Chapter 17
Celebration
After spending the morning in jail, Todd didn’t mind the long drive to Alex Kramer’s house, as long as he could keep the window rolled down and the fresh air blowing in his face.
A load of crap had come down since that morning, and the rolling Marin foothills calmed him. He turned up the radio, tapped on the wheel, and sang along with an old Willie Nelson song. He was ready to unwind at the Oilstar “victory party” at Alex’s home. By spraying Prometheus, Todd had turned on the light at the end of the tunnel.
As expected, Oilstar bailed Todd and Alex out after only a few hours in the Contra Costa County jail. Oilstar lawyers had been prepared and waiting. By early afternoon, Emma Branson had gone on TV, railing at the interference from do-nothing government agencies.
Todd had never been in trouble with the law before, and having an arrest on his record really ticked him off; but once the charges were dropped, his sheet darn well better be clean. He’d placed an awful lot of confidence in Kramer’s microbes.
Unexpectedly, he came upon Alex’s ranch house, half-hidden in the tall trees; he braked quickly in his Ford pickup, coming to a dead stop in the road before turning right into the long gravel driveway. None of the cars parked on the lawn and in the drive looked more than three years old, and there were more foreign cars than American ones. He shook his head. These same mineral-water-drinking lamebrains complained about America’s economy and then handed their buying dollars to some German or Japanese car company.
Getting out of the truck, he jammed his cowboy hat down on his head. As he crunched up the driveway, he glanced at the split-rail fence extending along the one-story ranch house; a small barn stood just around the corner. He took a deep breath. The familiar damp, musty smell of manure told him Alex kept horses. Not what he expected from the quiet scientist.
One of the secretaries from the bioremediation offices answered the doorbell. Not a secretary, he corrected himself; in California, the women called themselves “administrative assistants.” She wore lots of makeup and was dressed to kill. He wondered what she would look like in jeans.
Todd didn’t have time to say anything before she waved him inside. “Hey, everybody, our other convict is here!”
Pianos and violins played snooty classical music on the stereo. People milled around the main living room near a small wet bar where they served themselves. Prepackaged hors d’oeuvres sat out on a table: crackers, cut vegetables, cheese. A sliding glass door stood half-open, leading to a patio and the back yard. Other people chatted and laughed in the kitchen, leaning against the tile counters. From their dress, Todd supposed the guests had stopped by on their way home from work.
He hadn’t yet seen the host. He wondered if Alex lived alone in such a big place. Somehow, this did not strike him as a bachelor pad. Even with all the gathered people, the sound of the music, the conversations, the house felt … unused, as if it had been closed up for a long time.
Todd got himself a bottle of Coors from the small wet bar and stood nursing it, sloshing the foamy taste around in his mouth. He stood by himself in between other conversations, looking at all the people he didn’t know. He tried to smile as he shook hands, accepting congratulations for getting the work done and for bucking the system. Trying to escape further conversation, he wandered down a narrow hall.
Someone squeezed past him to the bathroom. Poking around, he opened the door to a closed room. Medals, newspaper clippings, and a battle streamer hung on the wall, just above the photo of a young man in a starched army uniform. Other pictures surrounded the memorial—Alex himself standing by the boy in hiking gear, the boy crouched by the ocean holding an abalone shell.
An adjacent wall featured a young girl. Photos of her at various ages were arranged in a circle: a ballerina, a Pioneer girl, a high-school cheerleader next to her mother—everything a proud and loving father would put together.…
Todd’s musings were interrupted by a loud voice and a slap on the back. “Cowboy Todd! Come on, loosen up, celebrate!”
Todd turned to see Alex’s big-mouthed deputy, Mitchell Stone. “Mitch, how are ya?” He wondered if Mitch had gone to some expensive eastern college to learn to be such a horse’s rear-end.
“Just friggin’ great.” Mitch hung an arm around Todd’s neck. A fruity wine-cooler smell surrounded the man, mixed with the aroma of cheese dip. Mitch took a sip from the glass he held in one hand. “You know, the way things are going, we’re going to owe you a lot more than that consulting fee.”
“How’s that?”
“You made us heroes!” Mitch roared. Todd couldn’t figure out what was so funny. “It’s a great day for the future!”
Todd squirmed out from under Mitch’s arm and steered him into the hall, closing the door behind them. He wondered about the pictures—who were those people? The displays of Alex’s … children…? made him uncomfortable. He wanted to protect Kramer’s privacy.
“Give the bug time to work, Mitch, before you—”
“Hell, I saw it with my own eyes. It can’t fail.” He raised his glass to Todd; it held a peachy drink with tiny bubbles rising to the top.
Todd held up his half-full bottle of beer. “I think I’ll get a refill. See ya!” He escaped before Mitch could articulate a reply. He hurried down the hall back to the crowded room, hoping to lose himself among the fifteen or so people. Todd wished for some Outlaws, or Charlie Daniels, or any country music, but the foot-stompin’ beat might stir things up too much.
He thought about going to the patio, maybe take a look at the horses, when he spotted Alex Kramer standing alone outside, leaning on a porch rail and holding a drink. Alex had a bemused look, holding his folded eyeglasses in his hand as if pondering a secret joke. Squinting into the distance, he studied the rolling hills behind the house. He barely seemed aware of his own party.
Todd started toward the sliding glass door when he bumped into someone backing away from the bar. A plate fell to the floor. “Gosh, I’m sorry!” Todd said, looking at the petite woman stooping down to pick up spilled munchies. She wore a bright red blouse and black pants.
“I didn’t expect you to be a ballerina wearing those cowboy boots,” Iris Shikozu said, stooping to snatched her glass from the floor. “But I would hope for a little bit of coordination.”
Todd glanced down at his large boots with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. “Who backed into who?” he asked, bending to help her.
Iris brushed a hand across her face to move the strands of jet black hair that had fallen across her eyes. “I think I can handle the massive task of picking up these crackers by myself.” Then, as if reconsidering, she gave a slight smile. “You could go get me another plate of food.”
Relieved to do something, and also to be away from further sarcasm, Todd made his way to the food table. He set down his half-empty bottle of Coors, picked up a paper plate, and started to grab potato chips, salami, dill pickles, olives. He suddenly stopped. Iris did not strike him as a potato-chip-and-salami type of person. In consternation, he looked at the food, trying to think of what she might prefer—he didn’t have a clue as to what tofu looked like. Well, how about olives? No, probably too much salt. He settled for fresh carrots, celery, cauliflower, and broccoli; looking at the other selections, he picked a few crackers—those must be safe, they looked like whole wheat—a deviled egg, and an artichoke heart.
He took the plate back, but Iris was nowhere to be found. The thought crossed his mind that she might have ducked out, just to make a fool of him. Then the plate was snatched from his hand.
“I’d better take that before you spill it,” Iris said.
Before he could stop himself, Todd growled, “What did I do to put a chip on your shoulder? And where were you hiding?”
Iris recovered from her surprise with remarkable speed; a grin spread across her face. “Well, well. The cowboy can think for himself. But I believe you’re jumping to conclusions.” She held up a damp dishrag in her free hand. “I was just getting something to wipe up the mess on the carpet.”
As she bent down, Iris knocked over the white wine she had set on the gray-blue rug. “Oh, crap.” She picked up the clear plastic cup and dabbed at the seeping damp spot. Todd grabbed a handful of paper napkins and knelt to help her blot up the stain.
“You wouldn’t make much of a ballerina yourself,” he said.
She gave a low laugh. “Touché.”
When they had mopped up as much as they could, Todd straightened. Iris brushed back her hair and was silent for a moment before she finally said, “I’m going to get another glass of wine. Want a beer?” It seemed to take an effort. “Then you can help me eat some of these carrot sticks.”
Todd blinked. “Sure.”
They went to stand by the sliding glass doors to the patio. A panoramic view of the Marin hills spread out in the late afternoon. The horse corral took up most of Kramer’s back yard. A thicket of Ponderosa pine started fifty yards from the house and spread up the hills.
Iris spoke first. “You know, before this oil spill people would have lynched you for even suggesting the idea of spraying Prometheus microbes in a populated area.”
He shrugged. “You do what you have to do. In an emergency, you can’t just sit around and wait for committees to sort everything out.” He nodded toward her. “I appreciate your help.”
“I wasn’t there to help you. I was representing the state’s interests.”
“Right.” He sipped his beer and looked around. After a moment he said, “Know anybody else here?”
Iris shrugged. “I recognize a few of the scientists, but I don’t really pal around with oil company employees.”
The silence was awkward for some seconds before Todd spoke again. “So what do you people see in California? You don’t really like it here, do you?”
She seemed to think over her answer. “I enjoy my work.”
“I didn’t ask about that.”
She glanced up. “In my line of work, you go where the jobs are. We can’t all live in Texas, you know.”
“I’m from Wyoming, not Texas. But we wouldn’t want the crowds, anyway.”
They spent the rest of the hour talking. Although she attempted to come across as tough as nails, Iris opened up once Todd steered her away from talking about academia and her Stanford connections.
By the time he finished his third beer, many people began drifting away from the party to get home for dinner, as if at some secret signal. Todd didn’t want to leave, but he began to grow more self-conscious as he saw others departing, calling good-byes to Alex until he and Iris were the only two left. Outside, the sunset flashed diffusing colors across the sky.
Alex stepped back through the glass patio doors, looking around as if checking to see whether it was safe. Todd and Iris both looked up at him. “Excuse me.” Kramer smiled sheepishly. “I’m not usually fond of cocktail parties, but my wife hosted them sometimes. She must have been better at it than I am—people never used to leave before midnight.”
Iris drew herself up. “Well, I’ve got quite a drive back to Stanford. Thank you for inviting me, Dr. Kramer. Glad we had a chance to talk, Todd.”
“Me too.” He was quiet for a moment. “Uh, look. How about grabbing some supper? All I’ve eaten is rabbit food tonight: celery, carrots—”
“I’ve really got to get back to the lab before heading home.” She hesitated. “Some other time?”
“Right.” Todd tried not to let his disappointment show, but at least she hadn’t blown him off completely. He didn’t know any of the restaurants out here anyway—and if he found one, they probably served only California cuisine, where a plate of diced eggplant and bean curd next to a boiled new potato and a sprig of steamed broccoli passed as a meal. He’d like to show Iris a good steak house, but then she probably didn’t eat meat.
Todd wasn’t sure why he felt drawn to her. She was at least fifteen years younger than he, shorter by over a foot, and had a sharp tongue—nothing like the women he was used to dating, who were impressed by rough-and-tumble oilmen. He stared at her as she gathered a black sweater and waved briefly at him. Todd watched her open the door, and debated following her. He knew he was bad at picking up on signals. Maybe if he asked again—no, she would probably just turn him down. She closed the door behind her, leaving Todd feeling awkwardly alone.
Alex looked at him, then glanced away. He struck Todd as a lonely old man. “Come on outside, Todd,” Alex said, “and I’ll show you the stable.” He drained his wine glass and struggled to his feet from the sofa. The sound of horses came through the open patio doors. Everything seemed serene and peaceful out here. It reminded him of his parents’ ranch.
Todd thought about the horses, but not wanting to invite himself, he controlled the eagerness in his voice. “Thanks, but I’ve overstayed my welcome. I ought to get back to my condo—”
“Nonsense,” said Alex. “It’s not like there’s anybody around here for you to bother.” He brushed his hand over his neat iron-gray beard and gave a weak smile. “You helped me a lot today, so stay a while. Let’s go check the horses.”
“Are you going to ride?”
Alex thought for a long moment. “Why not? It’ll be dark before long, but they know their way around here. It’ll only take a minute to saddle them up.”
Todd followed him out of the house to the corral. Dry grass crunched beneath their feet. Alex held open the gate, but as he tried to yank it shut, he hung his head as if he had just felt a wave of sadness. Todd pulled the gate shut himself. “You okay, Alex? You don’t look so hot.”
“I’m fine.” Alex shuffled to the stable, as if embarrassed that Todd had noticed his momentary lapse.
Wiping his hands on his jeans, Todd approached the two horses. Who would have thought the scholarly introvert kept horses? “How long have you had them?”
It took a moment for Alex to answer. “My daughter Erin was wild about horses. Got her a pony on her eighth birthday, and when she was fourteen I gave her that chocolate quarter-horse over there, Stimpy. I guess it’s been four years, now. We used to take them out a couple times a week.”
“I didn’t think of you as the riding type.”
Alex fumbled in his pocket for a sugar cube and approached the nearest horse, the palomino; he held a bit and bridle in his other hand. “This used to be a large part of my life, but I haven’t had much time lately. The horses probably need the exercise as much as I do.” The palomino nuzzled Alex’s hand, and the sugar cube disappeared. Alex quickly bridled the horse and held the reins out to Todd. “This is Ren, my horse. Go ahead.”
“Do your kids still ride much? I think I saw their pictures in one of the rooms.”
Alex froze, then answered in a hollow, curt voice. “Both Erin and Jay are dead.”
Todd squirmed, feeling as if he had shoved his cowboy boot into his mouth all the way up to the heel. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s all right. I’m over it now,” Alex said in a controlled tone that contradicted his words. “I’m just glad you’re here to help exercise the horses.”
They saddled the two mounts in an awkward silence, then Todd swung up onto the palomino. Alex seemed protective of his daughter’s mount.
Ren felt poised beneath Todd’s legs, ready to respond. The feel of the horse beneath him awakened memories. He had spent much of his younger years riding, comfortable with his own horse, working hard on the ranch. He had forgotten how much he missed it, how little time he had to do what he liked while he ran around the world fixing Oilstar’s emergencies.
He let Alex take the lead. The two rode across the sprawling back fields and along a path into the trees. With the approaching dusk, everything shone with a soft glow. The air carried a heady, damp smell of grass and pine. The horse made soothing noises as it breathed, rustling through the grass.
“This is nice, Todd,” Alex said. “I haven’t gone out for a ride since this Zoroaster mess started.”
The horses were familiar with the terrain, slowing as the grade got steeper. It took twenty minutes to reach the top of the hill behind Alex’s ranch; from the crest Todd could see lights dotting the valley, houses separated by acres of land instead of the endless crowding of San Francisco.
Todd broke the silence. “I could almost settle down here. You can’t tell we’re so close to the city.”
Alex’s expression was unreadable in the failing light. “If you’d like, Todd, you can come up and ride the horses whenever you want. You’d take better care of them than I do.”
Todd sat upright in the saddle, and for a moment the words clogged in his throat before he finally said, “Really? That would be great!” His voice sounded high-pitched with excitement. He felt a big grin spreading across his face.
“Only if you promise to treat the horses right, though. I’m no good at it anymore.”
“That’s an easy promise to keep!”
Alex’s shadowy face wore a lost smile. “Erin and I spent afternoons riding after I got home from work, then we used to race back to the house, even at night. She loved playing the daredevil.” His words faltered.
Todd waited for Alex to continue, but when Alex spoke again, he changed the subject. “I was in grad school in the sixties before I ever got close to a horse. Maureen, my wife, talked me into taking her on a riding picnic.” He laughed for the first time all night. “I was a real greenhorn, and the horses knew it. As soon as we were out of sight of the stable, my horse halted and started eating grass. Wouldn’t move no matter what I did.”
Todd let Alex talk, beginning to see the man in another light. He wondered how much time Alex spent moping around the house feeling sorry for himself and what had happened to his family.
Todd remembered times in his life when he had dwelled on things he couldn’t change. When his high-school sweetheart Kelly had dumped him for some guy joining the navy, he had spent months frustrated and hurt, constantly reminded of happier days, the emotional landmines found in scrapbooks and old junk drawers. But Todd also knew bad times could be wrapped up and put away, for a little while at least. He had let loose, riding off and doing stunts on his horse at his parents’ ranch, until his dad had threatened to ground him. Alex needed to let loose too.
Shaking the reins and kicking his mount with his heels, Todd caused Ren to rear up suddenly. A stupid idea with a strange horse, he knew, but just being on horseback again exhilarated him. He felt the power in the horse’s muscles, and a flash of delight surged through him. He held on and felt the joy of life tingle from his head down to the heels of his boots.
Alex looked over his shoulder, startled at the commotion, and his horse backed away.
Todd pulled back on the reins. “Come on, Alex. Race you back!” He didn’t wait for an answer. Todd slapped Ren’s side with an encouraging yell. “Yeeee-hah!” The palomino took off, as if remembering an old game.
Todd could hear only the sound of his horse crashing through the brush, galloping through the tall dry grass. His eyes had grown used to the evening light. Todd clucked at Ren, but he had left Alex behind. The older man must be in no mood to be reminded of the past.
The grade leveled, and Todd slowed his horse. Immediately, the sound of another horse galloping came from behind him.
Todd urged Ren into motion again, but Stimpy bore down to overtake Todd’s horse. Alex crouched low over the saddle, urging the quarter-horse to greater speed. Todd saw a focused expression on the man’s face.
The two of them rode faster through the clearing, charging toward the stables in the home stretch. Both horses ran full out, filled with exuberance. By the time they crossed the clearing and reached the corral, Alex was three lengths ahead of Todd.
Acknowledging his defeat with a laugh, Todd reined the horse to a halt, swung down, and patted Ren on the neck. He laughed again, feeling warm inside. He panted. “What a ride!”
Alex brought Stimpy around, chuckling for a moment. “That was dangerous, you know.”
“Ren knew the way.” Todd reached out to grab Stimpy’s bridle for Alex to dismount. “Like you said, this wasn’t the first time these guys have raced in the evening.” He patted Stimpy. “You’re pretty good in the saddle, Alex. I took you for a gentleman rancher—the type to keep a couple of horses, maybe ride them once in a while without really knowing what he’s doing. I guess was wrong.”
Alex shook his head and stiffly swung down from the chocolate-brown horse. His face looked stormy with sudden doubt, as if something had collapsed inside of him. His shoulders drooped, and he held onto the saddle horn as if to steady himself.
Todd scrambled down from Ren. “Hey, Alex! You sure you’re all right? You look like something’s really bothering you. Worried about whether your Prometheus bug is gonna work?”
Alex shook his head as he turned to lead Stimpy back toward the stable. “No, that’s not it at all. I … I was just enjoying myself, and I didn’t know what to do with the feeling. It’s been a long time.” He fidgeted, keeping himself turned away from Todd. “I think you’d better go. I’ve got a lot of cleaning up to do and … and I’ve got a lot of things to think about.”
Todd scuffed his boot in the dirt. “Sure, Alex. Thanks for letting me stay a while.”
“No, Todd. Thank you.” Alex turned back to him, gripping the bridle of the chocolate horse. “You come up here again soon to ride these horses. Promise.” Behind his glasses, Alex’s pale eyes fixed on him. “I mean it. That’s important to me.”
“Sure,” said Todd. “I promise. I always keep my promises.”
***