"My destiny doomed me to be in this desert land. I will map it."
David Grossman
HIDDEN
Luke's statement, "He took uncle Jesse's truck".
Bo's surprise, "But… he barely can use his left arm!"
Uncle Jesse's conclusion, "He managed to drive, obviously, some way or another"
And Daisy's impatience, "Don't waste our time here wondering how he managed to drive the truck, but go look for him!"
So, before the dawn, the General Lee and Dixie left the farm, heading to opposite directions in order to find uncle Jesse's truck… and Enos, hoping not to find him in a pond or in a ravine.
Erika looked at the ceiling after a night spent tossing and turning in her bed, in her mind her first talk with Enos Strate. His brother, no doubt about it.
THE DAY BEFORE
"Enos isn't here, yet. My cousins are goin' to the Hospital to bring him back, and we're waiting for him", Daisy Duke's only words when she opened the door. Not a welcome, obviously, but Erika decided to avoid any possible fight with Enos Strate's defender.
She walked past Daisy Duke, approaching Jesse Duke, "I'm going to wait for him. Thank you for your invitation, Mr Duke", shaking hands with him and sitting on the couch, observing everything around her in order to avoid to look at Daisy Duke who sat by her side, silently, lost in her thoughts.
Erika wasn't in the mood for talking with Daisy, and Daisy wasn't in the mood for talking with Erika, so both women remained silent 'till a car stopped in front of the farm.
Daisy ran to the door, and Erika followed her: she looked at Enos Strate coming out the orange car (from the window? Had that car NO doors?), helped by his friends, the blonde and the brown guy, the ones who helped him the previous week. Enos showed all his difficulty in coming out the car, and it was for sure because of his plastered left arm.
Erika observed him walking to the door and entering the living room.
His first look to her: a mix of curiosity, anxiety and something else Erika couldn't recognize.
Hazel eyes: totally different from Andrew Salinger's eyes, the same eyes of Rose Strate (eyes Erika knew because of the pictures now stuck in her mind, pictures she had in her hand-bag).
His hand: warm and gently trembling.
"I'd like to talk to Miss Salinger alone, please. I appreciate you invited her here, uncle Jesse, but… it's something really personal".
His voice. It was the first time Erika heard his voice, and it surprised her: she'd have expected a different voice from that tall and muscular man, a deeper and lower voice instead of that voice, that strange pitch, higher than expected.
Miss Salinger: his way to call her.
Uncle Jesse: did he call that man "uncle" even if he wasn't his uncle? In effect, it wasn't surprising: Jesse Duke showed his genuine affection for Enos the evening he talked to her, and obviously Enos had the same affection for the middle-aged man. It seemed Dukes were Enos' family, and remembering what Jesse Duke told her about Enos' family and past, Erika understood why.
"Bo, Luke and I have a lot of things to do at the barn", Jesse Duke looked at his nephews, "and Daisy has to do the whashing", then at his niece, "but… if you need us…. anything from us… just ask", and finally at Enos.
Erika noticed Daisy biting her lip: it was clear she didn't want to leave, but her uncle's look was that kind of look which didn't allow negative answers. Erika thought Jesse Duke knew how to bring up his nephews and niece: he was sweet and protective (she knew it thinking of his words about Enos), but at the same time strict.
Finally sitting at the kitchen's table, face to face, Erika focused on the man in front of her: older than her, hazel eyes, brown and straight hair, tall and muscular. A brief shy and sweet smile, somehow childish. Cute.
"So, you are Erika… Salinger", his first words to her in his strange pitch, a different way to pronounce her name (a mix of indifference and sweetness) and her surname (a mix of indifference and … disgust? … rage?... worry?).
"Yeah, and you are Enos… Strate", she answered him the same way, showing all her disgust for the surname Strate, the surname of the woman who killed her father.
Enos caught her tone and he lowered his head, a brief grimace of disappointment, and that grimace made her heart skip a beat: her father way to show his disappointment.
"OK, sorry, we're starting in the wrong way. I'm here to know… about my father and your mother. Do you know if… they kept on meeting after my father left Hazzard, nearly 30 years ago?", she held her breath, waiting for his answer.
"No, I know nothing about my mother's life after she left Hazzard, except her staying at…", a shadow of embarrassment in his eyes, "Ridge Institute, from time to time along these years. I never heard her talking 'bout your father", he shook his head, "I'm sorry, but I can't help you 'bout it".
Erika sighed, "At Ridge Institute nobody knows 'bout your mother's love affairs. Nobody, Doc Martin… Kate Wilson"
"Did you go to Ridge Institute? Did you talk to Doc Martin… and… Miss Kate?", his voice's pitch raised as he looked at Erika, his eyes open wide.
"Obviously! I wanted to see where… your mother killed my father", a sudden rush of rage, but soon after Erika regretted it, her voice turning soft, "Sorry, I know it's not your fault"; the man in front of her wasn't responsible of her father's death, but they were sharing a same grief, even if in a opposite situation.
"Do you hate me?", his voice a whisper, his eyes down on his hands, the right hand fidgeting with the cast covering his left forearm.
Erika had a deep sigh, "No, I don't hate you", her eyes on his nervous hands: a man so tall and muscular, so physically strong, but psychologically so fragile, "I'd like to hate you. I think it'd be more simple, but I can't hate you. Rationally, I know you have nothing to do with what happened to my father, and… moreover… you are too much alike my father. You know why, don't you?"
His right hand froze and he seemed holding his breath before to look again up at her, "Am I… alike… your father?", in his eyes surprise, a sad surprise.
"No doubt 'bout it. You're pretty different physically: you're brown and my father was blond, you have hazel eyes and my father had blue eyes, you're taller than him, but… some of your gestures, some of your facial looks… I see my father through you"
He averted his eyes from her, so she couldn't understand what's going on in his mind. Was he shocked? Surprised? Sad? Confused? Relieved? What?
She opened her hand-bag, gently resting the pictures in it on the table in front of him, his eyes now again driven to her, and then to the pictures: eyes opening wide as he looked at pictures of his mother and Andrew Salinger in their younger days.
"Where did you…?", his hands were trembling.
"In my father's locker at the Police Department, in a box. His secret".
And his hands started to shake even more when, after the pictures of his mother and Andrew Salinger, he realized he was now looking at HIS picture during his Police Academy's swearing-in-ceremony. He looked up at her, in his eyes a silent question.
Erika took the two newspaper's cuttings from her bag, "I think he knew you were his son… or, at least, he supposed it. I don't know if he was sure 'bout it, anyway"
A shocked glance to the newspaper's cuttings, "In his locker? THESE newspapers?", his voice cracked and he stood up, walking to the kitchen's window and looking outside, his breathe heavy as after a long run.
"I know you're shocked, the same way I was shocked the first time I knew 'bout these pictures, only one week ago. I confess I hated you because of these pictures. I hated you because you were a sort of … ghost… between my father and me, between my father and my mother. But, again, rationally, I've understood I can't hate you. It's not your fault. Besides, my father has always been very sweet and caring to me and to my mother… whereas, I suppose, you had a worse life than mine".
No answer from him, his eyes still lost outside the window, his arms along his body and his shoulders down.
Erika sighed, understanding their talking was over, "OK, I think you need some time to… put up with this thing. It's the same for me, so it's better to take a pause, now".
Only a brief nod from him.
When she walked out the farm, heading to her car, Dukes showed up, looking at her and trying to read her mind: Enos Strate's barrier, Enos Strate's defenders.
A frantic knocking at her door woke Erika up from her thoughts.
"What did you tell him yesterday?", Daisy Duke stormed in the room when Erika opened the door; she sighed: that woman hadn't the gift of good manners.
"What do you want from me, Daisy Duke? Ask him! He's your boyfriend, isn't he?"
"I'D ASK HIM IF I KNEW WHERE HE IS! WE'VE LOOKED FOR HIM EVERYWHERE!"
Erika blinked in surprise, realizing Daisy wasn't alone, but her uncle and her cousins were with her, standing on the threshold, all Dukes' eyes on her, waiting for her answer.
In his little shelter, Enos looked at the ceiling.
His left arm hurt because of his long driving (uncle Jesse's truck from the farm to the Boarding House, and his car from the Boarding House), a pulsing pain, but he thanked that pain 'cause it took his mind off his thoughts, or, at least, it'd have taken it off for a while. For a while, before to face his inner demons again, in his strenuous attempt to spare Daisy HIS weight.
He remembered Daisy sleeping by his side, her deep sleeping, so deep he wasn't able to wake her up when he wanted to talk to her. He remembered her paleness: she was exhausted, exhausted because of his hanging on her.
He had to solve things all by himself, to put up with that thing all by himself, carrying HIS weight instead of hang on someone else, especially on Daisy, pressing her.
A brief note: it's impressing, and positive, to realize how many people are reading this story, day by day, step by step, slowly, new readers starting from the beginning (even now, months after I've started this story) and reading it chapter by chapter, and "old" readers keeping on reading it (reading any new chapter soon after posted). I'm surprised, really! THANKS! Ok, now, if you want to, just stop and REVIEW!
More about me and my... philosophy (?, especially 'bout the frequent quotes from Murakami and Yoshimoto... and it's not a case... especially the ones from Murakami, but I'll reveal it at the END of the story) on my profile page.