arranged two little heart-shaped stones on the ledge next to her shampoo and conditioners and said a little prayer to help with their romance. Thoughts of him visiting her at Christmas here in San Francisco and a trip to Italy filled her imagination with desire.

  46

  An afternoon sun bounced off the windows as Sylvia gazed up at the skyscraper. She had been to Paul’s office many times before, but from down here on the sidewalk, it was difficult to tell which one was his. Professionals in business attire bustled by and stared at her. Women in downtown San Francisco didn’t wear western skirts, boots, and wide-brimmed hats. Still, she felt safer in her new persona. No one should recognize her. But would Paul?

  She touched the amulet, closed her eyes, and imagined being back with Betty Lou in the quiet desert. The memory calmed Sylvia’s galloping nerves. Her finger counted up twelve stories and moved to the west corner window. That should be it. Was she ready to face him?

  Lucy tugge
d on her leash.

  “Okay. Let’s go.” Sylvia pushed through rotating doors into the building’s lobby. The security guard nodded with a smile at Lucy.

  Sylvia’s boots thumped on the black-and-white mosaic tile floor as she made her way across the lobby. As the otherwise-empty Otis rose, she inspected herself in the smoky-mirrored wall. Her eyes were a tad puffy but otherwise clear. She took off the hat, fluffed her short red hair, and applied pink lipstick. She felt as if she’d been away for years even though it had only been a month. The elevator stopped with a ding, and the door opened. At the end of the hall, she paused in front of the glass-plated door stenciled:

  PAUL PALMER

  ATTORNEY AT LAW

  “Be calm, Lucy.” Sylvia held tight to the leash. She took a deep breath, turned the knob, and entered.

  “May I help you?” The secretary at the front desk stuck a pencil into the bun on top of her head and turned her nose up when she saw Lucy.

  Sylvia swallowed. “Mr. Palmer, please.”

  The girl gave her the once-over and asked in a nasal tone, “Do you have an appointment?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “He’s very busy.” The secretary squinted at Sylvia.

  “I’m sure he’ll want to see me.”

  “And you are?”

  Sylvia paused. “Tell him I’m here to see Mr. Dictionary.”

  The girl frowned, stared at her, and pushed the intercom. “Mr. Palmer, there’s someone here looking for a Mr. Dictionary.”

  Sylvia held her breath. She couldn’t wait to see him.

  Paul opened his office door and rushed to her. “You’re back!”

  “Yes.” She smiled at him.

  Lucy yelped excitedly. Paul bent down, picked her up, and scratched her behind the ears.

  “Patricia, hold my calls,” he ordered.

  Sylvia followed him into the office. He shut the door behind them, unhooked Lucy’s leash, and put her down. Then he reached for Sylvia’s hands, but the puppy yipped at his ankles.

  Sylvia stepped back and demanded in a firm voice: “Lucy, sit!” Lucy sat, and Sylvia smiled with pride and gave her a treat. “Good girl!”

  “She’s grown.” He leaned down and let Lucy lick his hand.