There was only one surviving person in the snapshot I hadn’t spoken with.
“What do you hear from Celeste Baldwin?” I asked.
“Nothing. You know who she married?”
“Yes.”
“So you know as much as I do,” he said. “I told you, I didn’t keep up. You were the newsperson. You should still have the contacts to reach her.”
“Possibly,” I said. I studied the faces in the faded photograph. “All I have now is a list. Can’t you tell me what I need to know? Were these people Emily’s friends? Her rivals? Her enemies?”
“It was so long ago, Maggot.” He turned the picture over. “Who remembers?”
I watched him for a moment. He was obviously uncomfortable and fighting my prodding. I didn’t want to make him hurt. I just wanted some truth.
I stood and stretched. “You know what I remember most about that time?” I asked.
“What?”
“The passion,” I said. “And not only passion for the cause. Remember Marcella, my mother’s cleaning lady?”
I think so.”
“She hated the years of the Movement in Berkeley. You know why?”
“Tell me.”
“Because of the love stains she had to bleach out of the sheets when Emily’s house guests left town again. You would all come back from a rally or teach-in or march so fired up the house seemed to shake with the leftover passion. There was always a terrific racket: hot debates, loud music, enormous amounts of food, lots of grass. Then, two by two, people would peel from the group and slip up the stairs. Sleep was impossible with all the headboard banging during the night.”
He smiled. “That was the best part.”
“So you do remember?”
“Passion I remember.”
“Passion can wear many faces.”
“So?”
“So, it would take a lot of passion to put a gun to an old friend’s head and pull the trigger.”
Chapter Ten
After breakfast, Jaime drove me in his pickup into downtown Indio for a change of clothes. It was just after nine and the only place open was a western store called Trader Sam’s. I picked out some snug, button-front blue jeans, a white shirt, an Indian blanket-weave flannel jacket and a pair of natural cowhide boots, all from the marked-down shelves. When my MasterCard didn’t clear, Jaime put the clothes on his account.
“Some TV star you are,” he said, as we walked back out to his truck. “You broke?”
“Always,” I said. “My gigs are publicly funded.”
“Who’s paying for the trip to Belfast?”
“I don’t know and I won’t ask. As long as I have content control, I don’t care.”
“You’re serious?”
“I’m not as politically pure as Emily.”
Jaime laughed. “That’s okay by me. The way you look in those jeans, I’ll forgive damn near anything.”
I think I smiled before I left him to walk to the passenger side of the truck. He didn’t mean anything by the remark, just flexing. It was sweet.
I climbed into the truck and closed the door. In the few seconds it took for him to walk from the store, a shadow had come over Jaime. I reached across the seat and touched his arm.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked.
He sighed. “Life is fleeting.”
“It is.”
“Last time you and I really talked,” he said, “you were still a bratty little kid with freckles on your nose. You were so cute and so smart and I loved you to pieces. I no more than turn around, and here you are with a half-grown child of your own. Where is that little girl I knew?”
“Long gone, Jaime.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You are a sentimental old thing, aren’t you, Jaime?” I rolled down my window and leaned against the doorframe, letting the wind redo my hair as we drove back toward his house. “Soon as I get a check, I’ll pay you back. Thanks for everything. My own brother couldn’t have been more helpful.”
“Brother, huh?” He sighed wistfully, and I appreciated that. One time I had asked Emily how Jaime kissed, and she had said, “You’ll never find that out.” Maybe it was the way she said it. In a purely academic sense, I still wondered what sort of kisser he might be. As long as Emily was where she was, I would never find out.
“You never remarried,” I said.
He shook his head. “Emily is a tough act for any woman to follow.”
“Do you get lonely, living by yourself out here?”
“Sometimes,” he said. “I have friends. I’m busy. I feel useful. How about you?”
“I have Casey. I have a job.”
“Kids and jobs don’t warm the sheets at night.”
I may have blushed-my face felt hot. “My sheets are warm enough.”
“Yeah?”
I thought about it for a moment. “I went through the post-divorce crazies for a while.”
“Is that still called dating?”
“You’ve been there, huh?” I laughed. “It’s just one of the four phases of divorce. You know, denial, anger, slutting, celibacy.”
“Where are you now?” he asked.
“Phase four,” I said, trying to remember the last time I had been to bed with someone interesting. “I have no prospects and no time to pursue any.”
“I’m coming up to the Bay Area for a conference in the spring. Can I come see you?”
“As a member of the family, sure, come. We need to catch up. You’re the only uncle Casey has. I’d like her to know you better.”
There was sadness in his smile again. He pulled into his drive-way, still not saying whatever it was that weighed on his mind. We got out of the truck and stood in a patch of thin sunlight, making toe patterns in the fine white desert sand while we talked.
“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” he asked.
“I want to talk to Celeste Baldwin.”
“She won’t see you.”
“Sure she will. Celeste and Emily were very close.”
“Were,” he said. “Past tense. Celeste wants nothing to do with any of us from the old days. She’s even worse than Rod Peebles. We carry the taint. Rod finds us politically embarrassing, Celeste finds us unclean,” he said. “She must have gotten into some bad weed. She told Emily one night that she met God. He told her He was a Republican. She asked us to stay away from her.”
“Just the same Jaime shook his head. “She won’t see you.”
“I have my methods.”
“You’ll need them.”
Lupe called from the porch, “Dr. Jaime, you have a patient waiting.”
Jaime tucked my hand into his elbow and walked me inside. He was very pensive. He pulled me into his arms and I could feel him shaking.
“I really miss you,” he said. “When Em and I broke up, it was too painful to see you and Casey, your mom and dad. I thought the best thing was to just sever the ties completely. I was wrong, but you do understand?”
“I think so,” I said. I was leaning against him and he was so tall that I felt very small again. Very young. Very safe. I pulled away and looked up into his handsome face.
“You and Emily were such a good pair,” I said. “What happened?”
“The usual sorts of things, I suppose.” He took a deep breath. “No. That’s not true. What came between us was Marc. Dead or alive, I couldn’t compete with him.”
“Neither could I.”
Lupe came out of the examination room, impatient. “Didn’t I tell you, you have a patient waiting, Jaime?”
“You told me.” He smiled and gave me a final hug. “Good luck with Celeste. Call me later.”
“Bye, Jaime.”
I watched him walk away. His back was very straight. The athletic way he walked reminded me of Emily, and how striking she and Jaime had been together, both of them tall, broad-shouldered, narrow in the hips.
I ran after him and caught him by the arm.
“Emily had a boob job,” I said.
He was taken aback at first. Given a moment to get used to the idea, he nodded. “Good for her. She talked about doing it for long enough. I’m glad she finally did it.”