It was, she believed, a simple and unassailable fact of life that if a woman went to epic lengths to throw herself on the mercy of a man, the man would not, could not, refuse.
Chapter Thirteen
The highway stretched straight ahead of them between converging fences for miles too many to ponder toward the thunder-black dome of the horizon. At this most distant point, where the road seemed to climb into the sky, lightning flickered repeatedly, as if reatomizing blacktop into cloud. Beyond the fences, on either side, the ocean of Iowa prairie spread away flat and featureless to nowhere, lit fitfully through the rushing cloud by vivid, rolling shafts of sun, as though some giant were searching for his prey.
In such a landscape there was dislocation both of time and space and Annie felt the inkling of what could, if she were to let it, become panic. She scanned the skyline for something to latch on to, some sign of life, a grain silo, a tree, a solitary bird, anything. Finding none, she counted fence poles or the marker stripes on the road that streamed at her from the horizon as if blazed there by the lightning. She could picture the silver Lariat and its missile-shaped trailer from above, swallowing these stripes in steady gulps.
In two days they had traveled more than twelve hundred miles and in all that time Grace had hardly spoken. Much of the time she had slept, as she slept now, curled up on the back bench seat. When she woke she would stay there, listening to her Walkman or staring blankly out. Once, and only once, Annie looked in her rearview mirror and saw her daughter watching her. When their eyes met Annie smiled and Grace looked instantly away.
She had reacted to her mother's plan much as Annie had predicted. She had screamed and shouted and said she wasn't going, they couldn't make her and that was that. She got up from the dinner table, went to her room and slammed the door. Annie and Robert sat there for a while in silence. Annie had told him on his own earlier and bludgeoned every protest he made.
'She can't go on avoiding the issue,' she said. 'It's her horse for Godsake. She can't just wash her hands of it.'
'Annie, look at what the kid's been through.'
'But walking away from it isn't helping her, it's making it worse. You know how much she loved him. You saw how she was that day at the stables. Can't you imagine how the sight of him must haunt her?'
He didn't reply, just looked down and shook his head. Annie took his hand in hers.
'We can do something about this, Robert,' she said, gentle now. 'I know we can. Pilgrim can be alright again. This man can make him alright. And then Grace can be too.'
Robert looked at her. 'Does he really think he can do it?' Annie hesitated but not enough for him to notice.
'Yes,' she said. It was the first time she had actually lied about it. Robert naturally assumed Tom Booker had been consulted about Pilgrim's trip to Montana.
It was an illusion she'd also maintained with Grace.
Finding no ally in her father, Grace gave in, as Annie knew she would. But the resentful silence into which her anger evolved was lasting much longer than Annie had expected. In the old days, before the accident, Annie could normally subvert such moods by teasing or blithely ignoring them. This silence however was of a new order. It was as epic and immutable as the enterprise on which the girl had been forced to embark and, as the miles went by, Annie could only marvel at her stamina.
Robert had helped them pack, driven them to Chatham and gone with them to Harry Logan's on the morning they set off. In Grace's eyes this made him an accomplice. While they loaded Pilgrim into the trailer, she sat like stone in the Lariat with her earphones on, pretending to read a magazine. The horse's cries and the sound of his hooves smashing against the sides of the trailer reverberated around the yard but never once did Grace look up.
Harry gave Pilgrim a hefty shot of sedative and handed Annie a box of the stuff along with some needles in case of emergencies. He came to the window to say hello to Grace and started to tell her about feeding Pilgrim during the trip. Grace cut him short.
'You better talk to Mom,' she said.
When it was time to go, her response to Robert's farewell kiss was little more than perfunctory.
That first night they had stayed with some friends of Harry Logan who lived on the edge of a small town just south of Cleveland. The husband, Elliott, had been to veterinary school with Harry and was now a partner in a large local practice. It was dark when they arrived and Elliott insisted Annie and Grace go in and freshen up while he saw to the horse. He said they too used to keep horses and he'd prepared a stall in the barn.
'Harry said to leave him in the trailer,' Annie said.
'What, for the entire trip?'
That's what he said.'
He cocked an eyebrow and gave her a patronizing, professional kind of smile.
'You go on in. I'll take a look.'
It was starting to rain and Annie wasn't going to argue. The wife's name was Connie. She was a small, subdued woman with a brittle perm that looked as if it had been done that afternoon. She took them in and showed them to their rooms. The house was large and filled with the echoing silence of children grown up and gone. Their faces smiled from the walls in photographs of high school triumphs and sunny graduations.
Grace was put in their daughter's old room and Annie in the guest room along the corridor. Connie showed Annie where the bathroom was and left, saying supper was ready whenever they were. Annie thanked her and went back down the corridor to look in on Grace.
Connie's daughter had married a dentist and moved to Michigan, but her old room looked as if she'd never left. There were books and swimming trophies and shelves herded with little crystal animals. Amid this abandoned clutter of a stranger's childhood, Grace stood by the bed and rummaged in her bag for her wash things. She didn't look up when Annie came in.
'Okay?'
Grace shrugged and still didn't look up. Annie tried to look casual, feigning interest in the pictures on the wall. She stretched and groaned.
'God, I'm so stiff.'
'What are we doing here?'
The voice was cold and hostile and Annie turned and saw Grace staring at her with her hands on her hips.
'What do you mean?'
Grace took in the whole room with a contemptuous sweep of her arm.
'All this. I mean, what are we doing here!'
Annie sighed, but before she could say anything Grace said forget it, it didn't matter. She snatched up her cane and her wash bag and headed for the door. Annie could see how furious it made the girl that she couldn't storm out more effectively.
'Grace, please.'
'I said forget it, okay?' And she was gone.
Annie was talking with Connie in the kitchen when Elliott came in from the yard. He looked pale and had mud all down one side of him. He also seemed to be trying not to limp.
'I left him in the trailer,' he said.
At supper Grace toyed with her food and spoke only when spoken to. The three adults did their best to keep the conversation going but there were long spells when the only sound was the chink of cutlery. They talked about Harry Logan and Chatham and a new outbreak of Lyme disease that everyone was worrying about. Elliott said they knew a young girl about Grace's age who'd caught it and her life had been completely wrecked. Connie darted a look at him and he flushed a little and quickly changed the subject.
As soon as the meal was over, Grace said she was tired and would they mind if she went to bed. Annie said she would come too but Grace wouldn't let her. She said polite good-nights to Elliott and Connie. As she walked to the door, her cane clunked on the hollow floor and Annie caught the look in the couple's eyes as they watched.