God's Country

Roberta, of course, had just shaken her head when she’d heard about Rick.

“I’m sorry to hear it, but Miranda, you couldn’t have expected anything else,” she said, walking away down the hall. The other nurses expressed sympathy, but they really didn’t understand her grief. Miranda didn’t have to pretend distress over losing Rick. She missed him horribly, and continued to drop weight. Since her mother’s death, she had lost nearly 20 pounds, becoming someone frail, vulnerable. Someone she barely recognized.

Lily provided her only bright spot. Every morning, Miranda would wake up, resolving to return the little girl to her family. But then Lily would giggle, and she would think “just one more day.” She didn’t really mean to keep her – but she couldn’t have left her alone in that house, could she?

Of course not. You should have driven her straight to the sheriff’s station, the stern voice in her head replied, when you went in to report the crime. But she hadn’t done it. She didn’t have the heart. Not to turn Lily over to the authorities. Not to tell anyone that Sandy had somehow killed her own baby. Sandy was dead – that should be enough. I want her, she argued with herself. I can take care of her, and I want to give her a good life. No one on the res has even missed her. No one is looking for her. Even if they had her, they wouldn’t take care of her. I couldn’t do anything for Rick, but I was his friend, and I can save his daughter.

Somehow, that argument kept winning, even though Miranda herself could see the gaping holes in it.

She continued to leave Lily alone during the day, although she arranged her schedule to come home at lunchtime, and did most of her paperwork at home now, instead of in the office. The little girl never got into trouble. As far as Miranda could tell, she never left the house. She would play with her teddy bear and the cars and dolls Miranda had gotten for her. She watched TV. She fed herself sparsely from the healthy snacks Miranda left out. She used the toilet. She was a silent, unnatural child, clearly understanding what was said to her, but not ever speaking.

Miranda began to fantasize that this really could last forever. She could raise this lovely child in isolation, and no one would ever know. Lily was truly Princess TigerLily, the Indian princess from Neverland, being hidden from her enemies by a kindly fairy. She would grow up in ignorance of her true heritage, but when she became a teenager, all would be revealed. She would marry a prince and go to Harvard and live happily ever after.

But one of her enemies found her first. Miranda had stopped at a 7-11 in Vallejo to call one of her patients and let her know she was running late. A couple of guys were hanging around near the dumpster, laughing and not-so-surreptitiously sniffing paint. Their eyes followed her as she crossed the parking lot to the payphone.

“Hey, nursey!” one of them called out. She turned her head reflexively and recognized Donny Fuentes. His hair was tangled and his eyes glazed over. He looked like he'd been living in the dumpster that he was leaning against. He pushed off and staggered in her direction.

“Donny,” she said calmly. “You look like shit.”

“Nursey,” he said in the same tone, “You look like lunch.” He ran his tongue lasciviously over cracked lips. She turned and kept walking toward the phone. He lurched after her. “How come you don’t visit us no more?”

She turned back around. “Because your brother is dead. Or hadn’t you heard?”

“I fucking found him, bitch!” He leaned towards her menacingly. “Fucking guts pouring outta his body.”
She lowered her gaze to the ground and squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to remember. “That bitch Sandy, she fucked him up good.” He planted his legs in a firmer stance and took a deep breath. “My baby’s dead, too, did you know ‘bout that?”
She hadn’t really thought of it that way, that Donny had lost not only a brother, but a son. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

“Yeah, I bet. You didn’t even come to the fucking funeral!” His face was red, small blood vessels broken in his eyes, and around his nose.

“I didn’t know about it. No one told me,” she said. “I would have come.”

He stared over her head. “Michael was supposed to take care of everything, but he fucking left.” He sat down suddenly on the pavement, sniveling. Miranda felt the first stab of true pity for him. He was so pathetic, so lost.

“Where did Michael go?” she said.

“I don’t know. Some goddamn college, in New Hampshire. Starts with a ‘D.’”

“Dartmouth?” she said, surprised. She had mentioned their Indian scholarship program to him at the coffee shop that night.

“I guess. Some shit like that. Fucking bastard, ran out on his family.”

She crouched down to get closer to his level. “Does this mean you’re the oldest son left at home, Donny?” He stared up at her angrily.

“Shut the fuck up.”

She stood and went to the phones. Two of his friends came over and picked him up off the ground, dragging him back to the dumpster. She ignored them, made her phone call, and got back in her car. No wonder he was so trashed. He was responsible for the family now.

She decided to go home first, to check on Lily before seeing her next two patients. She hurried, thinking about how she could streamline her visits to get home sooner. She pulled into her driveway and opened the front door with a lighter heart, striding inside.

“Where’s my girl?” Little footsteps came pounding down the hall and Lily threw herself into Miranda’s open arms. She picked her up and hugged her tight, whirling her in a little circle. The whirling came to a quick stop when she saw a shape looming in the doorway. Donny stood there, still impaired, leering.

“You’ve got her! I fucking knew you were there. I told the cops you were there. They didn’t give a shit – two more Indians, killing each other off. Open and shut. No big deal.” He advanced towards her while she backed away, Lily gone quiet in her arms. “Did you watch Sandy blow my brother away?”

“No,” she whispered. “I saw him, in the morning, but he was all alone. I knew Sandy was coming over, but I left before she got there.” He sneered at her.

“That’s why you took my niece? Because everything was totally normal?” He made a grab for Lily, but Miranda evaded him. She set Lily down and whispered to her, “go into my room and lock the door. Don’t let anyone in until I tell you it’s ok. Go!” Lily ran down the hall and slammed the door, locking it. Miranda searched the room for a weapon while Donny tried to circle around her. He was tall, and tough, even if he was high and in bad shape. She knew she wouldn’t have any chance in a fair fight. She backed toward the coatrack, as if she were heading out the door. He lunged, and she snatched an umbrella off the stand, dropping abruptly to her knees. He missed, and while his weight was thrown forward, she whacked him in the back of the knees, sending him to the ground. He cussed, and she kept whacking at him, hearing him cry out each time a blow landed. He threw his arms up, tried to grab it from her, but his coordination was way off. He tried to roll into her legs, to bring her down as well, but she was too agile. She landed one good hit on the side of his head, and he slumped, unconscious. She checked him quickly. to make sure she hadn’t seriously injured him, but his breathing was regular. She got some thick twine out of the kitchen and tied his wrists tightly behind his back, then did the same to his feet. He’d break it eventually, but not easily. She left him on the floor and ran to get Lily. She put the little girl in the car, strapping her with shaking hands into the car seat she’d bought for her. She ran back in the house, and pulled out a couple of big duffel bags, packing frantically. Lily’s things didn’t take up much room, so she concentrated on her own, all the clothes she could reasonably bring, toiletries, sheets and blankets, extra food. She loaded up the car, running back and forth, filling up the back seat when the trunk got full. She grabbed the accordion file of important paperwork, her box of keepsakes, her purse. The photo albums. All her jewelry. A portable radio. Extra batteries. Her mind seemed to be operating on super-speed. Everything valuable, irreplaceable, practical.

Finally, she seemed to be done. She went back into the house. Donny was still out – alcohol and paint fumes doing as much or more than her blow to the head to keep him unconscious. She put her hands under his arms and dragged him through the kitchen and out to the back porch. She didn’t want him in her house, but she didn’t want to leave him in front, either, where Troy or another neighbor might inconveniently run across him. She closed all the windows and locked up the house, taking one last wistful look around. She picked up the umbrella, her weapon, and her good coat, and got in the car, peeling out.

Everything needs to look normal, she thought. So she went to her next two patients, completing her visits efficiently and notating their charts. She stopped by the office, parking far away so no one would look inside her car and ask about Lily, or what the heck she was doing, packing her entire household around. It was nearly deserted, luckily, except for the secretary, who was practically napping in the late morning quiet. She left every chart she had on her desk, as well as all equipment belonging to the agency. Then she wrote Roberta a quick note, asking for a leave of absence. She apologized for the lack of notice, saying that she had just located her father and he was very ill, so she was going out to visit him. She promised to be in touch, and left the envelope on Roberta’s desk, grateful to be escaping without having to answer to her sharp-eyed presence.

She took Lily by McDonald’s for a pee break and some food, then scooted onto the 15 north, heading up towards Los Angeles.

She was tense, nervous, but also relieved. It was over, finally. The fake life she’d been living – every piece of it. She wanted the child, and she was taking her. No more justifications. It was wrong, but she was doing it anyway. Everything else had been taken from her, but Lily, she would keep.

She pulled over for another rest stop near Corona, which reeked of steer manure. She went to the local Bank of America and virtually emptied her bank account, telling the teller she was going to live in Europe for a year.

“And who’s this little precious?” the teller exclaimed over Lily, who was quietly holding Miranda’s hand.

“My cousin’s daughter,” she lied easily. “I’m taking her back to her mom.” Stupid! She cursed herself. When Donny sends the police after me, they’ll find out I emptied my accounts here, they’ll interview this teller, and she’ll tell them I have Lily. Too late to worry now. She hustled Lily back into the car and kept going.

I won’t get too far if I keep making obvious mistakes like that. No credit cards, cash only. Gotta change the car asap. Wouldn’t hurt to do a littledisguising, either. She struggled through late afternoon LA traffic, and made it onto the 10 heading east, a little before sunset. Lily never complained, just rode, big-eyed and silent, through all the strange sights and sounds. She pulled off the freeway around 7 pm, somewhere near Rancho Cucamonga. She found a Motel 6 and paid cash for a room on the ground floor, unloading everything in the car.

First, the car. She asked the clerk for a used car lot, which wasn’t too far away. She left Lily in the room and went to check it out. Luckily, it was still open – late hours in the summertime. She checked out the selection in her price range, haggling for a better trade-in price for her Civic, a lower price for the replacement car. She ended up driving off in a fairly new green Ford Escort wagon. It would take the cops awhile to find where she had traded in the Civic. She intended to trade at least once more before reaching her destination.

Next, she found a drugstore and a cheap clothing store. She brought her purchases back to the room, along with Taco Bell for dinner. Over the next couple of hours, she transformed herself, and Lily. She cut Lily’s hair short and dressed her in boy’s clothes, then dyed her own hair a brilliant shade of red, even dyeing her eyebrows, although the directions said not to. She painted on some bright red lipstick, pasted on fake nails, and put on the tight, lowcut shirt she’d bought. She didn’t want to look like a nurse anymore. She sure didn’t. She looked like a Mexican whore. She shrugged. That would work.

They watched TV for awhile, then fell asleep. Miranda awoke before dawn. She showered and got Lily cleaned up, then loaded up the car. They drove for two hours before stoppping for breakfast. She ordered oatmeal and fruit, a big glass of milk for Lily (Louie) and several cups of black coffee for herself. It seemed normal, somehow. She was on the road, on a new road, with Rick’s daughter. At first, she hadn’t known where she was going, she was just running, away from Donny, from her former life, from death and grief and violence and desertion. But now she knew. She would go where no one would expect her to go. She would go to a place where she could find refuge, a place she belonged, even though she had never been there. Sipping her coffee and slicing apples for Lily, Miranda knew she was running into the arms of the Navajo Nation.