“Are you going to be making another movie in Malacnoic, then? Seeing as we’re not in the lockup at the moment, William and I could play ourselves,” Ray suggested later.
William’s blue eyes sparked with annoyance. “I’ll be having a word with you about that last film you made here in town, Rilly.”
“What do you mean?” Rill asked.
“What were you thinking, letting that foine-looking man play Ray when you got that fellow with the face like a bag o’ dead rats playing my part!”
Ray gave an evil chuckle, clearly liking the topic a great deal more than his brother. “He’s got to play it like real life, ain’t that so, Rill? That guy—Everett Hughes—right? Perfect casting for me. I was much blonder when I was younger, and that’s a fact.”
William snorted derisively. “You’re a fuckin’ dose, you are, Ray. I think you’re mixin’ yourself up with that flea-bitten golden retriever we had as boys, old Tom.”
Rill laughed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What makes you think I’d written the parts with you two in mind?”
Both of his uncles gaped at him.
“Well, it was us, or at least it would have been, if you’d gotten someone like that Colin Farrell to play me instead of that hatchetfaced git. Everyone in Malacnoic says it was us,” William explained patiently.
“Well, there you have it, then,” Rill said, grinning. It hadn’t occurred to him until he sat there with his uncles that he really had written them—at least partially—into the characters. Not just the ones from the film they spoke of, either. There were aspects of his wily, fun-loving uncles in a lot of his characters.
The realization shocked him a little. He hadn’t really envisioned that anything about Ray and William Pierce was worthwhile, aside from the fact that they’d taught him how to use a hammer. Moviegoers and critics usually liked his quirky male characters, but it just hadn’t penetrated his awareness until now just how much of Ray and William were in them . . . how much his uncles were in him—Rill.
Not just the reprobate parts, either. There were great things about Ray and William—their charm, their irrepressible humor, the fact that they greeted every new day like it was their best friend, even when they woke up in a prison cell.
Perhaps they weren’t the best role models for a boy, but William and Ray were the only thing Rill had ever had. They’d do, he supposed.
Another thing struck him. Katie would love his uncles. The three of them would laugh together until tears leaked out of their eyes. He found himself looking forward to introducing her to the pair someday.
He bought himself a second Guinness and leaned back, relaxing for the first time since he’d made the decision to take a trip to Malacnoic. Maybe he would make another film here.
He and his uncles talked until late, and in the morning, Rill knew it was time to leave.
He’d done a little soul searching since he’d gotten on that plane in St. Louis; he’d done a lot of thinking. Now that it was done, he wondered if he hadn’t needed to somehow sew Katie into the fabric of his past, weave his future together with his history.
Or maybe he’d needed to return to better make sense of everything that had come after Malacnoic . . . why he’d needed to put Eden on such an impossibly high pedestal . . . why it had crushed him to learn she was flawed and only human . . . why he was so disturbed by his insatiable need for Katie . . .
. . . how it was that he could have fallen in love with Katie Hughes and not even known it.
The tiny, grimy town of Malacnoic, the impenetrable barriers behind his mother’s eyes, the joy in his uncles’ laughter, a vague, elusive memory of an angel falling on his doorstep—he’d found some answers in those things. He’d put together the puzzle, and even if there were some missing pieces, Rill could make out the picture.
It was time to start living again.
It was time to go home to Katie.
Twenty-seven
The week after Rill left Vulture’s Canyon, Katie had her first obstetrics appointment. The doctor confirmed what she already knew. Katie was four and a half weeks pregnant. She already had accepted that fact—one, because of the pregnancy test, and two, because it was the exact sort of ludicrous thing that would happen only to her.
It wasn’t all darkness and self-pity, though. She spent extra hours at the community center, decorating her new office and poring over resources, trying to figure out the best way to service her clients. The best training was just to visit people in their homes, however, get to know them where they were most comfortable. Fortunately, she was typically received with a great deal more hospitality than the chinchilla lady had shown her on that first day.
Last Thursday evening, she’d walked into the empty diner and called out to Sherona, who popped up from behind the counter.
“Will you be upset if I adopt Barnyard?” she asked Sherona.
Sherona set some napkins on the counter. “I’d love it, if you’re completely confident you can give him a permanent home.”
“I can. I’m not going to be leaving Vulture’s Canyon anytime soon. Besides, I’m going to have a baby. I figure I need the practice, taking care of something else.”
Sherona nodded and offered her congratulations on her pregnancy. Katie had come to admire the woman’s unflappability. “You want some newspapers, to set down in the seats of your car for when you take Barnyard?” Sherona asked.