Chapter Ten
I mostly came to the area because I wanted to serve at Fort Huachuca,” Hugh Lavender had said. “It’s the only military post still operational from the days of the Indian Wars, and it was the home base for the buffalo soldiers of the day.”
“Buffalo soldiers?” Jeannie repeated. She passed a bowl of mashed potatoes to Manuela (real ones with crushed fresh garlic added, not the instant, boxed kind she and Oliver usually ate). The boys, Kevin and Neal, were parked in front of the TV, watching Toy Story 2. “I’ve heard the phrase, but …”
Hugh rubbed the tightly curled hair on top of his head. “Story is, the Indians had never seen hair like black men have. They were used to long, straight hair. Maybe some natural waves, but nothing like this stuff. If you check out some of the pictures of the Apache warriors and their women, you’ll see it looks like they spent time at the salon, used all the latest hair products, but it was just their own natural hair. They thought our hair looked like bison fur. So, they called the black troopers ‘buffalo soldiers,’ and the name stuck.”
“And how did you two meet?” Oliver asked.
Lulu giggled. “He thought she had a great rack.”
“And she does,” Oliver said. “But I’m sure there was more to it than that.”
Manuela laughed too. She had probably put on weight in the intervening years, but she was still a looker, Oliver thought, voluptuous and pretty, with some of the softest skin he had ever touched. “That was part of it, though,” she said. “I had gone to a movie, with some girlfriends, over there in Sierra Vista. I was young, you know. When I left home, I had a school sweatshirt on, but underneath it I had this tight top, cut down to there, with a pushup bra underneath shoving everything I had up and out.”
“I still remember the way she looked,” Hugh said, gazing admiringly at his wife. “Caught my eye, that’s for sure.”
“He was at the theater with some of his army buddies, and we saw each other and couldn’t stop looking. I had never been out with a black man, and my parents thought I was crazy when I finally told them. He came up to me and started talking, and next thing I knew I told my friends to go to the movie without me. We went to a diner and got Cokes and talked for hours. I got in trouble for getting home late, but I didn’t care.”
“That’s basically all it took,” Hugh added. “We were married eight months after that, and she”—he ticked his head toward Lulu—“was born ten months later. We went into debt honeymooning in Honolulu, and she was conceived there so we called her Lulu.”
Oliver had looked at Lulu then, who smiled almost shyly, and saw the love with which her parents showered her reflected back at them.
“Oliver?”
“Yes?” Jeannie had been speaking, but he hadn’t been hearing anything she’d said.
“Where were you?”
“Thinking about that time the Lavenders came to dinner here,” he said. “I can’t stop thinking about them.”
“I know what you mean.” Jeannie had been quiet, contemplative, ever since Buck Shelton had left. She had gone back to her painting for a while, then come out and started dinner. They were at the table now, eating without enthusiasm, cruising through the evening on autopilot. Warren Zevon’s CD The Wind played softly in the background.
Back in San Diego, Jeannie had volunteered for two different organizations: Habitat for Humanity and the Nature Conservancy. She hadn’t earned any money, but doing good work brought her an enormous amount of personal satisfaction, more than she had taken home in her previous career as a middle manager at an electronics company.
Since moving to Arizona, she hadn’t found much to do with her days other than the part-time gallery work. Oliver worried about her, afraid she would get bored, restless. So far, she seemed content to work on the house and be domestic in a way she never had before. Whether that could last, he didn’t know. He found himself watching her for clues, portents of trouble.
“It’s just … it’s so awful I can’t really process it,” he said after a while. He put down his fork. Eating another bite seemed like too much effort. “And I can’t help wishing I could come up with something that would save Lulu. Something pertinent she told me I’m not thinking of, maybe.”
“You can’t hold yourself responsible for the actions of a madman,” Jeannie said. She folded her napkin and set it beside her plate, a sign that she had given up on dinner as well.
“I’m not,” Oliver replied. “I’m just wondering … you know, if it was someone who knew her. Someone she knew, who maybe she mentioned at one time or another.”
“If it comes to you, then that’s great,” Jeannie said. She rose, lifting her plate, reaching across the table for his. She had cooked, which meant it was his turn to do the dishes. “But you can’t force it.”
He followed her into the kitchen, carrying glasses and silverware. By the time he got there, she had put the plates in the sink and was running water over them, but her shoulders were shaking. He put his hands on them, kissed a tear off her cheek. She pressed back against him, gripping his hands with hers.
“Forget the dishes,” she said in a husky voice. She blinked back tears, turning her body into his arms. “You can do them after you do me.”
“Right now?” he started to ask. But her mouth was on his, hungry, tongue probing, and he didn’t bother to talk anymore. Jeannie’s hands roamed down his back, cupping his ass, then moved forward to undo his belt with an unusual but exciting urgency.
He managed to turn off the running water before she pulled him onto the floor.
But just barely.