Whitehorse Part 11

"Sam, this is my son, Val. Val, can you say h.e.l.lo to Sam?"

Without moving his head, Val peered at Sam from the corners of his eyes. "Sam," he repeated, smiling broadly.

Sam opened and closed his mouth, looking like one who had just discovered that the trapdoor beneath him had dropped open with no warning.

"Would you mind taking his feet for me, Sam? We'll carry him into the bathroom before removing his diaper."

Nodding, Sam moved cautiously to the bed, eyes roaming the room, refusing now to focus on Leah or Val. He took Val's feet and they lifted him from the bed, made their way out into the hall where Shamika was leaning against a wall, arms crossed, towel draped over one wrist.

"Had I known I was going to get the night off, I'da got myself a date," she said.

Leah laughed. "I'm sure it's not too late. Randy's place is really humming tonight."

"Randy's nothing. I've got a good mind to head out to Mojo's, where the truckers are good-looking and the jukebox is rocking."

"Be my guest. I can hold down the fort here."

Leah and Sam shuffled Val into the bathroom, where Shamika removed his diaper and tickled his tummy, causing him to shout and laugh.

Last year Leah had saved enough money to purchase a tub chair-a thousand-dollar plastic seat that allowed Val to sit reclined in the water, strapped for security into its curvatures, which had been formed specifically for his body. She buckled Val in and reached for a washcloth and soap, glancing around at Sam where he sat on the closed lid of the toilet, staring at her with hound-dog eyes.

"Thanks. I can take it from here. Why don't you go get to know Shamika while I finish up bathing Val. I'll call you when it's time to get him out."

He nodded. Then nodded again. Slowly standing, he walked from the room.

A collection of rubber ducks bobbed in the warm bathwater as Leah gently washed her son's body, crooning to him, smiling as his eyelids grew heavy, as they always did in the tub. The warm water relaxed him and eased the rigidity somewhat in his muscles, allowing him to more easily mold to the chair.

From the living room came sounds of adult conversation, an oddity that somewhat unnerved her. Closing her eyes, she floated on the tones as easily as Val's ducks did on the water. Laughter. Footsteps. The tunes from Sesame Street Sesame Street cut off abruptly, replaced by television chatter. cut off abruptly, replaced by television chatter.

Her mind drifted back to earlier that evening, and she was again drawn close to Johnny's body, so familiar after so many years. He'd held her the same, like a treasured possession, their bodies swaying to music, their faces painted by candlelight.

"Come home with me," he'd whispered.

Come home with me.

"Mama sad?" Val asked.

Leah blinked, spilling tears down her cheeks. She quickly blotted them away with the washcloth, smiling into her son's concerned eyes, which seemed a thousand lifetimes wise. "No, Mama's not sad. Val makes Mama very, very happy."

Bath done, Shamika and Sam returned, bundled Val up in towels, hoisted him to his bed and proceeded to vigorously dry him. As Leah tugged his pajama bottoms up his legs, Shamika b.u.t.toned his top, discussing hers and Val's plan for tomorrow. No school meant fun day. Perhaps they would go to the park, or down to the fish hatchery. If Mama had no emergency calls, maybe she would join them. Would Val like pizza for supper tomorrow night? If he was good and cooperated with his exercises in the morning, she might even make homemade pizza, because that was his favorite, with diced-up pieces of pepperoni and sprinkled with M&M's.

Leah tucked Val into bed while Shamika and Sam returned to the living room. Sam had relaxed enough to ask questions: what, exactly, was the extent of Val's cerebral palsy and mental r.e.t.a.r.dation? What had caused it? Turning out the overhead light, Leah sat on the edge of Val's bed, watching his eyes grow drowsy in the pale beam of the smiling plastic clown on the wall. With shadows kissing his face and his blanket tucked under his chin, she could almost imagine he was as normal as a million other seven-year-old boys, dreaming of Sat.u.r.day freedom, of parks and playgrounds, of gathering daisies...

She kissed his brow and tiptoed from the room, closing the door silently behind her.

Sam had taken the rocking chair near the window. Shamika sprawled on the sofa, feet propped on the coffee table cluttered with magazines, an empty cola can or two, and a stack of Val's folded clothes, fresh from the dryer and smelling like fabric softener.

"How about coffee?" Leah asked, smiling at Sam.

His old cheeriness had returned and he waved one hand in the air. "Decaf if you have it, hon."

"Not me," Shamika yelled. "Give me the real thing. I'm just liable to cruise on out to Mojo's here in a little while and I'm gonna need all the pick-me-up I can get."

"Just what the heck is a Mojo's?" Sam asked Shamika as Leah turned back to the kitchen.

After putting the kettle on and locating the two jars of instant coffee, Leah dove into the refrigerator, shoving aside leftover Spaghetti-O's and Saran-wrapped peanut b.u.t.ter sandwiches until locating the last of the cheesecake she had purchased four days ago at an Albertson's deli.

"Leah?" Shamika called.

"Just a minute. I've just found dessert-"

"Leah, I think you'd better come here, sweetie."

Something in Shamika's tone made Leah frown. Leaving the fridge door open, the plate of cheesecake wedges in her hand, she walked to the living-room door. Shamika and Sam were standing still as scarecrows, staring down at the television, where a reporter stood before the blackened wreckage of a burned-out automobile, doing her best to talk over the shrieks of fire engines and the roar of helicopters.

"It appears the accident took place around two hours ago. As you can see, the bend in the road is extremely sharp, and the investigators on the scene are guessing that they were simply traveling too fast to handle the curve safely."

"Connie, can you tell us if alcohol could have been involved."

"Police won't speculate, Jan. We do know that Dolores and Johnny had earlier spent the evening with friends at Randy's Bar and Grill. From our understanding they left the bar around nine o'clock, which would put the time of the accident around nine-fifteen, nine-thirty at the latest."

"Thank you, Connie. We'll go now to the hospital, where Carl Simpson is standing by. Carl, have you any word yet on the condition of Johnny Whitehorse and Dolores Rainwater?"

"Jan, the doctors and nurses here at the hospital are keeping a pretty tight lip regarding Johnny and Dolores's condition. Shortly after the ambulance arrived here there was some speculation that one, or both, had been killed instantly, but that rumor has not been confirmed or denied by anyone so far. We do have some witnesses, however; two young ladies who happened upon the accident and called 911 on their car phone. Ladies, did you observe if, in fact, there were survivors of this terrible crash?"

"We really couldn't see much of anything other than the fire. We had no idea who it was even, not until we heard the police telling the paramedics. Oh G.o.d, I can't believe it's Johnny."

The girl turned away, her hands covering her face.

Carl looked back at the camera. "There you have it, Jan. I suspect that soon as word of this tragedy gets out there will be a great many more like her showing up here. As for myself, the thought of losing such a fine colleague as Dolores breaks my heart."

"Leah?"

Leah turned her head, did her best to focus on Shamika's face, only vaguely aware that the cheesecake and plate lay in a heap on her feet. "What are they saying?" she asked. "Are they saying that Johnny is dead? Is that what they're saying?"

"They don't know-"

"Yes they do. They're just not telling us."

Sam moved up beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. "Would you like to go to the hospital, hon?"

Leah nodded, her eyes still fixed on Shamika. "Johnny can't be dead. Not my my Johnny. I just danced with him. He said my hair made him hungry." She laughed. "And he said I was the prettiest girl in the room. He asked me to go home with him, Shamika. Had I agreed then, he wouldn't-" Johnny. I just danced with him. He said my hair made him hungry." She laughed. "And he said I was the prettiest girl in the room. He asked me to go home with him, Shamika. Had I agreed then, he wouldn't-"

"Sam is going to drive you to the hospital. I'll stay here with Val. Soon as you hear anything, you call me." Looking at Sam, she reiterated, "Call me." me."

TEN.

The car radio imparted nothing but music. Why music, when Johnny Whitehorse might well be fighting for his life, or worse? Perhaps the deejay's silence was an omen, or a conspiracy to keep the world from knowing that another of its idols had been snuffed out too early. Like James Dean and Elvis and Princess Diana-beautiful, adored, misunderstood, isolated in a frenzy of a hungry, demanding populace whose own worries were eased by the trials and tribulations of their idols-Johnny's death would ultimately make him an icon to be worshipped. There would be movies about his life, books spewing rumors and innuendos he would be unable to refute.

Leah turned the radio off.

"Johnny isn't dead," she said aloud, staring out the pa.s.senger window. "I would know it if he was. I would know it here." She pressed her hand to her heart.

Sam said nothing.

The hospital parking lot was a blockade of police cars, television crews, and teenage girls clutching posters and magazine photos of Johnny to their hearts, tears streaming down their faces, holding one another in their arms, bodies shaking with grief. Sam wedged the Cadillac into a s.p.a.ce behind a Channel 10 van, then looked at her with a gentle smile.

"You want me to go up first? You know, see what's happened? If they know anything yet?"

"No." She shook her head and shoved open the door, leaving it open as she ran toward the emergency room entrance. The same reporter she had watched earlier, Carl something, stood in a wash of bright lights, staring into a mini-cam as he spoke into a microphone.

"We've just received confirmation of one fatality..."

Leah plowed through a pack of yelling news hounds, all thrusting microphones toward an obviously nervous physician whose responses to them were drowned out by shouts and more questions.

As she sprinted toward the automatic door, someone caught her from behind. "Whoa, lady. Not so fast. Back behind the barricade-"

She twisted around, shoving at the officer's chest. "I have to see Johnny-"

"You're a little old for a groupie, aren't you?"

"I'm a friend-"

"Yeah, that's what they're all saying."

"Please-"

"Look, lady, are you a member of the family?" He looked her up and down, grinning. "I don't think so."

"The lady is a close friend," a voice said. "She can go up with me."

Leah turned. Roy Moon stood just outside the door, his hands in his pockets, his cowboy hat shoved back on his head. "Roy," she whispered, her voice breaking.

"If you say so, Mr. Moon." The officer released her and returned to the barricade, where a dozen screaming girls were waving photos of Johnny in the air.

Roy reached out his hand to her. She grabbed it, refusing to take her eyes from his.

He said nothing, as usual, just escorted her into the hospital, where she was drowned by bright lights and the smell of disinfectant. Police loitered in the hallways, as did women in white uniforms and men in long white coats.

A pair of men stood side by side at the end of the corridor, their jackets stamped Coroner's Office. Coroner's Office. Her step slowed and for an instant the peripheral world became a gray haze. Her step slowed and for an instant the peripheral world became a gray haze.

"In here," Roy said, directing her toward a door flanked by police with walkie-talkies strapped to one hip, a gun on the other. He shoved the door open and stepped aside, waiting for her to enter.

Despite the noise in the corridor, the room was quiet. And cold. A group of doctors and nurses cl.u.s.tered around a body on a bed, speaking softly, jotting notes on clipboards.

"We'll continue the IV through the night. Check his stats every two hours. If he wakes up and needs something for pain I've noted his medication on his chart. I suspect he'll be out for a while, though. I gave him enough sedation earlier to put down an elephant."

The group laughed quietly and turned for the door, filing past Leah and Roy as the physician with a somewhat twisted sense of humor smiled at Roy and motioned him toward the bed. "You can come in now, Mr. Moon. I think we've about done all the damage we can do to Mr. Whitehorse, at least for the time being."

Roy smiled at Leah. "Go on. You first."

The glare of the lights made Johnny's skin look pale. His face showed signs of bruises and abrasions. Cuts on his brow and chin had been closed with a few st.i.tches. There were bandages securing an IV needle into the back of his hand, and there was gra.s.s in his hair, along with dry blood.

"Does he know about Dolores yet?" Roy asked the doctor.

"He knows. He was awake when the paramedics brought him in. He took it pretty hard, which is one of the reasons I sedated him so heavily."

"I don't know how he managed to survive that wreck. I've seen it on the news. There's nothing left of the car."

"He was thrown clear. One of those rare times it paid not to have his seatbelt on. Miss Rainwater wasn't so lucky. Even if she had survived the impact by some miracle, the explosion would have killed her."

"It don't make sense, Doc. Johnny's a real good driver. He wouldn't do anything to jeopardize their lives."

"We're running blood tests for alcohol-"

"He wasn't drunk," Leah said, reaching for Johnny's hand, frowning at how cold it felt, and unresponsive. "We had dinner together. The four of us. He had two drinks. You have to know, Johnny, Doctor. It takes a great deal more than a gla.s.s of champagne and a margarita to buzz him. Whatever caused that accident, it wasn't due to his driving drunk."

The doctor put his chart aside. "We're also running tests for drugs."

Leah looked around. "Don't bother. Johnny would never do drugs. He despises them and everything they stand for."

"Cocaine was found near the car, in the lady's purse." The doctor lowered his eyes. "There will be an investigation, of course. If his tests show positive ... he could be looking at a manslaughter charge. I suggest, Mr. Moon, that you contact his attorney as soon as possible. I can keep those cops out of here only so long. Come morning, when he wakes up, he's going to have a lot of answering to do."

Roy nodded. "I'll call him now."

The doctor left the room. Roy stood at the end of the bed, hands slid into his back pockets as he watched Johnny sleep.

"You don't believe it, do you?" Leah asked. "You know Johnny would never touch drugs. Roy? Look at me."

"There was a bad time, after you left Ruidoso. He wasn't himself. He lost his pride, and his soul was angry. He had much pain in his heart. His spirit became his enemy. He turned to drugs and alcohol. I think he wanted to die. I found him one night, unconscious, a needle in his arm. I took him to his grandfather, and his grandfather called on the Great Spirit to repair and comfort his wounded soul. When Johnny returned to us, he was healed. But the emptiness of loss remained. He became like the eagle with one wing. He could no longer fly."

The door opened and a nurse peered in. "You'll have to go now. We'll be moving Mr. Whitehorse up to a room for the night."

Leah bent over Johnny, searching his face. "I'm here," she whispered. "We'll get through this together. I won't leave you again, Johnny. I swear it."

Sam waited in the hall, smiling as Leah left Johnny's room. He took her aside as a group of nurses and aides hustled into the room, followed by several police officers. "He's going to be fine, Leah. I spoke with the doctor. They did extensive X rays; nothing internal to cause problems. He'll be good as new in a few days. I'll drive you home. You can get some sleep and come back first thing in the morning."

The door opened again. Johnny was rolled out into the hallway, flanked by nurses carrying IV bags. Officers closed in around him, their walkie-talkies squawking and buzzing with static. Two peeled away and moved to the end of the corridor, a.s.suring that no overeager reporters would find their way beyond the outer barricade and zero in on Johnny's whereabouts.

Elevator doors slid open, and Johnny disappeared from view.

The fear and adrenaline rush that had vibrated Leah's nerves on the way to the hospital having subsided, she felt as if every inkling of energy, not to mention bone and muscle, had been drained from her body. As Sam drove them back to her house, she rode with her eyes closed, mind blank, sleep pulling at her consciousness like the moon on tide.