Mañana Means Heaven

Chapter 17.

101 17 Five minutes after they stepped out onto the frostbitten pavement of the Golden State Highway,a truck rattled to a stop.Jack heaved their bags into the back and they climbed in and cuddled up to one another for warmth. At the gate of the truck a brown speckled piglet rested in a cage.It stunk horribly,but even so,they couldn’t help but smile, knowing that the day had already begun on a good note. In the distance,mist hovered above the Kern River.Bea spotted a few egrets standing knee-deep in the water, and she pointed them out to Jack. He looked at them in silence. “Reminds me of the Merrimack,” he said, a longing in his eye. The cold wind roared and was whipping Bea’s hair, so she pulled her coat up over her head. Jack continued, “We used to fish a lot when I was a kid and we’d spot those birds everywhere. I can look at ’em all day. Kind of quiet, mostly keep to themselves.” He eyed the egrets and the narrow river, while Bea fussed with her hair. “Hold me, honey,” she said, drawing closer. He dragged his gaze over the land to the east, up near the Sierra Nevada foothills, near a wide bluff, and watched the oil pumps as they rose up, then bowed down to kiss the earth. They looked holy, he thought, ominous even, and he mentioned this to Bea. She observed them for a moment before a memory surfaced. “Don’t know why, but they kind of remind me of the Indian ladies back in Irapuato.” Her voice was low, and Jack had to put his ear closer to her mouth to hear.“They’d make these pilgrimages to El Templo, you know, they’d asked God for some big favor and then have to make good on their promise. So they’d walk miles on their knees, dressed in black, bowing and praying the whole way. Never saying a word to anyone.” She paused. “I used to tell myself, man, I hope I never gotta ask for something that big, just couldn’t imagine it.” The truck climbed a low hill and then sailed down and away as they watched Bakersfield disappear into the landscape. They rolled on, making good time, flying past the towns of Delano and Earlimart,stopping off in Pixley for gas.Bea went to see if the filling station had a restroom with hot water,but she returned a minute later unsuccessful.The tips of her fingers were glowing red. She climbed 102 into the truck, and Jack, seeing the shape her hands were in, grabbed them and stuck them under his shirt against his skin. “Woooo!”he cried out. She giggled.The gas station attendant shut the tank and shook his head at the two. Forty-five minutes later they were climbing off the truck in Tulare. They waved good-bye to the driver, who didn’t return the gesture, except to kick up mud as he set back out on the highway. Jack wondered why they’d call this the Golden State Highway when it had been nothing but a gray hue since the moment he laid eyes on it. Bea was too cold to come up with an answer. They were about to sit down on their bags when out of the fog another truck appeared. It missed them at first, but then ambled onto the shoulder a hundred feet away. And if they hadn’t felt lucky before, now they were certain that the universe was on their side. A Japanese man stuck his head out the window and yelled for them to get inside. He leaned over and unlocked the passenger door, and the heavy thing swung open. “Get in!” he shouted. “Before you freeze to death!” “Thank you, mister,” Bea said, climbing into the cab and scooting over next to him. Jack jumped in and shut the door and the truck lurched forward. “How long ya been out there?” the man asked, hassling with the gearshift. “Not long,” said Bea. Hanging in the window behind them, mounted on a gun rack made of deer antlers, was a double-barreled shotgun. At every bump the truck lurched and the gun rattled.The man was wearing a cap with an American flag patch stitched on, and when he gripped the steering wheel,they saw a fuzzy tattoo on the back of his right...