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CHAPTER 26

When Lucy Woke Up

      LUCY CONTINUED to sleep until a noise in the hall roused her.

      Was it safe to wake up? "Maybe not," she thought carefully. "I'll just lie here and listen with my eyes shut." That way, if she didn't like what was going on, she could slip quietly back into sleep, and no one would be the wiser.

      The voices moved into the room. Tagg's was loudest. "What's happened here? My God — who did that to her!"

      And then, closer to her, and more intensely, "Shit! Whoever did that should be horsewhipped! By God — should be . . ."

      "Lower your voice." Rosana broke in sharply, "She's sleeping."

      "That's right, I'm asleep," Lucy told herself. "I'm hearing the radio. This is some story that's playing on television, and I don't have to pay attention."

      But it sounded like Normalade's voice: "And what about me, Tagg, I'm the one that saved her! He could've killed us all — I actually had to put down the baby and struggle with him! Me, Bobby — weak and frail as I am from having your child. It was just horrible!"

      "Gee, Normalade, that was rough on you," Tagg muttered. And then, "You know, Bob, it sounds like the old man kind of went off the deep end."

      "Tagg's right, Bobby. He's put his finger right on it." Normalade's voice was so shrill that it seemed to stab into Lucy's brain. "Listen to what Tagg says: you got to have that old man committed. Not just for my sake, but Bobby — he might try to harm your child."

      "I can't stand all this commotion," Lucy thought. "Sick person like me shouldn't have to suffer this." She really was feeling sick. Almost . . . it was almost as if she were standing at the top of a flight of steep stairs . . . and she'd begun to feel so dizzy . . . .

      "Bob," Tagg said slowly, "Maybe you should think about doing something, you know? Maybe you ought to."

      The room grew silent as Normalade and Tagg waited for Bobby to answer. And in that silence, Lucy realized that it was now too late. Because some sleeping part of her had been listening to everything. And understanding it. No matter how sick she felt, and no matter how confused she was, she could no longer pretend that she didn't know what was going on.

      Still Bobby said nothing. She knew him. He was trying decide how he could get out of this. How to avoid making a decision.

      "Come on," Normalade shrilled, "What're you waiting for! You know you got to do this." And when he still didn't answer, she continued, half-whining and half-scolding, "Go in there and bundle him up and put him in the pickup and get him out of here now! You hear me?"

      She should have shut up. Lucy could tell that simply hearing the sound of Normalade's voice made Bobby decide. "Shit-no!"

      Instantly, the room filled up with voices. Normalade squealed, "Wha-at? What'd you say?" And Bobby yelled back, "I said shit! And I said NO!"

      "You mean you're going to stand there, and let your wife and baby be murdered by that crazy old — "

      "Goddam it," Bobby roared, "Will you shut up talking about my uncle like that. And you listen to me for once. He may have one hell of a bad temper — but he's sure as shit not crazy. Not by a long shot."

      "Well you stupid dummy, if you'd ever bothered to come home any time this week, you'd of seen how crazy he is!" Normalade was beside herself now, raving. "And now — when you finally do come dragging your ass back here —"

      "Just shutup!" he shouted, drowning her out. "Maybe Uncle Bob's given me a some hard lickings, too — and maybe he's been out of line tonight — but he's also been damn good to me all my life. Took me into the business he built up over the years, welcomed you into his home here — and I'm sick of hearing you squawking about him. Sick of it!"

      "Don't you dare talk to me like that!"

      "And I'm sure as hell not going to put him out of his own house and into some nut-house full of crazy people on your goddam say-so!"

      They paused, panting like prize-fighters who had been trading punches. And in that moment of quiet, Tagg spoke up, mumbling, as he always did on the rare occasions when he argued with Bobby over anything. "Listen, Bob, I know he's your uncle but — come on, nobody's got the right to bruise up a woman like that. Lucy especially — I can't think of anything in the world she could've done for him to — I know you love him and all, but maybe you ought to at least take him to a doctor and have him looked at."

      "Shit-no!" Bobby answered sullenly, "He's not a bit crazier than Normalade here — which isn't saying any too much. And by God, I'm sick of being pushed around by some damn screaming bitch.

      Tagg muttered, "Bob, he shouldn't have hurt her. And if I was the one to decide—"

      "Well you're not. So you just back off." Bobby snapped, "I'll go see talk to him and find out what really happened."

      Normalade began, "Well I told you how he — "

      "And I told you to shut up," he snarled, "Just shut up."

      Bobby went away then, leaving Normalade to sniffle softly and say to Tagg, "See how mean he is to me?" Tagg said nothing, and before long, they could hear voices coming very faintly from Uncle Bob's room.

      Lucy sighed. Well, it was no use to pretend; she was wide awake now.

      She opened her eyes, and the light seemed too bright at first, but after she adjusted to it, she could see Normalade sitting in Mama's rocker holding the baby. Tagg was standing with his back to her, staring at a picture on the wall. It was a lifesize painting of Uncle Bob as a young man, wearing his Cowboy Bob clothes. It had been painted right over a color photo, and had cost over two hundred dollars, he'd once said. But Tagg could only be pretending to be interested; he'd seen that picture every time he came in this room, half his life.

      Rosana was sitting on the straight chair at Uncle Bob's desk. When she noticed that Lucy's eyes were open, she got up and came over. "Feeling better?"

      "Some."

      Tagg came and knelt down beside the sofa and took Lucy's hand. "Are you really? Can I get you anything?"

      Lucy nodded, and then she shook her head, but she felt too tired to talk. When Rosana said, "Maybe a glass of water," he jumped up and went in the kitchen and brought it to her. Lucy wasn't thirsty, but she took it and took a sip, to please him.

      "Are you warm enough," he asked, taking back the glass when she offered it. "Can I get you some more covers? Maybe you'd like me to help you sit up? Or maybe another pillow?" She had to smile at that, and she shook her head. No, but it was sweet of him to try to look after her.

      Normalade came and peered at her, lugging the sleeping baby. "So you finally woke up? Move your feet some, I want to sit down." And when she was seated, "Listen — why wouldn't you answer me before? You nearly scared me to death."

      Fortunately, Bobby came back then, and Lucy was spared having to answer.

      "Well," he said triumphantly, "I had to wake him up to find it out — but it was just like I thought."

      Then he noticed Lucy. "Hey, sis, I just talked to Uncle Bob, and you know what? He didn't even know you were hurt. Says he never meant to hit you, just lost his temper and took a swing, that's all. That's all in the world it was."

      Lucy didn't answer. Bobby was wrong. It was more than that.

      "The hell he didn't mean to!" Normalade snorted. "He wanted to kill her — he even said so."

      "Aw come on, Normalade, don't be hard on him," Bobby said genially, "He didn't go to do it, and he's sorry Lucy's hurt. Listen he's just a feeble old man that lost his temper, so don't go making a Federal case out of it."

      He became more and more conciliatory. "And as a matter of fact," he continued, "I kind of lost my own temper, just now. And you did too. But I'm willing to forgive and forget it, if you are. What do you say — will you?"

      He came over and sat on the arm of the sofa, grinning his most engaging grin. "Come on, Sweetheart, don't be a sourpuss. You're so much prettier when you smile."

      "Well," she answered softening, "Maybe I was a little mad."

      "We both sounded off some, but neither one of us really meant all that stuff. And maybe we're both sorry."

      "Maybe."

      He reached over and touched the baby's sleeping head. "Okay, then, let's both forget it and be friends again."

      "Wait a minute." Tagg said loudly. "It's by-gosh not over unless Lucy says so. Because she's the one that's hurt."

      Lucy didn't say anything.

      Bobby got up and gave her a sudden intent look. "Listen, you're not going to stay mad are you, Sis? I know Uncle Bob gave you a crack, but he never meant to hurt you; and you shouldn't hold a grudge."

      "Hold a grudge?" Lucy murmured. She thought of the stick coming down again and again . . .

      "Come on, don't be hard on him. Not after he's said he's sorry."

      He was coaxing her now, looking adorable in just the way that had always melted Lucy's heart. And in spite of herself, she felt the old familiar tug to yield. To keep the peace. She put her hand to her sore cheek. "Not a grudge, Bobby. But he really meant to hurt me. And scare me. He's changed in the last few days." She needed to tell him now. She should have told him sooner.

      "Changed how?"

      How could she express it? Where to begin? "He's so . . . weak. And he . . . forgets things." She was aware that she sounded weak herself now.

      Normalade leaned forward, eagerly catching up her words. "Forgets? What's he forgetting?"

      "Just . . . things." It irritated Lucy for Normalade to push herself in like that. And with the irritation, her head began to hurt again. "I don't feel good."

      Instantly, Tagg was at her side. "Then don't talk any more. You want to go lie down in the other room? Maybe — listen did you take any aspirin yet? You want me to get you some? With a glass of water?"

      "Water. Or something," Lucy mumbled. A minute or so ago, she hadn't felt that bad, but all of a sudden she was getting so shaky and nervous that she was almost crying And when Tagg brought the water, she could hardly hold the glass.

      Rosana started to help her up off the sofa, but Tagg gently brushed her aside. He leaned over and picked Lucy right up! He carried her all the way out to the screened-in porch and put her softly down on her own bed, as if she weighed no more than the baby!

      As he put her down, he whispered, "Lucy, I don't know what-all went on tonight, but don't you let him hit you again, you hear? If he tries it, you run away, and you call me. Call me if anything happens at all. And I'll come right away!"

      "Tagg —"

      "You don't have to say anything — just remember it: don't ever let him hit you again. Don't ever let anyone. Anybody ever tries to hurt you — ever. They'll have to deal with me first!" Then he leaned over her and kissed her, so gently that he didn't hurt her sore cheek at all. And then he went away.

      Rosana came and helped Lucy into her nightgown. "You're being so nice to me," Lucy murmured. But the bed seemed to be moving. Or Lucy's head was moving. Only her head was so heavy.

      "You don't have to thank anybody," Rosana said, "Just go to sleep, and you'll feel better tomorrow."

      That reminded Lucy of something. But she had to struggle to keep it straight in her mind. "Rosana? You — a while ago you said something about getting a lady that stays with sick people? Would you do that, really? I need somebody."

      "You heard that, did you?"

      "Yes." Lucy was concentrating on saying this before the bed tipped completely over. Or she tipped over. "For Uncle Bob, you know? Because if he was to get . . . upset again while I'm at work — he'd need to be looked after. And I can't trust Normalade."

      "I'll contact her first thing in the morning," Rosana nodded. "I'll send her to you."

      Meanwhile, Lucy had found Rosana's hand, and she hung on to it, to steady herself, to keep from falling. "But she has to be . . . Rosana, Bobby's right that we have to be good to him. You know? Or else I couldn't — "

      "She'll do fine."

      But there was something else Lucy was worried about. "Rosana? . . . will it cost a lot?"

      "I expect it's about what you'd pay one of your people that works at the bar. Can you manage that?"

      "Maybe. I guess so."

      "All right then," Rosana got up. "I have to go now. And you have to go to sleep."

      "Okay." But Lucy didn't let go her hand.

      "And listen," Rosana said, "I really am going. I have to leave tomorrow and go back to El Paso."

      "Ohhh." Rosana leaving? "We'll miss you."

      "You'll do fine." Rosana took her hand away and patted Lucy's hand. She was really going now.

      "Rosana?"

      "Yes."

      "Do you really have that garden, where you live?"

      Rosana was already at the door, but hearing that question, she stopped, looking back at Lucy on the bed. "Yes, I really do."

      "And Rosana — that parrot. Is there really a white parrot? It was like I really saw him, and he was so beautiful, but — is he real?"

      "Yes," Rosana answered gently, "Querido's been with me a long, long time. And he's as real as you and I."

      Lucy sighed. "Oh, I'm so glad." She felt she could go to sleep happily, knowing there really was a white parrot that lived in a green tree in a garden in El Paso.

      Standing at the door, outlined against the light, Rosana said thoughtfully, "You know, Lucy, if you ever wanted to come to El Paso, you could see him. If the time ever came when you wanted to move away from here. Or if you ever decided that you . . . well, if maybe you wanted to go to college in El Paso? You could come and stay with me a while, until you got settled."

      Lucy was almost asleep now. The spinning of the room had slowed, and she might really have been asleep and dreaming. "How could I do that, Rosana?"

      "It's not so hard. We could even find you a nice job, so you could keep yourself while you go to school."

      Yes, Lucy was already dreaming. "Ohhh, Mama would be so glad . . . but I don't see how."

      "There's no 'how.' All you have to do is do it." Redrose's voice seemed to be drifting away. Or maybe it was Lucy who was drifting. "Anyway, I'm in the phone book. And once things are over here, you're welcome to come and stay as long as you need to. And you could see Querido every day. You and I could sit in my garden and feed him raisins."

      Lucy put out her hand to touch the white parrot and he came right to her. Oh — he'd hopped off the branch, and now he was side-stepping all the way up her arm. Until he was so close that his soft feathers brushed against her cheek. "Querido," she murmured. "Oh my Beloved . . ."

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