Unfortunately, recognizing it didn’t mean he had the vaguest idea how to deal with it. On the one hand, he didn’t like being ignored during what he’d hoped would be a chance for some father-daughter bonding, to paraphrase Ashley. On the other, he didn’t want Julia regarding him so closely that she’d detect he was less than the picture of health. Was there no happy medium?
He stood there looking across the yard at the house, and after a few moments became aware that Jack and Jill seemed to be compensating for their mother’s cold-shoulder routine. Nice doggies. Leashed to the porch rail a cautious distance from any edibles, they had fixated on him in their high-strung and illimitably questioning way, their ears cocked in his direction like swivel antennas, their eyes penny brown circles of curiosity. Gordian had once heard somebody refer to the breed as “pushbutton dogs” because of their habit of lying perfectly still and silent for hours on end, comically anxious as they watched their owners tend to their business, only to snap onto all fours with a spring-loaded, running bound when it was time to be fed or walked. And while the term had been used with affection, he’d been distressed to learn this peculiar behavior came from years of being cooped in racetrack kennels that barely allowed them the room to stand or turn, let alone interact with other dogs. As a consequence, they became social miscasts, insecure about their status, never quite able to tell what was expected of them or how to behave. And so they kept their constant watch, waiting for reassurance, all bottled energy.
Sad, Gordian thought. But thanks to the greyhound rescue people and Julia, things had vastly changed for them. And would change even more for those particular greyhounds when their corral was built and they could gallop around outdoors to their hearts’ content.
He turned, ready for his next go at the fence. The pile of forty boards he’d set out for himself this morning had dwindled to a mere ten spread neatly across the grass. Now that today’s section had started to take definite shape, he could scarcely wait to get the rest of them up.
Gordian was stooping to lift an armload of boards when the lightheadedness washed over him again. He flashed hot and cold. His heart fluttered irregularly, then began to pound.
He took several deep breaths. The gritty rattle in his throat wasn’t any comfort, but he soon grew steadier and felt the pounding in his chest subside.
Within seconds, the spell was over. Gordian knelt on the lawn, his head clear again. Still, he couldn’t keep on like this. He would have to get himself checked out. He’d call the doctor tomorrow morning, try to squeeze in an appointment for the same day. He was confident as ever that he wasn’t suffering from anything more serious than a nasty cold. Maybe a touch of the flu. But it couldn’t just be disregarded ad infinitum.
He glanced over at the porch. Julia remained involved with her cuts of fish, shifting and flipping them over the flame with her spatula. She hadn’t noticed his little episode. Good. He’d pretty much recovered and was thinking he could mount the rest of the boards in twenty minutes, tops. Close that space. Then he’d quit. Grab one of those lawn chairs, relax in the sunshine. And wait for Ash.
He gathered half the siding boards on the ground, carried them to the fence posts where he’d be working, and squatted to get the lowermost board in place. Then he took the drill from his holster, checked to see that the screwdriver bit was firmly in the chuck, pulled his goggles over his eyes, and reached into his pouch for a screw.
His power tool slugged the screw into the wood easily, its fat motor startling the birds out of a nearby tree with its racket.
The board went on without a snag. Gordian reached for the next one, positioned it, and was about to squeeze the drill’s trigger switch when he heard Julia calling him: “Dad!”
He looked over his shoulder and saw her approaching across the lawn. She was outfitted in black capri pants, espadrilles, and a sleeveless blue midriff blouse that precisely matched the color of her eyes. And Gordian’s eyes as well, though it was not something he noticed at that moment.
What he was noticing was the tight, controlled expression on her face. The overdone casualness of her stride.
He braced himself as she reached him.
“Time for a break. We’ll be eating soon,” she said in a flat, clipped tone.
“Hey Dad, you’re doing a fantastic job!” Gordian thought. “I couldn’t have expected better from a professional carpenter!”
He raised his goggles and regarded her from his crouch.
“I’m almost finished with this side of the corral,” he said. “Your mother hasn’t even arrived yet…”
She shrugged. “I thought maybe you’d want to wash up before she gets here.”
“You’re the greatest, Dad! I love you! Jack and Jill love you! We all love you like mad! I honestly don’t know what we’d do without you being around!”
Gordian tried not to look set upon. He felt a burr in his throat and cleared it to stave off a cough.
“Her car just left the airport half an hour ago, and you can imagine what the roads are like today,” he said, wondering if his voice sounded as weak and croaky as it seemed. “We should have plenty of time…”
Her gaze flogged him.
“Okay,” she said. “Whatever.”
Baffled, Gordian watched her turn away and walk back toward the house. It struck him to call after her, ask her to help him understand the nature of his current transgression, but he thought it might just provoke an argument. He decided the wisest thing to do was concentrate on his undertaking, keep his distance, and maintain a frail peace until Ashley arrived.
Gordian managed that with considerable success. He attached the rest of the boards he’d carried from the shrinking pile and then brought over the five that were left, all without getting into knots about Julia’s inexplicable attitude.
Then he was on his last board. He aligned it between the posts with a swell of anticipation and squeezed the trigger of the drill. It whined to life in his hand—
And then the dizziness overtook him in a surge that almost spilled Gordian off his feet. He staggered drunkenly, his gorge heaving into his throat, rancid and scalding. His vision went gray around the edges, and then the grayness spread over everything, and he felt his body go loose, the drill jolting in his right hand. He experienced a hot, piercing pain in his opposite hand an instant before releasing his grip on the power tool’s trigger. Just as the gray turned to black, he saw a bright splash of redness gush from the burning spot from the wandering drill bit.
“Dad!”
Julia. Calling him from somewhere at a distance. Her tone of voice so different than it had been only minutes before.
“Dad, Daddy, oh no, oh my God, DADDY—”
Lost in darkness, spinning in a whirlpool of darkness, he felt every part of himself melting away, turning to liquid, rushing into the ground.
It’s all right, hon, please don’t sound so scared, Gordian thought he heard himself say.
In fact, the words never had a chance to leave his mouth.
FOURTEEN
The body of Felix Quiros did not quite go to the rodents. Nor was it exactly found by other members of the Quiros clan.
His executioner would later be amused to hear that they split the difference.