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CHAPTER 40

Tuesday Night

      WHEN LUCY got home, Gallatin was waiting for her, just as he had been last night.

      And their lovemaking was even sweeter than before. He felt it, too — because once, in the midst of everything, he whispered, "I knew it could be like this . . . I was thirsty for you all night long tonight."

      He was lovely with her in the dark. Lovely and strong. And Lucy was striving to please him, too. Her body was learning how to curve against his, learning to answer him, to give him more pleasure, and make it last. And he — oh, he knew how to make her feel . . . wonderful.

      She even liked it that she could smell the sweat on him Because she'd seen how he'd worked hard, giving all of himself to the singing — using himself all up with it.

      Gallatin, Gallatin, she wanted to kiss him all over. Kiss his hands and his back and the insides of his knees. Wanted to be kissed by him. Wanted everything he did.

      But at the same time, although she couldn't let him know, she also wanted to clutch at him and sob, "Don't go from me! Don't ever go!" Because every moment she was loving him more and more. Why did morning have to come? She wanted to keep him here always in her bed, where she could lie up against him and feel him against her. Why did he ever have to leave her — when she loved him like this: her Puma; her wild creature; her own precious, long-legged, skinny, sweaty-smelling boy.

      And then at last they were too tired even for any more loving. So they went to sleep together. Without ever saying a word.

      Later a sound woke Lucy. She listened and it was — oh, it was the baby crying. Then she thought, "No, there had been voice, too."

      The voices began again, but louder now. Angry talking over the sound of the crying baby.

      It was Normalade and Bobby, and they were talking too loud for this time of night. Too loud for any time, anywhere. Normalade's voice was so full of fury that it shivered Lucy full awake, like breaking glass.

      First only a few words came clear, ". . . dare you!" And then, "Can't? — or won't!"

      Then, still louder, drowning out the baby, "Tell all the lies you want to, I don't care. But I KNOW WHY!"

      Lucy lay rigid. What was going on up there? Then, feeling Gallatin stir beside her: Was he awake? Was he hearing this?

      She heard he sound of a door flung open and then slammed shut. The baby was shrieking now, sounding terrified. Normalade yelled, "YOU DAMNED . . ."

      Another door slammed. Feet sounded on the stairs. Normalade's voice was closer now, "How dare you! Can't get it up for me, you sonofabitch? I'll tell you why — because you been doing it with her — weren't you. Weren't you!"

      Lucy glimpsed Bobby on the stairs with the light streaming down from above him. The image printed in her mind: Bobby cowering down, fleeing, bare naked except for ragged old jock shorts. Normalade coming down behind him, screaming at him, "But you can get it up for her — can't you. Every goddam time! Her and who else, Bobby — you goddam sonofabitch!"

      Bobby hunched over still more, as if someone was hitting him. He began shouting back at her: "Shutup! Shutup!"

      Normalade was coming after him, hair and gown streaming behind her. "Stick it into every bitch that goes by, don't you! Stick it to my own sister while I'm having your baby! Where were you that night, Bobby. Where were you. Were you out fucking Swan the same night I was having your baby!"

      "Shutup! Shutup!" And even after the front door slammed behind him, you could hear him shouting it. "Shutup!"

      Normalade remained standing on the stairs yelling at the closed door, screaming whore's words in a whore's voice, "FUCKING bastard! FUCKING DOG! FUCKING MY SISTER the whole time I was having your goddam baby!"

      Lucy couldn't stand it any more. Until she bolted out of bed, grabbing her shirt off the floor, putting it on as she ran into the front room. "Stop that!" she was shrieking herself now. "Normalade, you stop it! You're crazy — you can't talk that way to Bobby!"

      Normalade turned on her, wild-eyed, "You stay out of this. You goddam right I'm crazy. — sonofabitch of a brother of yours was screwing my sister while I was bleeding and dying in agony. I could kill him. And her too — my Judas-sister."

      "Don't say things like that."

      "Oh! It's okay for him to do it, but not okay for me to say it? Is that it? So what am I supposed to say — fucking-goddam thank you?" Normalade screamed. Then, suddenly, she turned on Lucy, began advancing on her. She looked so crazy that Lucy took a step back.

      "And YOU — did you know all about it, Miss Mealy-mouth? Know what he was doing to me? Did you!" Lucy didn't answer. Couldn't.

      Normalade's eyes flared with sudden understanding. "Goddamit! You did know! And you've been covering up for them. You're in on it too."

      She came another step, crazy eyes narrow and mean, "What did they give you to go along with it, Miss Priscilla Pure? What'd they give you to betray me!" Then her lips rolled back from her teeth in a terrible smile. "I bet I know. Did they let you watch? An old maid like you — so you could find out how it's done if you ever get the chance."

      "Normalade!" By now, Lucy was so horrified by what Normalade was saying that she was unable to defend herself, and could only listen, stunned and helpless.

      For a moment, Normalade stood and glared at Lucy, then she eased forward like a snake ready to strike, "And you're the one who promised to be my sister and love me — remember that? That night in the truck, when my baby was born . . . you swore it." Her voice became lower and thicker, not like her own voice at all: "I never thought you would betray your promise, Lucinda Vance. But you goddam well did."

      Lucy flinched back as if Normalade had hit her, and her eyes filled. The words hurt more because they were true.

      As if Lucy's tears were an acknowledgement, Normalade straightened up and gave her a look of pure contempt. In her normal voice, she said, "Well, that's all then. I'm going." And she turned and stalked back up the stairs, regally erect. When she reached the bedroom door on the floor above, she went in and shut it, closing off the light that had been streaming down, and Lucy was left standing at the foot of the stairs, in the dark, crying.

      She stood there and cried for a while, shivering because she was wearing nothing but the shirt that was clutched around her — she didn't even have any panties on. Until at last Gallatin came out and got her and took her back to bed.

      He didn't say much, simply petted her hair until she quieted down to sniffling and hic-upping.

      "I'm so ashamed you saw all that," Lucy mumbled finally.

      "Doesn't matter. I've heard worse."

      "But it was . . ." She licked her lips, tasting salt, "It was so awful. So mean."

      "People say things when they get mad. It's all right," he said.

      "No, it's not," Lucy whimpered, "She was right, Gallatin. She was exactly right. Only — how could I go tell on my own brother?" And at that, she went back to sobbing again.

      "I say it's all right," he said again, patting her.

      With the comfort of his arms around her, the sobs began to subside at last. She sniffled hard and wiped her eyes on her shirt-tail. "Guess you don't — don't think I'm so good now, any more."

      "You're fine," he said, still patting her. "Pretty good sort of woman, I think."

      Later, she calmed down enough to go check on Uncle Bob. She opened his door, but he was snoring peacefully in the moonlight. He appeared not even to have roused, so Lucy headed back to bed.

      This time, as she passed the steps she looked up and saw that the lights were now off up there. The baby had stopped crying at last. What was Normalade doing up there all by herself in the dark? Was she on the bed crying, Lucy wondered. Was she asleep?

      But Lucy didn't really want to know; she wanted to go back to Gallatin.

      From the bed, he held out his arms to her and she fit into them as if that was where she'd always belonged.

      After a long silence, he said, "It went good tonight. The singing."

      In the circle of his arm, Lucy nodded. "It did go good. They were all crazy over the way you sing. Me too."

      "They were," he sighed. "They always are. Because that's my gift. That one thing."

      He propped himself up on the pillow, leaning back and with her head on his chest. He began stroking her hair again. "And since that one thing is all I got, that means I have to follow where it leads me. Can you see that? I got to follow my talent, or else — what's my life worth? Why else would I have it?"

      If Bobby had said such a thing, or Ricky Morganstern, Lucy would have thought he was being a fool. But Gallatin was not Ricky, and for him to say it made perfect sense. "Yes, I can see that," she said. "Otherwise . . . it goes to waste."

      "You do understand," he said softly. "Lot of people don't. My old man, for one. He 'most wore me out trying to make me into a farmer. And while I was growing up, I did try it, wanting to please him. And for a long time I tried to — to be like other people, y'know? I did. Only I can't seem to manage it."

      Then he said, in a stronger, more intense voice. "Because it's too strong for me. It's like there's something driving me to follow this one thing. Like — well, it's my star. You know what I mean? And because I had to wait so long to get started . . . maybe I already missed my chance. But whatever happens, I can't turn away from it now, or I'd be lost."

      Lucy nodded again. His arm was strong and warm. Leaning against him, she was comforted of her sadness.

      Gallatin said. "I want you to understand how I — no argument — got to do this. So you won't get hurt when I go. Because I wouldn't want to hurt you, ever. You know that?"

      In the dark, Lucy nodded. "I guess I do know it." But the tears were standing in her eyes again.

      "All right then . . . just so you'll know: this time tomorrow I'll be gone. We're goin' back to Albuquerque right after we finish playing. And I won't be back. Brother and I are moving on."

      "But where to, Gallatin? Where's your — your star going to take you?" The tears were flowing, but she didn't let her voice change.

      "I'm trying to get to Nashville, because that's where they make all the records — that's where it's at. Elvis got his big start there. And — all the big ones. The Opry's there. But see, first we got to work for our traveling money, then we go forward till it's spent, and then we have to stop and work some more. Takes so much time."

      She couldn't answer him. Her voice wasn't steady.

      But as if he guessed what she was thinking, he continued "I can't ask you to come with me. I always travel alone."

      Lucy swallowed hard and got one word out: ". . . Shark?"

      "Yes, but he's . . ." There was a pause. Then: "All right. I don't generally talk about this, but I guess I better explain how it is with him and me." Gallatin hitched himself up against the pillow and took a deep breath. "See, our Dad took a dislike to Little Brother from the hour he was born. So I had to watch over him, or he maybe wouldn't of made it. And — I guess I still look after him. Because he needs me."

      "All right." But she couldn't believe Shark needed Gallatin any more than she did.

      Again, as if he wanted to answer her thought, he said, "No, he really does! Look, I - I - what you got to understand is that by the time Brother was born, our poor little ma was already dying. But our Dad seemed to think it was the baby's fault, and he took against him from that first day — even when he gave him a name . . ."

      Gallatin paused a minute, thinking. "Maybe you know all of us in the family were named after counties: Helena county, Pondera county, Gallatin county? Well, Montana has a Poison county, too."

      Even from the depths of her own sadness Lucy drew her breath. "You mean he named him . . ."

      "He did! And always called him by it. And a thing like that will harm a little child worse than broken bones, because your name is a part of yourself — permanent. So when Dad did that, my poor little brother had no way to have faith in his own worth. Until he fixed on me, he was in danger. But he learned to trust in me, and that's why I've always had to stop for him and keep him by me."

      "I understand," Lucy said softly.

      "But that's also why I can't let anyone come between us. Especially a woman. And also, you got to understand . . . I go places a good woman couldn't go."

      "But Gallatin . . ."

      Perhaps he could hear in her voice that she wouldn't be able to hold the crying back much longer, because he suddenly let go of her and got up off the bed, and began pacing back and forth in the dimness. She could just see him crossing and recrossing in front of her like a pale, thin shadow.

      "Listen to me, Lucy — I'm nothing but a voice and a guitar. And I've had to do whatever I could, just to live. I'll take work in any kind of place . . . do one night stands, work a week, move on. And I live bad; I've gone to bed with old women — for money — because I've needed the money to feed us. Do you understand me? Understand what I'm telling you?" Lucy could feel him trying to push her away from himself with his words, even with his voice.

      "And even when I do get to Nashville, maybe nobody'll listen to me there," he went on roughly. "Maybe nobody'll listen to me anywhere — I don't know. But I got to keep on. I'll live whatever way I can, just to keep on."

      He sat down beside her and took her by the shoulders. "So that's it. You're the only good woman I ever had, and maybe I even — no, I won't say that. Because whatever I could feel, I can't let you matter to me. Not the least little bit. And — I'm going."

      He came down toward her and kissed her then, clumsily and hard, almost missing her mouth in the dark. Clumsy Gallatin, whose sure hands had found her so many times in the dark these past two nights.

      He didn't say any further goodbye. He just got up again and felt around on the floor for his clothes and went away, carrying them.

      It had gotten just light enough for Lucy to see him go. It was already Wednesday morning. Valentine's day.

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