Santa Olivia (Santa Olivia #1)

Santa Olivia (Santa Olivia #1) Page 29

“This way.”

They led her down a hallway. Even the floors seemed shiny. They passed rooms with beds. There was more machinery here than Loup had ever seen in her life. Despite the wealth of electricity they must have used, she couldn’t even hear the omnipresent sound of a generator.

Another hallway, this one blank and featureless. And then through a set of doors and into a room with a few chairs. Floyd Roberts was there, talking to a tall man with blood spattered over his white doctor’s coat. The coach turned his head and gazed at Loup. His colorless eyes were bloodshot.

The emptiness inside her expanded and swallowed everything.

“I’m sorry.” Floyd Roberts came over and put his hands on her shoulders. “Tommy’s gone.”

She shook her head. “No.”

He squeezed her shoulders, blinked his bloodshot eyes. “They did everything they could for him, Loup. I did everything I could.”

It didn’t make sense. “But he was okay!”

“Your brother suffered a subdural hematoma,” the doctor said gently. “It means he was bleeding inside his brain. Sometimes it doesn’t show up right away. We attempted to perform an emergency craniotomy, but we couldn’t stop the hemorrhaging in time. I’m sorry.”

The two soldiers who had escorted her removed their caps in a gesture of respect.

“No,” Loup said again. “Tommy got up. He was fine.”

“It only seemed that way,” the doctor said even more gently. “I’m very, very sorry.”

“Loup.” Floyd squeezed her shoulders a second time. “Let the soldiers take you home. I’ll take care of everything here.”

She pulled away from him. “I want to see him.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said.

“Now.”

The doctor drew Floyd away. They conferred in low tones. Then the doctor went away through another set of doors.

“Give him a minute,” Floyd said wearily.

Loup waited without moving, staring fixedly at the doors. A few minutes later the doctor came back and beckoned to her. “Come with me.”

He led her to a white room with a table in the middle of it. Tommy lay on the table with a sheet drawn up to his chest. His eyes were closed and his face was slack. A blue cap covered his head. The cut under his left eye had begun to close. Loup walked over to the table and touched his face. Only skin, only flesh. His body was empty.

“Tommy,” she whispered. Her eyes burned with tears that wouldn’t fall.

Empty.

She stood there for a long time, one hand on Tommy’s cheek. When Floyd came to ease her away, she didn’t budge.

“You have to go, Loup.” When she didn’t answer, he turned to the doctor. “I think she’s in shock. She’s rigid.”

“Here.” The doctor took her other hand. “Give me your arm, sweetheart.”

She let him roll up her sleeve without protesting, gazing at Tommy’s face. There was a prick when the needle went in, then a sensation of warmth spreading. She turned her head and stared at the doctor.

“It’s just a sedative,” he said softly. “It will help.”

The shot made the emptiness recede. It took her will with it. It took her voice, too; or at least the will to speak. Nothing seemed real and there weren’t any words left to say. This time when Floyd told her to go with the soldiers, Loup went.

They drove her back to the church in silence. It was late enough that Outpost had grown quiet. Father Ramon heard the jeep approaching and met them outside the gate, hollow-eyed with worry.

“Your brother?” he asked Loup.

She couldn’t get the words out.

“I’m afraid he didn’t make it,” Sergeant Buckland answered for her. “The girl’s in shock. The doc said he gave her a shot to help her through the worst of it. She hasn’t said a word since.” He touched the brim of his cap. “I sure am sorry, honey.”

Loup nodded.

“God have mercy,” Father Ramon murmured.

TWENTY-SIX

They buried Tom Garron the following afternoon.

It seemed like half the town came to the funeral. Everyone wept when Father Ramon gave the eulogy. People who had known Tommy spoke. Floyd Roberts. Kevin McArdle. Even Danny Garza gave a speech about Outpost’s lost hope and the death of dreams. Loup heard it in a daze, dry-eyed. The Santitos surrounded her, offering comfort. She shook them off.

“Let her be,” Mack said briefly.

At the grave site she watched Mack and C.C. shovel dirt. Miguel Garza approached her.

“I just want to tell you I’m real sorry, kid.” He sounded genuine. “Your brother and me, we had our differences, but it wasn’t nothing personal. I never wanted to see him go down like that.” He hesitated. “And yeah, it could of been me. You ever need anything, tell me. I owe Garron one.”

Loup nodded, wordless.

And then it was done. Father Ramon planted a makeshift cross that Mack had built at the head of the grave. Floyd Roberts hung Tommy’s boxing gloves from the cross. After a moment of silence, the mourning crowd began to disperse.

Loup lay down on the sparse dusty grass, curled on her side.

This time there was no doctor to give her a shot and make her compliant. There was only a shell of emptiness encompassing a vast knot of pain. She wrapped herself around it. It had hurt when her mother had died, but this was worse, so much worse. It should have been Tommy’s moment of triumph, the fulfillment of all his hopes and dreams. Instead, he was just gone.

No warning.

No time to say goodbye.

People talked to her, pulled at her. Sister Martha, Anna. The Santitos. Father Ramon. Their voices were distant and buzzing. She ignored them. All she wanted to do was lie still and hold the hurt in one place, because it felt like it would explode into a million pieces if she didn’t.

“… can’t just leave her!” Pilar protested.

“Ever see a dog get hurt?” Mack asked. “That’s what they do. Hole up and wait to live or die. We all treat Loup like she’s one of us. She’s not.”

“We’ll give her time.” Father Ramon’s deep voice. “But I want someone to stay with her. I don’t want our Santa Olivia doing anything foolish.”

“I’ll stay,” T.Y. volunteered.

“We’ll take shifts,” Mack agreed.

As the sun crawled across the sky and sank in the west, they came and went. Loup was aware of them in a vague way, some more than others. T.Y. talked to her and tried to lift her spirits. Jane tried to reason with her, alternately coaxing and scolding. C.C. chattered incessantly, driving her deeper into herself. Dondi pleaded.

Day turned to night.

Jaime sat cross-legged, reading a book by the light of a kerosene lantern; and then Mack came, also blessedly silent. Hours passed. He didn’t speak at all until Pilar came to relieve him, wrapped in a woolen blanket.

“Hey.”

“Hey. She okay?”

Mack shrugged. “Dunno.”

Everyone else had left her alone, had only talked at her. Pilar plopped down beside her, felt at her. “Jesus! You’re stiff as a board. Are you cold?” She tugged insistently at Loup’s shoulders, shifting her head onto her lap. “C’mere, baby.”

The shell of emptiness cracked, letting in a ray of exasperation.

“Pilar.” Loup opened her eyes onto darkness and spoke for the first time since seeing Tommy’s body. Her voice came out low and hoarse. “Don’t fuck with me. Not tonight.”

“Shhh.” Pilar stroked her. “Be quiet.”

That was all. Over and over, as though she was soothing a child or petting a cat, and yet not. It was warm, rhythmic, and comforting. And as much as Loup wanted to resist it, her locked muscles loosened bit by bit, and the tight knot of pain inside her began to unravel and unknit. It didn’t explode. It just hurt.

“That’s better,” Pilar whispered, cupping her cheek. “You can’t cry like regular people, can you?”

“No,” Loup murmured. “Tommy said I cried when I was a baby, but even then there were never any tears.”

“You can have my tears.” Pilar traced the curve of her lashes with one finger. “I cried all afternoon.”

“It’s not that.”

“Tell me.”

Loup gazed at darkness. “I should’ve stopped the fight. Tommy knew. The first time he hit the guy, he knew I was right. I told him to take a dive, but he was mad. Because I told him, yeah, I could take him. I shouldn’t have said it. I should’ve just stopped the fight.”

“You tried, didn’t you?” Pilar asked softly.

“I shouldn’t have tried. I should’ve just done it.” She moved her head. “All I had to do was climb into the ring. I could’ve made that Johnson guy show what he really was. And I didn’t.”

Pilar’s hands went still, then resumed, warm and soothing. “Yeah, and they would’ve taken you away if you had. Baby, Tommy would have hated that more than anything. Swear to God, your brother would rather have fucking died than lose you that way.”

“He did,” Loup whispered.

“I told you, that boy loved the hell out of you.” Pilar stroked her hair. “You know, it’s funny. The two of you didn’t look a thing alike. But the way his face would light up whenever he came to fetch you, I don’t think anyone in the world ever doubted he was your big brother.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The ache of loss shifted, settling into her bones. Loup sighed. “Aw, Jesus! It’s not fair.”

“No,” Pilar said with sorrow. “It’s not.”

“I listened to Tommy all my life! Why couldn’t he listen to me just once when I told him to be careful?”

“I don’t know, baby.” Her hands moved steadily. “I wish he had.”

Loup closed her burning eyes. “So do I.”