C Box - Blue Heaven

But there were things he could recall clearly.

Monica, wearing many different outfits, even changing her hair, telling him to get well, pull through, she needed him to live, it was important.

Sheriff Carey, hat in hand, talking to his own boots, apologizing as much to himself as to Jess, Buddy with him, looking from Carey to Jess. Carey saying, “They’re mounting a recall petition to get rid of me. The whole damned valley. I’ll resign before they throw me out, though.” Buddy saying, “Our old sheriff says he wants the job back.”

Karen and Brian, Karen shaking her head as if she just knew this kind of thing would happen, Brian consoling her for her loss, putting his arm around her, gently trying to steer her out of the room before she broke down. Karen saying she didn’t know how she would deal with it if Jess died now that he was such a hero, wondering out loud why he’d never shown this kind of heroism with her before, saying this was so… unsatisfying.

J.J., escorted by Buddy, breaking Jess’s heart when he reached out and touched his hand through the sheets before recoiling, Jess knowing how hard it was for his son to do that, thinking at the time it was best J.J. not even know about Monica and Hearne, the best thing for everybody concerned. J.J. making Jess’s heart soar when he said he was feeling better, that he’d like to try to come back to the ranch and reenter the world to see how it worked out, that he missed the place and his father more than he realized.

Doctors showing other doctors where the five bullets had hit, reen-acting the trajectory of the one that had really done the damage when it broke his collarbone and angled down, nicked a lung, exited through his spine. The others, two in the thigh, one of which turned out to be the real bleeder, one in his neck that passed straight through, and a really painful one in his butt, kind of embarrassing, mostly. That one ached the most. Then it didn’t.

Three surprising visits, although they didn’t seem surprising at all at the time.

Fiona Pritzle, darkening the doorway, flowers in her hand, saying, “How are you doing, my big guy?” Jess, coming out of himself, hurling a bedside water bottle at her, missing and hitting the top of the doorjamb, the water spraying everywhere. Fiona scuttling away, the nurses rushing in to calm him, get him settled back in the bed, reinserting the tubes in his arm.

Jim Hearne, in jeans and cowboy boots instead of his banker’s suit, apologizing to Jess for not making it into town. Saying, “It wasn’t the first time I didn’t finish a ride, I guess.”

“I’m proud of you,” Jess said. “You tried.”

“Didn’t try hard enough,” Hearne said sheepishly. “There’s nothing I wanted more than to be the hero.”

“You’re a hero,” Jess said.

“No,” he said, looking away, moisture in his eyes. “I betrayed Laura. I wish I could tell Laura one more time that I love her.”

It took him a few moments to collect himself, then, “I betrayed people who looked up to me, and I betrayed myself. And in the end, I didn’t come through for Annie and Monica. I wish I could talk to them, clear the air.”

“That’s not necessary,” Jess said. “They know you did your best. That’s what they’ll remember. You gave your life for them.”

“Doesn’t seem like enough,” Hearne said.

“What more is there?” Jess asked.

Jim Newkirk came into his room after dark, wearing a ball cap. He looked fine, the picture of health. Newkirk stood at the foot of the bed and wouldn’t meet Jess’s eyes.

“I thought you were dead,” Jess had said.

Newkirk looked out the window. “I am. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Not very damned good.”

“Better than me.”

Jess said, “Life’s messy, isn’t it?”

Newkirk had haunted eyes. “It’s hard, all right. But maybe a man can live with himself if he makes the right decisions. If he does what he knows is right. Things may not work out, but at least he can live with himself.”

Jess fell asleep and never saw Newkirk again. But he had a feeling he’d see Hearne.

EDUARDO VILLATORO, on crutches, wearing his brown suit. Introducing Jess to his wife, Donna, and his mother. They had flown up from Southern California, Villatoro said, and had stayed with him at the motel but were now at Julie Rodale’s house, keeping Julie company.

“Julie has convinced Donna to consider moving here,” Villatoro said, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. “We might even do it. I should enjoy my retirement, don’t you think? Maybe I’ll buy a horse.”

“Great,” Jess said, smiling. “Another ex-cop moving here.”

After Donna and his mother left, Villatoro told Jess the wrongfully convicted Santa Anita employees were being released from prison. He also said the FBI had figured out everything, even how the ex-cops used pigs to dispose of the bodies-Anthony Rodale, Tom Boyd-and analysis of the pig manure confirmed it all. Thanking Jess again for saving him from that. Saying oddly, Jess thought, that he admired how Jess could look at a mountain and know the story about it.

Laura Hearne, Jim’s wife, came to see Jess and brought the RAWLINS file with her. She said she knew the situation with Jess’s ranch had troubled Jim greatly, and felt she owed it to the memory of her husband to finish the job he’d started. She’d done some research, she said. Her idea was to donate the ranch to the State of Idaho on the condition it be kept intact.

“Poor Jim,” Jess said. “I miss him.”

Tears flooded her eyes, but she didn’t cry. She was a tough old girl. Country people were more used to the cycle of life and death; they experienced it every day.

“I miss him, too,” she said, looking up at Jess. “I always knew about Monica, even though he never told me. He didn’t have to. I forgave him years ago, but I never told him that. I wish now I had told him.”

Jess nodded, thinking Hearne would have liked to have known that and hoped he knew it now.

Jess told her to forget about the donation. He had a better idea. When he told her, she responded with a devilish look, said she’d help with the details because Jim would have wanted her to.

“I just wish he hadn’t died feeling guilty,” she said later. “That eats at me.”

“He didn’t, in the end,” Jess assured her. “He was doing the right thing, and he was on a horse again. He loved you. He told me.”

What Jess didn’t say was when Hearne had told him.

This time, she cried.

JESS AWOKE, his head clearer than it had been since he’d arrived in the hospital, whenever that was. The pain was simply gone. Everything, gone. No feeling below his chest. He rolled his head over on the pillow. Sun streamed through the window and warmed his face. The room was filled with flowers, which was probably why, he thought, he kept dreaming he was in a garden.

Annie sat in a chair at the side of the bed.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Jess asked.

Annie looked up. She seemed older, somehow. More serious.

“Is this really you?” she asked.

“Yup.”

“It’s hard to tell. Sometimes you’re there, and sometimes you’re not.”

“I’m here,” he said. “I think.” He could feel the sun, and it felt real. The lack of pain was certainly real.

“We’ve been coming here every day for two weeks,” Annie said. “My mom brings us after school.”

“Two weeks? I had no idea,” he said. “It’s May, then.”

“I guess so.”

He tried to recall the days, the weeks. It was impossible to sort out. He knew what he knew: the faces, the visits, the explanations from people living and dead. Maybe, when he was strong again, he could sort it all out.