Read Page 52

“Not even if I thought it was funny.”

“When I was a little girl—and I mean little, three, four, something like that. When I was a little girl my parents took me to the Science Museum in St. Paul, and they were showing this film, this film about insects on the giant Omnitheater movie screen. They showed this extreme close-up of a butterfly, the butterfly’s face, and I thought it was the most horrible thing I had ever seen in the world. It terrified me, made me cry. My parents had to take me out of the theater. I’ve been afraid of butterflies ever since. What it taught me, this experience, it taught me to take things for what they seem and not look too closely, especially at the things that I find beautiful.”Advertisement

“I don’t agree that’s a good idea.”

“That’s because you’re cynical.” She waved at the people behind the closed door. “All of you are.”

“I suppose…”

“Should I tell you how we met? Roy and I? It was during the Ely Winter Festival just before I graduated from high school. First at the Spaghetti Feed and then later at the Polar Bear Dance. Roy had been discharged from the army, only he was still wearing his dress uniform with his medals on his chest, and when I saw him—saw him from across a crowded room, isn’t that how the song goes?—I knew he was the one. He didn’t come after me; I went after him. He doesn’t remember it that way, though, because guys are all like, ‘Hey baby, want to see the bruise where the puck hit me?’ and women are way more subtle than that.

“We didn’t spend time together around here because people—so many people knew us—you can’t date in a small town without everyone knowing your business. Instead, we went to Virginia or Hibbing or Tower or even Duluth. Then, after I graduated, well, then we made it official. I know what you’re thinking, Dyson. You’re thinking he’s too old for me. Everyone thought that at first. Roy did, too. Only then he told me after we were seeing each other for a while, he said how being with me, it made him feel young. He said that I reminded him that he was over forty years old but he had never been twenty because of the army, you see. Maybe I should have looked closer. I’ve told myself that the last couple of weeks. I didn’t, though, and I’m not going to start now. Anyway, I just wanted to thank you.”

“Jill, get out of here,” I said. “Bad things are going to happen. I don’t want you involved in them. I don’t want you hurt.”

I don’t know where the words came from or why I said them out loud. I only know I meant them with every fiber of my being. Unfortunately, nothing I said registered. Instead, a smile started in her eyes and spread across her face—you have never seen a smile like that—and she whacked me on the shoulder.

“Oh, you,” Jill said. “You’re nothing but a big softy. Just like Roy.”

A moment later, she was out the door and heading back to the kitchen. I joined her a moment later, retrieved my plate of strawberry-rhubarb pie, and stepped into the living room. I stood in front of Jimmy’s map next to Roy while I ate. Roy leaned in and whispered.

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“Did Jill thank you for slugging me?”

“As a matter of fact, she did.”

“She said she was going to. What else did she say?”

“She said you were a big softy.”

“Women. Listen, I need to tell you something. In private.”

You, too? my inner voice asked.

“Sure,” I said aloud.

We retreated to the same bedroom and closed the door. This time I brought my pie with me.

“What?” I asked.

“Brian Fenelon.”

“What about him?”

Roy glanced around the room as if he were afraid someone was watching. “He’s the man I bought the guns from. He’s the one who sold me the AKs. I didn’t tell you before, tell anyone before, because—because I didn’t want Jill to know.”

“Know what?”

This time Roy lowered his voice as if he were afraid someone was listening at the door. “I didn’t want her to know—I met Fenelon in a strip joint; the strip joint where Claire was working, Jimmy’s girl. I didn’t want Jill to know I went to those places, that I watched Claire. She can be—she can be so young.”

Seriously? my inner voice asked. You abuse your wife but you don’t want her to know that you ogle strippers?

“Your secret is safe with me,” I said, “although it would have been nice if you told me before I hit Fenelon over the head with a beer bottle.”

“You did what?”

“Never mind. Spilled milk. Did Fenelon tell you where he got the guns?”

“He mentioned something about Mexicans. He was being very cagey about it, though. Fenelon likes people to think he’s connected, you know; like he’s some kind of crime czar.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around. Thanks, Roy.”

Roy nodded his head, and we both returned to the living room. The burgers had been grilled, and Josie and Liz were handing them out.

“Do you want cheese on yours?” Josie asked. pqdm.com