they already do.
Over the course of the week Kendall goes from shock to mourning to frustration and fury. The news crews are bored, tired of having only one restaurant to eat in and no fast food within thirty miles. Tired of the loyal, tight- lipped people. They try to get a fresh angle, but the people of Cryer’s Cross are a quiet, protective group. Even Jacian just gives them a look and walks away when they yell out questions to him.
Kendall sits on the restaurant steps, waiting for her mother to stop chatting inside the drugstore. She pushes her hair off her forehead. It falls back again when she stares down at her hands. Behind her, old
Mr. Greenwood and Hector Morales sit in their chairs, not talking. As usual.
Jacian comes toward them. “Abuelo,” he says sharply. “Are you coming now with me?” Kendall notices that he takes on a hint of an accent when he speaks to his grandfather.
Jacian ignores Kendall, walks right past her up the steps.
Hector looks up and says something to Jacian in Spanish. Jacian replies in Spanish and then turns, jogs down the steps and to his four-wheeler. He heads off alone.
Kendall turns and squints at Hector. “Jacian isn’t supposed to be going off alone, you know. He could get arrested.”
Hector smiles, but he looks worried. “He’s okay. He’s already eighteen, and stubborn. What can I say?
Sheriff says he’s legal to go alone, just stupid. It’s nice of you to worry about him, though.”
“I’m not worried about him,” Kendall says crossly. How can she explain it? The rule-follower in her can’t help but say something.
“I’m sorry, Miss Kendall. Truly. About the Cruz boy. I know he was your beau.”
Kendall stares at the dirt between the steps. “He’s not dead,” she says. “He still is my. . my beau.”
She cringes at the old-fashioned word. It’s odd how the longer Nico is gone, the easier it is to call him her boyfriend.
Hector is quiet. Kendall glances at him to make sure he’s not mad at her tone, and he assures her with a sympathetic smile.
“Where’s Marlena?” she asks. “Did she search today?”
“She took a fall last night, so she’s been down all day. She hit a rut that was hidden by brush and she flipped off her four-wheeler. She got a little too cocky with it, going too fast.” He says it softly, his hand shielding his mouth. “Don’t let the news crews hear of it.”
“Oh, no,” Kendall says. She pulls herself out of her own misery for a moment. “Is she okay?” She remembers suddenly that tonight would have been the first soccer game of the season, but Coach canceled because of Nico.
“She broke her leg and dislocated her shoulder,” he says. “She’ll be okay.”
Kendall’s eyes bug out. “Oh my God. That’s terrible!” Her fingers flutter up to her throat. “I can’t believe this. I’m so sorry, Hector. I didn’t know. Is there anything I can do?”
He tilts his head and glances at old Mr. Greenwood. “As I always say, people in tough times need tough friends. Right, friend?”
Mr. Greenwood grunts.
Finally Kendall’s mother emerges from the drugstore. She grabs Hector’s hand and squeezes it. “I just heard about poor Marlena inside,” she whispers. “So sorry to hear it. I’ll drop Kendall by to visit tonight.”
Hector raises an eyebrow at Kendall, as if to say, See? This is how it’s done, but all he says is, “Yes, ma’am. She’ll appreciate that.”
As Mrs. Fletcher and Kendall walk home, the news trucks come roaring past on their way out of Cryer’s
Cross, leaving a trail of dust. For them the story is over.
Kendall sits in silence as Mrs. Fletcher drives her to Hector’s ranch. She’s tired. Not quite ready for life to resume.
“Call me when you’re ready to be picked up.”
“Okay,” Kendall says with a sigh. “How about now?”
“It’ll be good for you to think about someone else for a bit,” Mrs. Fletcher says carefully. “Help you cope.”
Kendall doesn’t have any tears left. She’s too weary to voice what she and her mother both know — that
Nico is probably inexplicably gone forever, just like Tiffany, and life has to go on. In a farming town it is a simple fact of survival. The produce, the animals — no one can make living things pause in their growing.
Not one human event can make the potatoes wait. When they are ready, they are ready.
Kendall pauses at the front door of Hector’s house as her mother drives back down the long driveway.
Jacian is in the grassy yard between the house and a corral. A floodlight shines on a soccer goal. Half a dozen soccer balls are scattered over the grass and around the net, and Jacian dribbles one slowly, then fakes left and spins around an invisible opponent. He passes the ball to himself and sprints to the goal, smashing the ball into the net at a sharp angle.
He moves like a dancer.
He reaches down to pick up a ball and sees Kendall standing there. They stare at each other for a moment. Then Kendall breaks the stare and knocks on the door.
Mr. Obregon lets Kendall in. He and Mrs. Obregon greet her warmly and thank her for coming. They usher her through the house to the family room, where Marlena rests on the sofa, right leg in a cast that reaches to midthigh. Her left shoulder is immobilized in a sling. Hector sits nearby in an old rocking chair.
Marlena’s eyes are closed, but she stirs when Kendall comes in.
“Hey,” she says with a sleepy smile. A single crutch lies on the floor next to her.
“Hey,” Kendall says, taking it all in. “Wow. Did they keep you at the hospital overnight? This looks. . really serious.”
Marlena grins. “Yeah, but it’s not as bad as it looks. The fracture’s nice and small — cast on for four weeks, maybe six. My foot itches like crazy, though. The shoulder — I dislocated it before once in a soccer tournament back in Tucson. This time it popped right back in. Swelling’s going down already. Just hurt like a futhermucker for a few minutes.”
“Marlena,” Hector says. He narrows his eyes and shakes his head slightly, but Hector couldn’t look mean if he tried.
“Sorry, Abuelo. It’s the painkillers.” Marlena looks guilty.
Hector chuckles. “What makes you do it the rest of the time, hmm? You must be always on the painkillers.”
“It wasn’t even a real swear!”
“It is the intent, not the word, that makes something harsh,” Hector says. “So yes, I agree. In this case you are off the hook.” He turns to Kendall and reaches out. “How are you this evening, Miss Kendall?”
Kendall walks over to him and takes his hand for a minute. “I’m okay,” she says with a shrug. “At least
I’m not in pain like Marlena.” Or like Nico. He might be in pain too, if he’s even alive. She glances out the picture window behind Hector to where Jacian continues to work soccer plays. He nails the goalpost, and the ball ricochets out. Kendall sees Jacian yell his frustration, but she can’t hear him. She nods out the window. “Does he do that a lot?”
“Every evening with Marlena,” Hector says. “It’s his dream to play professional.”
Marlena eases to a sitting position and follows Kendall’s gaze. “He looks so alone out there. He’s worried.”
“About what?” Kendall asks.
“The team.”
“Yeah,” Kendall says. “Me too. Losing. . losing Nico. . ” She turns abruptly to look at Marlena. “Oh, crap. And you. Der. I. . ” She thinks for a minute, and then her lips part as she realizes. They are down to six players. Their already too small team is now no team at all.
Marlena presses her lips together and looks like she’s going to cry. “I heard Jacian on the phone with
Coach tonight after dinner. He was trying not to yell. Then he went storming out there. It’s been hours.”
