“By the end of the school year, she is supposed to decide if she’s going to stay here in Tally for her senior year next year, or go to Kansas City. To do that, she is going to spend the summer in KC. I suspect if she wants to stay with you—and if it’s all right with you—next year too, that’s okay. I think the girls get along famously and they’ll wind up like sisters.”
“You’ve got it all figured out, sounds to me.”
“I hope so. Aloha has all her necessary documents—”
“Birth certificate, the like?” Rudd asked, keeping his voice casual.
“Yep.” Blaze pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Rudd. “This is a limited power of attorney, mainly for medical purposes. While she has her own doctor, sometimes accidents happen and parents must okay emergency surgery or treatment. One of the things this does is give you that authority.”
Peter Blaze went on to tell Rudd about their hopes and dreams. They wanted to be assigned to one of the emerging African nations, or maybe the Philippines, or maybe serve their time on some crisp, cool Latin American mountain country, where you travel with llamas and pack animals. “The most exciting thing,” Peter concluded, “would be learning some new language, maybe Bantu or Tagalog.” They finished two six-packs of Budweiser, mostly Peter talking and Rudd listening.
Aloha had the good sense not to intrude. When Peter was leaving, Rudd saw that Aloha had made the most of her time. She’d completely unpacked and cleaned Buddy’s room. It was now hers as if she were a homesteader.
Peter and Aloha left, Aloha being circumspect.
She whispered, “I have to stay with them the last night. But think about tomorrow, Rudd, think about tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and after all those tomorrow.” She leered. “And tomorrow I’ll pay the rent with interest.”
Rudd wondered only momentarily where she intended to sleep. Rudd worried whether he could contain the explosion named Denise that was headed this way.
CHAPTER NINE
DENISE
Friday afternoon, with classes over and two weeks worth of laundry tied up in a sheet, Denise came home.
Her father was still at work. She opened the windows in her room and then the common living areas. She dumped her dirty clothes in the laundry room. And there hanging were a red lace bra and panties.
Denise shook her head. She shouldn’t be surprised. She knew that Aloha was sleeping with Daddy. Denise had hoped that the affair would be short-lived. It wasn’t Christian. It was indecent.
Then Denise recalled something about the Blaze family moving overseas.
In the kitchen, Denise noticed things were...not exactly as they’d always been. Her father living here alone during the week was a creature of habit. He never put the salt and pepper on the counter; it was always on the table. In the refrigerator, bottles of milk and ginger ale crowded the tall shelf. Daddy didn’t drink milk or ginger ale.
Something tugged at her memory. She went back into the living room. It was neat—and, for goshsakes, dusted. Denise usually performed those chores when she visited on weekends. It wasn’t something her father usually thought to do. She checked the master bedroom. More pillows on the king sized bed and it was made, not in the square corner military fashion of her father, but rounded corners with the bedspread tucked in under the pillows.
Okay, okay, Denise. No cause for surprise. It’s a natural consequence of a woman visiting occasionally.
But alarm seeped through her. With great fear, she walked, in spite of herself, through the house noting differences where there shouldn’t be differences.
She saved Buddy’s room for last.
She swung the door open apprehensively.
“Sacrilege!”
The stand with the arms from which hung many vests. Teddy bears and stuffed tiger. Picture of Rudyard Six on the table which served as a desk. Thereon, too, a new dictionary, thesaurus, algebra text, and a paperback copy of Lorna Doone.
Oh, Dear Sweet Redeemer, the apocalypse has come.
She had heard nothing.
“Hello, Denise,” said a low throaty voice.
Denise spun around. “You!”
“Me.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I live here.”
“Oh, Dear Lord, forgive me for I have terrible thoughts.”
Aloha stepped past Denise and set her backpack down. She removed books and notebooks and arranged them neatly on the table. “I have to do a book report. Want to help me?”
“You, you Jezebel. You’re wicked. You’re evil. You’re a symbol of idolatry.”
Fire came into Aloha’s eyes. She ducked her head and glowered from under her dark brows. “I have fought too hard and too long and put too much of my soul on the line to get to where I am and no goddamn Bible-thumper is going to run me off.”
“But, I—”
“But nothing. The way things work these days, I have just as much if not more right than you do to be here. It’s even on paper.”
“You married my father?”
“No, silly.” Aloha’s eyes darted furtively. “He’s got a power of attorney over me.”
“Whatever are you talking about? Your parents gave you to my father?”
“Limited power of attorney.”
Denise wondered if she’d been wrong all along about Aloha’s age. She was so adult, you’d never guess how old she really was. And bright, too, wielding legal terms. Denise slumped into a chair and toyed with the stuffed tiger. “Tony, I thought Aloha was my friend.”
“I was and I am.”
“You lied to me. Overseas job or something. You-all were going to move overseas.”
Aloha levered herself to a sitting position on the table. “I only said that my folks had applied for a position.”
“You led me to believe—”
“You jumped to a conclusion and heard what you wanted to hear.”
Denise knew that Aloha was right. And that explained the passing remark made by Peter Blaze. “If you knew this weeks ago, why didn’t you tell me? Why the big secret?”
“You reaction today, Denise.”
“I was your friend. You could have trusted me?”
Aloha smiled wanly. “Trusted you? Me, Jezebel? Lookit the way you’re
