The Searcher (Cal Hooper, 01) (Tana French [French, Tana])

ALSOBYTANAFRENCH
TheWitchElm
TheTrespasser
TheSecretPlace
BrokenHarbor
FaithfulPlace
TheLikeness
IntheWoods
VIKING
AnimprintofPenguinRandomHouseLLC
penguinrandomhouse.com
Copyright?2020byTanaFrench
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LIBRARYOFCONGRESSCATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATIONDATA
Names:French,Tana,author.
Title:Thesearcher/TanaFrench.
Description:[NewYork]:Viking,animprintofPenguinRandomHouseLLC,[2020]
Identifiers:LCCN2020032206(print)|LCCN2020032207(ebook)|ISBN9780735224650(hardcover)|ISBN9780735224667(ebook)
Subjects:GSAFD:Mysteryfiction.
Classification:LCCPR6106.R457S422020(print)|LCCPR6106.R457(ebook)|DDC823/.92—dc23
LCrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2020032206
LCebookrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2020032207
Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously,andanyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,businesses,companies,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.
Coverdesign:DarrenHaggar
Coverphotograph:MattAndersonPhotography/GettyImages
pid_prh_5.6.0_c0_r0
ForAnn-Marie
CONTENTS
Cover
AlsobyTanaFrench
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthor
ONE
WhenCalcomesoutofthehouse,therookshavegotholdofsomething.Sixofthemareclusteredonthebacklawn,amidthelongwetgrassandtheyellow-floweredweeds,jabbingandhopping.Whateverthethingis,it’sonthesmallsideandstillmoving.
Calsetsdownhisgarbagebagofwallpaper.Heconsidersgettinghishuntingknifeandputtingthecreatureoutofitssuffering,buttherookshavebeenherealotlongerthanhehas.Itwouldbeprettyimpertinentofhimtowaltzinandstartinterferingwiththeirways.Insteadheeaseshimselfdowntositonthemossystepnexttothetrashbag
Helikestherooks.Hereadsomewherethatthey’resmartashell;theycangettoknowyou,bringyoupresentseven.Forthreemonthsnowhe’sbeentryingtobutterthemupwithscrapsleftonthebigstumptowardsthebottomofthegarden.Theywatchhimtrudgeupanddownthroughthegrass,fromtheivy-loadedoakwheretheyhavetheircolony,andassoonashe’sasafedistanceawaytheyswoopdowntosquabbleandcommentraucouslyoverthescraps;buttheykeepacynicaleyeonCal,andifhetriestomovecloserthey’regone,backintotheoaktojeerdownathimanddroptwigsonhishead.Yesterdayafternoonhewasinhislivingroom,strippingawaythemildewedwallpaper,andasleekmid-sizedrooklandedonthesilloftheopenwindow,yelledwhatwasobviouslyaninsult,andthenflappedofflaughing.
Thethingonthelawntwistswildly,shakingthelonggrass.Abigdaddyrookjumpscloser,aimsoneneatferociousstabofhisbeak,andthethinggoesstill.
Rabbit,maybe.Calhasseenthemoutthereintheearlymornings,nibblinganddashinginthedew.Theirholesaresomewhereinhisbackfield,downbythebroadcopseofhazelsandrowans.Oncehisfirearmlicensecomesthrough,he’splanningtoseeifherememberswhathisgrandpataughthimaboutskinninggame,andifthemule-temperedbroadbandwilldeigntofindhimarecipeforrabbitstew.Therookscrowdin,peckinghardandbracingtheirfeettojerkoutbitesofflesh,moreofthemzoomingdownfromthetreetojostleinontheaction.
Calwatchesthemforawhile,stretchingouthislegsandrollingoneshoulderincircles.Workingonthehouseisusingmuscleshe’dforgottenhehad.Hefindsnewacheseverymorning,althoughsomeofthatislikelyfromsleepingonacheapmattressonthefloor.Calistoooldandtoobigforthat,butthere’snopointinbringinggoodfurnitureintothedustanddampandmold.He’llbuythatstuffoncehehasthehouseinshape,andoncehefiguresoutwhereyoubuyit—allthatwasDonna’sdepartment.Meanwhile,hedoesn’tmindtheaches.Theysatisfyhim.Alongwiththeblistersandthickeningcalluses,they’resolid,earnedproofofwhathislifeisnow.
It’sheadedintothelongcoolSeptemberstretchofevening,butcloudyenoughthatthere’snotraceofasunset.Thesky,dappledinsubtlegradationsofgray,goesonforever;sodothefields,codedinshadesofgreenbytheirdifferentuses,dividedupbysprawlinghedges,dry-stonewallsandtheoddnarrowbackroad.Awaytothenorth,alineoflowmountainsrollsalongthehorizon.Cal’seyesarestillgettingusedtolookingthisfar,afterallthoseyearsofcityblocks.Landscapeisoneofthefewthingsheknowsofwheretherealitydoesn’tletyoudown.TheWestofIrelandlookedbeautifulontheinternet;fromrightsmackinthemiddleofit,itlooksevenbetter.Theairisrichasfruitcake,likeyoushoulddomorewithitthanjustbreatheit;biteoffabigmouthful,maybe,orrubhandfulsofitoveryourface.
Afterawhiletherooksslowdown,gettingtowardstheendoftheirmeal.Calstandsupandpicksupthetrashbagagain.Therookscocksmart,instantglancesathimand,whenhestartsdownthegarden,heavethemselvesintotheairandflaptheirfullbelliesbacktotheirtree.Hehaulsthebagdowntoacornerbesidethecreeper-coveredtumbledownstoneshed,pausingalongthewaytocheckouttherooks’dinner.Rabbit,allright,ayoungone,althoughbarelyrecognizablenow.
Heleavesthetrashbagwiththerestandheadsbacktothehouse.He’salmosttherewhentherookskickoff,jostlingleavesandyellingcusswordsatsomething.Caldoesn’tturnaroundorbreakstride.Hesaysverysoftlythroughhisteeth,asheclosesthebackdoorbehindhim,“Motherfucker.”
Forthelastweekandahalf,someonehasbeenwatchingCal.Probablylonger,buthehadhismindonhisownbusinessandhetookforgranted,likeanyonewouldhavearighttodoamidallthisemptyspace,thathewasalone.Hismentalalarmsystemswereswitchedoff,thewayhewantedthem.Thenonenighthewascookingdinner—fryingahamburgerontherust-pockedstove’soneworkingburner,SteveEarlegoodandloudontheiPodspeaker,Caladdingintheoccasionalcrashofairdrums—whenthebackofhisneckflared.
ThebackofCal’sneckgottrainedovertwenty-fiveyearsintheChicagoPD.Hetakesitseriously.Heambledcasuallyacrossthekitchen,noddingalongtothemusicandexaminingthecounterslikehewasmissingsomething,andthenmadeasuddenlungetothewindow:nooneoutside.Heturnedofftheburnerandheadedforthedoorfast,butthegardenwasempty.Hewalkedtheperimeter,underamillionsavagestarsandahowler’smoon,fieldslaidoutwhiteallaroundhimandowlsyelping:nothing.
Someanimalnoise,Caltoldhimself,drownedoutbythemusicsothatonlyhissubconsciouspickeditup.Thedarkisbusyaroundhere.He’ssatoutonhisstepwellpastmidnight,afewtimes,drinkingacoupleofbeersandgettingthehangofthenighttime.He’sseenhedgehogsbustlingacrossthegarden,asleekfoxstoppingonitsroutetogivehimachallengeofastare.Onetimeabadger,biggerandmoremuscularthanCalwouldhaveexpected,trundledalongthehedgeanddisappearedintoit;aminutelatertherewasonehighshriek,andthentherustleofthebadgermovingoff.Anythingcouldhavebeengoingaboutitsbusinessoutthere.
BeforeCalwenttobedthatnight,hestackedhistwomugsandtwoplatesonthebedroomwindowsillanddraggedanolddeskupagainstthebedroomdoor.Thenhecalledhimselfadumbassandputthemaway.
Acoupleofmorningslaterhewasstrippingwallpaper,windowopentoletoutthedust,whentherooksexplodedupoutoftheirtree,shoutingatsomethingunderneath.Thefasttrailofrustlesheadingawaybehindthehedgewastoobigandnoisyforahedgehogorafox,toobigevenforabadger.BythetimeCalgotoutthere,hewastoolateagain
Probablyboredkidsspyingonthenewcomer.Notmuchelsetodoaroundhere,withthevillagenobiggerthanthelittleendofnothing,andtheclosesttwo-horsetownfifteenmilesaway.Calfeelsdumbforevenconsideringanythingelse.Mart,hisnearestneighboruptheroad,doesn’tevenlockhisdoorexceptatnight.WhenCalraisedaneyebrowatthat,Mart’shigh-bonedfacecreasedupandhelaughedtillhewheezed.“Thestateofthatthere,”hesaid,pointingtowardsCal’shouse.“Whatwouldanyoneroboffyou?Andwho’drobit?AmIgoingtosneakinsomemorningandgothroughyourwashing,lookingforsomethingtospruceupmyfashionsense?”AndCallaughedtooandtoldhimhecoulddowithit,andMartinformedhimthathisownwardrobewoulddohimgrand,seeingashehadnoplanstogocourting,andstartedexplainingwhynot.
Buttherehavebeenthings.Nobigdeal,juststuffthatflicksattheedgesofCal’scopsense.Enginesrevving,threea.m.downfarawaybackroads,deep-chestedbubblingsnarls.Ahuddleofguysinthebackcornerofthepubsomenights,tooyounganddressedwrong,talkingtooloudandtoofastinaccentsthatdon’tfitin;thesnapoftheirheadstowardsthedoorwhenCalwalksin,thestaresthatlastasecondtoolong.He’sbeencarefulnottotellanyonewhatheusedtodo,butjustbeingastrangercouldbeplenty,depending.
Dumb,Caltellshimself,turningontheburnerunderhisfryingpanandlookingoutthekitchenwindowatthedimminggreenfields,Mart’sdogtrottingbesidethesheepastheyplodpeacefullytowardstheirpen.Toomanyyearsonthebeatinbadhoods,nowfarmhandslooklikegangbangers.
Boredkids,tentoone.Allthesame,Calhasstartedkeepinghismusicdownsohewon’tmissanything,he’sthinkingaboutgettinganalarmsystem,andthispisseshimoff.YearsofDonnalungingforthevolumeknob,Cal,thatbabynextdooristryingtosleep!Cal,Mrs.Scapanskijusthadsurgery,youthinksheneedsthatblowinghereardrums?Cal,whataretheneighborsgonnathink,we’resavages?HewantedlandpartlysohecouldblastSteveEarleloudenoughtoknocksquirrelsoutofthetrees,andhewantedbuttfucknowherepartlysohewouldn’thavetosetalarmsanymore.Hefeelslikehecan’teven,forexample,adjusthisballswithoutlookingoverhisshoulder,whichissomethingamanoughttobeabletodoinhisownkitchen.Kidsornot,heneedsthisputtobed.
Athomehewouldhavesolvedthiswithacoupleofgood,discreetcamerasthatuploadedstraighttothecloud.Here,evenifhisWi-Ficouldhandlethat,whichhedoubts,theideaoftakinghisfootagedowntotheneareststationdoesn’tsitwell.Hedoesn’tknowwhathemightstart:neighborfeud,orthewatchercouldbetheofficer’scousin,orwhoknowswhat.
He’sconsideredtripwires.Thesearepresumablyillegal,butCalisprettysurethisinitselfwouldn’tbeabigdeal:Marthasalreadyofferedtwicetosellhimanunregisteredshotgunthathe’sgotlyingaround,andeveryonedriveshomefromthepub.Theproblemis,again,thatCalisinthedarkonwhathemightsetinmotion.
Orwhathemighthavesetinmotionalready.ListeningtoMart,Calhasstartedtogetaninklingofhowtangledupthingsgetaroundhere,andhowcarefullyyouhavetowatchwhereyouputyourfeet.Noreen,whorunstheshopinthebriefdoublelineofbuildingsthatcountsasArdnakeltyvillage,won’torderthecookiesMartlikesbecauseofacomplicatedsagathattookplaceinthe1980sandinvolvedheruncles,Mart’sfatherandgrazingrights;Martdoesn’tspeaktoanunpronounceablefarmerontheothersideofthemountainsbecausetheguyboughtapupthatwassiredbyMart’sdogwhenitsomehowshouldn’thavebeen.Thereareotherstorieslikethat,althoughCaldoesn’thavethemallstraight,becauseMarttalksinbigsweepingloopsandbecauseCaldoesn’tfullyhavethehangofthelocalaccent.Helikesit—richastheair,withaneedle-finepointthatmakeshimthinkofcoldriverwaterormountainwind—butchunksoftheconversationgorightoverhishead,andhegetsdistractedlisteningtotherhythmsandmissesmore.Buthe’sgatheredenoughtoknowthathecouldhavesatonsomeone’sstoolinthepub,orcutacrossthewrongpieceoflandononeofhiswalks,andthatthatcouldmeansomething.
Whenhearrivedhere,hewasreadyforclosedranksagainstthestranger.HewasOKwiththat,aslongasnoonesethisplaceonfire;hewasn’tlookingforgolfbuddiesanddinnerparties.Butitdidn’tturnoutthatway.Peoplewereneighborly.ThedayCalarrivedandstartedhaulingstuffintoandoutofthehouse,Martwandereddowntoleanonthegateandprobeforinformation,andendedupbringingoveranoldmini-fridgeandrecommendingagoodbuildingsuppliesstore.Noreenexplainedwhowaswhatkindofcousintowhoandhowtogetontothegroupwaterscheme,and—later,onceCalhadmadeherlaughafewtimes—startedoffering,onlyhalfwayjoking,tosetCalupwithherwidowedsister.Theoldguyswhoapparentlyliveinthepubhavemovedfromnodstoweathercommentstopassionateexplanationsofasportcalledhurling,whichtoCallookslikewhatyoumightgetifyoukeptthespeed,dexterityandferocityoficehockeybuttookawaytheiceandmostoftheprotectiveequipment.Upuntillastweekhefeltthathehadbeen,ifnotexactlywelcomedwithopenarms,atleastacceptedasamildlyinterestingnaturalphenomenon,likemaybeasealthathadtakenupresidenceintheriver.Obviouslyhewasalwaysgoingtobeanoutsider,buthewasgettingthefeelingthatthatwasn’tabigdeal.He’snolongersosure.
So,fourdaysago,Caldroveintotownandboughtabigbagofgardensoil.He’sawareoftheironyofbuyingmoredirt,whenhejustspentmostofhissavingsontenacresofit,buthispersonaldirtisroughandchunky,shotthroughwithgrassrootsandsmallsharprocks.Forthisheneededfine,moist,evenstuff.Thenextdayhegotupbeforedawnandspreadalayerofitbytheoutsidewallofhishouse,undereachofthewindows.Hehadtopullweedsandcreepersandscrapebackpebblestogetadecentsurface.Theairwascoldrightdowntothebottomofhislungs.Slowlythefieldslightenedaroundhim;therookswokeupandstartedbickering.WhentheskygotbrightandheheardMart’sfaintperemptorywhistletohissheepdog,Calcrumpledupthesoilbagtostuffatthebottomofthetrash,andwentinsidetomakebreakfast.
Nextmorning,nothing;morningafterthat,nothing.Hemusthavegotcloserthanhethought,thelasttime,musthavegiventhemascare.Hewentabouthisbusinessandkepthiseyesoffthewindowsandthehedges.
Thismorning,footprints,inthedirtunderhisliving-roomwindow.Sneakers,goingbythefragmentsoftread,buttheprintsweretooscuffedupandoverlappedtotellhowbigorhowmany.
Thefryingpanishot.Calthrowsinfourslicesofbacon,meatierandtastierthanwhathe’susedto,andoncethefatsizzlescracksintwoeggs.HegoesovertohisiPod,whichlivesonthesameleft-behindwoodentablewhereheeatshismeals—thesumtotalofCal’scurrentfurnitureisthattable,aleft-behindwoodendeskwithabustedside,twoscrawnyleft-behindFormicachairs,andafatgreenarmchairthatMart’scousinwasthrowingout—andputsonsomeJohnnyCash,nottooloud.
Ifhe’sdonesomethingthatpissedsomeoneoff,theprimecandidatehasgottobebuyingthishouse.Hepickeditoffawebsite,onthebasisthatitcamewithsomeland,therewasgoodfishingnearby,therooflookedsound,andhewantedtocheckoutthepapersstickingoutofthatolddesk.IthadbeenalongtimesinceCalhadgotawildharelikethatandchasedafterit,whichseemedlikeanextrareasonfordoingit.Theestateagentswereaskingthirty-fiveK.Calofferedthirty,cash.Theyaboutbithishandoff.
Itdidn’toccurtohimatthetimethatanyoneelsemightwanttheplace.It’salow,gray,undistinguishedhousebuiltsometimeinthe1930s,fivehundredandsomesquarefeet,slate-roofedandsash-windowed;onlythebigcornerstonesandthebroadstonefireplacegiveitatouchofgrace.Goingbythewebsitephotos,ithadbeenabandonedforyears,probablydecades:paintpeelinginbigstreaksandmottles,roomsstrewnwithupendeddark-brownfurnitureandrottingfloweredcurtains,saplingsspringingupinfrontofthedoorandcreeperstrailinginatabrokenwindow.Buthe’slearnedenoughsincethentounderstandthatsomeoneelsemightinfacthavewantedthisplace,evenifthereasonsaren’timmediatelyapparent,andthatanyonewhofelttheyhadaclaimonitwaslikelytotakethatseriously.
Calscoopshisfoodontoacoupleofthickslicesofbread,addsketchup,getsabeeroutofthemini-fridgeandtakeshismealtothetable.Donnawouldgivehimshitaboutthewayhe’sbeeneating,whichdoesn’tincludeawholelotoffiberandfreshvegetables,butthefactisthatevenlivingoutofafryingpanandamicrowavehe’sdroppedafewpounds,maybemorethanafew.Hecanfeelit,notjustinhiswaistbandbutinhismovements:everythinghedoeshasasurprisingnewlightnesstoit.Thatwasunsettlingatfirst,likehehadcomeunhitchedfromgravity,butit’sgrowingonhim.
Theexerciseiswhat’sdoingit.JustabouteverydayCalgoeswalkingforanhourortwo,nowhereparticular,justfollowinghisnoseandgettingthelayofhisnewland.Alotofdaysitrainsonhim,butthisisOK:hehasabigwaxjacketandtherainislikenothinghe’sfeltbefore,afinesofthazethatseemstohangmotionlessintheair.Mostlyheleaveshishooddownjustsohecanfeelthathazeagainsthisface.Aswellasseeingfartherthanhe’susedto,hecanhearfarther:theoccasionalsheep’sbleatorcow’sbawl,orfarmer’sshout,comestohimfromwhatseemslikemilesaway,thinnedandgentledbythedistance.Sometimesheseesoneofthefarmers,goingabouthisbusinessawayacrossthefields,orchuggingdownanarrowlaneinatractorsothatCalhastopressbackintotheunrulyhedgeashegoespastliftingahandingreeting.He’spassedstrong-builtwomenhaulingheavythingsaroundclutteredfarmyards,red-cheekedtoddlersstaringathimthroughgatesandsuckingonthebarswhiletherangydogsbarkupastormathim.Sometimesabirdcallsawildhighstreakabovehishead,orapheasantexplodesoutoftheundergrowthashecomesclose.Hegetsbacktothehousefeelinglikehemadetherightcall,throwingeverythingupintheairandcominghere.
Inbetweenwalks,withnothingelsetocallonhisattention,Calprettymuchworksonthehousefrommorningtillnight.Thefirstthinghedidwhenhearrivedwassweepawaythethickcocoonofcobwebsanddustanddeadbugsandwhat-have-youthatwaspatientlyworkingtofilleveryinchoftheplace.Nextheputnewglassinthewindows,andreplacedthetoiletandthebath—bothofwhichhadbeensmashedupprettygoodbysomeonewithalumphammerandadeep-seatedgrudgeagainstbathroomfixtures—sohecouldstopshittinginaholeinthegroundandwashingoutofabucket.Calisnoplumber,buthe’salwaysbeenhandyandhehasYouTubehow-tovideos,whentheinternetdoesn’tcrapoutonhim;itworkedoutOK.
Afterthathespentawhilegoingthroughtheleft-behindstuffthatlitteredtherooms,takinghistime,givingeachpiecehisfullattention.Whoeverlivedherelastwasseriousaboutreligion:theyhadpicturesofSaintBernadette,adisappointed-lookingVirginMary,andsomeonecalledPadrePio,allinthincheapframesandalllefttoyellowincornersbylessdevoutheirs.Theylikedcondensedmilk,ofwhichtherewerefivecansinthekitchencupboard,allofthemfifteenyearsoutofdate.Theyhadpink-printedchinacups,rusted-outsaucepans,rolled-upoilclothtablecloths,afigurineofakidinaredrobeandcrownwiththeheadgluedbackon,andashoeboxholdingapairofold-fashionedmen’sdressshoes,worntocreasesandpolishedtoashinethatstillshowed.Calwasalittlesurprisedtofindnoevidenceofteenageoccupation,noemptybeercansorcigarettebuttsorusedcondoms,nograffiti.Hefiguredthisplacemustbetooremoteforthem.Atthetime,thatseemedlikeagoodthing.Nowhe’slesssure.Thepossibilityofteenagerscheckingontheiroldhangoutissomethinghe’dprefertohaveonthemenu.
Thepapersinthedeskturnedouttobenothingmuch:articlestornoutofnewspapersandmagazines,foldedintoneatrectangles.Caltriedtofindsomeunifyingthreadamongthearticles,butfailed:theyinvolved,amongotherthings,thehistoryoftheBoyScouts,howtogrowsweetpeas,tinwhistletunes,theIrishpeacekeepingforcesinLebanon,andarecipeforsomethingcalledWelshrarebit.Calkeptthem,seeingastheywereinawaythethingthathadbroughthimhere.Hetossedmostoftheotherstuff,includingthecurtains,whichnowseemslikeabadcall.He’sconsidereddiggingthembackoutoftheheapoftrashbagsthat’sgrowingbehindtheshed,butsomeanimalhasprobablyeitherchewedthemuporpissedonthembynow.
He’sreplacedguttersanddownpipes,climbeduponhisrooftoevictasturdycropofyellow-floweredweedsfromhischimney,sandedandpolishedtheoldoakfloorboards,andthesedayshe’sworkingonthewalls.Thelastinhabitanthadsurprisinglyunconventionaltastesindecoration,thatorafewbucketsofcheappaint.Cal’sbedroomusedtobeadeep,richindigo,tillthedampmottleditwithstreaksofmoldandpalepatchesofbareplaster.Thesmallerbedroomwasalightmintygreen.Theliving-roompartofthefrontroomwasrustyred-brown,slappedontopoflayersofbucklingwallpaper.It’sunclearwhatexactlywasgoingoninthekitchenarea,whichlookslikesomeonemighthavebeenaimingtotileitandthengotsidetracked,andnobodymadeeventhatmucheffortwiththebathroom:it’satinytacked-oncubeatthebackofthehouse,withplasterwallsandaremnantofgreencarpetmoreorlesscoveringtherawfloorboards,likeitwasmadebyalienswhohadheardaboutthisthingcalledabathroombutweren’texactlyclearonthedetails.Cal,atsixfootfour,hastosqueezehimselfintothebathwithhiskneespracticallyunderhischin.Oncehe’stiledtheroomhe’llputinashowerfixture,butthatcanwait.Hewantstogetthepaintingdonewhiletheweatherisgoodenoughthathecanleavethewindowsopen.Alreadytherehavebeendays,justoneortwoofthem,withtheskyadensegrayandthecoldrisingupfromthegroundandthewindridingstraightacrosshundredsofmilesandthroughhishouselikeit’snotthere,towarnhimofwhatwinter’sgoingtobe.NothingapproachingthesnowbanksandsubzeroofChicagowinters—heknowsthatfromtheinternet—butsomethinginitsownright,somethingsteelyandintractable,withatrickyside.
Caltakesalookathisday’sworkwhileheeats.Thewallpapermeldedintothewallinplacesovertheyears,whichmakesthisslowgoing,buthe’sgotmorethanhalftheroomstrippedtobareplaster;thewallaroundthechunkystonearchofthefireplaceisstillascuffedred-brown.Anunexpectedpartofhimlikestheroomthisway.Itimpliesthings.Calisnoartist,butifhewas,he’dbeinclinedtoleaveitlikethisforawhile,paintafewpictures.
He’shalfwaythroughhisfoodandstillconsideringthiswhenthebackofhisneckflaresagain.Thistimeheevenhearsthesignalthattriggeredit:asmall,clumsyscramble,almostinstantlycutoff,likesomeonestartedtotripintotheundergrowthoutsidethewindowandthencaughtthemselves.
Caltakesanotherbig,leisurelymouthfulofsandwich,washesitdownwithalonggulpofbeer,andwipesfoamoffhistache.Thenhegrimacesandleansforwards,withabelch,toputhisplateonthetable.Hepullshimselfoutofthechair,crackshisneckandheadsforthejohn,alreadyfumblingathisbeltbuckle.
Thebathroomwindowopensassmoothlyandsilentlyasifit’sbeensprayedwithWD-40,whichithas.Calhasalsopracticedtheclimbontothetoiletcisternandoutthewindow,andhemanagesitalotmoredeftlythananyonecouldexpectofsomeonehissize,butthatdoesn’tchangethefactthatonereasonhequitbeingabeatcopwasbecausehehadhaditwithclimbingunreasonableobjectsinpursuitofmopesdoinggratuitouscrap,andhehadnoplanstogobacktothat.Helandsonthegroundoutsidewithhisheartspeedingintheoldfamiliarhuntingrhythm,hisassscrapedupbythewindowframe,andarisingsenseofaggravation.
Thebesthe’sgotisapieceofpipe,leftoverfromthebathroomworkandstashedinabush.Evenholdingit,hefeelsempty-handedandtoolight,withouthisgun.Hestandsstillforaminute,lettinghiseyesadjustandlistening,butthenightisspeckledalloverwithsmallnoisesandhecan’tpickoutanyonethatseemsmorerelevantthantheothers.It’sgotdark;themoonisup,asharpslicechasedoverbyraggedclouds,castingonlyafaintunreliablelightandtoomanyshadows.Caladjustshisgriponthepipeandmoves,withtheoldpracticedcompromisebetweenspeedandsilence,towardsthecornerofthehouse.
Belowtheliving-roomwindowahuddleofdenserdarknesscrouches,motionless,headjusthighenoughtopeeroverthesill.Calscanscarefully,asbesthecan,butthegrassallaroundisclear:lookslikejusttheone.Inthespilloflightfromthewindowhecatchesabuzzcutandasmudgeofred.
Caldropsthepipeandcharges.He’sgoingforafulltackle,planningonflatteningtheguyandfiguringouttherestfromthere,buthisfootturnsonarock.Inthesecondwhilehe’sflailingforhisbalance,theguyleapsupandaway.Callungesintothenear-darkness,grabsholdofanarmandhaulswithallhismight.
Theguyfliestowardshimtooeasily,andthearmissmallenoughthathishandwrapsrightaroundit.It’sakid.TherealizationloosensCal’sgripanotch.Thekidtwistslikeabobcat,withahissofbreath,andsinkshisteethintoCal’shand.
Calroars.Thekidyanksfreeandtakesoffacrossthegardenlikearocket,feetalmostnoiselessonthegrass.Calstartsafterhim,butinsecondshe’sdisappearedintothescribbleofshadowbytheroadsidehedge,andbythetimeCalreachesit,he’sgone.Calshoveshiswaythroughthehedgeandlooksupanddowntheroad,narrowedtoafaintribbonbythemoon-shadowsofthehedgescrowdingin.Nothing.Hetossesacoupleofstonesintothebushesinvariousdirections,tryingtoflushthekidout:no.
Hedoubtsthekidhadreinforcements—hewouldhaveyelledout,eitherforhelportowarnthem—buthejogsacirclearoundthegardenjustincase.Therooksareasleep,undisturbed.Newfootprintsinthesoilbelowtheliving-roomwindow,sametreadaslasttime;nowhereelse.Calbackshimselfupintheheavyshadowoftheshedandwaitsforalongtime,tryingtoquiethispanting,butthere’snorustleinanyhedgeandnoshadowsneakingawayacrossanyfield.Justtheone,andjustakid.Andnotcomingback,atleastnottonight.
Inside,hetakesalookathishand.Thekidgothimgood:threeteethbroketheskin,andoneplaceisbleeding.Calgotbitoncebefore,onthejob,whichledtoamaelstromofpaperwork,interviews,bloodtests,legalwrangling,pillsandcourtappearancesthatwentonformonths,tillCalgotfedupkeepingtrackofwhatwasforwhatandjusthandedoverhisarmorhissignatureonrequest.Hefindshisfirst-aidkitandsoakshishandindisinfectantforawhile,thensticksonaBand-Aid.
Hisfoodhasgonecold.Henukesitupandtakesitbacktothetable.JohnnyCashisstillgoing,mourninghislostRoseandhislostboy,inadeepbrokenquaverlikehe’salreadyaghost.
Calisn’tfeelingthewayhewouldhaveexpected.Kidsspyingonthenewguywerethethinghewashopingtofind,thebest-casescenario.Hefiguredhewouldshoutvaguethreatsafterthemwhiletheyzoomedawayyellingandlaughingandcallinginsultsovertheirshoulders,andthenhewouldshakehisheadandgobackindoorsbitchingaboutkidsnowadayslikesomeoldgeezer,andthatwouldbetheendofthat.Maybetheywouldcomebackforanotherround,everynowandthen,butCalwasbasicallyOKwiththat.Meanwhile,hecouldreturntodoinghisrenovationandplayinghismusicloudandadjustinghisballswheneverhedamnwellpleased,withhispolicesenseputbacktobedwhereitbelongs.
Excepthedoesn’tfeellikethatwastheendofthat,andhispolicesenseisn’tgoingbacktosleep.Kidsscrewingwiththestrangerforkicksshouldhavecomeinabunch,andtheyshouldhavebeenrowdy,hoppedupontheirowndaringlikeitwascaffeine.Hethinksofthiskid’sstillnessunderthewindow,hissilencewhenCalgrabbedhim,thesnake-strikeferocityofhisbite.Thiskidwasn’thavingfun.Hewashereforapurpose.He’llbeback.
Calfinisheshisfoodanddoesthedishes.Henailsupadropsheetoverthebathroomwindowandtakesafastbath.Thenheliesonhismattressinthedarkwithhishandsbehindhishead,lookingoutthewindowatthecloud-patchedstarsandlisteningtofoxesfightingsomewhereoutacrossthefields.
TWO
Thebusted-updesk,whenCalgetsitoutsideandtakesagoodlookatit,isolderthanhethoughtandbetterquality:dark-stainedoak,withdelicatecurlscarvedintotherailabovethedropfrontandalongthebottomsofthedrawers,andadozenlittlecubbyholesnestedinsidethedrop.Hehaditstashedawayinthesmallerbedroom,sincehewasn’tplanningongettingtoitforawhile,butitseemslikeitmightcomeinusefultoday.He’shauleditouttothebottomofthegarden,acarefullyjudgeddistancefromthehedgeandtherooks’tree,alongwithhistabletoactasaworksurface,andhistoolbox.Thattoolboxisoneofthebarehandfulofthingsheshippedoverhere.Mostofthosetoolswerehisgrandpa’s.They’rescuffed,nicked,paint-splattered,buttheystillworkbetterthanthecrapyoupickupinhardwarestoresthesedays.
Themainthingwrongwiththedeskisabigsplintereddentinoneside,likewhoeverwentoverthebathroomwithalumphammertookaswingatthisonhiswayout.Calisleavingthatforlast,oncehegetshishandbackin.He’splanningonstartingwiththedrawerrunners.Twoofthemareplaingone,andtheothertwoarewarpedandsplittillthedrawerwon’tgooutorinwithoutafight.Hetakesbothdrawersout,laysthedeskonitsbackandstartsdrawingpenciloutlinesaroundtheremainingrunners.
Theweatherisonhisside:it’samild,sunnydaywithjustalightbreeze,littlebirdsinthehedgesandbeesinthewildflowers,thekindofdaywhereamanmightnaturallyfeelliketakingsomeworkoutside.It’smid-morningonaschoolday,butjudgingbytheotherincidents,Caldoesn’treckonthisnecessarilymeanshe’swastinghistime.Evenifnothinghappensstraightaway,he’sgotplentyheretokeephimbusytillschoolletsout.Hewhistleshisgrandpa’soldfolksongsthroughhisteeth,andsingsafewofthewordswhenheremembersthem.
Whenhehearstheswishoffeetingrass,awaysoff,hekeepswhistlingandkeepshisheaddownoverthedesk.Afteraminute,though,hehearsamessyscramblethroughthehedge,andawetnoseshovesunderhiselbow:Kojak,Mart’sraggedyblack-and-whitesheepdog.CalstraightenshisbackandgivesMartawave.
“How’sshecuttin’?”Martinquires,overthesidefence.Kojaklopesofftocheckoutwhat’sbeeninCal’shedgesincehewasherelast.
“Nottoobad,”Calsays.“’Boutyou?”
“Soundasapoundontheground,”Martsays.Martisshort,maybefivefootseven,wiryandlined;hehasfluffygrayhair,anosethatgotbrokenonceortwicealongtheway,andawideselectionofhats.Todayhe’swearingaflattweedcapthatlookslikeit’sbeenchewedbysomefarmanimalorother.“What’reyouatwiththatyoke?”
“Gonnafixitup,”Calsays.He’stryingtobumpthesecondrunnerfree,butit’sholdingfast;thisdeskwasmaderight,waybackwhenever.
“Wastingyourtime,”Marttellshim.“Havealookononeofthemadvertswebsites.You’llpickuphalfadozenofthemfornothing.”
“Ionlyneedone,”Calsays.“AndI’vegotone.”
Martclearlyconsidersarguingthepoint,buthedecidestodropitinfavorofsomethingmorerewarding.“You’relookingwell,”hesays,eyeingCalupanddown.MartwaspredisposedtoapproveofCalfromthestart.Helovesconversation,andoverhissixty-oneyearshe’ssuckedallthejuiceoutofeveryonearoundhere.Calis,fromMart’spointofview,Christmas.
“Thanks,”Calsays.“Youtoo.”
“I’mserious,man.Veryslender.Thatbelly’smeltingoffayou.”AndwhenCal,patientlyrockingthedrawerrunnerbackandforth,doesn’tanswer:“D’youknowwhat’sdoingthat?”
“This,”Calsays,noddingbackwardsatthehouse.“Insteadofsittingonmyassatadeskallday.”
Martisshakinghisheadvigorously.“Notatall.I’lltellyouwhatitis.It’sthemeatyou’reating.ThemsausagesandrashersyougetoffNoreen.They’relocal;sofreshthey’dhopofftheplateandsnortatyou.They’redoingyouapowerofgood.”
“Ilikeyoubetterthanmyolddoctor,”Calsays.
“Listen,wouldyou.ThatAmericanmeatyouwereatingbackhome,that’schockfullahormones.Theypumpthoseintothecattletofattenthemup.Sowhatd’youthinktheydotohumanbeings?”
Hewaitsforananswer.“Can’tbegood,”Calsays.
“They’llswellyouuplikeaballoonandputtitsonyoulikeDollyParton.Madyokes.TheEUhasthemallbanned,overhere.That’swhatputtheweightonyoutobeginwith.Nowthatyou’reatingdacentIrishmeat,it’llfalloffyouagain.We’llhaveyoulookinglikeGeneKellyinnotime.”
MarthasapparentlypickedupthatCalhassomethingonhismindtodayandisdeterminedtotalkhimoutofit,eitherfromasenseofneighborlydutyorbecausehelikesthechallenge.“Yououghtamarketthat,”Calsays.“Mart’sMiracleDietBacon.Themoreyoueat,themoreyoulose.”
Martchuckles,apparentlysatisfied.“Sawyouheadingintotownthereyesterday,”hementions,justinpassing.HesquintsacrossthegardenatKojak,whoisgettingseriousaboutaclumpofbushes,scrabblinghardtojamhiswholefrontendinthere.
“Yeah,”Calsays,straighteningup.HeknowswhatMartisafter.“Holdon.”Hegoesinsideandcomesbackoutwithapackofcookies.“Don’teat’emallatonce,”hesays.
“You’reagentleman,”Martsayshappily,acceptingthecookiesoverthefence.“Didyoutrythemyet?”
Mart’scookiesareelaborateconstructionsofpinkfluffymarshmallow,jamandcoconutthat,toCal,looklikesomethingyouwouldusetobribeafive-year-oldinagreatbighairbowintoquittinghertantrum.“Notyet,”hesays.
“Dipthem,man.Inthetay.Themarshmallowgoessoftandthejammeltsonyourtongue.Nothinglikeit.”Martstashesthecookiesinthepocketofhisgreenwaxjacket.Hedoesn’toffertopayforthem.Thefirsttime,Martpresentedthecookierunasaonce-off,afavorthatwouldmakeapooroldfarmer’sday,andCalwasn’tabouttodemandahandfulofchangefromhisbrand-newneighbor.AfterthatMarttreateditasalong-establishedtradition.TheamusedslideofhiseyesatCalwheneverhetakesthecookiessayshe’stesting.
“I’macoffeeman,”Calsays.“Itwouldn’tbethesame.”
“Don’tbetellingNoreenaboutthese,now,”Martwarnshim.“She’donlyfindsomethingelsetotakeoffme.Shelikestothinkshe’sgottheupperhand.”
“SpeakingofNoreen,”Calsays.“Ifyou’reheadingthatway,canyoupickmeupsomeham?Iforgot.”
Martgivesalongwhistle.“AreyouaftergettingyourselfintoNoreen’sbadbooks?Badmovethere,bucko.Lookwherethatlandedme.Whateveritisyoudone,getyoudowntherewithabunchofflowersandmakeyourapologies.”
Thefactis,Calwantstostickaroundhometoday.“Nah,”hesays.“Shekeepstryingtosetmeupwithhersister.”
Mart’seyebrowsshootup.“Whatsister?”
“Helena,Ithinkshesaid.”
“Godalmighty,man,thenawayyougo.IthoughtthereyoumeantFionnuala,butNoreenmustlikethecutofyou.Lena’sgotagoodheadonhershoulders.Andherhusbandwastightasaduck’sarseandhe’ddrinktheriverdry,Godresthim,soshe’snotsufferingfromhighstandards.Shewon’tgomadifyoubringyourmuddybootsinsideorfartinthebed.”
“Soundslikemykindofwoman,”Calsays.“IfIwaslooking.”
“Andshe’safinestrappinglass,too,notoneofthemscrawnyyoungonesthatyou’dloseiftheyturnedsideways.Awomanneedsabitofmeatonher.Ah,now”—pointingafingeratCal,whohasstartedtolaugh—“that’syourfilthymind,thatis.I’mnottalkingabouttheriding.DidIsayanythingabouttheriding?”
Calshakeshishead,stilllaughing.
“Ididnot.WhatI’msaying”—Martsettleshisforearmsonthetopbarofthefence,gettingcomfortabletoexpandonthis—“whatI’msayingtoyouis,ifyou’regoingtohaveawomaninthehouse,youwantonethatfillsabitofspace.It’snogoodhavingsomeskin-and-bonesscrapofagirlwithamousyweevoiceonherandnotawordoutofherfromonedaytothenext.Youwouldn’tbegettingyourmoney’sworth.Whenyouwalkintothehouse,youwanttobeseeingyourwoman,andhearingher.Youneedtoknowshe’sthere,orwhat’sthepointinhavingheratall?”
“Nopoint,”Calsays,grinning.“SoLena’sloud,huh?”
“You’dknowshewasthere.Awaywithyouandgetyourownhamslices,andaskNoreentosetupthatdate.Giveyourselfagoodwash,shavethatwookieeoffyourface,putonafancyshirt.Bringherintotown,now,toarestaurant;don’tbebringingherdownthepubtobestaredatbyallthemreprobates.”
“Youshouldtakeherout,”Calsays.
Martsnorts.“I’veneverbeenmarried.”
“Well,exactly,”Calsays.“Wouldn’tberightformetotakeupmorethanmyshareofloudwomen.”
Martisshakinghisheadvigorously.“Ahnonono.You’veitallarseways,soyoudo.Whatageareyou?Forty-five?”
“Forty-eight.”
“Youlookwellonit.Themmeathormonesmustkeepyouyoung.”
“Thanks.”
“Eitherway,but.Bythetimehe’sforty,aman’seitherinthehabitofbeingmarriedorhe’snot.Womenhaveideas,andI’mnotaccustomedtoanyone’sideasbutmyown.Youare.”MartextractedthisandotherkeyvitalstatisticsfromCalontheirfirstmeeting,withsuchnear-invisibleexpertisethatCalfeltliketheamateur.
“Youlivedwithyourbrother,”Calpointsout.Martisatleastreciprocalwithinformation:Calhasheardallabouthisbrother,whopreferredcustardcreamcookies,wasanawfulgombutagreathandatthelambing,gaveMartthatbrokennosebyhittinghimwithaspannerinanargumentovertheTVremote,anddiedofastrokefouryearsago.
“He’dnoideas,”Martsays,withtheairofsomeonescoringapoint.“Thickaspigshite.Icouldn’thavesomewanbringingherideasintomyhouse.Wantingachandelier,maybe,orapoodle,ormetodoyogaclasses.”
“Youcouldfindadumbone,”Caloffers.
Martdismissesthatwithapuffofair.“I’denoughofthatwiththebrother.Butd’youknowDumboGannon?Onthatfarmthere?”Hepointsacrossthefieldsatalong,low,red-roofedbuilding.
“Yeah,”Calsays,makinganeducatedguess.Oneoftheoldguysinthepubisalittleruntwithasetofjugearsyoucouldpickhimupby.
“Dumbo’sonhisthirdmissus.Youwouldn’tcreditit,theheadonhimandthepriceofspuds,butI’mtellingyou.Oneofthewomendiedandtheotheroneranoffonhim,butbothtimesDumbohadhimselfanewoneinsidetheyear.ThesameasI’dgetanewdogifKojakdiedonme,oranewtellyifminewent,Dumbogoesoutandgetshimselfanewmissus.Becausehe’sinthehabitofsomeonebringinginideas.Ifthere’snowomaninit,hedoesn’tknowwhattohaveforthedinner,orwhattowatchonthetelly.Andwithnowomaninit,youwon’tknowwhatcolorstopaintthechambersinthatmansionoverthere.”
“I’mgonnagoforwhite,”Calsays.
“Andwhat?”
“Andwhite.”
“SeewhatI’mtellingyou?”Martsaystriumphantly.“Onlyintheheelofthehunt,youwon’t.You’reinthehabitofhavingsomeonebringinginideas.You’llgolooking.”
“Icangetinaninteriorsguy,”Calsays.“Fancyhipsterwho’llpaintitchartreuseandpuce.”
“Whereareyouplanningonfindingoneofthemaroundhere?”
“I’llimporthimfromDublin.Hegonnaneedaworkvisa?”
“You’lldothesameasDumbo,”Martinformshim.“Whetheryouplanonitornot.I’monlytryingtomakesureyoudoitright,beforesomeskinnybittafluffgetsherhooksintoyouandmakesyourlifeamisery.”
Calcan’ttellifMartactuallybelievesanyofthisorisjustspinningitonthefly,hopingforanargument.Martlovesarguinglikeheloveshiscookies.SometimesCalgoesalongwithit,inaspiritofneighborliness,buttodayhehasafewspecificquestionsandthenhewantsMarttoleavethecoastclear.“Maybeinafewmonths,”hesays.“I’mnotgonnastartanythingwithanywomanrightnow.NottillIgetthisplacefixedupenoughthatIcanletherseeit.”
Martsquintsoveratthehouseandnods,acknowledgingthevalidityofthis.“Don’tbeleavingittoolong,now.Lenacouldhaveherpick,aroundhere.”
“It’sbeenfallingapartforawhile,”Calsays.“Gonnatakemeawhiletoputitbacktogether.Yougotanyideahowlongit’sbeenempty?”
“Fifteenyear,mustbe.Maybetwenty.”
“Lookslikemore,”Calsays.“Whowaslivinghere?”
“MarieO’Shea,”Martsays.“Now,shenevergotherselfanothermanafterPaudgedied,butwomendobedifferent.Theygetinthehabitofmarrying,sameasmen,butthewomendolikearestinbetween.Mariewasonlywidowedtheyearbeforeshedied;shehadn’thadachancetocatchherbreath.IfPaudgehadgonetenyearearlier—”
“Herkidsdidn’twanttheplace?”
“They’regone,sure.TwoinAustralia,oneinCanada.Noharmtoyourestate,butit’snotthekindthat’dbringthemrunninghome.”
KojakhasgivenuponthebushesandtrottedovertoCal,tailwagging.Calrubsbehindhisear.“Howcometheyjustsolditnow?Theyfightoverwhattodowithit?”
“FromwhatIheard,theyhungontoitatfirstbecausepricesweregoingup.Goodlandgoingtowaste,becausethemfoolsthoughtitwouldmakethemmillionaires.Andthen”—Mart’sfacesplitsintoagrinofunholyglee—“didn’tthecrashcome,andtheywerestuckhangingontoitbecausenoonewouldgivethemsixpenceforit.”
“Huh,”Calsays.Thatcouldraisesomebadblood,onewayoranother.“Didanyonewanttobuyit?”
“Mybrotherdid,”Martsayspromptly.“Theeejit.We’denoughonourplates.HewatchedtoomuchDallas,thatfella.Fanciedhimselfacattlebaron.”
“Thoughtyousaidhehadnoideas,”Calsays.
“Thatwasn’tanidea,thatwasanotion.Inippeditinthebud.There’snonippingwomen’sideas.Cutthemdownoneplace,theygrowupanother.Youwouldn’tknowwhereyou’dbe.”
KojakisleaningupagainstCal’sleg,eyeshalfclosedinbliss,buttingCal’shandwheneverheforgetstorub.Calhasbeenplanningongettingadog;hewasgoingtowaittillhehadthehouseinbettershape,butitlookslikesoonermightbeagoodidea.“AnyrelationsoftheO’Sheasaroundhere?”heasks.“Ifoundsomestufftheymightwant.”
“Iftheywantedit,”Martpointsoutlogically,“theyhadtwentyyeartotakeit.Whatclassofstuff?”
“Papers,”Calsaysvaguely.“Pictures.FiguredImightaswellcheckbeforeIthrowitout.”
Martisgrinning.“There’sPaudge’snieceAnnie,afewmileuptheroadbeyondMoneyscully.Ifyoufancytakingthatstufftoher,I’llbringyou,justtoseethelookonAnnie’sface.HermammyandPaudgecouldn’tstandthesightofeachother.”
“ThinkI’llpass,”Calsays.“Shehaveanykidswhomightwantmementoesoftheirgreat-uncle?”
“They’reallgoneoff,sure.DublinorEngland.Usethempaperstolightyourfire.Orsellthemontheinternet,tosomeotherYankthatwantsabitofheritage.”
Calisn’tsurewhetherthisisajabornot.WithMart,hecan’talwaystell,whichheknowsishalfthefunofit.“Imightdothat,”hesays.“Thisisn’tmyheritage,anyway.Myfamily’snotIrish,sofarasIknow.”
“You’veallgotabitofIrishinyeoverthere,”Martsays,withsupremeconfidence.“Onewayoranother.”
“GuessIoughtahangontothatstuff,then,”Calsays,givingKojakafinalpatandturningbacktohistoolbox.Anniedoesn’tsoundlikeshe’ssendingkidsroundtoscopeouttheancestralhome.Calwouldlovealeadonwhothekidmightbe—hethoughthehadafairhandleonallhisnearneighbors,butheisn’tawareofanykids—butbeingamiddle-agedmalestrangeraskingquestionsaboutthelocallittleboysseemslikeagoodroutetoahidingandacoupleofbricksthroughyourwindows,andhehasenoughgoingonasitis.Herummagesthroughthetoolboxforhischisel.
“Goodluckwiththatyokethere,”Martsays,straighteningupoffthefencewithagrimace.AlifetimeoffarmlaborhasgroundMart’sjointstorubble;hehastroublewithhisknee,hisshoulder,andeverythinginbetween.“I’lltakethefirewoodoffyourhandswhenyou’redonewithit.”
“Ham,”Calremindshim.
“You’llhavetofaceNoreensoonerorlater.Youcan’tbehidingawayupherehopingshe’llforget.LikeItoldyou,bucko:onceawomangetsanidea,it’sgoingnowhere.”
“Youcanbemybestman,”Calsays,workingthechiselundertherunner.
“Themhamslicesistwoeurosfifty,”Marttellshim.
“Huh,”Calsays.“So’rethosecookies.”
Martwheezeswithlaughterandslapsthefence,makingitbounceandrattlealarmingly.ThenhewhistlestoKojakandtheyheadoff.
Calgoesbacktothedesk,shakinghisheadandgrinning.HesometimessuspectsthatMartisputtingonthegift-of-the-gabyokelact,eitherforshitsandgigglesorinordertomakeCalmoreamenabletothecookierunandwhateverelsehehasinmind.Betcha,Donnawould’vesaid,backwhentheyusedtolovecomingupwithstufftomakeeachotherlaugh,betchawhenyou’renotaroundhewearsatuxandtalkslikethequeenofEngland.Thatorelsehe’sinhisYeezys,bustingamovetoKanye.Caldoesn’tthinkaboutDonnaconstantly,thewayhedidatfirst—ittookmonthsofdoggedwork,blastingmusicorrecitingfootballlineupsoutloudlikealooneverytimeshecameintohishead,buthegotthereintheend.Shestillcropsupfromtimetotime,though,mostlywhenherunsacrosssomethingthatwouldmakehersmile.HealwayslovedDonna’ssmile,quickandcomplete,sendingeverylineofherfaceflyingupwards.
Fromhavingseenhisbuddiesgothroughthisprocess,heexpectedthatgettingdrunkwouldgivehimtheurgetocallher,sohestayedawayfromboozeforawhile,butitdidn’tturnouttoworkthatway.AfterafewbeersDonnafeelsamillionmilesaway,insomeotherdimension,likenophonecouldreachher.Whenhegoesweakiswhenshetakeshimbysurpriselikethis,onaninnocentfallmorning,bloomingrightacrosshismindsofreshandvividthathecanalmostsmellher.Hecan’trememberwhyheshouldn’tpullouthisphone,Hey,baby,listentothis.Probablyheshoulddeletehernumber,buttheymightneedtotalkaboutAlyssasometime,andanywayheknowsitbyheart.
Thedrawerrunnerfinallycomesfree,andCalpullsouttheoldrustednailswithapairofpliers.Hemeasurestherunnerandscribblesthemeasurementsonit.Firsttimehewasinthebuildingsuppliershepickedupafewbitsoflumber,differentsizes,becausehehadthattoolboxandbecauseyouneverknow.Onelongpieceofpineisjustabouttherightwidthforthenewrunners,toothickbutnotbymuch.Calclampsittothetableandstartsplaningitdown.
Backhomehisplanwouldhavebeentograbthekidagain,inabetterholdthistime,anddeliverafear-of-Godspeechabouttrespassing,assaultandbattery,juvie,andwhathappenstokidswhofuckwithcops,maybefinishedoffwithaslapupsidetheheadandagoodhardshoveoffhisproperty.Here,wherehe’snotacopandwherethatfeelingofnotknowingwhathemightsetinmotionissettlingindeeper,notonebitofthatisanoption.Anythinghedoes,heneedstokeepitsmartandcareful,anddoitwithalighttouch.
Hegetsthewoodplanedtotherightthickness,rulestwolinesdownitandsawsalongeachofthem,aquarter-inchdeep.Apartofhimwonderedifhewouldstillknowwhattodowiththesetools,buthishandsremember:thetoolsfitlikethey’restillwarmfromhislastgripandmovesmoothlythroughthewood.Itfeelsgood.He’swhistlingagain,notbotheringwithtunesthistime,justtossingoutamiablelittletrillsandriffstothebirds.
ThedaywarmsuptillCalhastostopandtakeoffhissweatshirt.Hestartschiselingoutthestripofwoodbetweenthetwosawnlines,takinghistime.He’sinnohurry.Thekid,whoeverheis,wantssomething.Calisofferinghimtheopportunitytocomeandgetit.
Thefirsttimehehearsasound,offbehindthehedge,it’sblurredbyhiswhistlingandtheslideofthechisel,andhe’snotsure.Hedoesn’tlookup.Hefindshistapemeasureandchecksthegroovehe’smaking:longenoughforonerunner.Whenhemovesaroundthetabletogethissaw,hehearsitagain:asharprattleoftwigs,someoneduckingordodging.
Calglancesupatthehedgeashestoopsforthesaw.“Ifyou’regonnawatch,”hesays,“youmightaswellgetagoodview.Comeoverhereandgimmeahandwiththis.”
Thesilencefrombehindthehedgeisabsolute.Calcanfeelitthrumming.
Hesawsofftherunner,blowsawaythedustandmeasuresitagainsttheoldone.Thenhetossesit,underhandandeasily,towardsthehedge,andfollowsitwithasheetofsandpaper.“Here,”hesaystothehedge.“Getthatsandeddown.”
Hepicksuphischiselandhammerandgoesbacktocuttingthegroove.Thesilencelastslongenoughthathethinkshe’sstruckout.Thenhehearstherustleofsomeoneeasing,slowlyandwarily,throughthehedge.
Calkeepsworking.Inthecornerofhiseyeheseesaflashofred.Afteralongtimehehearstheraspofsanding,clumsyandinexpert,withgapsbetweenthestrokes.
“Doesn’tneedtobeaworkofart,”hesays.“It’sgoinginsidethedesk,noone’sgonnaseeit.Justgetthesplintersgone.Goalongthegrain,notacrossit.”
Apause.Moresanding.
“Whatwe’remakinghere,”hesays,“isdrawerrunners.Youknowwhatthoseare?”
Heglancesup.It’sthekidfromlastnight,allright,standingonthegrassaboutadozenfeetawayandstaringatCal,witheverymusclepoisedtorunifheneedsto.Mousybuzzcut,too-bigfadedredhoodie,rattyjeans.He’smaybetwelve.
Heshakeshishead,onequickjerk.
“Thepartthatholdsthedrawerinplace.Makesitruninandoutniceandsmooth.Thatgroove,there’sapieceonthedrawerthat’llfitintoit.”Calleansovertowardsthedesk,goodandslow,topoint.Thekid’seyesfollowhiseverymove.“Theoldoneswerefallingapart.”
Hegoesbacktohischiseling.“Easiestthingwouldbetousearouterforthis,oratablesaw,”hesays,“butIdon’thavethosehandy.Luckyforme,mygrandpalikedcarpentry.Heshowedmehowtodothisbyhand,whenIwasaboutyoursize.Youeverdoneanycarpentry?”
Hetakesanotherglance.Thekidshakeshisheadagain.He’sbuiltwiry,thetypewho’sasfastashelooksandstronger,bothofwhichCalalreadyknewfromlastnight.Inthefacehe’sordinary:alittleofthebabysoftnessleft,notstrong-featuredorfine-featured,orgood-lookingorugly;theonlythingsthatstandoutareastubbornchinandapairofgrayeyesfixedonCallikethey’rerunninghimthroughsomeCIA-levelcomputercheck.
“Well,”Calsays,“nowyouhave.Drawersnowadays,they’vegotmetalrunners,butthisisanolddesk.Ican’ttellyouhowold,exactly;that’snotmyarea.I’dlovetothinkwe’vegotourselvessomeAntiquesRoadshowmaterialhere,butmore’nlikelyit’sjustapieceofoldcrap.I’vetakenashinetoit,though.IwanttoseeifIcangetitupandrunning.”
He’stalkinglikehewouldtoastraydoginhisyard,steadyandeven,notbotheringmuchabouttheactualwords.Thekid’ssandingisgettingfasterandmoreconfident,ashegetsthehangofit.
Calmeasureshisgrooveandsawsoffthenextrunner.“Thatshouldbedoneenoughbynow,”hesays.“Lemmesee.”
“Ifit’sforadrawer,”thekidsays,“itoughtaberealsmooth.Orit’llstick.”
Hisvoiceisclearandblunt,notbrokenyet,andhisaccentisalmostasthickasMart’s.Andhe’snotstupid.“True,”Calsays.“Goaheadandtakeyourtime.”
Heangleshimselfsohecanseethekidoutofthecornerofhiseyewhilehechisels.Thekidistakingthisseriously,checkingeachsurfaceandedgewithacarefulfinger,goingbackoveritagainandagaintillhe’ssatisfied.FinallyhelooksupandthrowsCaltherunner.
Calcatchesit.“Goodjob,”hesays,testingwithhisthumb.“Look.”Hefitsitoverthetenonatthesideofthedrawerandslidesitbackandforth.Thekidcraneshisnecktowatch,buthedoesn’tmovenearer.
“Smoothasbutter,”Calsays.“We’llwaxituplateron,justforalittleextraslide,butithardlyevenneedsthat.Haveanotherone.”
Whenhereachesforthesecondrunner,thekid’seyesgototheBand-Aidonhishand.
“Yeah,”Calsays.Heholdsupthehandsothekidcangetagoodlook.“Thisgetsinfected,I’mgonnaberealpissedoffwithyou.”
Thekid’seyessnapwideandhismusclessnaptight.He’sonthevergeofflight,toesbarelytouchingthegrass.
“You’vebeenkeepingaprettygoodeyeonme,”Calsays.“Anyreasonforthat?”
Afteramomentthekidshakeshishead.He’sstillreadytorun,eyesfixedonCaltocatchthefirstsignsofalunge.
“Theresomethingyouwanttoknow?Becauseifyoudo,nowwouldbearealgoodtimetogoaheadandaskstraightoutlikeaman.”
Thekidshakeshisheadagain.
“Gotanyproblemswithme?”
Anotherhead-shake,thisonemorevehement.
“Youplanningonrobbingme?’Causethatwouldbeabadidea.Plus,unlessthisturnsouttobeAntiquesRoadshowstuffafterall,Igotnothingworthstealing.”
Hardhead-shake.
“Someonesendyou?”
Incredulousgrimace,likeCaljustsaidsomethingbizarre.“Nah.”
“Youdothisasaregularthing?Watchpeople?”
“No!”
“Thenwhat?”
Afteramomentthekidshrugs.
Calwaits,butnofurtherinformationisforthcoming.“OK,”hesays,intheend.“Idon’tmuchcarewhyyouweredoingit.Butthatshitstopsnow.Fromnowon,yougettheurgetowatchme,youdoitlikethis.Face-to-face.ThisistheonlywarningI’mgonnagiveyou.Weclear?”
Thekidsays,“Yeah.”
“Good,”Calsays.“Yougotaname?”
Thekidhasrelaxedanotchortwo,nowthatheknowshe’snotgoingtoneedtorun.“Trey.”
“Trey,”Calsays.“I’mCal.”Thekidnods,once,likethisconfirmswhathealreadyknew.“Youalwaysthischatty?”
Thekidshrugs.
“Igottagetsomecoffeeinsideme,”Calsays.“Andacookieorsomething.Youwantacookie?”
Ifthekid’sbeentrainedinstrangerdanger,thisisabadmove,butCaldoesn’tgetthesensehe’sbeentrainedinmuchofanything.Sureenough,henods.
“You’veearnedit,”Calsays.“Backinaminute.Yousandthisdownmeanwhile.”HetossesTreythesecondrunnerandheadsupthegardenwithoutlookingback.
Inside,hemakeshimselfabigmugofinstantcoffeeandfindshispackofchocolatechipcookies.MaybethosewillgetTreytalking,althoughCaldoubtsit.Hecan’tgetahandleonthiskid.Hemighthavebeenlying,inoneormoreplaces,orhemightnot.AllCalgetsoffhimisurgency,soconcentratedthatitshimmerstheairaroundhimlikeheatcomingoffaroad.
WhenCalgoesbackoutside,Kojakissnufflingintheundergrowthatthebaseoftheshed,andMartisleaningonthefencewithapacketofhamslicesdanglingfromonehand.“Well,begod,”hesays,inspectingthedesk,“it’sstillalive.I’llhavetowaitformyfirewood.”
Thehalf-sandedrunnerandthesandpaperarelyingonthegrass.ThekidcalledTreyisgone,likehewasneverthere.
THREE
Overthenextfewdaysthere’snosignofTrey.Caldoesn’ttakethistomeanthatthematterisconcluded.Thekidstruckhimasawildcreature,evenmorethanmost,andwildcreaturesoftenneedsometimetopercolateanunexpectedencounterbeforetheydecideontheirnextstep.
Itrainsdayandnight,mildlybutuncompromisingly,soCaltakesthedeskinsideandgoesbacktohiswallpaper.Heenjoysthisrain.Ithasnoaggressiontoit;itssteadyrhythmandthescentsitbringsinthroughthewindowsgentlethehouse’sshabbiness,givingitahomeyfeel.He’slearnedtoseethelandscapechangingunderit,greensturningricherandwildflowersrising.Itfeelslikeanally,ratherthantheannoyanceitisinthecity.
Calisreasonablycertainthatthekidisn’tgoingtoscrewwithhisplacewhilehe’sout,certainenoughthatonSaturdaynight,whentherainfinallyclears,heheadsdowntothevillagepub.It’satwo-milewalk,enoughtokeephimathomeinbadweather.Martandtheoldguysinthepubfindhisinsistenceonwalkinghilarious,tothepointofdrivinghomealongsidehimcallingoutencouragementormakingherdingnoises.Calfeelsthathiscar,aloud,grumpy,geriatricredMitsubishiPajero,isnoticeableenoughtoattracttheattentionofanyboredofficerwhomightbetoolingaround,andthatitwouldbeabadideatoscorehimselfaDUIwhilehe’sstillwaitingforhisfirearmlicense,whichcanbedeniedifhe’sknowntobeofintemperatehabits.
“Sure,theyoughtn’ttogiveyouagunanyway,”Bartythebarmantoldhim,whenhepointedthisout.
“Whynot?”
“Becauseyou’reAmerican.Ye’reallmentalwiththeguns,overthere.Shootingthemoffatthedropofahat.BlowingsomefellaawaybecauseheboughtthelastpacketofTwinkiesintheshop.Therestofuswouldn’tbesafe.”
“WhatwouldyouknowaboutTwinkies?”Martdemanded,fromthecornerwhereheandhistwobuddieswereensconcedwiththeirpints.Martfeelsaresponsibility,asCal’sneighbor,todefendhimagainstacertainamountoftheribbinghegets.“It’sfarfromTwinkiesyouwerereared.”
“Didn’tIspendtwoyearonthecranesinNewYork?I’veetTwinkies.Horriblefuckin’yokes.”
“Anddidanyoneshootyou?”
“Theydidnot.They’dbettersense.”
“Should’vedone,”oneofMart’sbuddiessaid.“Thenwemighthaveabarmanwhocouldputadacentheadonapint.”
“You’rebarred,”Bartytoldhim.“AndI’d’velikedtoseethemtry.”
“Thereyouare,then,”Martsaidtriumphantly.“AndNoreendoesn’tstockTwinkiesanyhow.Soletthisfellahavehisrifle,andgivehimhispint.”
Thepub,identifiedasSeánóg’sbylopsidedCelticlettersabovethedoor,isinthesamedown-at-heelcream-coloredbuildingastheshop.Duringthedaypeoplewanderbackandforth,buyingcigarettestotakebacktothepuborbringingtheirpintsintotheshopsotheycanleanonthecounterandchatwithNoreen,butatnighttheconnectingdoorislocked,unlessBartyneedsbreadandhamtomakesomeoneasandwich.Thepubissmallandlow-ceilinged;ithasaredlinoleumfloorwiththeoccasionalfrayingpieceofcarpetpositionedapparentlyatrandom,aneclecticassortmentofbatteredbarstools,splittinggreenPVCbanquettesaroundrockywoodentables,awidevarietyofbeer-themedbunting,aplaquemountedwitharubberfishthatsings“IWillSurvive,”andacobwebbyfishingnetdrapedfromtheceiling.Whoeverputupthenetdistributedafewglassballsartisticallyinsideit,asafinishingtouch.Overtheyearspatronshaveaddedmultiplecoasters,arubberbootandaSupermanfiguremissingonearm.
Seánóg’sis,byitsownstandards,buzzingtonight.Martandacoupleofhisbuddiesareintheircorner,playingcardswithtwounprepossessingyoungguysintracksuitswhomthey’veacquiredsomehow.ThefirsttimeCalsawMartandhishomiesbringoutthecards,heexpectedpoker,buttheirgameissomethingcalledFifty-Five,whichtheyplaywithaspeedandferocityoutofallproportiontothesmallpilesofcoinsaccumulatingonthetable.Apparentlythegameflowsbestwithfourorfive,andwhennooneelseisavailable,theytrytoropeCalin;Cal,knowingwhenhe’soutclassed,staysclear.Theyoungguysaregoingtolosetheirwages,iftheyhavewages,whichlooksunlikelytoCal.
Aparallelgroupofguysissittingatthebar,arguing.Athirdgroupisinanothercorner,listeningtooneplaythetinwhistle,afastspiralingtunethatmakestheotherstaptheirhandsontheirknees.AwomancalledDeirdreissittingonabanquetteonherown,holdingasmallglassinbothhandsandstaringintospace.CalisunsurewhatexactlyDeirdre’sdealis,althoughhegetsthegeneralgist.She’ssomewhereinherforties,adumpywomanwithdepressingdressesandanunsettlinglyvaguestareinherlargedroopyeyes.Occasionallyoneoranotheroftheoldguyswillbuyheradoublewhiskey,they’llsitsidebysideanddrinkwithoutsayingawordtoeachother,andthenthey’llleavetogether,stillinsilence.Calhasnointentionofinquiringaboutanyofthis.
Hesitsatthebar,ordersapintofSmithwick’sfromBartyandlistenstothemusicforawhile.Hedoesn’thavethenamesinherestraightyet,althoughhehasmostofthefaces,andthegistofthepersonalitiesandrelationships.Thisisexcusable,giventhatSeánóg’sclienteleisashiftingbunchofclean-shavenwhiteguysoverforty,allwearingmoreorlessthesamehardytrousersandpaddedvestsandancientsweaters,andmostofthemlookinglikecousins;butthetruthisthat,aftertwenty-fiveyearsofmaintaininganintricatementaldatabaseofeveryonehemetonthejob,CalenjoysthelackadaisicalfeelingofnotbotheringtorememberwhetherSonnyistheonewiththebiglaughortheonewiththecauliflowerear.Hehasagoodhandleonwhoheshouldavoidorseekout,dependingonwhetherhe’sinthemoodfortalkandwhatkind,andhefiguresthat’splentytokeephimgoing.
Tonightheplanstolistentothemusic.Calhadneverencounteredatinwhistletillhemovedhere.Heisunconvincedthathewouldenjoythesoundat,say,aschoolconcertorapolicebarindowntownChicago,buthereitseemsfitting:itsitsrightwiththewarm,uncompromisingraggednessofthepub,andmakeshimkeenlyawareofthequietexpansespreadingineverydirectionoutsidethesefourwalls.Whenthegrasshopper-skinnyoldmusicianbringsitout,afewtimesamonth,Calsitsacoupleofstoolsawayfromthetalkersandlistens.
Thismeanshe’shalfwaythroughhissecondpintbeforehetunesintotheargumentgoingondownthebar.Itcatcheshisearbecauseitsoundsunusual.Mostlytheargumentsinherearethewell-wornkindthatcanbemadetostretchforyearsordecades,resurfacingperiodicallywhenthere’snothingfreshtodiscuss.Theyinvolvefarmingmethods,therelativeuselessnessofvariouslocalandnationalpoliticians,whetherthewallonthewesternsideoftheStrokestownroadshouldbereplacedbyfencing,andwhetherTommyMoynihan’sfancyconservatoryisanicetouchofmodernglamouroranexampleofjumped-upnotions.Everyonealreadyknowseveryoneelse’sstanceontheissues—exceptMart’s,sincehetendstoswitchsidesregularlytokeepthingsinteresting—andiseagerforCal’sinputtomixtheconversationupalittle.
Thisargumenthasadifferentringtoit,louderandmessier,likeit’sonetheyhaven’tpracticed.“There’snodogcoulddothat,”theguyattheendofthebarissayingstubbornly.He’slittleandround,withalittleroundheadperchedontop,andhetendstowinduponthewrongendofjokes;generallyheseemsOKwiththis,butthistimehe’sturningredinthefacewithvehemenceandoutrage.“Didyouevenlookatthemcuts?Itwasn’tteeththatdonethat.”
“Thenwhatd’youthinkdoneit?”demandsthebigbaldslabofaguynearesttoCal.“Thefairies?”
“Feckoff.I’monlysaying,itwasnoanimal.”
“Notthemfeckingaliensagain,”saysthethirdguy,raisinghiseyesfromhispint.He’salonggloomystreakwithhiscappulleddowncloseoverhisface.Calhasheardhimsayatotalofaboutfivesentences.
“Don’tmock,”thelittleguyordershim.“You’resayingthatbecauseyou’reuninformed.Ifyoueverpaidanynoticetowhat’sgoingonrightaboveyourthickhead—”
“Acrowwouldshiteinmyeye.”
“We’llaskhim,”thebigguysays,pointinghisthumbatCal.“Neutralparty.”
“Sure,whatwouldheknowaboutit?”
Thebigguy—CalisprettysurehisnameisSenan,andhemostlygetsthelastword—ignoresthis.“Comehere,”hesays,shiftinghisbulkaroundonthebarstooltofaceCal.“Listentothis.Nightbeforelast,somethingkiltoneofBobby’ssheep.Tookoutitsthroat,itstongue,itseyesanditsarse;lefttherest.”
“Slicedout,”Bobbysays.
Senanignoresthis.“Whatwouldyousaydoneit,hah?”
“Notmyarea,”Calsays.
“I’mnotaskingforanexpertscientificopinion.I’monlyaskingforcommonsense.Whatdoneit?”
“IfIwasagamblingman,”Calsays,“mymoney’dbeonananimal.”
“Whatanimal?”Bobbydemands.“We’venocoyotesormountainlionshere.Afoxwon’ttouchagrownewe.Aroguedogwould’verippedhertobits.”
Calshrugs.“Maybeadogtookoutthethroat,thengotscaredoff.Birdsdidtherest.”
Thatgetsamoment’spause,andaraisedeyebrowfromSenan.Theyhadhimpeggedasacityboy,whichisonlypartlytrue.They’rere-evaluating.
“Thereyougo,”SenansaystoBobby.“Andyoumakingaholyshowofuswithyouraliens.He’lltakethatbacktoAmericanow,andthey’llbeleftthinkingwe’reabunchofmucksavagesthat’dbelieveanything.”
“They’vegotaliensinAmericaaswell,”Bobbysaysdefensively.“They’vemorethananyone,sure.”
“Nowherehasfuckin’aliens.”
“Halfadozenpeopleseenthemlightslastspring.Whatd’youthinkthatwas?Thefairies?”
“ThatwasMalachyDwyer’spoteen.AfewsupsofthatandIseelightstoo.OnenightwalkinghomefromMalachy’s,Iseenawhitehorsewearingabowlerhatcrosstheroadinfrontofme.”
“Diditkillyoursheep?”
“Damnnearkiltme.IjumpedsohighIwentarseovertipintotheditch.”
Caliscomfortableonhisstool,drinkinghisbeerandappreciatingthis.Theseguysremindhimofhisgrandpaandhisporchbuddies,whoenjoyedeachother’scompanyinthesameway,bygivingeachothershit;orofthesquadroom,beforeaquicksandlayerofrealviciousnessseepedinunderthepretendstuff,ormaybejustbeforehestartednoticingit.
“MygrandpaandthreeofhisbuddiessawaUFOonetime,”hesays,justtofeedtheconversationalittlebit.“Theywereouthunting,oneeveningaboutdusk,andabigblacktrianglewithgreenlightsonthecornerscamealongandhoveredovertheirheadsforawhile.Didn’tmakeasound.Mygrandpasaidtheyaboutshitthemselves.”
“Ah,holyGod,”Senansaysindisgust.“Nowyou’restarting.Istherenooneinherewithatitterofsense?”
“Now,”Bobbysaystriumphantly.“D’youhearthat?AndyougettingthevaporsaboutwhattheYankmightthinkofusatall.”
“Copyourselfon,wouldyou.He’sonlyhumoringyou.”
“Mygrandpasworeblind,”Calsays,grinning.
“Didyourgrandpaknowanymoonshiners,didhe?”
“Afew.”
“I’dsayheknewthemwell.Thinkaboutthis,”Senansays,turningbacktoBobbyandpointinghisglassathim.Thisargumentiswellonitswaytojoiningthepermanentrepertoire.“We’llsaythere’saliensoutthere.We’llsaythey’veputinthetimeandthetechnologytocomeallthemlight-yearsfromMarsorwhat-have-you,allthewaytoEarth.Theycouldfindthemselvesawholeherdofzebrastodotheirexperimentson,orafinestrappingrhinoceros,orheaddowntoAustraliaandpickupashowerofkangaroosandkoalasandmadyokes,forthecrack.Butinsteadofthat”—heraiseshisvoiceoverBobby,whoisobjecting—“insteadofthat,hah,theycomeallthiswayandsettleforoneofyourewes.Aretheyallloopy,uponMars?Aretheysoftinthehead?”
Bobbyisswellingupagain.“There’snothingwrongwithmyewes.They’rebetterthanfeckin’koalas.Betterthanyourscrawny,limpy—”
Calhasstoppedpayingattention.ThequalityofthetalkfromMart’stablehaschanged.“Ibidtwenty,”oneoftheyoungguysissaying,inatonethatCalrecognizes.It’stheaggrievedtoneofaguywho’sgoingtoinsist,tothepointofmakingeveryone’seveningconsiderablymessierthanitneededtobe,thathehasnoideahowthatcrackpipegotinhispantspocket.
“Getoutathat,”oneofMart’sbuddiessays.“Youbidtwenty-five.”
“Youcallingmeacheater?”
Theguyisinhismid-twenties,toosoftandtoopaleforafarmer;short,withgreasylittledarkbangsandsomethingthathasambitionstobeamustachesomeday.Calhasregisteredhimbefore,acoupleoftimes,inthebackcornerwiththehuddleofotheryoungguyswhostareforasecondtoolong.Withouteverhavingspokentotheguy,hewouldbeprettyconfidentlistinganumberoffactsabouthim.
“I’mcallingyounothingifyouputthatpotback,”Mart’sbuddysays.
“Ifuckingwonit.Fairandsquare.”
BehindCal,theargumenthasstopped;sohasthetinwhistle.Therealizationthathe’sunarmedhitsCalwithavividshotofadrenaline.ThisguyisthetypewhowouldcarryaGlocktomakehimfeellikeabadassgangster,andwouldhavenocluehowtohandleit.Ittakeshimamomenttorememberthatthisisunlikelytobeanissuehere.
“Youheardmesaytwenty,”thechubbyguysaystohispal.“Goonandtellthem.”
Thepalislankyandbig-footed,withbuckteeththatkeephislongjawhangingandageneralairofbeingthelastpersontofigureoutwhatjusthappened.“Iwasn’tlisteningright,”hesays,blinking.“Sure,it’sonlyacoupleofquid,Donie.”
“Nobodycallsmeacheater,”Doniesays.He’sgettingabull-eyedstarethatCaldoesn’tlike.
“Ido,”Martinformshim.“You’reacheater,andd’youknowwhat’sevenworse,you’refeckinguselessatit.Ababby’ddoabetterjob.”
Donieshoveshisstoolbackfromthetableandspreadshisarms,beckoningMart.“I’lltakeyou.Comeon.”
Deirdreletsoutahalfheartedyelp.Calhasnoideawhattodo,andthisfactbaffleshimfurther.Athomethisisthepointwherehewouldhavestoodup,afterwhichDoniewouldhaveeithersettleddownorleft,onewayoranother.Here,thatdoesn’tseemlikeanoption—notbecausehe’sshorthisgunandhisbadge,butbecausehedoesn’tknowhowthingsaredoneintheseparts,orwhetherhehasarighttodoanythingatall.Thatfeelingoflightnessovertakeshimagain,likehe’sperchedontheedgeofhisstoollikeabird.HefindshimselfwantingDonietogoforMart,justsohe’llknowwhattodo.
“Donie,”Bartysaysfrombehindthebar,pointingattheyoungguywithaglass-cloth.“Out.”
“Ididnothing.Thisprickcalledme—”
“Out.”
Doniefoldshisarmsandslumpsdownonhisstool,bottomlipjutting,staringmulishlyintospace.
“Ah,forfuck’ssake,”Bartysaysindisgust.Hethrowsdownhisclothandcomesoutfrombehindthebar.“Giveusahand,”hesaystoCal,onhisway.
BartyisafewyearsyoungerthanCalandnotmuchsmaller.BetweenthemtheypickDonieupbythearmpitsandmaneuverhimthelengthofthepub,dodgingstoolsandtables,towardsthedoor.Mostoftheoldguysaregrinning;Deirdre’smouthhangsopen.Doniegoeslimpandmakeshimselfintodeadweight,hisfeetdraggingonthelinoleum.
“Standuplikeaman,”Bartyordershim,wrestlingwiththedoor.
“I’veafullpintbackthere,”Doniesays,outraged.“Ow!”asBartysemi-accidentallywhackshisshoulderoffthedoorframe.
Onthesidewalk,BartyhaulsDoniebackwardsformaximummomentum,thengiveshimaheftyswingforwardsandletsgo.Doniefliesstaggeringacrosstheroad,armsflailing.Histracksuitpantscomedownandhefallsoverthem.
BartyandCalwatch,gettingtheirbreathback,whilehescramblestohisfeetandhaulsathispants.He’swearingtightywhities.“Nexttimegetyourmammytobuyyoubig-boyunderpants,”Bartycallsacrosstohim.
“I’llburnyououtofit,”Donieyells,withoutmuchconviction.
“Gohomeandpullyourlad,Donie,”Bartycallsback.“That’sallyou’refitfor.”
Doniecastsaroundandspotsadiscardedcigarettepacket,whichhehurlsatBarty.Itfallssixfeetshort.HespitsinBarty’sdirectionandstampsoffuptheroad.
Therearenostreetlights,andonlyacoupleoflightsareoninthehousesliningtheroad;halfofthemareempty.He’sinvisibleinseconds.Hisfootstepstakelonger,echoingoffthebuildingsawayintothedark.
“Thanks,”Bartysays.“OnmyownI’d’veputmybackout.Fatlittlefucker.”
Thelankyguycomesoutofthepubandstandsonthestep,silhouettedagainsttheyellowlight,scratchinghisback.“Where’sDonie?”heasks.
“Gonehome,”Bartysays.“Yougoon,too,J.P.You’redoneherefortonight.”
J.P.thinksthisover.“I’vegothisjacket,”hesays.
“Thenbringittohim.Goon.”
J.P.lopesobedientlyoffintothedarkness.“Thatguymaketroubleoften?”Calasks.
“DonieMcGrath,”Bartysays,andspitsonthesidewalk.“Fuckin’latchico.”
Calhasnoideawhatthismeans,althoughthetoneimpliessomethingakintoabum.“I’veseenhiminherebefore.”
“Nowandagain.Theyoungladsmostlygointotown,lookingfortheride,butiftheyhaven’tthemoneyforthat,thentheycomeinhere.He’llstayawayforawhile,anyway.Thenhe’llswaninwithhispals,pretendingitneverhappened.”
“Heactuallygonnatryandburnyoudown?”
Bartysnorts.“Jaysus,no.Doniehasn’tthegutsofalouse.Andthat’dbetoomuchlikehardwork.”
“Youreckonhe’sharmless?”
“He’spurefuckinguseless,”Bartysayswithfinality.Behindhimthetinwhistlestartsupagain,neatandjaunty.HedustsDonieoffhishandsandheadsbackintothepub.
Nobodyelseseemsparticularlyunnervedbytheincident,either.MartandhisbuddieshavereshuffledandstartedanewroundofFifty-Five;theargumentatthebarhasshiftedtothemeritsofthisyear’shurlingteam.BartygivesCalafreepint.Deirdrefinishesherdrink,castsalonghopelesslookaroundthepub,anddriftsoutwhennobodymeetshereye.
Allthesame,Calhangsaround,makinghisfreebielast,tillMartandhisbuddiesfinishuptheirgameandstartgatheringtheirthings.MartwastheonewhocalledDonieacheat.WhenheoffersCalaridehome—whichhedoeseverytime,purelyforthepleasureofribbingCalwhenheturnsitdown—Calsaysyes.
Martismoderatelydrunk,enoughthathedropshiskeysinthefootwellofthecarandhastogetoutagaintofumblearoundforthem.“Don’tbeworrying,”hesayswithagrin,readingCal’sexpressionandgivingaslaptothesideofhiscar,adecrepitblueSkodacoveredinmudsplattersandsmellingstronglyofwetdog.“Thisyokeknowsherwayhomefromthepub,evenifIfallasleepatthewheel.She’sdoneitbefore.”
“Great,”Calsays,retrievingthekeysandhandingthemover.“Ifeelbetternow.”
“Whathappenedtoyourhand?”Martinquires,clamberingpainstakinglybackintothecar.
Cal’shandishealingupfine,buthestillhasthatBand-Aidonsonoonecanseethetoothmarks.“Caughtmyselfwithasaw,”hesays.
“That’swhatyouget,”Martsays.“Nexttimeyou’lllistentomeandgotothemwebsites.”Hefiresupthecar,whichcoughs,shuddersandspringsoffuptheroadatanalarmingpace.“WhatwasthatbiglumpSenangoingonabout?WasitBobby’sewe?”
“Yeah.Bobbyfiguresitwasaliens.Senandoesn’tagree.”
Martwheezeswithlaughter.“I’dsayyouthinkBobby’smadasabrush,doyou?”
“Nah.ItoldhimaboutthetimemygrandpasawaUFO.”
“Youmadehimahappyman,so,”Martsays,turningoffthemainroadandshiftinggearswithanastycrunchingnoise.“Bobby’snotmad.Allthat’swrongwithhimishespendstoomuchtimeatthefarmwork.It’sgrandwork,butunlessaman’spurethick,itcanleavehismindrestless.Mostofushavesomethingtolookafterthat:thefamily,orthecards,orthedrink,orwhat-have-you.ButBobby’sabachelor,he’sgotnoheadforthedrink,andhe’sthatbadatcardswewon’thavehiminourgame.Whenhisminddoesgetrestless,he’sgotnooptionbuttoheadupthehillshuntingUFOs.Theladswanttobuyhimaharmonica,givehimsomethingelsetooccupyhim,butI’dratherlistentohimgoonaboutaliensanyday.”
Calconsidersthis.ItseemstohimthataliensareprobablyahealthierantidotetorestlessnessofthemindthansomeoftheothersonMart’slist.ThewayMartisdrivingsupportsthistheory.
“Youdon’treckonthealiensgothissheep?”heasks,justtoyankMart’schain.
“Arrah,fuckoff,wouldyou.”
“Hesaysthere’snothingroundherethatwoulddoit.”
“Bobbydoesn’tknoweverythingthat’sroundhere,”Martsays.
Calwaits,buthedoesn’telaborate.Thecarbumpsoverpotholes.Theheadlightsilluminateanarrowstreakofroadandwavingbranchesoneitherside;apairofluminouseyesflaresuddenly,lowtotheground,andaregone.
“Thereyougo,”Martsays,slammingtoastopinfrontofCal’sgate.“Safeandsound.JustlikeItoldyou.”
“Youcandropmeupatyourplace,”Calsays.“Justincaseyou’vegotawelcomingcommittee.”
Martstaresathimforasecondandthenlaughssohardhedoublesovercoughing,slappingthesteeringwheel.“Well,begod,”hesays,whenherecovers.“I’vegotmyownknightinshiningarmortoescortmehome.SurelytoGodyou’renotworryingaboutthatlittlescutDonieMcGrath?Andyoufromthebigbadcity.”
“Wegetguyslikehiminthecity,too,”Calsays.“Idon’tlikethemthereeither.”
“Doniewouldn’tcomenextnornearme,”Martsays.Thelastofthelaughisstillcreasinghisface,butthere’saflatnotetohisvoicethatstartlesCal.“Heknowsbetter.”
“Humorme,”Calsays.
Martgiggles,shakinghishead,andstartsthecaragain.“Goon,so,”hesays.“Aslongasyou’renotexpectingagood-nightkiss.”
“Inyourdreams,”Calsays.
“SavethemforLena,”Marttellshim,andhelaughsallthewayuptheroad.
AtMart’splace—alongwhitecottagewithundersizedwindows,setwellbackfromtheroadamidneglectedgrass—theporchlightisonandKojakistheretogreethimwhenheopensthedoor.CalliftsahandandwaitswhileMarttipshistweedcapinthedoorway,andwhiletheinsidelightsgoon.Whennothingelsehappens,heheadsforhome.EvenifDonieMcGrathshowsanuncharacteristicflashofinitiative,Kojakisprettygoodbackup.ButsomethingaboutthesightofMartinhisdoorway,ateaseamidthefieldsandthehugewind-roameddark,Kojakwaggingbesidehim,hasleftCalfeelingslightlyridiculous,althoughnotinabadway.
Hisgateisaboutaquarter-milefromMart’s.Theskyisclearandthemoonisbigenoughtokeephimontheroadwithnoneedforhisflashlight,althoughonceortwicewhenthetreeshadowscrowdinhegetsaddledandfeelsonefootsinkintothedeepgrassoftheverge.Hekeepsaneyeoutforwhatevercrossedinfrontofthecar,butit’seithergoneorturnedcautious.Themountainsonthehorizonlooklikesomeonetookapocketknifeandslicedneatcurvesoutofthestar-thicksky,leavingemptyblackness.Hereandthere,spreadout,aretheyellowrectanglesofwindows,tinyandvaliant.
Callikesthenightshere.TheonesbackinChicagowereovercrowdedandfractious,alwaysaraucouspartysomewhereandanargumentgettingloudsomewhereelseandababyhowlingonandon,andheknewtoomuchaboutwhatwasgoingoninthehiddencornersandmightspilloutatanymoment,demandinghisattention.Here,hehasthesoothingknowledgethatthethingshappeninginthenightaren’thisproblem.Mostofthemareself-contained:smallwildhuntsandbattlesandmatingsthatrequirenothingfromhumanbeingsexceptthattheystayaway.Evenifthereisanythinggoingon,underthisgreatmessofstars,thatneedsapoliceofficer,Calisirrelevant.Itbelongstothelocalguys,upinthattwo-horsetown,whopresumablywouldalsopreferhimtostayaway.Calcandothat;is,infact,savoringit.ThekidcalledTrey,bymakingnighttimebackintoaplacethatrequiredvigilanceandaction,broughthometohimjusthowlittlehehadmissedthose.It’soccurredtohimthathemighthaveanundiscoveredtalentforlettingthingsbe.
HisplaceisasundisturbedasMart’s.Hecracksopenabeerfromthemini-fridgeandsitsoutonhisbacksteptodrinkit.Somewheredownthelinehe’sgoingtobuildhimselfabackporchandgetabig-asschairtogoonit,butfornow,thestepdoesfine.Heleaveshisjacketon;theairhasabitetoitthatsaysautumnishereforreal,nomoreplaying.
Anowlcalls,outoverMart’sland.Calwatchesforawhileandcatchesaglimpseofit,justascrapofdensershadowfloatingleisurelybetweentrees.Hewonderswhether,ifeventshadgonedifferently,hemighthavebeenthisallalong:aguywhofixedthingsandsatonhisporchwithabeer,watchingforowlsandlettingtherestoftheworldtakecareofitself.He’snotsurehowhefeelsaboutthat.Itmakeshimuneasy,inwayshedoesn’tfullyunderstand.
Togetawayfromthesuddenrestlessnessthat’scomedownonhimlikeacloudofmosquitoes,CalpullshisphoneoutofhispocketandcallsAlyssa.Hecallshereveryweekend.Mostlysheanswers.Whenshedoesn’t,shesendshimaWhatsApplateron,usuallyatthreeorfourinthemorninghistime:SorryImissedyou,wasinthemiddleofsomething!Catchyoulater!
Thistimeshepicksup.“Hey,Dad.How’reyoudoing?”
Hervoiceisbriskandblurredattheedges,likeshe’sgotthephonecaughtunderherjaw,doingsomethingelseatthesametime.“Hey,”Calsays.“Youbusy?”
“No,it’sfine.Justcleaningupsomestuff.”
Helistens,tryingtofigureoutwhat,butallhecancatchisrandomrustlesandthumps.Hetriestopictureher:tallandathletic,herfaceamiraculousblendofhimandDonna—Cal’sblueeyesandleveleyebrows,Donna’smobileupsweptfeatures—thatblowshimaway.Theproblemisthathestillseesherrunningaroundincutoffjeansandabigsweatshirt,herhaircaughtupinaglossybrownponytail,andhehasnowayofknowingwhetheranyofthisstilltouchestherealityatanypoint.LasttimehesawherwasChristmas.Shecouldhavechoppedherhairshort,dyeditblond,boughtsuits,putontwentypoundsandstartedwearingafacefulofmakeup.
“Howyoudoing?”hesays.“Yougetridofthatfluyet?”
“Thatwasjustacold.It’sgone.”
“How’swork?”AlyssaworksforanonprofitinSeattle,somethingtodowithat-riskteenagers.Calmissedtheinsandoutsofitwhenshefirsttoldhimshewasapplyingforthejob—sheappliedforalotofjobs,andworkandDonnaweretakingupmostofhismindaroundthen—andit’sgottentoolatetoask.
“Work’sgood.Wegotourgrant—bigrelief—sothatshouldkeeptheshowontheroadforanotherwhile.”
“Howaboutthatkidyouwereworriedabout?Shawn,DeShawn?”
“Shawn.Imean,he’sstillcoming,whichisthemainthing.Istillthinkthingsareprettybadforhimathome,likereallybad,buthefreezesupwheneverItrytoask.So…”
Shetrailsoff.Calwouldlovetocomeoutwithsomethinguseful,butmostofhistechniquesformakingpeopleopenupweredesignedforsituationsthatdon’thavemuchincommonwiththisone.“Givehimtime,”hesaysintheend.“You’lldofine.”
“Right,”Alyssasays,afteramoment.Shesoundstiredallofasudden.“Ihope.”
“How’sBendoing?”Calasks.BenisAlyssa’sboyfriend,hasbeensincecollege.HeseemslikeanOKguy,alittleearnestandalittletalkywhenitcomestohisopinionsonsocietyandthethingseveryoneshouldbedoingtoimproveit,butthenCalissurehehimselfwasapainintheassattwenty-five,onewayoranother.
“He’sOK.He’sgoingnutsinthatjob,buthe’sgotaninterviewnextweek,sofingerscrossed.”
Ben’scurrentjobisinStarbucksorsomewhere.“Tellhimgoodluckfromme,”Calsays.He’salwayshadthesenseBenisn’tcrazyabouthim.Atfirsthedidn’tgiveadamn,butatthispointitseemslikeheshouldtrytodosomethingaboutit.
“Iwill.Thanks.”
“Youhearanythingfromyourmom?”
“Yeah,she’sgood.Howaboutyou?How’sthehousegoing?”
“Gettingthere,”Calsays.HeknowsAlyssadoesn’twanttotalktohimaboutDonna,butsometimeshecan’thelpit.“Slowly,buthey,Igottime.”
“Igotthosepictures.Thebathroomlooksgreat.”
“Well.Iwouldn’tgothatfar.Butatleastthesedaysitdoesn’tlooklikeI’vebeenholedupintherefightingoffzombies.”
ThatgetsAlyssatolaugh.Evenasalittlekidshehadthatgreatlaugh,bigandrich,anoutdoorslaugh.ItmakesCalcatchhisbreath.
“Youshouldcomevisit,”hesays.“It’sbeautifulhere.You’dlikeit.”
“Yeah,Ibet.Ishould.Just,gettingtimeoffwork,youknow?”
“Yeah,”Calsays.Andafterasecond:“Anyway,youshouldprobablywaittillIgettheplaceinshape.OratleasttillIhavefurniture.”
“Right,”Alyssasays.Calcan’ttellifhe’simaginingthetouchofreliefinhervoice.“Letmeknow.”
“Yeah,Iwill.Soon.”
Awayacrossthefields,atinylitwindowextinguishesitself.Theowlisstillcalling,coolandrelentless.Calwantstosaysomethingelse,tokeepheronthelineawhilelonger,buthecan’tthinkofanythingtosay.
“Youshouldgetsomesleep,”Alyssasays.“Whattimeevenisitoverthere?”
WhenCalhangsuphehasthesameemptyfeelinghealwaysgetsaftertalkingtoAlyssathesedays,asensethatsomehow,inspiteofhavingbeenonthephoneforallthattime,theyhaven’thadaconversationatall;thewholethingwasmadeofairandtumbleweed,nothingsolidthere.Whenshewasalittlekidshewouldtrotalongholdinghishandandtellhimeverything,goodandbad,itallpouredstraightfromherhearttohermouth.Hecan’trememberwhenthatchanged.
Thecloudofrestlessnesshasn’tcleared.Calgetshimselfanotherbeerandbringsitbacktothestep.HewishesAlyssawouldsendhimpicturesofherapartment.Heaskedonce,shesaidshewould,andthensheneverdid.Hehopesthisisbecauseshenevergotaroundtoit,ratherthanbecauseherplaceisashithole.
Inthehedgeatthebottomofthegarden,atwigcracks.
“Kid,”Calsayswearily,raisinghisvoicetocarryacrossthegrass.“Nottonight.Gohome.”
Afterapause,afoxstepsdelicatelyoutofthehedgeandstandsstaringathim,somethingsmallandlimphangingfromitsmouth,itsunfathomableeyesglintinginthemoonlight.Thenitdismisseshimasimmaterialandtrotsoffalongitsroute.
FOUR
Twodayslater,thekidcomesback.Sincethedayhasbrightenedupafterarainystart,Calandhisdeskarebackoutinthegarden.Hefinishedoffthedrawerrunnerslasttime,sohe’smovingontothenestofcubbyholesinsidethedropfront.Thepiecesofwoodthatmakethemuparedelicate,dadoedtogetherinanintricatejigsaw,andseveralofthemarebroken.Callaysthedeskonitsbackonadropsheetandtakesphotosofthewholecontraptiononhisphonebeforehecarefullyworksthebrokenpiecesfree,looseningoldgluewithascalpelblade,andstartsmeasuringthemforreplacements.
He’sfinishingupthefirstone,chiselingthelastofthedadothatwillslotitsnuglyintoplace,whenhehearstwigscracking.Thistimehedoesn’tneedtoplayanygames.Thekidpushesthroughthehedgeandstandstherewatching,handsinthepocketsofhishoodie.
“Morning,”Calsays.
Thekidnods.
“Here,”Calsays,holdingoutthepieceofwoodandasheetofsandpaper.
Thekidcomesoverandtakesthemoutofhishandwithouthesitation.HeseemstohaverefiledCalfromDangerousUnknowntoNonthreateningKnownsincetheylastsaweachother,thewayadogwill,basedonsomemysteriousjudgmentprocessofhisown.Hisjeansaredamptotheshinsfromwalkingthroughwetgrass.
“Thispart’sgonnabevisible,”Calsays,“sowe’regonnabealittlebitpickieraboutit.Whenyou’vefinishedwiththatsandpaper,I’llgiveyouafinerone.”
Treyexaminesthepieceofwoodhe’sholding,thenthesplinteredoriginalonthetable.Calpointstoitsgapamongthecubbyholes.“Goeshere.”
“Wrongcolor.”
“We’llstainittomatch.Thatcomeslater.”
Treynods.Hesquatsonthegrass,afewfeetfromthedropsheet,andgetstowork.
Calstartspencilingoutthenextpieceofwood,positioninghimselfsohecanlookthekidover,inglances.Thehoodieisclearlyahand-me-down,andonebigtoeispokingoutthroughaholeinhissneaker.He’spoor.It’smorethanthat,though.Calhasseenplentyofkidspoorerthanthisonewhowereferociouslywellcaredfor,butnobodyhasbeencheckingthatthiskid’sneckisscrubbedcleanorpatchinghisworn-outknees.Heappearstogetfed,moreorless,butnotalotbeyondthat.
Leftoverraindropstickinthehedges;smallbirdshopandpeckinthegrass.Calsaws,measures,chiselsoutdadoesandgrooves,andgivesTreythefinesandpaperwhenhe’sdonewiththecoarseone.Hecanfeelthekidglancingathim,thesamewayhewasglancingatthekid,assessing.Hewhistlessoftlytohimself,hereandthere,butthistimehedoesn’ttalk.It’sthekid’sturn.
Heappearstohavepickedthewrongkidforthat:Treyhasnoproblemwithsilence.Hefinishestheshelftohissatisfaction,bringsitovertoCalandholdsitout.
“Good,”Calsays.“Haveanother.I’mgonnawaxthisoneuphereandhere,see?andthenfititinwhereitbelongs.”
Treyhoversforaminuteortwo,watchingCalrubwaxalongthedadoes,andthendriftsbacktohisspotandstartssandingagain.Therhythmhaschanged,though,gotfasterandlessneat.Thefirstshelfwastoprovehimself.Nowthatthat’sdone,there’ssomethingelsemovingaroundinhismind,lookingforanexit.
Calignoresthat.Hekneelsbythedesk,linesuptheshelfandstartsgentlyhammer-tappingitintoitsgrooves.
Treysays,behindhim,“Iheardyou’reacop.”
Calnearlyhammershisthumb.He’sbeencarefultokeepthatpieceofinformationtohimself,goingoffhisexperiencewiththepeoplearoundhisgrandpa’splaceinbackwoodsNorthCarolina,towhombeingacopaswellasastrangerwouldnothavebeenabigplus.Hehasnoideahowanyonecouldhavefoundout.“Whosaidthat?”
Treyshrugs,sanding.
“Maybenexttimedon’tlistentothem.”
“Areyou?”
“Ilooklikeacoptoyou?”
Treysurveyshim,squintingagainstthelight.Callooksback.Heknowstheanswerisno.Thatwasoneofthepointsofthebeard,andtheovergrownhair:nomorelookinglikeacop,andnomorefeelinglikeacop.MorelikeSasquatch,Donnawouldhavesaid,grinning,twistingalockaroundherfingertotugit.
“Nah,”Treysays.
“Wellthen.”
“Youare,but.”
BynowCalhasmadeuphismind:nopointplayinggamesifpeoplealreadyknow.Heconsidersadeal—youtellmewhereyouheard,I’llansweryourquestions—buthedecidesitwouldn’tfly.Thekidiscurious,butnotenoughtoratonhisown.Dealsneedtowaitawhilelonger.“Was,”hesays.“Notanymore.”
“Whynot?”
“Retired.”
Treyexamineshim.“You’renotthatold.”
“Thanks.”
Thekiddoesn’tsmile.Apparentlyhedoesn’tdosarcasm.“Why’dyouretire,so?”
Calgoesbacktothedesk.“Thingsjustgotshittier.Orseemslike.”
Hewonderstoolateaboutcussing,butthekiddoesn’tseemshocked,orevenstartled.Hejustwaits.
“Peoplegotmad.Seemedlikejustabouteveryonewasmad.”
“Aboutwhat?”
Calconsidersthis,tappingatthecorneroftheshelf.“Blackpeoplegotmadaboutbeingtreatedlikecrap.Badcopsgotmad’causetheyweregettingcalledontheirshitallofasudden.Goodcopsgotmad’causetheywerethebadguyswhentheyhadn’tdoneanything.”
“Wereyouagoodcoporabadcop?”
“Iaimedtobeagoodone,”Calsays.“Buteveryonewouldsaythat.”
Treynods.“Didyougetmad?”
“Igotweary,”Calsays.“Bone-weary.”Hedid.Everymorninggottobelikewakingupwiththeflu,knowinghehadtotrekmilesupamountain.
“Soyouretired.”
“Yeah.”
Thekidrunshisfingeralongthewood,checking,andgoesbacktosanding.“Why’dyoucomehere?”
“Whynot?”
“Nooneevermoveshere,”Treysays,likehe’spointingouttheobvioustoamoron.“Onlyaway.”
Caljigglestheshelfaquarter-inchfartherin;it’satightfit,whichisgood.“Iwassickofshittyweather.Youguysdon’tgetsnoworheat,notwhatwe’dcall,anyway.AndI’dhadenoughofcities.Roundhereischeap.Andgoodfishing.”
Treywatcheshim,unblinkinggrayeyes,skeptical.“Iheardyougotfired’causeyoushotsomeone.Onthejob,like.Andyouweregoingtogetarrested.Soyouran.”
Caldidnotseethisonecoming.“Whosaidthat?”
Shrug.
Calconsidershisoptions.“Inevershotanyone,”hesays,truthfully,intheend.
“Ever?”
“Ever.YouwatchtoomuchTV.”
Treykeepswatchinghim.Thekiddoesn’tblinkenough.Calisstartingtofearforhiscornealhealth.
“Youdon’tbelieveme,Googleme.Somethinglikethat,it’dbeallovertheinternet.”
“Don’thaveacomputer.”
“Phone?”
ThecornerofTrey’smouthtwists:nah.
Caltakeshisphoneoutofhispocket,unlocksitandtossesitontothegrassinfrontofTrey.“Here.CalvinJohnHooper.Thesignalisshit,butit’llgetthereintheend.”
Treydoesn’tpickupthephone.
“What?”
“Mightnotbeyourrealname.”
“Jesus,kid,”Calsays.Heleansoverforthephoneandputsitbackinhispocket.“Believewhatyouwant.Yougonnasandthat,ornot?”
Treygoesbacktosanding,butCalcantellfromtherhythmthathe’snotdone.Sureenough,afteraminuteheasks,“Wereyouanygood?”
“Prettygood.Igotthejobdone.”
“Wereyouadetective?”
“Yeah.Thelastwhile.”
“Whatkind?”
“Propertycrime.Burglary,mostly.”Hegetsthesense,fromTrey’slook,thatthisisaletdown.“Andfugitiveapprehension,forawhile.Trackingdownpeoplewhoweretryingtohidefromus.”
Thatgetsaswiftflashofaglance.ApparentlyCal’sstockhasgonebackup.“How?”
“Bunchofways.Talktotheirrelatives,buddies,girlfriends,boyfriends,whateverthey’vegot.Watchtheirhomes,theplacestheyliketohangout.Checkiftheirbankcardsgetusedanywhere.Tapsomephones,maybe.Depends.”
Treyisstillwatchinghimintently.Hishandhasstoppedmoving.
It’soccurredtoCalthathemayhavefoundhisexplanationforwhatthekidisdoinghere.“Youwanttobeadetective?”
Treygiveshimthemoronlook.Calgetsakickoutofthislook,whichisthekindyouwouldgivetheidiotkidinyourclasswhojustfellfortherubbercookieyetagain.“Me?”
“No,yourgreat-gramma.Yeah,you.”
Treysays,“Whattimeisit?”
Calcheckshiswatch.“Almostone.”Andwhenthekidkeepslookingathim:“Youhungry?”
Treynods.“LemmeseewhatI’vegot,”Calsays,puttingdownthehammerandgettingtohisfeet.Hiskneescrack.Hefeelslikeforty-eightshouldn’tbeoldenoughforyourbodytomakenoisesatyou.“Youallergictoanything?”
Thekidgiveshimablanklook,likehewasspeakingSpanish,andshrugs.
“Youeatpeanutbuttersandwiches?”
Nod.
“Good,”Calsays.“That’saboutasfancyasIget.Finishthatoffmeanwhile.”
Hehalf-expectsthekidtobegonewhenhecomesbackoutwiththefood,buthe’sstillthere.HeglancesupandholdsoutthepieceofwoodforCal’sinspection.
“Lookinggood,”Calsays.Hepassesthekidaplate,andpullsacartonoforangejuicefromunderhisarmandhismugsfromthepocketsofhishoodie.Probablyheshouldbegivingagrowingkidmilk,buthedrinkshiscoffeeblack,sohedoesn’thaveany.
Theysitonthegrassandeatinsilence.Theskyisadensecoolblue;yellowleavesarestartingtocomeoffthetrees,lyinglightlyonthegrass.OffoverDumboGannon’sfarm,acloudofbirdsswoopsthroughimpossible,shiftinggeometries.
Treyeatsinbigwolfishbites,withanintentnessthatmakesCalgladhefixedhimtwosandwiches.Whenhe’sdone,hedownshisjuicewithoutpausingforbreath.
“Youwantsomemore?”Calasks.
Treyshakeshishead.“Ihavetogo,”hesays.Heputsdowntheglassandwipeshismouthonhissleeve.“CanIcomebacktomorrow?”
Calsays,“Shouldn’tyoubeinschool?”
“Nah.”
“Yeahyoushould.Howoldareyou?”
“Sixteen.”
“Bullshit.”
Thekidevaluateshimforamoment.“Thirteen,”hesays.
“Thenyeahyoushould.”
Treyshrugs.
“Whatever,”Calsays,asitsuddenlyoccurstohim.“Notmyproblem.Youwanttoskipschool,knockyourselfout.”
Whenhelooksover,Treyissmiling,justalittlebit.It’sthefirsttimeCalhasseenhimdothat,andit’sasstartlingascatchingababy’sfirstsmile,seeinganunsuspectednewpersonbreakingthrough.
“What?”heasks.
“Acop’snotsupposedtosaythat.”
“LikeItoldyou.I’mnotacopanymore.Idon’tgetpaidtohassleyou.”
“But,”Treysays,thesmilevanishing.“CanIcomehere?I’llhelpwiththis.Andthestaining.Allofit.”
Callooksathim.Thaturgencyisbackinhisbody,poorlyconcealed,hunchinghisshouldersforwardsandpinchinghisface.
“Whatfor?”
AfteramomentTreysays,“’Cause.Iwantalearnhow.”
“I’mnotgonnapayyou.”Thekidcouldclearlyusesomecash,butevenifCalhadanytospare,hedoesn’tplanonbeingthestrangerwhohandsoutmoneytoyoungboys.
“Don’tcare.”
Calconsidersthepossibleramifications.Hereckonsthatifhesaysno,Treywillgobacktolurking.Calprefershimvisible,atleastuntilheworksoutwhatthekidwants.“Whynot,”hesays.“Icoulduseahand.”
Treyletsouthisbreathandnods.“OK,”hesays,gettingtohisfeet.“Seeyoutomorrow.”
Hebrushesoffhisjeansandheadsfortheroadwithalong,spring-kneedwoodsman’slope.Onhiswaypasttherookeryhetossesarockupintothebranches,withahardwrist-whipfromaprettygoodarm,andtiltshisheadbacktowatchastherooksexplodeinalldirectionsandcusshimtohellandbackagain.
AfterCalwashesupthelunchthings,heheadsforthevillage.Noreenknowseverythingandtalksabluestreak—Calfiguresthesearetwooftherealreasonswhyshedoesn’tgetalongwithMart,wholikestohaveamonopolyinthoseareas.Ifhecanaimherintherightdirection,shemightgivehimanideawhereTreypoppedupfrom.
Noreen’sshoppacksalotintoalittlespace.It’sfloor-to-ceilingwithshelvescrammedwiththeessentialsoflife—teabags,eggs,chocolatebars,scratchcards,dishsoap,bakedbeans,batteries,jam,tinfoil,ketchup,firelighters,painkillers,sardines—andavarietyofthings,likegoldensyrupandAngelDelight,thatCaldoesn’tunderstandbuthasambitionstotryifhecanworkoutwhattodowiththem.Ithasalittlefridgeformilkandmeat,abasketofdepressed-lookingfruit,andaladdersoNoreen,who’saboutfivefootone,canreachthehighshelves.Theshopsmellsofallthosethings,withastrongunderlayofsomeuncompromisingdisinfectantstraightoutof1950.
WhenCalpushesopenthedoorwithacheerfulbell-ding,Noreenisuptheladder,dustingjarsandhummingalongtosomecheesyyoungguyontheradioaimingforahoedownfeel.Noreenfavorstopswithexplosiveflowersandhasshortbrownhairsetinsuchtightcurlsthatitlookslikeahelmet.
“Wipeyourboots,I’monlyafterwashingthefloor,”sheorders.Then,noticingCalproperly:“Ah,’tisyourself!Iwashopingyou’dcallintoday.I’vethatcheeseinthatyoulike.I’vebeenkeepingapacketbackforyou,becauseBobbyFeeneydoeslikeitaswell,andhe’dbuythelotonmeandleaveyouwithnothing.He’deatitlikeachocolatebar,thatfella.He’llhavehimselfaheartattackoneofthesedays.”
Calwipeshisbootsobediently.Noreencomesdowntheladder,prettynimblyforaroundwoman.“Andcomeheretome,”shesays,wavingherdustclothatCal,“I’veasurpriseforyou.There’ssomeoneIwantyoutomeet.”Shecallsthroughthedoorintothebackroom:“Lena!Comeouthere!”
Afteramomentawoman’svoice,huskyandfirm,callsback,“I’mmakingthetea.”
“Leavetheteaandcomehere.Bringthatcheeseoutofthefridge,theoneintheblackpacket.DoIhavetocomeinandgetyou?”
There’sapause,inwhichCalthinkshecatchesanexasperatedsigh.Thenthere’smovementinthebackroom,andawomancomesoutholdingapacketofcheddar
“Now,”Noreensaystriumphantly.“ThisismysisterLena.Lena,thisisCalHooperthat’saftermovinginupatO’Shea’splace.”
Lenaisn’twhatCalexpected.FromwhatMartsaid,hewaspicturingabeefy,raw-redsix-footerwithavoicelikeacow’sbellow,brandishingafryingpanmenacingly.Lenaistall,allright,andshehasmeatonherbones,butinawaythatmakesCalpictureherhillwalking,ratherthanhittingsomeoneupsidethehead.She’sacoupleofyearsyoungerthanhim,withathickfairponytailandabroad-cheekboned,blue-eyedface.She’swearingoldjeansandaloosebluesweater.
“Pleasure,”Calsays,offeringhishand.
“Calthecheddarfan,”Lenasays.Shehasafirmshake.“I’veheardplentyaboutyou.”
Shegiveshimaquickwrygrinandhandsoverthecheese.Hegrinsback.“Samehere.”
“I’dsayyouhave,allright.How’reyougettingoninO’Shea’s?Keepingyoubusy?”
“I’mdoingOK,”Calsays.“ButIcanseewhynobodyelsewantedtotakeiton.”
“There’snotalotofpeoplelookingtobuyhouses,roundhere.Mostoftheyoungpeopletakeoffforthecityassoonastheycan.Theyonlystayifthey’reworkingthefamilyfarm,oriftheylikethecountry.”
NoreenhasherarmsfoldedunderherbosomandiswatchingthetwoofthemwithamaternalapprovalthatmakesCalitchy.Lena,handsinherjeanspocketsandonehipleanedupagainstthecounter,doesn’tappeartogiveadamn.Shehasanunforcedstillnesstoher,andadirectgaze,thatarehardtolookawayfrom.Martwasrightaboutthismuch:youwouldknowshewasthere.
“Youstuckaround,huh?”Calsays.“Youinfarming?”
Lenashakesherhead.“Iwas.Isoldthefarmwhenmyhusbanddied,justkeptthehouse.I’dhadenough.”
“Soyoujustlikethecountry.”
“Ido,yeah.Thecitywouldn’tsuitme.Hearingotherpeople’snoisealldayandallnight.”
“CalwasinChicago,before,”Noreenputsin.
“Iknow,”Lenasays,withanamusedtilttohereyebrow.“Sowhatareyoudoinghere?”
PartofCalistugginghimtopayforhischeeseandtakeoff,beforeNoreencallsinapriesttomarrythemonthespot.Ontheotherhand,hecameheretodayforapurpose,besideswhichhe’soutofabunchofstuff.Complicatingthisisthefactthathecan’trememberthelasttimehewasinaroomwithawomanhelikedtheideaoftalkingto,andhe’sunsurewhetherthisisapointinfavorofstickingaroundorofgettingthehelloutofDodge.
“GuessIjustlikethecountrytoo,”hesays.
Lenastillhastheamusedlook.“Alotofpeoplethinktheydo,tilltheygofull-time.Comebacktomeafterawinterhere.”
“Well,”Calsays,“I’mnotexactlyatenderfoot.Ilivedoutinthebackwoodsoffandon,whenIwasakid.IfiguredI’dsettlerightbackin,butlookslikeI’vebeeninthecitylongerthanIthought.”
“What’sgettingyou?Notenoughtodo?Ornotenoughpeopletodoitwith?”
“Nope,”Calsays,grinningalittlesheepishly.“I’vegotnoproblemwitheitheroneofthose.ButI’vegottaadmit,Igetalittlejumpyatnight,withnoonecloseenoughtonoticeifanytroublecamecalling.”
Lenalaughs.Shehasagoodlaugh,forthrightandthroaty.Noreensnorts.“Ah,Godloveyou.You’llbeusedtoallthemarmedrobberiesandmassshootings.”ThebeadyglanceconfirmsforCalthatsheknowsabouthisjob,notthathedoubtedher.“We’venoneofthatroundhere.”
“Well,Ididn’treckonyouwouldhave,”Calsays.“WhatIhadinmindwasmorelikeboredkidslookingforentertainment.Therewasacrewofusthatusedtomesswiththeneighbors:propuptrashcansfullofwateragainstsomeone’sdoorandthenknockandrun,orelsefillupabigpotato-chipbagwithshavingcreamandslidetheopenendunderthedoor,andthenstomponit.Dumbstufflikethat.”Lenaislaughingagain.“Ifiguredastrangermightgetalittlebitofthattreatment.ButIguess,likeyousaid,theyoungpeopledon’tstickaround.SeemslikeI’mtheonlypersonunderfiftyformiles.Presentcompanyexcepted.”
Noreenjumpsrightonthat.“Willyoulistentohim,makingusouttobeGod’swaitingroom!Sure,thistownland’sgotplentyofyoungpeople.I’vefourmyself—buttheydon’tbegoingoutmakingtrouble,theyknowI’dreddentheirarsesiftheydid.AndSenanandAngelahavefouraswell,andtheMoynihanshavetheiryounglad,andtheO’Connorshavethree,butthey’reallgrandyoungpeople,notabotheroutofthem—”
“AndSheilaReddy’sgotsix,”Lenasays.“Mostofthemstillathome.Thatenoughforyou?”
Noreen’smouthpinchesup.“Ifyoudidhaveanytrouble,”shetellsCal,“it’dbefromthatlot.”
“Yeah?”Calsays.Hescanstheshelvesandpickshimselfoutacanofcorn.“Theybadnews?”
“Sheila’spoor,”Lenasays.“Isall.”
“Itcostsnothingtoteachachildmanners,”Noreensnaps,“orgetittoschool.Andeverytimethosechilderdocomeinhere,there’ssomethingmissingafter.SheilasaysIcan’tproveit,butIknowwhat’sinmyownshop,and—”SheremembersCal,whoispeacefullycomparingchocolatebars,andstops.“Sheila’dwanttogetherheadonstraight,”shesays.
“Sheiladoeswhatshecanwithwhatshe’sgot,”Lenasays.“Liketherestofus.”ToCalshesays,“Iusedtopalaroundwithher,inschool.Wewerewildthen.Gettingoutourwindowsatnighttogodrinkinginfieldswiththelads.Hitchingliftsintotowntothediscos.”
“SoundslikeyouweretheteenagersIworryabout,”Calsays.
Thatgetsanotherlaughfromher.“Ah,no.Weneverdidanydamagetoanyoneexceptourselves.”
“Sheiladidherselfdamage,allright,”Noreensays.“Lookwhatshegotoutofallthatmessing.JohnnyReddyandsixjustlikehim.”
“Johnnywasafinething,backthen,”Lenasays,withaliftatthecornerofhermouth.“Ishiftedhimonceortwicemyself.”
Noreentuts.“Atleastyou’dmoresensethantomarryhim.”
CaldecidesonaMintCrispbarandputsitonthecounter.“TheReddyslivenearenoughtomethatIoughtakeepaneyeout?”heasks.
“Depends,”Lenasays.“Howmuchofaworrierareyou?”
“Depends.Howcloseisthetrouble?”
“You’regrand.They’reafewmilesbeyondyou,upinthemountains.”
“Soundsgoodtome,”Calsays.“Johnnyafarmer,orwhat?”
“WhoknowswhatJohnnyis,”Lenasays.“HewentofftoLondonayearortwoback.”
“LeftSheilahighanddry,”Noreensays,withamixofcondemnationandsatisfaction.“Somepalofhisovertherehadabusinessideathatwasgoingtomakethepairofthemmillionaires,orsohesaid.I’mnotholdingmybreath,andIhopeSheila’snoteither.”
“Johnnywasalwaysagreatmanfortheideas,”Lenasays.“Notsogreatformakingthemhappen.Youcanrelax.Anychildofhis,acrisppacketfullofshavingfoamwouldbemorethantheycouldorganize.”
“Goodtoknow,”Calsays.Hehasafeelingthatone,atleast,ofJohnnyReddy’skidsmaynottakeafterhisdaddy.
“Now,Cal,”Noreensays,struckbyathoughtandpointingherdustclothathim.“Weren’tyoutellingmeonlytheotherday,youwerethinkingofgettingadog?Andwouldn’tthatbetheperfectwaytoputyourmindatease?Listentomenow:Lena’sdog’llbewhelpinganyday,andshe’llbewantinghomesforthepups.Letyougowithhernowandhavealook.”
“Shehasn’twhelpedyet,”Lenasays.“Itwon’tdohimmuchgoodstaringatherbelly.”
“Hecanseeifhelikesthecutofher.Goon.”
“Ah,no,”Lenasayspleasantly.“Ineedmycupoftea.”BeforeNoreencanopenhermouthagain,shenodstoCal,says,“Nicetomeetyou,”andisgoneintothebackroom.
“You’llstayandhaveacupofteawithus,”NoreenordersCal.
“Appreciateit,”Calsays,“butIoughtabegettinghome.Ididn’ttakethecar,anditlookslikerain.”
Noreengivesanoffendedsniff,turnstheradiolouderandgoesbacktodusting,butCalcantellfromtheoccasionalglancesheshootshiswaythatshehasn’tgivenupthateasy.Hegrabsgroceriesfastandmoreorlessatrandom,beforeshecancomeupwithafreshscheme.Atthelastminute,whenNoreenisalreadyaddinguphisbillonthenoisyoldmanualcashregister,hethrowsinacartonofmilk.
FIVE
Treydoescomebackthenextday,andtheonesafterthat.Sometimesheshowsuparoundmid-morning;sometimesit’smid-afternoon,whichgivesCalthecomfortingimpressionthathedoesoccasionallygotoschool,althoughhe’sawarethatthismaybedeliberate.Thekidsticksaroundforanhour,oracouple,andmostlyforsomefood.Then—inresponsetosomemysteriousinneralarmclock,ormaybejustwhenhegetsbored—hesays,“Havetago,”andleaves,trampingupthegardenwithhishandsdeepinhishoodiepockets,notlookingback.
Thefirstrainyday,Caldoesn’texpecttoseehim.He’sstrippingwallpaperandsingingtheoddhalflinealongwithOtisReddingwhenashadowcrossesthelight,andwhenhelooksaround,thereTreyisatthewindow,watchinghimfrominsideadisreputablewaxjacketacoupleofsizestoosmall.Calismomentarilydubiousaboutinvitinghimin,butwithraindrippingoffthekid’shoodandtheendofhisnose,hedoesn’tfeellikehehasmuchchoice.Hehangsthekid’sjacketonachairtodryandgiveshimascraper.
Onsunnydaystheygobacktothedesk,butsunnydaysaregettingscarcerasSeptemberrunsitselfdown.Moreandmoreoften,rainwhipsthehouse,andwindpackssoddenleavesatthebasesofwallsandhedges.Thesquirrelsareinahoardingfrenzy.Martannouncesthatthismeansabastardofawinterahead,andprovidesdramaticaccountsofyearswhenthetownlandwascutoffforweeksandpeoplefrozetodeathintheirownhomes,althoughCalfailstobeproperlyimpressed.“I’musedtoChicago,”heremindsMart.“Wedon’tcallitcoldtilloureyelashesfreeze.”
“Differentkindofcold,”Martinformshim.“Thisone’ssneaky.Youwouldn’tfeelitcoming,nottillit’sgotyou.”
Mart’sopinionoftheReddysturnsouttomatchNoreen’s,onlywithmoreflourishes.SheilaBradywasalovelygirlfromadecentfamily,withafinepairoflegsonher;shewasplanningtomovetoGalwayandtrainasanurse,exceptbeforeshecouldgetthatfarshefellforJohnnyReddy.Hecouldtalkthecrossoffanassandneverheldajobformorethanthreemonthsinhislife,becausenothingthatwouldtakehimwasgoodenoughforhim:“nokindofworker,”Martsays,withadepthofscornthatCalandhissquadreservedforgranny-muggers.SheilaandJohnnyhadsixkids,livedonbenefitsinsomerelative’sdilapidatedcottageupinthehills—Martdoesexplaintherelationship,indetail,butCallosestrackafterthreeorfourdegrees—andnowJohnnyhasfeckedoff,Sheila’speoplehavealldiedormovedaway,andthefamilyisascloseasthisplacegetstotrailertrash.MartagreeswithNoreenandLenathatthekidsareunlikelytobeabovealittlepettycrime,butequallyunlikelytohavethecapacityforanythinghigh-level.“HolyGod,”hesays,amused,whenCalgiveshimtheworried-city-boyspiel,“you’vetoomuchtimeonyourhands.Getyourselfawoman,likeItoldyou.Thenyou’llknowwhatworryis.”
InfactCalhasmoreorlessruledoutthepossibilitythatthekidisplanningonrobbinghim,giventhathewouldbegoingaboutitinthedumbestpossibleway,andfromwhatCalcantellheappearstobefarfromdumb.NowthatheknowsalittlebitaboutTrey’sprobablefamily,other,morelikelyscenariospresentthemselves:thekidisgettingpickedonandneedsprotection,thekidisbeingabusedonewayoranotherandwantstotellsomeone,thekid’smomisadrunkorondrugsorgettingbeatupbyaboyfriendandhewantstotellsomeone,thekidwantsCaltotrackdownhiswaywarddaddy,orthekidislookingtoestablishsomekindofalibiforsomethingheshouldn’tbedoing.Calfeelsthatthelocals,biasedbyJohnnyReddy’sfecklessness,maybeunderratinghisson’sabilitiesinthatdepartment.And,whilehehaseveryreasontoknowthatkidscanonoccasionriseaboveashittyfamily,healsohaseveryreasontoknowthatonmostoccasionsitdoesn’tturnoutthatway.
HepokesaroundthesubjectofJohnnyReddyalittle,givingTreyanopeningifthat’swherehe’sheaded,butTreyshutsthatdownrightquick.“Yeah,wecanusethis,”Calsays,examininghisfirstattemptatchiselingoutagroove.“You’reprettyhandy,kid.Youhelpoutyourdadwithstufflikethis?”
“Nah,”Treysays.Hetakesbacktheshelfandgivesoneendofthegrooveafewextrataps,squintinglowoverthewood.Helikesthingsdoneright.StuffthatCalwouldbefinewith,Treyshakeshisheadandgoesbackoverittwoorthreetimesbeforehe’ssatisfied.
“Sowhatdoyoudowithhim?”
“Nothing.Hewentoff.”
“Whereto?”
“London.Heringsussometimes.”
ThisprettymuchconfirmsTreyasaReddy,unlessLondonisacommondestinationforthelocaldeadbeatdads.“Mydadwentoffalot,”Calsays.He’saimingforrapport,butTreyseemsunimpressed.“Youmisshim?”
Treyshrugs.CalisgettingthehangofTrey’sshrugs,whicharemanyandnuanced.Thisonemeansthesubjectisclosedduetolackofinterest.
ThisleavesCalwithtwomainpossibilities:Treyisdoingsomethingbad,orsomethingbadisbeingdonetohim.Sofarhehasn’tcomeupwithagoodwaytobroacheitherofthose.He’sawarethat,ifhefucksitup,Treywillbegoneforgood.ThisisfinebyCalifTreyistheonemakingthetrouble,buthisnewfoundtalentforlettingthingsbedoesn’tstretchtoanabusedkid.Sohe’sdealingwithTreythesamewayhedidatthestart:goingabouthisownbusiness,andlettingthekidcomecloserinhisowntime.
Hisowntimeturnsouttobearoundtwoweeks.It’sarainymorning,coolandsoft,withasmallbreezethatwandersintheopenwindowssmellingofpasture.CalandTreybetweenthemhavefinishedsandingtheliving-roomwallssmooth,they’vepaintedprimeralongtheedges,andthey’retakingabreakbeforetheygetstartedonthemainjob.Theysitatthetableeatingchocolatesandwichcookies,Trey’scontribution—he’stakentoshowingupwithcookiessomedays,oronetimeanapplepie.Calisprettysurewherethisstuffcomesfrom,andhefeelsamildtwingeofguiltabouteatingitanyway,buthefiguresthingswillbemorepeacefulifhedoesn’tgetintothat.
Treyisworkinghisway,methodicallyandwithintent,throughthecookies.Calistryingtokneadaknotoutofhisneck.It’sfromthemattress;hismuscleachesandpainshavemostlyfaded.Hisbodyisgettingaccustomedtothework,andCallikesthat,thesamewayhelikedtheachestobeginwith.Atfirsthewonderedifhemightbetoooldtogetaccustomedtoitatall,buthisbodyhascomethroughforhim.Hefeelsyoungerthanhedidsixmonthsago.
“Squirrel,”hesays,pointingoutthewindowtothegarden.“OneofthesedaysI’llshootmeafewofthemandmakeusasquirrelstew.”
Treyconsidersthis,watchingthesquirrelscrabbleunderthehedge.“What’sittastelike?”
“Prettygood.Gamey.Stronger’nchicken.”
“Squirrelbitmysisteronce,”Treysays.“Onthefinger.I’deat’em.”
“WhenIwasaboutten,”Calsays,“Iwasstayingwithmygranddaddy,andmeandthreeofmybuddies,weusedtocampoutinthewoodsbackofhisplace.Thefirsttimewedidit,mygranddaddytoldusweoughtabecareful,becausetherewasathingcalledasquattlivingoutinthosewoods.Crossbetweenasquirrelandacat,butbigger’neitherone,andfiercer.Ithadgreatbigclawsandfangs,andorangefur,andit’dgoeitherforyourthroat,ifyouweresittingdown,orforyourballsifyouwerestandingup.Youcouldtellitwasgettingreadytoattackbecauseyou’dhearitmakingthisweirdnoise.Likegrowlingmixedwithchattering.”
Hedemonstrates.Treylistens,watchinghimandscrapingthefillingoutofacookiewithhisteeth.CalhasgottenintothehabitoftellingTreywhatevercomesintohishead,purelyforcompanionability,withoutpayingmuchheedtowhetherornothegetsaresponse.
“Wecampedoutanyway,”hesays,“butwemadeourselvesabigpileofrocksinthetent,justincase.Lateatnight,wewerejustgettingcomfortableinoursleepingbags,weheardanoiseoutside.”Hemakesthenoiseagain.“Weaboutshitourselves.Wesnuckoutofthesleepingbags,gotourselvesabighandfulofrockseach,andcameoutofthetentfiring.Gotinafewgoodhitsbeforeweheardmygranddaddyyellingforustostop.Someonegothimrightintheface,splithislipopen.”
“Itwashim,”Treysays.“Makingthenoise.”
“Surewas.Nosuchthingasasquatt.”
“What’dhedo?Hebeatyou?”
“Nah.Laughedhisassoff,cleaneduptheblood,broughtusoutabigbagofmarshmallows.”
Treydigeststhis.“Howcomehedidthat?Pretended?”
“Iguesshewantedtoseewhatwe’ddo,”Calsays,“ifabadsituationcameup.Seeingashewaslettingusstayoutthereallbyourselves.Thedayafterthat,hestartedteachingmehowtoshootarifle.SaidifIwasgonnagofightingthingsthatscaredme,Imightaswelldoitright,andIbetterknowhowtobedamnsurewhatIwasshootingatbeforeIpulledthetrigger.”
Treyconsidersthis.“Canyouteachme?”
“Idon’thaveagunhereyet.WhenIgetone,thenmaybe.”
Apparentlythisisgoodenough:Treynodsandfinisheshiscookie.“BobbyFeeneysaysheseenaliensupthemountains,”hesays,outofsometrainofthoughtofhisown.“Iheardinschool.”
“Youplanningonshootinganalien?”
TreygivesCalhisidiotlook.“There’snoaliens.”
“What,youfigureBobbymadeituptomesswithpeople,likemygranddaddy?”
“Nah.”
Calgrins,drinkinghiscoffee.“Thenwhat’dhesee?”
Treyshrugs,aone-shoulderedtwitchthatmeanshedoesn’twanttodiscussthis.“Youdon’tbelieveinaliens,”hesays,watchingCaltocheck.
“Probablynot,”Calsays.“Iliketokeepanopenmind,andIfiguretheymightbesomewhereoutthere,butIhaven’tseenanythingthatwouldmakemethinkthey’recomingvisiting.”
“Haveyougotbrothersandsisters?”Treydemands,outofnowhere.Thekidhasn’tmasteredtheartofsmalltalk.Everyquestioncomesoutsoundinglikepartofaninterrogation.
“Three,”Calsays.“Twosisters,onebrother.’Boutyou?”
“Threesisters.Twobrothers.”
“That’salotofkids,”Calsays.“Yougotabighouse?”
Treyblowsairderisivelyoutofthesideofhismouth.“Nah.”
“Where’reyou?Oldest?Youngest?”
“Third.What’reyou?”
“Oldest.”
“Areyouclosetotheothers?”
ThisisthemostpersonalTreyhasevergot.Calrisksaglanceathim,buthe’sfocusedontakinganothercookieapart.Hehasafreshbuzzcut,butitlookslikemaybehedidithimself:apatchtowardsthebackofhisheadgotmissed.
“Closeenough,”Calsays.Infacthisarehalfsiblings,he’snevermetanyofthemmorethanacoupleoftimes,andtherecouldwellbemoreouttheresomewhere,butnoneofthisinformationseemslikeitwouldbeusefulhere.“How’boutyou?”
“Someofthem,”Treysays.Heshovesthecookieabruptlyintohismouthandstandsup:breakis,apparently,over.
“Drinkyourmilk,”Calsays.
“Don’tlikemilk.”
“Iboughtit.Youdrinkit.”
Treythrowsbackthemilk,grimaces,andslamsthemugdownonthetablelikehe’sjusttakenashot.“OK,”Calsays,amused.“Let’sdothis.Holdon.”
Hegoesintohisbedroom,comesbackwithanoldplaidshirtandtossesittoTrey.“Here.”
Treycatchesitandlooksatitblankly.“Whatfor?”
“Yougohomecoveredinpaint,yourmama’snotgonnabehappy.”
“Shewon’tnotice.”
“Ifshedoes,she’sgonnaknowyouweren’tinschool.”
“Shewon’tcare.”
“Yourcall,”Calsays.Hesetsaboutleveringthelidbackofftheprimercanwithascrewdriver.
Treyexaminestheshirt,turningitoverinhishands.Thenheputsiton.HeturnstoCal,holdinguphishandsandgrinning:thecuffsflap,theshirtcomesdownpasthisknees,andit’swideenoughtofitaboutthreeofhim.
“Lookinggood,”Calsays,grinningback.“Handmethosethere.”
He’spointingtothepainttraysandrollers,inacorner.Heboughttwosets;theywerecheap,andhefiguredtheywouldcomeinhandyevenifthekidquitshowingup.Treyhasclearlyneverseencontraptionslikethesebefore.HeinspectsthemandgivesCalaquestion-marklook,browspulleddown.
“Watch,”Calsays.Hepoursprimer,dipstherollerandrollsofftheextraonthegrid,thengivesapatchofwallafastgoing-over.“Gotit?”
Treynodsandcopieshim,exactly,downtothelittleangledshaketogetanydripsofftheroller’sedge.“Good,”Calsays.“Don’tgettoomuchpaintonthere.We’regonnadoafewcoats;wedon’tneedthemtobethick.I’llstarthereanddothetophalf,youdothebottomfromoverthere.Meetyouinthemiddle.”
Theyworkeasilytogether,bynow;theyknoweachother’srhythm,andhowtomaketherightspaceforit.Therainhaseasedoff.Thecriesofgeeselimberingupfortheirlongjourneycometothemfromhighupinthesky;farbelow,inthegrassoutsidethewindow,thesmallbirdshopanddartafterworms.They’vebeenpaintingforabouttwentyminuteswhenTreysays,outoftheclearbluesky,“Mybrother’sgonemissing.”
Calmanagestofreezeonlyforhalfasecondbeforehisrollerstartsmovingagain.Hewouldknowfromthetone,evenifhehadn’theardthewords:thisiswhyTreyishere.
“Yeah?”hesays.“When?”
“March.”Treyisstillrolleringhispatchofwall,meticulously,notlookingatCal.“Twenty-first.”
“OK,”Calsays.“Howoldishe?”
“Nineteen.Hisname’sBrendan.”
Calisfeelinghisway,toebytoe.“What’dthepolicesay?”
“Didn’ttellthem.”
“Howcome?”
“Mamwouldn’t.Shesaidhewentoff,andhe’soldenoughifhewants.”
“Butyoudon’tthinkso.”
Trey’sface,whenhestopspaintingandlooksatCalatlast,hasaterrible,tight-woundmisery.Heshakeshisheadforalongtime.
“Sowhatdoyouthinkhappened?”
Treysays,low,“Thinksomeone’sgothim.”
“Like,kidnappedhim?”
Nod.
“OK,”Calsayscarefully.“Yougotanyideawho?”
EverycellinTrey’sbodyisfocusedonCal.Hesays,“Youcouldfindout.”
There’samomentofsilence.
“Kid,”Calsaysgently.“Morethanlikely,yourmama’sright.Fromwhateveryonetellsme,peoplemostlydotakeofffromhere,soonasthey’reoldenough.”
“He’d’vetoldme.”
“Yourbrother’sstillateenager.Theydodumbshitlikethat.Iknowit’sgottahurt,ifyouguysareclose,butsoonerorlaterhe’llgrowupalittlebitandrealizeitwasacrappythingtodo.He’llgetintouchthen.”
Thatstubbornchinhashardened.“Hedidn’tgooff.”
“Anyreasonyou’resosure?”
“Iknow.Hedidn’t.”
“Ifyou’reworriedabouthim,”Calsays,“yououghtagotothepolice.Iknowyourmamadoesn’twantto,butyoucandoityourself.Theycantakeareportfromaminor.Theycan’tmakehimcomehometillhe’sready,butthey’lllookintoit,putyourmindatease.”
Treyislookingathimlikehecan’tbelieveanyonethisdumbisstillbreathing.“What?”Calsays.
“Guardswon’tdoanything.”
“Suretheywill.It’stheirjob.”
“They’refuckinguseless.Youdoit.Youinvestigate.You’llsee:hedidn’tgooff.”
“Ican’tinvestigate,kid,”Calsays,evenmoregently.“I’mnotacopanymore.”
“Doitanyway.”Trey’svoiceisrising.“Dothestuffyousaid,forfindingpeople.Talktohismates.Watchtheirhouses.”
“IcoulddothatstuffbecauseIhadabadge.NowthatIdon’t,noone’sgottaanswermyquestions.Istakeoutsomeone’shouse,I’mtheonewho’sgonnagetarrested.”
Treyisn’tevenhearinghim.He’sholdingtherollerhighinaclenchedfist,likeaweapon.“Taptheirphones.Checkhisbankcard.”
“Kid.EvenwhenIwasacop,itwasn’taroundhere.Idon’thavebuddieswhereIcancallinfavors.”
“Thenyoudoit.”
“DoesthisplacelooklikeIhavethetechnologyto—”
“Thendosomethingelse.Dosomething.”
“I’mretired,kid,”Calsays,stillgently,butwithfinality.He’snotgoingtoleavethekidhoping.“There’snothingIcoulddo,evenifIwantedto.”
Treythrowshisrolleracrosstheroom.HeripsoffCal’soldshirt,buttonspopping,andstuffsitdeepinthecanofprimer.Thenhewhipsroundandsmashesthedrippingshirtintothecubbyholesofthedesk,withallhisweightbehindit.Thedeskgoesoverbackwards.Treyruns.
Thedeskisamess.Calstraightensitupandusestheshirt—whichisawrite-offanyway;nolaundromatisgoingtodealwiththat—towipeawaythebiggerglobsofprimer.Thenhewetsaclothandcleansofftherest.Luckilyit’swater-based,butit’sgotrightintohalfthejoints,wherenoclothcanreachit.Calgoesatitwithhistoothbrush,callingTreyalittlebastardunderhisbreath
Infact,he’sfindingithardtoactuallygetmad.Firstthekid’sdaddy,thenhisbigbrother;nowonderhewantsananswerthatwouldbringoneofthemhomeandwouldn’tinvolvehimdeliberatelywalkingoutwithoutabackwardsglance.Caljustwisheshehadcomeoutwiththisearlier,insteadofbuildinghishopesinsecretallthistime.
Whatheis,herealizes,morethanmad,isunsettled.Hedoesn’tlikethefeeling,orthefactthatherecognizesitandunderstandsitperfectly;it’sasfamiliartohimashungerorthirst.Calnevercouldstandtoleaveacaseunresolved.Mainlythiswasagoodthing,makinghimintoadogged,patientworkerwhogotsolveslongaftermostguyswouldhavegivenup,butonoccasionitwasalsoafailing:hammeringonandonatsomethingthat’snevergoingtobreakgetsamannothingbuttiredandsore.Calscrubsharderatthedeskandtriestorecapturethelight-headedfreedomofnotcaringifTreyplayshooky.Heremindshimselfthatthisisn’thiscase,andinfactisalmostcertainlynotacaseatall.Theunsettledfeelingdoesn’tbudge.
InhisheadDonnasays,Jesus,Cal,notagain.Herfaceisn’tlaughingthistime;it’sweary,draggedintodownwardlinesthatdon’tfitthere.
Ascrawnyyoungrookhasflappeddownontothewindowsillandiseyeingtheroomspeculatively,consideringboththecookiepacketandthetoolbox.Calhasfinallybeenmakingprogresswiththerooks:he’sgotthemasfarassettlingonthestumptoeathisscrapswhilehewatchesfromthebackstep,althoughtheyeyefuckhimandmakedirtyjokesabouthismamawhiletheydoit.Rightnow,though,he’snotinthemood.“Keepmoving,”hetellsthisone.Therookmakesanoisethatsoundslikearaspberry,andstaysput.
Calgivesupontherook,andthedesk.Hewants,suddenlyandpowerfully,tobeoutofthehouse.Theonlythinghecanthinkofthatseemslikeitmightsettlehismindiscatchinghisowndinner,buthedoesn’tfeellikesittingonariverbankalldaygettinghisassdampontheoffchanceofcatchingaperchortwo,andhisdamnfirearmlicensestillhasn’tcomethrough.Ingeneral,takingintoaccountsomeofthepeoplehe’sknowntoowngunsandthefactthatDonieMcGrathdidn’thavetheoptionofwhippingoutaGlockinthepub,hecanseethereasoningbehindtherestrictionsintheseparts,buttodaytheypisshimoff.Hecouldhavegotmarriedorboughtahousequicker,both,inCal’sopinion,undertakingsconsiderablymorehazardousthanowningahuntingrifle.
Hedecidestoheadintotownandseeiftheguyatthestationcangivehimanupdateonthatlicense.Hecanhitthelaundromatwhilehe’satit,andbuyhimselfanewtoothbrush,aswellasaheatersoMart’ssneakycolddoesn’tgethim.Onhiswayoutofthehousewithhistrashbagofclothes,helocksthedoor.
Therainhaspickedupagain,longcurtainsofitsweepingthewindshield.CalcatcheshimselfkeepinganeyeoutforTrey.Afewmilesupintothehills,Lenasaid,whichwouldbealongwalkinthisweather.Buttheroadisdeserted,justtheoddclusterofcowsshelteringagainstlowstonewallsandsheepdottedaroundthefieldsgrazing,unperturbed.BranchesdrooplowandswishalongthesidesofthePajero.Themountainsaredimandghostlyunderaheavyveilofrain.
Kilcarrowtownisoldandcomfortable,withrowsofcreamy-coloredhousesfanningoutaroundamarketsquare,andahilltopviewoverfieldsandthetwistingriver.Ithasacoupleofthousandpeople,which,factoringinthesatellitevillages,addsuptoenoughtrafficforstufflikeahardwarestoreandalaundromat.Calhandsinhisclothesandmakesforthepolicestationwithhisheadtuckeddownagainsttherain.
Thestationisinwhatlookslikeanoversizedshed,sandwichedbetweentwohousesandpaintedwhitewithaneatbluetrim.It’sopenafewhourshereandafewhoursthere.Inthebackroom,severalpeopleontheradioaretalkingovereachotheraboutpotholes.Atthedeskoutfront,auniformisreadingtheundersizedlocalpaperandscratchinghisarmpitwithrealdedication.
“Afternoon,”Calsays,wipingrainoffhisbeard.“Someweatheroutthere.”
“Ah,sure,it’sagrandsoftday,”theuniformsayscomfortably,puttinghispaperawayandleaningbackinhischair.He’safewyearsyoungerthanCal,witharoundface,abellyunderconstructionandanairofhavingbeenscrubbedshiny-cleanallover.Someonehasmendedaripinhisshirtpocketwithtiny,carefulstitches.“WhatcanIdoforyou?”
“Iappliedforafirearmlicense,coupleofmonthsback.SeeingasI’mintown,figuredI’dcheckiftherewasanyupdateonthat.”
“Youshouldreceivealetterwithinthreemonthsoftheapplicationdate,onewayortheother,”theuniformtellshim.“Ifyoudon’t,thatmeansyou’vebeenrefused,officially.Butsure,sometimestheydogetabitbehind.Evenifyoudon’thearanything,youcouldbegrand.I’dgiveitanextramonthbeforeyoustartworrying.Two,maybe.”
Calhasmetthisguybefore,invariousforms.He’soutintheboondocksnotbecausehe’sadudoratroublemaker,orawannabedetectivechafingwithfrustratedambition,butbecausehe’shappyhere.Helikeshisdaysunhurriedandunsurprising,hisfacesfamiliar,andhisminduncloudedwhenhegoeshometohiswifeandkids.He’sthecopwhoCal,insomeorpossiblymostways,wisheshehaddecidedtobe.
“Well,Idon’tguessIhavemuchrighttocomplain,”Calsays.“WhenIwasonthejob,paperworkwentstraighttothebottomofthepileandstayedthere.You’renotgonnamessaroundwithsomeguy’sdoglicensewhenyou’vegotactualpoliceworktodo.”
Thishastheuniform’sattention.“Youwereonthejob?”heasks,makingsurehehasthingsstraight.“Ontheforce,like?”
“Twenty-fiveyears.ChicagoPD.”Calgrinsandholdsouthishand.“CalHooper.Pleasedtomeetyou.”
“GardaDennisO’Malley,”theuniformsays,shakinghishand.Calwasbettingonhimnotbeingthetypewhowouldseethisasadick-measuringcontest,andhebetright:O’Malleylooksgenuinelydelighted.“Chicago,hah?I’dsayyousawsomeactionthere.”
“Someactionandalottapaperwork,”Calsays.“Sameaseverywhere.Thisseemslikeagoodpost.”
“Iwouldn’tswapit,”O’Malleysays.Calcantellfromhisaccentthathe’snotfromroundhere,buthe’sfromsomewherenottoodifferent:thatrich,leisuredrhythmdidn’tcomeoutofanycity.“Itwouldn’tsuiteveryone,now,butitsuitsme.”
“Whatkindofstuffdoyouget?”
“Alotofit’dbemotorvehicles,”O’Malleyexplains.“Theydobehoorsforthespeeding,roundhere.Andforthedrink-driving.Threeyoungfellaswentintoaditchcominghomefromthepub,Saturdaynight,upbeyondGorteen.Noneofthemmadeittohospital.”
“Iheardaboutthat,”Calsays.Noreen’scousin’sfriend’shusbandwasthepoorbastardwhocameacrosstheaftermath.“That’sadamnshame.”
“That’dbeabouttheworstweget,now.There’snotmuchothercrime.Oildoesgetrobbed,nowandagain.”AtCal’suncomprehendinglook:“Heatingoil,outofthetanks.Andfarmequipment.Andwe’dgetabittadrugs—sure,they’reeverywhere,nowadays.NothinglikewhatyougotinChicago,I’dsay.”HegivesCalashygrin.
“WegotplentyofMVAs,”Calsays,“anddrugs.Notawholelotoffarm-equipmenttheft,though.”Andthen,beforeheknowshe’sgoingtosayit:“MostlyIworkedMissingPersons.Idon’tguessyou’vegotmuchcallforthataroundhere.”
O’Malleylaughs.“Ah,Jaysus,no.I’mheretwelveyears,andwe’vehadtwopeoplegomissing.Onefellacameupintheriverafewdayslater.TheotherwasayoungonethathadarowwithhermammyandflouncedofftostaywithhercousininDublin.”
“Well,Icanseewhyyouwouldn’tswapthisplace,”Calsays.“ThoughtIheardaguydidgomissingonyouthisspring,though.DidIhearwrong?”
ThisstartlesO’Malleyintosittingupright.“Who’sthat,then?”
“Brendansomething.Reddy?”
“ReddysfromupbyArdnakelty?”
“Yeah.”
“Ach,them,”O’Malleysays,relaxingbackintohischair.“Whatone’sBrendan?”
“Nineteen.”
“Sure,nosurprisethere,then.And,beinghonestwithyou,noloss.”
“Theytrouble?”
“Ah,no.Wasters,just.Afewdomestics,buthimselfwentofftoEnglandacouplayearsback,andthatputastoptothat.Iknowthembecausethechilderwon’tgotoschool.Theteacherdoesn’twanttobecallinginchildprotection,sosheringsme.Igooutthereandhaveawordwiththemammy,putthefearofGodintothechilderaboutjuvenilehomes.Theyshapeupforamonthortwo,andthenwe’rebackwherewebegan.”
“Knowthetype,”Calsays.Hedoesn’tneedtoaskwhytheteacherwon’tcallchildprotectiveservicesforanythingshortofbrokenbones,orwhyO’Malleydoesn’tdoithimself.Somethingsarethesameouthereastheywereinhischildhoodbackwoods.Noonewantsthegovernmentsendingdowncityboysinsuitstomakethingsworse.Businessgetshandledasclosetohomeaspossible.“Theirmamacan’tmakethemgo,orshewon’t?”
O’Malleyshrugs.“She’sabit…youknow.Notmentaloranything,like.Justnotuptomuch.”
“Huh,”Calsays.“SoyoureckonBrendan’snotmissing?”
O’Malleysnorts.“God,no.He’sayoungfella.He’sgotsickoflivingupthehillswithhismammy,goneofftokiponsomepal’sfloorinGalwayorAthlone,wherehecangotothediscosandmeettheyoungones.Naturalenough,sure.Whosaidhewasmissing?”
“Well,”Calsays,scratchingthebackofhisneckmeditatively,“someguyinthepubwassayinghewasgone.Imustagotthewrongendofthestick.GuessIspenttoomanyyearsinMissingPersons,nowI’mseeing’emeverywhere.”
“Nothere,”O’Malleysayscheerfully.“Brendan’llbebackwhenhegetstiredofdoinghisownwashing.Unlesshefindshimselfayoungonewho’lldoitforhim.”
“Wecouldalldowithoneofthose,”Calsays,grinning.“Well,Iwasn’taimingtousethatrifleforself-defenseanyway,butit’snicetoknowtherewon’tbeanyneedaroundhere.”
“Ah,God,no.Hangonaminutethere,”O’Malleysays,extractinghimselfbitbybitfromhischair,“andI’llhavealookonthesystemforthatlicense.Whatgunareyougetting?”
“GotadepositdownonaniceHenrytwenty-two.Ilike’emold-fashioned.”
“That’sabeauty,”O’Malleysays.“I’veaWinchestermyself.I’mnotgreatwithit,now,butItookdownanaul’ratinmygardentheotherweek.Bigfella,lookingatmeboldasbrass.FeltlikeRambo,soIdid.Youwaitthere,now.”
Heamblesoffintothebackroom.Callooksaroundthewarmlittlefoyer,readstheraggedypostersonthewalls—SEATBELTSSAVELIVES,WALKFORSUICIDEPREVENTION,TENFARMSAFETYTIPS—andlistenstoO’Malleysingingalongtoabread-adjingleontheradio.Theplacesmellsofteaandpotatochips.
“Now,”O’Malleysaystriumphantly,comingbackoutfront.“That’smarkedinthesystemasapproved—andsure,whywouldn’titbe.Youshouldhaveyourletteranydaynow.Youcantakeitintothepostofficeandpaythefeethere.”
“Muchappreciated,”Calsays.“Andnicetomeetyou.”
“Likewise.Callinanotherdaywhenwe’reclosingup,sure;we’llbringyouforapint,welcomeyoutotheWildWest.”
“I’dbehonored,”Calsays.Therainisstillcomingdownhard.Hepullsuphishoodandheadsoutintoit,beforeO’Malleythinksofinvitinghimtostickaroundforacupoftea.
Whilehewaitsforhislaundry,Calfindsapubandgetshimselfatoastedham-and-cheesesandwichandapintofSmithwick’s.ThispubisanentirelydifferentspeciesfromSeánóg’s:bigandbright,smellingofhotsavoryfood,withashineonthewoodenfurnitureandawideselectionoftapsatthebar.Abunchofwomenintheirthirtiesarehavinglunchandalaughinonecorner.
Thesandwichisgoodandsoisthebeer,butCaldoesn’tenjoythemthewayheoughtto.HischatwithO’Malley,whichshouldhavesettledhismind,hasonlystirreditupworse.NotthathebelievesforaminutethatBrendanReddyhasbeenkidnappedbypersonsunknown.Ifanything,O’MalleyconfirmedwhatCalthoughtfromthestart:Brendanhadeveryreasontotakeoff,andnotmanyreasonstostickaround.
What’sbotheringhimisthefactthatTreywasrightaboutonething:theGuardsare,forhispurposesanyway,fuckinguseless.OnceO’MalleyheardthenameReddy,hewasdone.Soiseveryoneelse.Calthinksofthoserain-blurredhills,andamotherwho’snotuptomuch.Akidthatageshouldn’tbeleftwithnowheretoturn.
Therestlessnessisstillbiting.Calfinisheshispintfasterthanhemeantto,andheadsbackoutintotherain.
Hepicksupanoilheaterandanewcanofprimerinthehardwarestore,andabunchofsuppliesincludinganewtoothbrushatthesupermarket.Hedoesn’tbotherwithmilk.He’sprettysurethekidwon’tbecomingback.
SIX
Thenextmorningisallsoftmist,dreamyandinnocent,pretendingyesterdayneverhappened.Assoonashefinisheshisbreakfast,Calpacksuphisfishinggearandheadsfortheriver,twomilesaway.OntheslimchancethatTreydoescomeback,he’lltaketheemptyhouseasanextrakickintheteeth,butCalfiguresthisisagoodthing.Betterletthekidbeupsetnowthanlethimbuildupanotherheadoffalsehope.
ThisisonlythesecondtimeCalhasfishedthisriver.He’sregularlygonetobedintendingonfishingthenextday,butthehousealwayshadmoreofawelcomepullonhim:thisneededgettingunderway,hewantedtoseehowthatturnedout,thefishcouldwait.Todaythatpulljustfeelslikenagging.Hewantsthehousefaraway,withhisbackturnedonit.
Atfirsttheriverfeelslikewhatheneeds.It’snarrowenoughthatthemassiveoldtreestouchacrossit,rockyenoughtomakethewaterswirlandwhiten;thebanksarespeckledorange-goldwithfallenleaves.Calfindshimselfaclearstretchandabigmossybeechtree,andtakeshistimepickingalure.Birdsflipandsasseachotherbetweenbranches,payingnoattentiontohim,andthesmellofthewaterissostrongandsweethecanfeelitagainsthisskin.
Afteracoupleofhours,though,theromanceiswearingoff.LasttimeCalwasouthere,hecaughthimselfaperchdinnerinhalfanhourflat.Thistime,hecanseethefishrightthere,pickingbugsneatlyoffthesurface,butnotoneofthemhasworkeduptheinteresteventonibbleathislure.Andhe’sstartingtodiscoverwhatMartmeantaboutthesneakycold:whatseemedlikeanicecooldayhasseepedrightupthroughhisasstochillhimfromthebonesout.Hedigsafewwormsoutoftherichmulchunderthelayersofwetleavesbesidehim.Thefishignorethosetoo.
ThedayheplannedonteachingAlyssatofishturnedoutlikethis.Shewasmaybenine;theywereonalog-cabinvacationinsomeplaceDonnafoundwhosenameescapeshimnow.Thetwoofthemsatbyalakeforthreehourswithnothingbitingbutmidges,butAlyssahadpromisedhermamashewouldbringhomedinner,andshewasn’tleavingwithoutit.IntheendCallookedatherred,miserable,stubbornlittlefaceandtoldherhehadaplan.Theyswungbythestoreandboughtabagoffrozenfishsticks,hookeditontoAlyssa’srod,andcameinthecabindooryelling,“Wegotabigone!”Donnatookonelookandtoldthemthatfishwasstillaliveandshewasgoingtokeepitforapet.Allthreeofthemweregigglinglikeidiots.WhenDonnadumpedthebaginabowlofwaterandnameditBert,Alyssalaughedsohardshefellover.
Calfeelslike,ifjustonedamnfishwouldgivehimagoodfightandthenagooddinner,allthethingsrattlingaroundlooseinsidehisheadwouldshakethemselvesbackintoplace.Thefish,uninterestedinhisemotionalrequirements,keeprightonplayingtagaroundhishook.
Afterafullhalfdayofnothing,Calisstartingtothinkthattheriver’sreputationisatourist-boardscamandlasttime’sperchdinnerwasafluke.Hepacksuphisgearandstartswalkinghome,innohurrytogetthere.OntheoffchancethatTreydoesshowupforanothertry,heneedstoshootthatdownwithoutbitingthekid’sheadoff.
HalfwayhomeherunsintoLena,walkingtheotherwayatagoodpace,withadogrummaginginthehedgesaheadofher.“Afternoon,”shesays,callingthedogbackwithasnapofherfingers.She’swearingabigrussetwooljacketandablueknitbeaniepulleddownlow,soonlyafewstrandsoffairhairshow.“Anyfish?”
“Plenty,”Calsays.“Allof’emsmarter’nme.”
Lenalaughs.“Thatriver’stemperamental.Giveitanothergotomorrow,you’llcatchmorethanyoucankeep.”
“Imightdothat,”Calsays.“Thisthemamadog?”
“Ah,no.Sheonlywhelpedlastweek;she’sathomewiththepups.That’shersister.”
Thedog,asmart-lookingyoungtan-and-blackbeagle,isquiveringandhuffingwitheagernesstocheckCalout.“OKifIsayhi?”Calasks.
“Goon.She’salover,notafighter,thatone.”
Heholdsoutahand.Thedogsnufflesovereveryinchofhimshecanreach,herwholerearendwagging.“She’sagooddog,”Calsays,rubbingherneck.“How’sthemamaandbabies?”
“Grand.Fivepups.Ithoughtatfirstoneofthemmightnotmakeit,butnowhe’sfatasafoolandpushingalltheothersoutofthewaytogetwhathe’safter.D’youfancyalook,ifyou’reinthemarket?”
LenacatchesthesecondittakesCaltocollecthisthoughtsonthis.“Don’tbemindingNoreen,”shesays,amused.“Youcancomeseeafewpupswithoutmetakingitasaproposal.Crossmyheart.”
“Well,Idon’tdoubtthat,”Calsays,embarrassed.“IwasjustwonderingifIoughtaleaveittilladaywhenI’mnotcarryingallthisstuff.Idon’tknowhowfaryourplaceis.”
“Aboutamileandahalfoverthatway.Uptoyou.”
Hesays,onlypartlytomakeheramusedlookgoaway,“IreckonIcanmanagethat.Appreciatetheinvitation.”
Lenanodsandturnsaround,andtheyheadupthenarrowroad,hedgesofyellow-floweredgorseswayingatthemoneitherside.Calslowshispaceautomatically—he’saccustomedtoDonna,fivefootfourinshoes—beforeherealizesthere’snoneed:Lenacankeepupwithhimjustfine.Shehasacountrywoman’slong,easystride,likeshecouldkeepwalkingallday.
“How’reyougettingonwiththehouse?”sheasks.
“Nottoobad,”Calsays.“I’vestartedpainting.MyneighborMartkeepsgivingmeflakbecauseI’mstickingtoplainoldwhite,butMartdoesn’tseemlikethebestplacetogetadviceoninteriordecoration.”
PartofhimisexpectingLenatocomeoutwithsuggestionsforcolorschemes—Mart’stalkmusthavegotintohishead.Insteadshesays,“MartLavin,”withawrytwistofhermouth.“Youwouldn’twanttolistentothatfella.Nellie,”shesayssharplytothedog,whichisdraggingsomethingdarkandsoddenoutoftheditch.“Leaveit.”
Thedogreluctantlydropstheobjectandtrotsofftofindsomethingelse.“Andtheland?”Lenasays.“Whathaveyouplannedforit?”
Ironically,MartregularlyasksCalthatsamequestion,notbotheringtohidethefactthathe’stryingtopryoutCal’slong-termintentions.Calisalittlehazyonthosehimself.Rightnowhecan’timagineatimewhenhe’llwanttodoanythingmorethanfixuphishouse,fishforperchandlistentoNoreenexplainClodaghMoynihan’sdentalhistory.Herecognizesthatthattimemightcomearoundsomeday.Ifitdoes,hefigureshecandoalittlebitoftraipsingaroundEurope,beforehegetstooold,andthencomebackherewhenhe’sscratchedtheitchoutofhisfeet.There’snowhereelseheneedstobe.
“Well,”hesays,“Ihaven’trightlydecided.I’vegotthatpieceofwoodland,I’mgonnaleavethatthewayitis;it’sabouthalfhazeltrees,andI’deathazelnutsalldaylong.Imightaddinacoupleofappletrees,givemesomethingsweettogowiththenutsinafewyears’time.AndIwasthinkingofplantingoutanotherpiecewithvegetables.”
“Oh,God,”Lenasays.“You’renotoneofthemoff-the-gridtypes,areyou?”
Calgrins.“Nah.Justbeensittingatadeskfortoolong,feellikespendingsometimeoutdoors.”
“ThankGod.”
“Yougetalotofoff-the-gridtypesroundhere?”
“Nowandagain.Notionsaboutgettingbacktotheland,andtheythinkthisistheplacetodoit.Itlooksthepart,Isuppose.”Shenodstothemountainsahead,hunch-shoulderedandtawny,shawledhereandtherewithragsofmist.“Mostofthemdon’tknowoneendofaspadefromtheother.Theylastaboutsixmonths.”
“I’mOKwithdoingmyhuntingandgatheringmainlyoutofyoursister’sstore,”Calsays.“IgottaadmitNoreenscaresmealittlebit,butnotenoughtomakemewanttogrowmyownbacon.”
“Noreen’sallright,”Lenasays.“Iwouldsayignoreherandintheendshe’llleaveyoualone,butshewon’t.Noreencan’tseeanythingwithoutwantingtoputittouse.Youjusthavetoletitrolloffyou.”
“She’sbackingthewronghorsehere,”Calsays.“I’mnotthatusefultoanyone,rightnow.”
“Nothingwrongwiththat.Anddon’tletNoreenconvinceyoudifferent.”
Theywalkinsilence,butaneasysilence.Thereareblackberrybramblesmixedinwiththegorse;acoupleofthickset,tuftyponiesinafieldarenibblingatthem,andeverynowandthenLenapullsablackberryoffahedgeandeatsit.Calfollowsherlead.Theberriesaredarkandfull,stillwithatartedgetothem.“I’llgetarakeofthem,oneofthesedays,andmakejam,”Lenasays.“Ifthere’sadaywhenIcanbearsed.”
Sheturnsofftheroad,downalongdirtlane.Thefieldsoneithersidearepasture,thickwithlonggrassandthesmellsofcows.Amanexaminingacow’slegliftshisheadatLena’scallandwaves,shoutingbacksomethingCaldoesn’tcatch.“CiaranMaloney,”Lenasays.“Boughtthelandoffme.”Calcanpictureheroutinthosefields,inrubberbootsandmuddypants,neatlyoutmaneuveringafriskycolt.
Herhouseisalongwhitebungalow,freshlypainted,withboxesofgeraniumsonthewindowsills.Shedoesn’tinviteCalin;insteadsheleadshimroundthesideofthehouse,towardsalow,ruggedstonebuilding.“Itriedtogetthedogtowhelpinside,”shesays,“butshewashavingnoneofit.Itwasthecattlebyreshewanted.IntheendIthought,whatharm.Thewallsonitarethickenoughtokeepoutthecold,andifshedoesgetchilly,sheknowswheretocome.”
“Thatwhatyouandyourhusbandfarmed?Cattle?”
“Wedid,yeah.Dairy.Theyweren’tkepthere,but.Thisistheoldbyre,fromacenturyortwoback.Weuseditmostlyforstoringfeed.”
Thebyreisdim,litonlythroughsmallhighwindows,andLenawasrightaboutthewalls:it’swarmerintherethanCalexpected.Thedogisintheendstall.Theysquatontheirhaunches,whileNelliekeepsarespectfuldistance,andpeerin.
Themamadogistanandwhite,curledupinabigwoodenboxaroundasqueakingmassofpupswrigglingovereachothertogetinclose.“That’safine-lookinglitter,”Calsays.
“Thishere’stheruntIwastellingyouabout,”Lenasays,reachinginandscoopingupafatpupmottledinblack,tanandwhite.“Lookatthesizeofhimnow.”
Calreachestotakethepup,butthemamadoghalf-rises,alowgrowlstartinginherchest.Theotherpups,disturbed,squeakfuriously.“Giveheraminute,”Lenasays.“She’snotaswelltrainedasNellie.I’veonlyhadherafewweeks,haven’thadachancetoputmannersonher.Oncesheseeshersisterdoesn’tmindyou,she’llbegrand.”
CalturnshisshouldertothelitterandmakesabigfussofNellie,whosoaksitupjoyfully,lickingandwriggling.Sureenough,themamadogsinksbackdownamongherpupsand,whenCalturnsback,allowshimtotaketheruntfromLenawithonlyaliftofherlip.
Thepup’seyesareclosedtightandhisheadwobblesonhisneck.HegnawsatCal’sfingertipwithtinytoothlessgums,lookingformilk.Hehasatanfaceandblackears,withawhiteblazerunninguphisnose;theblackpatchonhistanbackistheshapeofaraggedflagflying.Calstrokeshissoftfloppyears.
“BeenawhilesinceIgotachancetodothis,”hesays.
“They’renicetohaveabout,allright,”Lenasays.“I’dnowishforpuppies—orfortwodogs,cometothat.Ifanciedhavingtheone,soIgotNellieoutofashelter,afterthepairofthemwereleftonthesideofaroad.ThepeoplethattookDaisydidn’tbotherspayingher;whenshecameuppregnant,theydroppedherbacktotheshelter.Theshelterrangme.AtfirstIsaidno,butintheendIthought,whynot?”Shereachesintothebaskettotickleapup’sforeheadwithonefinger;thepupnuzzlesblindlyintoherhand.“Youtakewhatcomesyourway,Isuppose.”
“Mostlydoesn’tseemlikethere’smuchchoice,”Calagrees.
“Andofcoursethepupsaresomemadmix.Godknowswho’llwantthem.”
Callikestheangleofhernexttohim:nottiltedtowardshimlikeawomanwhowantshimorwantshimtowanther,offbalanceasifhemighthavetocatchheranyminute,butplantedsolidonherfeetandshoulder-to-shoulderwithhim,likeapartner.Thebyresmellsofcattlefeed,sweetandnutty,andthefloorisscatteredwithstrawygoldendust.Theriverbankcoldisstartingtothawoutofhisbones.
“Someretrieverinthere,I’dguess,”hesays.“Andthatoneattheend’sgotalittleterrieraroundtheears.”
“Puremutt,I’dsay.Nowaytoknowifthey’dbeanygoodforhunting.Andbeaglesarenouseasguarddogs.You’dgetmoresavageryoutofahamster.”
“Theyanygoodaswatchdogs?”
“They’llletyouknowifsomeone’sonyourland,allright.Theynoticeeverything,andtheywanttotellyouaboutit.Buttheworstthey’lldotohimislickhimtopieces.”
“Iwouldn’taskadogtodomydirtyworkforme,”Calsays.“ButI’dwantonethat’dletmeknowifsomethingneedsdoing.”
“You’veagoodwaywiththem,”Lenasays.“Ifyouwantone,youcanhaveone.”
Calwasn’taware,tillthatmoment,thathewasbeingevaluated.“I’lltakeaweekortwotothinkitover,”hesays.“Ifthat’sallright.”
Lena,herfaceturnedtohim,hasthatamusedlookagain.“DidIgiveyouafright,withallthattalkabouttheblow-inspackingitinafteronewinter?”
“It’snotthat,”Calsays,alittletakenaback.
“Itoldyou,mostofthemlastsixmonths.You’rehere,whatnow,four?Don’tworry,youwon’tbesettinganyrecordsifyoucutandrun.”
“IwanttobesureI’lldoadogjustice,”Calsays.“It’saresponsibility.”
Lenanods.“Trueenough,”shesays.There’saslightlifttohereyebrow;hecan’ttellwhethershebelieveshim.“Letmeknowwheneveryoumakeyourmindup,so.Isthereonethattakesyourfancy?You’rethefirstpersonI’veoffered;youcanhaveyourpick.”
“Well,”Calsays,runningafingerdowntherunt’sback,“Ilikethelooksofthisonerighthere.He’salreadyprovedhe’snoquitter.”
“I’lltellpeoplehe’sspokenfor,”Lenasays.“Ifanyoneasks.Ifyouwanttocomeupandseehowhe’sgrowing,givemearingfirsttomakesureI’mabout—I’llgiveyoumynumber.Iworkoddhours,somedays.”
“Wheredoyouworkat?”
“InastabletheothersideofBoyle.Idothebooks,butsometimesIgiveahandwiththehorsesaswell.”
“Didyouusetohavethose?Aswellasthecattle?”
“Notofourown.Weboardedafew.”
“Soundslikeyouhadaprettyseriousoperationhere,”Calsays.Therunthasrolledoverinhispalm;heticklesitstummy.“Thismustbeabigchange.”
He’snotexpectingherswiftcurlofagrin.“You’vegotitinyourheadI’mapoorlonesomewidowwomandevastatedbylosingthefarmwheresheandhermanworkedtheirfingerstothebone.Haven’tyou?”
“Somethinglikethat,”Caladmits,grinningback.Healwaysdidhaveaweaknessforwomenwhowereastepaheadofhim,althoughlookwherethatgothim.
“Notabitofit,”Lenasayscheerfully.“Iwasonlydelightedtoberidofthebastard.Weworkedourfingerstothebone,allright,andSeanneverstoppedworryingthatwe’dgobankrupt,andthenhestarteddrinkingtoeasetheworry.Thethreethingsbetweenthemgavehimtheheartattack.”
“Noreentoldmehedied.I’msorryforyourloss.”
“Itwasalmostthreeyearsback.I’mgettingusedtoit,bitbybit.”Sherubsbehindthemamadog’sear;thedognarrowshereyesinbliss.“ButIhelditagainstthefarm.Couldn’twaittogettheplaceoffmyhands.”
“Huh,”Calsays.ItoccurstohimthatLenaistalkingprettyfreelytosomeoneshe’shardlymet,andthatmostpeoplehe’sknowntodothatwereeithercrazyorlookingtolowerhisguardfortheirownpurposes,butfromheritdoesn’tmakehimwary.He’sawarethat,howeverrevealingthisconversationmightappeartobe,thevastmajorityofherisheldsofarapartastobeimperceptible.“Yourhusbandwouldn’tleaveit,huh?”
“Notachance.Seanneededthefreedom.Hecouldn’tstickthethoughtofworkingforsomeotherman.Forme”—shetiltsherheadathersurroundings—“thisisfreedom.Nottheother.WhenIwalkoutofwork,I’mdone.Nobeingdraggedoutofbedatthreeinthemorningbecauseacalving’sgoingwrong.Ilikethehorses,butIlikethemevenbetternowthatIcanleavethemattheendoftheday.”
“Makesplentyofsensetome,”Calsays.“Anditworkedoutthatsimple?”
Sheshrugs.“Moreorless.Sean’ssisterswerebulling:thefamilyfarm,soldawaybeforehewasevencoldintheground,thatkindofthing.Theywantedmetolettheirsonsworkit,thenleaveittothemwhenIdie.IdecidedIcouldlivewithoutthembetterthanIcouldlivewiththisplacestillonmyback.Ineverlikedthemmuchanyway.”
Callaughs,andafteramomentLenadoestoo.“TheythinkI’macoldbitch,”shesays.“Maybethey’reright.Butthere’swaysI’mhappiernowthanI’veeverbeen.”Shenodsattherunt,who’sflippedhimselfrightsideupandissqueakingfuriouslyenoughthathismama’searsprickup.“Willyoulookatthatfella.Idon’tknowwherehe’sgoingtoputit,buthe’slookingformore.”
“I’llletyouallgobacktobusiness,”Calsays,slidingthepupgentlybackintothebox,wherehesquirmsinamonghisbrothersandsisters,headingforfood.“AndI’llgetbacktoyouaboutthislittleguy.”
Lenadoesn’tinvitehiminforacupoftea,orwalkhimtothemainroad.Shenodsgood-byeoutsideherfrontdoorandgoesinside,Nelliebouncingafterher,withoutevenwavinghimoff.Allthesame,Calleavesherplacefeelingmorecheerfulthanhehasallday.
Thismoodlastsuntilhegetshome,whenhediscoversthatsomeonehaslettheairoutofallfourofhistires.
“Kid!”heyells,atthetopofhislungs.“Getouthere!”
Thegardenissilent,exceptfortherooksjeeringbackathim.
“Kid!Now!”
Nothingmoves.
Calcussesanddigshisjump-starter,whichhasabuilt-intireinflator,outofthebackofhiscar.Bythetimehehasthedamnthingsetupandworking,andthefirsttirebackinshape,he’scalmeddownenoughthatsomethingoccurstohim.Itwouldhavebeenquickerandeasiertoslashthetiresthantolettheairout.IfTreybotheredtodothisinstead,it’sbecausehewasn’taimingtodorealdamage.Hewasaimingtomakeapoint.Calisn’tclearonwhatthatpointis—I’mgoingtohassleyoutillyoudowhatIneed,possibly,ormaybejustYou’readick—butthencommunicationneverhasbeenTrey’sstrongsuit.
He’smovingontothesecondtirewhenMartandKojakshowup.“What’reyouatwiththeprizepony?”Martinquires,noddingatthePajero.Mart,havingcomeuponCalwaxingitoneday,feelsthatCal’sattitudetoitisaltogethertoopreciousandcitifiedforaback-countrybeater.“Puttingribbonsinhermane?”
“Moreorless,”Calsays,givingKojak’sheadarubasKojakchecksouttheevidenceofLena’sdogsonhispants.“Toppinguptheair.”
LuckilyMarthasmoreimportantthingsonhismindthanthefactthatCal’stiresareflatasawitch’stit.“Ayounglad’safterhanginghimself,”heinformsCal.“DarraghFlaherty,fromovertheriver.Hisfatherwentoutthismorningtodothemilkingandfoundhimhangingfromatree.”
“That’sadamnshame,”Calsays.“Givemyrespectstohisfamily.”
“Iwill.Onlytwentyyearsofage.”
“That’swhentheydoit,”Calsays.ForasecondheseesTrey’stenseface:Hedidn’tgooff.Hegoesbacktoscrewingtheinflatorontothevalvestem.
“Iknewthatladwasn’tright,thelastwhile,”Martsays.“Iseenhimatmassintownthreetimesthissummer.Isaidittohisfather,tobekeepinganeyeonhim,butsureyoucan’twatchthemdayandnight.”
“Whyshouldn’thegotochurch?”Calasks.
“Church,”Marttellshim,pullinghistobaccopouchoutofajacketpocketandfindinganundersizedrollie,“isforwomen.Thespinsters,mostly;theydoliketogetthemselvesinatizzyoverwhoseturnitistodothesecondreading,orthealtarflowers.Andthemammiesbringinginthechildersotheywon’tgrowupheathens,andtheaul’onesshowingoffthatthey’renotdeadyet.Ifayoungladstartsgoingtomass,it’sabadsign.Something’snotsittingright,inhislifeorinhishead.”
“Yougotomass,”Calpointsout.“That’swhereyousawhim.”
“Ido,”Martacknowledges,“nowandagain.There’sgreatchatsatFolan’s,after,andthecarverydinner.Igetafancysometimestohavemydinnercookedbysomeoneelse.AndifI’mlookingtobuyorsellstock,I’dgotomassallright.There’smanyadealdoneinFolan’safternoonmass.”
“HereIhadyoudownasjustaprayerfulkindaguy,”Calsays,grinning.
Martlaughstillhechokesonsmoke.“Sure,I’venoneedforthatcarry-onatmyage.WhatsinswouldIcommit,anaul’ladlikeme?Ihaven’tevengotthebroadband.”
“There’sgottabeafewsinsavailableintheseparts,”Calsays.“How’boutMalachyWhatshisname’spoteen?”
“That’snokindofsin,”Martsays.“There’swhat’sagainstthelaw,andthenthere’swhat’sagainstthechurch.Sometimestheydobethesame,andsometimestheydon’t.Didtheyneverteachyouthat,inyourchurch?”
“Might’vedone,”Calsays.Hismindisn’tentirelyonMart.HewouldbehappierifhehadaclearersensebothofTrey’scapabilitiesandofhisboundaries.Hehasafeelingthatbothareflexible,determinedalmostentirelybycontextandneed.“BeenawhilesinceIwasachurchgoingman.”
“Wewouldn’tmeetyourrequirements,Isuppose.Ye’veallthemchurcheswheretheyplaywiththesnakesandspeakintongues.Wewouldn’tbeabletoofferyouanyofthatroundhere.”
“ThatdarnSaintPatrick,”Calsays.“Chasingawayourequipment.”
“Hecouldn’tforeseeYanksarrivinginonus.Sure,yeweren’teveninventedbackthen.”
“Andnowlookatus,”Calsays,checkingthetirepressuregauge.“Gettingeverywhere.”
“Andwelcome.Sure,wasn’tSaintPatrickablow-inhimself?Ye’retheonesthatkeepourlivesinteresting.”Martcrushestheendofhisrollieunderhisboot.“Tellusnow,how’veyoubeengettingonwiththataul’wreckofadesk?”
Calglancesupsharplyfromthegauge.Justforasecond,hethoughttherewasaslanttoMart’svoicethatputmoreintothequestion.SectionsofMart’slandhaveaperfectviewofCal’sbackyard.
Martcockshisheadinquisitively,guilelessasakid.
“Doin’OK,”Calsays.“Somestainingandvarnishing,andit’llbebackontheroad.”
“Fairplaytoyou,”Martsays.“Ifyoueverneedtheextrafewbob,youcansetupasacarpenter:haveyourworkshopinthatshedthere,findyourselfanapprenticetogiveyouahand.Justmakesureyoupickagoodone.”AndwhenCallooksupagain:“DidIseeyouheadingintotownthere,yesterdayafternoon?”
CalfetchesMart’scookiesandshootstheshitwithhimtillMartgetsbored,whistlesforKojakandheadsoffupthefield.Thetiresarebackinshape,forthetimebeing,anyhow.Calpacksawayhisjump-starterandgoesinside.Atleastthehouseisundamaged,asfarashecansee.
Thesandwicheshebroughttotheriverseemliketheywerealongtimeago,buthedoesn’tfeellikecooking.Yesterday’srestlessnesshasbuiltitselfintooutrightworry,thesharpbuzzingkindhecan’tpindown,letalonecrush.
It’sstillearlyinSeattle,buthecan’tmakehimselfwait.Hegoesoutback,wherethereceptionislesscrappy,andphonesAlyssa.
Sheanswers,butshesoundsblurryandbreathless.“Dad?IseverythingOK?”
“Yeah.Sorry.Ihadaminute,soIfiguredI’dgoaheadandcallnow.Didn’tmeantoscareyou.”
“Oh.No,it’sfine.”
“How’boutyou?YoudoingOK?”
“Yeah,everything’sgood.Listen,Dad,I’matwork,so…”
“Sure,”Calsays.“Noproblem.Yousureyou’reOK?Thatfludidn’tcomeback?”
“No,I’mfine.Justgotalotonmyplate.Talktoyoulater,OK?”
Calhangsupwiththatworrygettingbiggerandmorefractious,gatheringspeedasitprowlshismind.HecouldprobablyuseashotortwoofJimBeam,buthecan’tmakehimselfdoit.Hecan’tshakethefeelingthatsomeemergencyisheadingtowardshim,someoneisindanger,andheneedstokeepallhiswitsabouthimtohaveachanceoffixingthings.Heremindshimselfthatanyoneelse’sdangerisn’thisproblem,butitdoesn’ttake.
Hebetsthedamnkidiswatchinghimfromsomewhere,butMartisoutinhisfielddoingsomethingwithhissheep;ifCalshouts,he’llhear.Calwalkstheperimeterofhisgarden,trampshisbackfieldandcircleshispatchofwoodland,withoutfindinganythingbutacoupleofrabbitholes.Whenhereplaysthatphonecallinhishead,Alyssa’svoicesoundswrong,wornandbeatendown,worseeverytime.
Beforehebelievesthathe’sactuallygoingtodoit,he’sphonedDonna.
Thephoneringsforalongtime.He’sonthevergeofgivingupwhensheanswers.
“Cal,”shesays.“What’sup?”
Calalmosthangsuprightthere.Hervoiceisabsolutely,totallyneutral;hedoesn’tknowhowtorespondtothatvoicecomingoutofDonna.Buthangingupwouldmakehimfeellikesuchadamnfoolthatinsteadhesays,“Hey.I’mnotgonnahassleyou.Justwantedtoaskyousomething.”
“OK.Goahead.”
Hecan’ttellwheresheisorwhatshe’sdoing;thebackgroundnoisesoundslikewind,butitcouldjustbethereception.HetriestofigureoutwhattimeitisinChicago:noon,maybe?“HaveyouseenAlyssalately?”
There’saslightpause.Everyconversationhe’shadwithDonnasincethesplithasbeenpepperedwiththesepauses,whilesheevaluateswhetheransweringhisquestionwouldfallwithinthenewrulesshe’ssingle-handedlyestablishedfortheirrelationship.Shehasn’tcommunicatedtheserulestoCal,sohehasnoideawhattheyare,buthesometimescatcheshimselfdeliberatelytryingtobreakthemanyway,likesomeshittylittlekid.
Apparentlythisquestionisallowed.Donnasays,“IwentouttothemforacoupleofweeksinJuly.”
“Haveyoubeentalkingtoher?”
“Yeah.Everyfewdays.”
“SheseemOKtoyou?”
Thepauseislongerthistime.“Why?”
Calfeelsaggravationrising.Hekeepsitoutofhisvoice.“Shedoesn’tsoundtoogoodtome.Ican’ttellwhatitis,ifshe’sjustoverworkedorwhat,butI’mworriedabouther.Isshesickorsomething?IsthatBenguytreatingherOK?”
“Whatareyouaskingmefor?”Donnaisfightinghardtokeepthatneutralvoice,butshe’slosing,whichgivesCalatinybitofsatisfaction.“It’snotmyjobtobeyouguys’go-betweenanymore.YouwanttoknowhowAlyssais,askheryourself.”
“Idid.Shesaysshe’sfine.”
“Wellthereyougo.”
“Isshe…Comeon,Donna,givemeabreak.Isshegettingshakyagain?Didsomethinghappen?”
“Youaskherthat?”
“No.”
“Thengoaheadandask.”
TheheavinessseepingthroughCal’sbonesissofamiliaritmakeshimtired.HeandDonnahadsomanyofthesefights,theyearbeforesheleft,fightsthatwentonforeverwithoutevergettinganywhereorevenhavinganycleardirection,likethosedreamswhereyourunashardasyoucanbutyourlegswillbarelymove.
“Wouldyoutellme?”heasks.“Iftherewassomethingwrong?”
“Hellno.AnythingAlyssadoesn’ttellyou,shedoesn’twantyoutoknow.That’sherchoice.Eveniftherewassomething,whatareyougonnadoaboutitfromthere?”
“Icouldcomeover.ShouldIcomeover?”
Donnamakesanexplosivenoiseofsheerexasperation.Donnaalwayslovedwordsandusedplentyofthem,enoughtocompensateforCal’sshortages,buttheyneverwereenoughtocontainwhatshewasfeeling;sheneededherhandstoo,andherface,andamockingbird’sarrayofnoises.“Youareunbelievable,youknowthat?Forasmartguy,myGod…Youknowwhat,I’mnotdoingthis.Idon’tdoyourthinkinganymore.Igottago.”
“Sure,youdothat,”Calsays,hisvoicerising.“AndgivemylovetoWhatshisname,”butshe’salreadyhungup,whichisprobablyagoodthing.
Calstandsthereinhisbackfieldforawhile,withthephoneinhishand.Hewantstopunchsomething,butheknowsthatwoulddonothingbutbusthisknuckles.Havingthatmuchsensemakeshimfeelold.
Eveningisfilteringintotheair;therearestreaksofcoldyellowabovethemountains,andintheoaktreetherooksarehavingtheireveningconference.CalgoesbacktothehouseandputssomeEmmylouHarrisontheiPod.Heneedssomeonetobesweettohim,justforalittlewhile.
HetakesthatbottleofJimBeamoutontothebackstepsafterall.Hecan’tseeanyreasonnotto.Evenifsomeoneisinsomekindofdanger,itseemsthelastthingtheywantisanyhelpfromhim.
Healsocan’tseeanyreasonnottolethimselfsitthereandthinkaboutDonna,seeingashealreadyfuckedupandcalledher.Calneverhadmuchtimefornostalgia,butthinkingaboutDonnaseemslikeanimportantthingtodoeverynowandthen.HesometimesgetsthefeelingthatDonnahasmethodicallyerasedalltheirgoodtimesfromhermemory,sothatshecanmoveonintohershinynewlifewithoutrippingherselfup.Ifhedoesn’tkeeptheminhis,they’llbegoneliketheyneverhappened.
WhathethinksaboutisthemorningtheyfoundoutAlyssawascoming.HecanrememberclearasdayhowDonnafeltwhenhehuggedher,herskinhotterthannormallikesomeenginewasfiringonnewcylinders,thestunninggravitationalpullofherandthemysteryinsideher.Hesitsonhisbacksteps,watchinggreenfieldsturngraywitheveningandlisteningtoEmmylou’ssadgentlevoicedriftouthisdoor,andtriestoworkouthowonearthhegotfromthatdaytothisone.
SEVEN
Calwakesupnextmorningwiththatbadfeelingstillrunningroundhisgut.Hislastyearortwoonthejob,hewokeupeverydaylikethis,withthissamethickknottedcertaintythatsomethingbadwasrollingtowardshim,somethingunpreventableandimplacable,likeahurricaneoramassshooting.Itmadehimjumpyasarookie;peoplenoticed,andgavehimshitaboutit.WhenDonnawalkedout,hethoughtthatmustbeit,thebombhehadbeenwaitingfor.Onlythefeelingwasstillthereinhisgut,hulkingandsurlyasever.Thenhefigureditmustbethehazardsofthejobcatchinghiminsomenewmiddle-agedawarenessofmortality,butwhenheputinhispapersandwalkedaway,stillitstayed.Itonlystartedtoloosenitsgripwhenhesignedthepapersonthisplace,anditonlyfinallylefthimthedayhewalkedthroughhisovergrowngrasstohispeelingfrontdoor.Andnowhereitisagain,likeitjusttookalittlewhiletosniffhimout,allthesemilesaway,andtrackhimdown.
Hedealswithitthewayhedidonthejob,whichisbytryingtoworkittodeath.Afterbreakfasthegetsbacktopaintingthelivingroom,ashardandfastashecanandwhetherhewantstoornot.Thisworksaswellasiteverdid,whichistosaynotparticularly,butatleasthegetsshitdonealongtheway.Bydinnertimehehastheprimerputon,wallsandceiling,andmostofthefirstcoatofpaint.He’sstillskittishasawildhorse.Thedayiswindy,whichmeansallkindsofnoisesinsideandoutsideandupthechimney,andCaljumpsateveryoneofthemeventhoughheknowsthey’renothingbutleavesandwindowframes.Or,possibly,thekid.Calwishesthekid’smamahaddecidedtosendhimtomilitaryschoolwhenhefirststartedplayinghooky.
Thedaysareshortening.BythetimeCalknocksoffworkit’sdark,anedgy,blusterydarkthatmakeshisplantowalkofftherestofthefeelingseemalotlessattractive.He’seatingahamburgerandtryingtofirmuphisresolvewhensomethingsmashesagainsthisfrontdoor.Notthewind,thistime;somethingsolid.
Calputsdownhishamburger,goesquietlyoutthebackandedgesaroundthesideofthehouse.There’sonlyasliverofmoon;theshadowsarethickenoughtohideevenaguyhissize.FromoutoverMart’slandfloatstheimperturbablecallofanowl.
Thefrontlawnisempty,windyankingthegrassthiswayandthat.Calwaits.Afteraminute,somethingsmallcomeswhizzingoutofthehedgeandsmacksintothewallofthehouse.Thistime,withthejuicycrackandsplatteritmakesagainstthestone,Calgetsit.Thedamnkidisegginghishouse.
Calgoesbackindoorsandstandsinhislivingroom,evaluatingthesituationandlisteninghard.Thesameappliestotheeggsastothetires:acoupleofrockswouldhavebeeneasiertocomeby,andwouldhavedonealotmoredamage.Thekidisn’tattackingCal;he’sdemandinghim.
Anothereggsplatsagainstthefrontdoor.Beforeheknowshe’sgoingtodoit,Calgivesup.Hecanholdoutagainstthiskidandhecanholdoutagainsthisownintractableunsettledplaces,butnotbothatthesametime.
Hegoestothesink,fillsuptheplastictubwherehedoeshisdishes,andfindsanolddishtowel.Thenhetakesthembothtothedoorandflingsitwideopen
“Kid!”hecalls,goodandloud,tothehedge.“Getouthere.”
Silence.ThenaflyingeggmissesCalbyinchesandsplattersagainstthewall.
“Kid!Ichangedmymind.KnockthatshitoffbeforeIchangeitbackagain.”
There’sanothersilence,thisonelonger.ThenTrey,eggboxinhandandeggintheother,stepsoutofthehedgeandstandswaiting,readytorunorthrow.TheVoflightfromthedoorwaystretcheshisshadowbehindhim,turninghimelongatedandnarrow,adarkfigurematerializedinheadlightbeamsonadesertedroad.
“I’lllookintoyourbrother,”Calsays.“I’mnotpromisingyouanything,butI’llseewhatIcando.”
Treyisstaringathimwithpure,feralsuspicion.“Why?”hedemands.
“LikeIsaid.Ichangedmymind.”
“Why?”
“Noneofyourbeeswax,”Calsays.“Notbecauseofyoupullingthisdumbcrap,tellyouthatmuch.Youstillwantmetodothis,ornot?”
Treynods.
“OK,”Calsays.“Thenfirstoff,youcleanupallthisshit.Whenyou’redone,comeinsideandwe’lltalk.”Hedumpsthetowelandthebucketonthedoorstep,goesbackinsideandslamsthedoorbehindhim.
He’sfinishingupthelastofhisburgerwhenhehearsthedooropenandthewindcomeschargingin,lookingforthingstograb.Treystandsinthedoorway.
“Youdone?”Calasks.
Treynods.
Caldoesn’tneedtocheckwhetherhediditright.“OK,”hesays.“Sitdown.”
Treydoesn’tmove.IttakesCalaminutetorealize:he’sscaredhe’sbeingluredinsideforabeating.
“Jesus,kid,”hesays.“I’mnotgonnahityou.Ifyoucleanedup,we’resquare.”
Trey’seyesgotothedesk,inacorner.
“Yeah,”Calsays.“Youmesseditupprettygood.Igotmostofthepaintoff,butthere’ssomeinthecracks.Youcanworkonitwithatoothbrushsometime.”
Thekidstilllookswary.“Iwouldsayyoucanleavethedooropenincaseyouwanttorun,”Calsays,“butit’stoowindyforthat.Yourcall.”
AfteraminuteTreymakesuphismind.Hemovesintotheroom,shutsthedoorbehindhimandthruststheeggboxatCal.There’soneleft.
“Thanks,”Calsays.“Iguess.Stickitinthefridge.”
Treydoes.ThenhesitsdownacrossthetablefromCal,chairpushedwellbackandfeetbraced,justincase.He’swearingadirtyarmy-greenparka,whichisarelief;Calhasbeenwonderingifthekidevenhadawintercoat.
“Youwantsomethingtoeat?Drink?”
Treyshakeshishead.
“OK,”Calsays.Hepushesbackhischair—Treyflinches—takeshisplatetothesink,thengoesintohisroomandcomesbackwithanotebookandapen.
“Firstoff,”hesays,pullinghischairbackuptothetable,“mostlikelyIwon’tfindoutanything.OrifIdo,it’llbejustwhatyourmamaalreadytoldyou:yourbrotherranoff.YouOKwiththat?”
“Hedidn’t.”
“Maybenot.WhatI’msayingis,thismightnotgothewayyougotinmind,andyouneedtobereadyforthat.Areyou?”
“Yeah.”
Calknowsthisisalie,evenifthekiddoesn’t.“Youbetterbe,”hesays.“Theotherthingis,youdon’tbullshitme.Iaskyouaquestion,yougivemealltheansweryou’vegot.Evenifyoudon’tlikeit.Anybullshit,I’mout.Weclear?”
Treysays,“Sameforyou.Anythingyoufindout,youtellme.”
“Wegotadeal,”Calsays.Heflipsopenhisnotebook.“So.What’syourbrother’sfullname?”
Thekidisstraight-backed,withhishandsclampedonhisthighs,likethisisanoralexamandheneedstoaceit.“BrendanJohnReddy.”
Calwritesthatdown.“Dateofbirth?”
“TwelfthofFebruary.”
“Where’dhelive,upuntilhewentmissing?”
“Athome.Withus.”
“Who’s‘us’?”
“Mymam.Mysisters.Myotherbrother.”
“Namesandages?”
“Mymam’sSheilaReddy,she’sforty-four.Maeve’snine.Liam’sfour.Alanna’sthree.”
“Yousaidbeforeyouhadthreesisters,”Calsays,writing.“Where’stheotherone?”
“Emer.ShewentuptoDublin,twoyearsago.She’stwenty-one.”
“AnychanceBrendan’sstayingwithher?”
Treyshakeshisheadhard.
“Whynot?”
“Theydon’tgeton.”
“Howcome?”
Shrug.“Brendansaysshe’sthick.”
“What’sshedo?”
“WorksatDunnesStores.Stackingshelves.”
“How’boutBrendan?Washeworking?Inschool?College?”
“Nah.”
“Whynot?”
Shrug.
“When’dheleaveschool?”
“Lastyear.HegothisLeavingCert,hedidn’tdropout.”
“Hehaveanythinghewantedtodo?Heapplytoanycolleges,anyjobs?”
“Hewantedtodoelectricalengineering.Orchemistry.Hedidn’tgetthepoints.”
“Whynot?Hedumb?”
“No!”
“Thenwhy?”
“Hatedschool.Theteachers.”
Thekidisshootingoutanswerslikehe’sonthetimedroundofaquizshow.Calcantell,watchinghim,thatitfeelsgood.This—thetwoofthemfacingeachotheracrossthistable,thenotebookandpen—iswhatTreyhasbeenworkingtowards,allthistime.
“Gimmealittlemoreabouthim,”Calsays.“What’shelike?”
Trey’seyebrowstwitchtogether;clearlyhehasnevertriedtoarticulatethisbefore.“He’salaugh,”hesays,intheend.“Hetalksalot.”
“Yousureyou’rerelated?”
TreygivesCalablankstare.“Nevermind,”Calsays.“Justjoshingyou.Goon.”
Thekidmakesabaffledwhat-do-you-want-from-megrimace,butCalwaits.“Hecan’tsitstill,”Treysays,intheend.“Mamgivesoutaboutthat.Hegotinhassleinschoolforit,andformessing.”
WhenCalkeepswaiting:“Helikesmotorbikes.Andmakingstuff.LikewhenIwasakid,hemademelittlecarsthatactuallywent,andexperimentsoutthebackfieldtoblowstuffup.Andhe’snotthick.Hehasideas.Inschoolhemadealoadofmoneybuyingsweetsintownandthensellingthematlunch,tilltheteachersfoundout.”HeglancesatCal,checkingwhetherthat’senough.
CalisthinkingthatitsoundslikeBrendantakesafterhisdaddyalotmorethanTreydoes,andlookwhatDaddyendedupdoing.“Good,”hesays.“IliketogetanideawhoI’mlookingfor,seewhatdirectionitpointsme.Yourbrotherhaveanymedicalconditions?Mentalillnesses?”
“No!”
“It’snotaninsult,kid,”Calsays.“Ineedtoknow.”
Thekidisstillaffronted.“He’sgrand.”
“Neverwenttothedoctorforanything?”
“Hebrokehisarmonetime.Cameoffamotorbike.Buthewenttothehospitalforthat,notthedoctor.”
“Heeverseemdepressedtoyou?Anxious?”
Clearlythesearen’tconceptstowhichTreyhasgivenalotofthought.“Hewaswellpissedoffwhenhedidn’tgetintocollege,”heoffers,afterconsideringthis.
“Pissedofflikewhat?Likestayinginhisroomallday?Noteating?Nottalking?What?”
TreygivesCalalooklikehe’sbeingadramaqueen.“Nah.Likepissedoff.Likehesworealot,andhewentoutonthelashthatnight,andhewasinahumorallweek.Thenhesaidfuckcollegeanyway,he’dbegrand.”
“OK,”Calsays.Thatdoesn’tsoundlikeatendencytowardsdepression,butfamilyaren’talwaysthebestobservers.“Who’dhehangoutwith?”
“EugeneMoynihan.FergalO’Connor.PaddyFallon.AlanGeraghty.Someotherladsaswell,butmostlythem.”
Calwritesthosedown.“Whichonewasheclosestto?”
“Hedoesn’thaveabestfriend,like.Justwhicheverofthemareabout.”
“Hehaveagirlfriend?”
“Nah.Notthelastwhile.”
“Exes?”
“HewentoutwithCarolineHoranforacoupleofyears,inschool.”
“Goodrelationship?”
Treyshrugs.ThisisanextravagantonethatmeansHowthehellwouldIknow?
“When’ditend?”
“Awhileback.BeforeChristmas.”
“Why?”
Anothershrug.“Shedumpedhim.”
“Anybeefthere?Sheaccusehimofanything?Hittingher,cheatingonher?”
Shrug.
CalunderlinesCaroline’sname.“WherewouldIfindCaroline?Sheworkaroundhere?”
“Intown.OrshedidwhenBrenwasgoingoutwithher,anyway.Shopthatsellsshitetotourists.AndsometimessheusedtagiveNoreenahand—hermamandNoreenarecousins.Ithinkshe’sincollegenow,but,soIdunno.”
“Hehaveanyproblemswithanyoneelse?”
“Nah.Foughtwiththelads,sometimes.Nothingserious,but.”
“Foughtlikewhat?Arguments?Yelling?Fists?Knives?”
TreygivesCalthedrama-queenlookagain.“Notknives.Alltherest,yeah.Didn’tmeananything.”
“Justguysbeingguys,”Calsays,nodding.Thismaywellbetrue,butitneedschecking.“What’shedoforfun?Anyhobbies?”
“Playshurling.Goesout.”
“Headrinker?”
“Sometimes.Noteverynight,like.”
“Where?Seánóg’s?”
Thatgetsaneye-roll.“Seán’sisoldfellas.Brendangoesintotown.Orpeople’shouses.”
“What’shelikedrunk?”
“He’snotabaddrunkornothing.Hegoesmessing,likehimandhismatesrobbedaloadofsignboardsfromoutsideshopsintownandputtheminpeople’sgardens.AndonetimeFergal’sparentswereawayandhehadaparty,andhepassedoutdrunk,sotherestofthemputasheepinhisbathroom.”
“Brendanevergetrowdy?”Calasks.“Startfights?”
Treymakesadismissivepfft.“Nah.Hegetsintofightstheoddtime,likeonceabunchofladsfromBoylejumpedonthemintown.Buthedoesn’tgolooking.”
“Whataboutdrugs?Heeverdoanyofthose?”
ThatgivesTreyhisfirstrealpause.HeeyesCalwarily.Callooksbackathim.He’sgotnodutytonudgeandcajole,nothere.IfTreydecideshedoesn’twanttodothisafterall,that’sfinebyCal.
“Sometimes,”Treysays,finally.
“Whatkinds?”
“Hash.E.Bittaspeed.”
“Where’shegetit?”
“There’safewladsaroundthetownlandthatalwayshavestuff.Everyoneknowstogotothem.Orhe’dbuyitintown,sometimes.”
“Heeverdoanydealing?”
“Nah.”
“Wouldyouknow?”
“Hetoldmethings.Iwouldn’tratonhim.Heknewthat.”
There’saquickfierceflareofprideinTrey’seyes.Calisgettingtheflavorofthis.ThekidwasBrendan’spetbrother,andeverythingaboutthatwasspecial.
“Heeverhaveanyproblemswiththepolice?”
ThecornerofTrey’smouthtwistsscornfully.“Mitchingoffschool.Thisfatlumpcomesdownfromtownandgivesusshite.”
“He’sdoingyouguysafavor,”Calsays.“Hecouldreportittochildprotectiveservices,getyouandyourmamainbigtrouble.Instead,hetakesthetimetocomeouthereandtalktoyou.Nexttimeyouseehim,youthankhimrealnice.Brendanrunintopoliceanyotherways?”
“Hegotcaughtspeeding,couplatimes.Racing,like,withhismates.Nearlylosthislicense.”
“Anythingelse?”
Treyshakeshishead.
“Whataboutstuffhedidn’tgetcaughtfor?”
Theylookateachother.Calsays,“Itoldyou.Anybullshit,we’redone.”
Treysays,“HerobsoffNoreensometimes.”
“And?”
“Andoffplacesintown.Nothingbig.Onlyforthelaugh.”
“Anythingelse?”
“Nah.YougonnatellNoreen?”
“Prettysureshealreadyknows,kid,”Calsaysdryly.“Butdon’tworry,I’mnotgonnasayanything.How’dBrendangetonwithyourdaddy?”
Treydoesn’tflinch,justoneblink.“Bad.”
“Likewhat?”
“They’dfight.”
“Argue?Oritgotphysical?”
Trey’seyessnapfuriouslywiththefactthatthisisnoneofCal’sdamnbusiness.Calsitsandwatches,lettingthesilencestretch,whilethekid’sinstinctsdraghimtwoways.
“Yeah,”Treysays,intheend.Hisfacehastightenedup.
“Howoften?”
“Fewtimes.”
“Overwhat?”
“DadsaidBrendanwasawaster,sponging.Brensaidlookwho’stalking.Andsometimes…”Trey’schinjerkssideways,buthekeepsgoing.He’sstickingtohissideofthedeal.“TomakeDadleaveMamoroneofusalone,sometimes.Ifhewasraging.”
“So,”Calsays,stayingbackfromthat,“it’snotlikelyBrendanheadedofftojoinyourdad.”
Treymakesaharsh,explosivenoisethat’ssomethinglikealaugh.“Nochance.”
“Yougotaphonenumberforyourdad,oranemailaddress?Justincase.”
“Nah.”
“’BoutforBrendan?”
“Knowhisphonenumber.”
CalflipstoafreshpageinhisnotebookandpassesittoTrey.Hewritescarefully,pressingthependownhard.Thewindisstillgoingoutside,rattlingthedoorandpushinginatitsedgestowrapcoldaroundtheirankles.
“Hehaveasmartphone?”Calasks.
“Yeah.”
Anhourwiththatnumber,andthetechsatworkwouldhaveknowneverysinglethingthatwasonBrendan’smind.Calhasnoneoftheirskills,noneoftheirsoftwareandofcoursenoneoftheirrights.
Treypassesthenotebookback.“Youtriedcallinghim?”Calasks.
Thatgetshimthemoronlook.“Course.Offthelandline,everytimemymam’snotaround.”
“And?”
Forthefirsttimethatday,thatterrible,tensewretchednessrisesupinTrey’sface.He’sbeenkeepingitdownhard.“Voicemail,”hesays.
“OK,”Calsaysgently.“Straighttovoicemail?Oritringsout?”
“Firstday,itrangout.Nowit’sstraighttovoicemail.”
Thatcould,ofcourse,meanBrendanisbeingheldcaptivebybadguyswhohaven’tprovidedachargerinhisdungeon.Oritcouldmeanheswitchedtoanewphonewhenhegotwhereverhewasheaded.Oritcouldmeanhehangedhimselffromatree,somewhereupinthemountains,andhisphonelastedalittlelongerthanhedid.
“OK,”Calsays.“That’senoughbackgroundstufftokeepmegoing,fornow.Goodjob.”
Treyletsouthisbreath.
“Nah,”Calsays.“We’renotdoneyet.IneedtohearaboutthelasttimeyousawBrendan.”
AfterasecondTreytakesanotherbreathandbraceshimselfagain.Ittakesaneffortthistime.Helooksdrawnandshadowy-eyedallofasudden,andtooyoungforthis,butCalhastalkedtoplentyofkidswhoweretooyoungforthis,andnoneofthemweretherebytheirowndemand.Hesays,“Twenty-firstofMarch,yousaid.”
“Yeah.”
“Whatdayoftheweekwasthat?”
“Tuesday.”
“Sogobackafewdaysbeforethat.Anythingoutoftheordinaryhappen?Brendanhaveafightwithyourmama?Withoneofhisbuddies?Guysintown?”
“Mymamdoesn’thavefights.She’snotlikethat.”
“OK.Someoneelse?”
Treyshrugs.“Dunno.Hedidn’tsayhedid.”
“Hegetturneddownforajob?Mentionagirlhemet?Stayoutlater’nusual?We’relookingforanythingoutofhisroutine.”
Thekidthinks.“Hewasabitoffthatweek,maybe.Narky,like.Thedayhewent,hewasgrand,but.Mamsaid,‘You’reverycheerful,’andhesaid,‘Nopointsittingaroundsulking,sure,Ihaven’tgottimeforthat.’That’sall.”
“Huh,”Calsays.Anescapeplanwouldcheeraguyup,allright.“Solet’stalkaboutthetwenty-first.Startatthebeginning.Yougotup.”
“Didn’tseeBrenthen.Hewasinbed.Iwenttoschool.Gothomeandhewaswatchingthetelly.Iwentintohim.Afterawhilehewentout.”
“Whattime?”
“Five,maybe.’CausewhenMamcalledusforteahesaidnah,hewasgoingout,andthenhewent.”
“Whatkindofridehehave?Car,motorbike,bike?”
“Nothing.Mam’sgotacar,buthedidn’ttakeit.Hedoesn’thaveamotorbike.Hewasjustwalking.”
“Hetellyouwherehewasgoing?”
“Nah.Ithoughthewasmeetingthelads.Hewascheckinghiswatchlikehehadtobesomewhere.”
Orhecouldhavehadabustocatch.ThebusestoDublinandSligobothpassonthemainroad,justacoupleofmilesaway,andwhiletheydon’tofficiallystop,NoreenhasassuredCalthatmostofthedriversaregood-naturedaboutbeingwaveddown.CalwritesdownBustimetables4–8p.m.Tues.
“Youguystalkaboutanything,whileyouwatchedTV?”
“Mybirthday.Brensaidhe’dgetmeadecentbike;I’veonlyhisoldoneandit’spureshite,thechainkeepsjamming.Andjusttheprogramonthetelly.Oneofthemsingingshows,don’trememberwhatone.”
“How’dheseem?Goodmood?Badmood?”
“Fidgety,like.Hewastalkingthewholetime,slaggingoffthepeoplesinging.Sittingondifferentbitsofthesofa.PokingmeifIdidn’tanswerhim.”
“Thatnormalforhim?”
Treytwitchesoneshoulder.“Sorta.He’salwaysupanddownlikeafiddler’selbow,mymamusedtasay.Onlynotlikethat.”
“Howwasthatdaydifferent?”
Thekidpullsatafrayedplaceinthekneeofhisjeans,trawlingthroughhismindfortherightwords.Calswallowstheurgetotellhimtoknockitoff.
“Bren,”Treysaysintheend,“he’samesser,mostly.He’dalwaysbemakingmelaugh.Makingeveryonelaugh,but…wehadjokes,like.Justus.Helikedmakingmelaugh.”
CalgetsalittlebitofaglimpseofwhatBrendanleavingmeanttoTrey.Thekiddoesn’tlooklikehe’slaughedsince.
“Butthatdayhewasn’tlookingforlaughs,”hesays.
“Yeah.Notevenonce.Hewasthesamekindoffidgetylikeduringtheexams.”TreyshootsCalasuddensharpfrown.“Thatdoesn’tmeanhewasplanningon—”
“Focus,”Calsays.“Howwashedressed?Likehewasheadingintotown?What?”
Treythinks.“Justnormal.Jeansandahoodie.Notlikeforgoingoutintown,likenotagoodshirtornothing.”
“Hetakeacoat?”
“Bomberjacket,just.Itwasn’training.”
“Hesayanythingaboutwhenhewasaimingtogetback?‘Keepmesomedinner,’‘Don’twaitup,’anythinglikethat?”
“Dunno.”Trey’sfaceistighteningagain.“Can’tremember.Itried.”
Calsays,“Andhedidn’tcomeback.”
“Yeah.”Thekid’sshouldershavehunchedupinsidehisparka,likehe’scold.“Notthatnight,orwhenIgotbackfromschoolnextday.”
“Heeverdothatbefore?”
“Yeah.Stayedwithoneofhismates.”
“Sothat’swhatyoufiguredhewasdoing.”
“Atfirst.Yeah.”Treylookspinchedandcurledinonhimself,thelookstreetkidsget,floodedwithmoreoflifethantheycanabsorb.“Iwasn’tevenworried.”
“When’dyougetworried?”
“Dayafterthat.Juststartingto.Mymamranghim,onlyhisphonerangout.Dayafter,sherangroundaskingpeoplewashethere.Onlynoone’dseenhim.Noteventhenighthewentout.Theysaid,anyway.”
“Shedidn’tcallthepolice?”
“Isaidto.”TheflashofpurefuryinTrey’seyestakesCalbysurprise.“Shesaidhejustwentoff,sameasmyda.Copswon’tdoanythingaboutthat.”
“OK,”Calsays.Hewritesa1nexttoSheilaReddy’sname,andcirclesit.
“Ididgolookingforhim,”Treysaysabruptly.“Allalongtheroads,andupthemountain.Fordays,Iwent.Incasehecaughthisfootinaholeandbrokehisleg,orsomething.”
ForamomentCalseesit,thekidbentintothewind,trampingbetweengreatslopesofheatherandmoorgrass,boulderspatchedwithmossandlichen.Hesays,“Anyreasonwhyhe’dbeupthemountain?”
“Heusedtagotheresometimes.Justtobeonhisown.”
Thosearen’ttheRockiesoutthere,butCalknowsthey’replentybigenoughandbadenoughtotakeamanifhemakesamistakewiththem.Hesays,“Yougothroughhisstuff?”
“Yeah.”
“Findanythingyoudidn’texpect?”
Treyshakeshishead.
“Anythingmissing?”
“Dunno.Wasn’tlookingforthat.”
Thesharpdownwardsflickofthekid’seyestellsCalwhathewaslookingfor.Anote,withhisnameonit.Here’swhereI’mgoing,orI’llbeback,oranythingatall.
“Findanymoney?”heasks.
ThatmakesTrey’seyessnapupagain,hotwithanger.“Iwouldn’t’vetakenit.”
“Iknow,”Calsays.“Findany?”
“Nah.”
“Youexpectto?Brendannormallykeepcashathome?”
“Yeah.Envelopestucktotheunderneathofhisjumperdrawer.Sometimeshe’dgivemeafiveroutofit,ifhe’ddoneanixer.See?HeknewIwouldn’trobit.”
“Andtheenvelopewasempty.”
“Yeah.”
“Whenwasthelasttimeyousawcashinthere?”
“Coupladaysbeforehewent.Icamein,hewascountingitonthebed.Fewhundred,maybe.”
AndthedayBrendandisappeared,sodidhissavings.Treyisnodummy.There’snowayhe’smissedwherethatpoints.
Calsays,“Andyouthinksomeonetookhim.”
Treybitesdownonhislip.Henods.
“OK,”Calsays.“Istheresomeoneyou’vegotinmind,whomightdosomethinglikethat?Someonearoundherewho’sdangerous,who’smaybedonesketchystuffbefore?”
TreystaresatCallikethequestionisbeyondananswer.Intheendheshrugs.
“Idon’tmeanpissantcraplikeshopliftingormoonshining.Anyonewho’severkidnappedsomeonebefore?Hurtsomeonerealbad?”
Anothershrug,thisonemoreexaggerated:HowwouldIknow?
“Anyoneyourmamatellsyoutostayawayfrom?”
“GurnyBarryMoloney.Hetriestogetkidstocomewithhimforsweets,andifyousaynohecries.”
“Heevertrythatonyou?”
Treyblowsairscornfullyoutofthecornerofhismouth.“WhenIwasakid.”
“What’dyoudo?”
“Leggedit.”
“How’boutBrendan,heeverhavetroublewiththisguywhenhewaslittle?Oranyofyourotherbrothersandsisters?”
“Nah.GurnyBarry’snot…”Trey’slipcurlsindisgust.“He’spathetic.Peoplethrowthingsathim.”
“Anyoneelseyou’vebeenwarnedabout?”
“Nah.”
Calputsdownhispenandleansbackinhischair,rubbingmattressacheoutofhisneck.“Yougottaspellitoutforme,kid,”hesays.“Howcomeyouthinkyourbrother’sbeenkidnapped?You’retellingmenoonehadanybeefwithhim,hewasn’tmixedupinanybadstuff,justaregularguy.Howcomeyou’resosurehedidn’tjusttakeoff?”
Treysays,withabsolutebedrockcertainty,“Hewouldn’tdothat.”
Calreachedthepointalongtimeagowherethosewordsmakehimtiredforallofhumanity.Alltheinnocentssaythat,andbelieveittothebone,rightupuntilthemomentwhentheycan’tanymore.Myhusbandwouldneverdothattoourchildren,mybabyain’tnothief.Calfeelslikeheoughttostandonastreetcornerhandingoutwarnings,littlepiecesofpaperthatjustsay:Anyonecoulddoanything.
“OK,”hesays.Hecloseshisnotebookandgoestoslideitintohisbreastpocket,outofhabit,beforeherealizeshedoesn’thaveone.“Let’sseewhereweget.Howdoyougetfromheretoyourplace?”
ThatgivesTrey’sheadawarybackwardstilt.“UppastMartLavin’saboutamile,thenthere’saroadgoesoffthatway,tothemountain.Weliveacouplamilesupthere.Why?”
“Yourmamaknowyoucomehere?”
Treyshakeshishead,whichcomesasnosurprise.“Noone,”hesays.
CalislessconfidentaboutthatthanTreyis,givenMart’sviewofhisbackyard,buthedecidesnottobringthisup.“Fornow,”hesays,“let’skeepitthatway.SoifIshowupatyourplaceandstartvisitingwithyourmama,youneversawmebefore.Canyoudothat?”
TreylookslessthandelightedattheideaofCalshowingupathisplace.“Youwantmetodothisornot?”Calasks.
“Yeah.”
“ThendowhatIsay.Iknowhowtogoaboutthis.Youdon’t.”
Treyacknowledgesthiswithanod.Helookswrungoutandloosened,likehejustmadeitthroughhavingatoothpulledwithnoanesthetic.Hesays,“Isthishowyoudiditwhenyouwereacop?”
“Nearenough.”
Treywatcheshimandturnsthingsover,behindthosegrayeyes.“Howcomeyoubecameacop?”
“Seemedlikeagoodsteadyjob.Ineededoneofthose.”Alyssawasontheway,andthefiredepartmentwasn’thiring.
“Wasyourdadacop?”
“Nah,”Calsays.“Mydaddywasn’tasteadyman.”
“What’dhedo?”
“Littlebitofthis,littlebitofthat.Travelingaroundsellingthings,mostly.Vacuumcleaners,forawhile.Anothertimeitwastoiletpaperandcleaningsupplies,tobusinesses.LikeIsaid,hewasn’tsteady.”
“Buttheyletyoubeacopanyway.”
“Sure.Theydidn’tcareifmydaddywasabillygoat,longasIcoulddothejobright.”
“Wasitfun?”
“Sometimes,”Calsays.Hisfeelingsforthejob,whichstartedoutwholeheartedandpowerful,graduallygottangledenoughthatthesedaysheprefersnottothinkaboutit.“SoundslikeBrendan’sgoodwithelectricalstuff.Heeverdoanythinglikethatforpeopleontheside,pickupafewbucks?”
Treylooksbaffled.“Yeah.Sometimes.Fixingthings,like.”
“Couldhedosomerewiringinthisplace,ifIneededit?”
TreygiveshimalookthatsaysCalhaslosthismind.
“Thisisn’tlikemybadgedays,”Calsays,“whenIcouldwadeoninaskinganyquestionsIwanted.IfI’mgonnagoaroundbringingupyourbrother’snameinconversation,Ineedareason.”
Treyconsidersthis.“Hefixedthewiringinoursittingroombefore.He’sgone,but.Peopleknowthat.”
“Yeah,butImightnot,”Calsays.“I’mjustastrangerthathasn’tgotthehangofwho’swhoaroundhere.IfIhearanamementionedasaguywhodidsomeelectricalwork,how’mIsupposedtoknowwhereheisorisn’t?”
Forthefirsttimethatday,asmallsmilelandsonTrey’sface.“You’regonnaactthick,”hesays.
“YouthinkIcanpullthatoff?”
Thegrinwidens.“Noproblemtoyou.”
“Smartasskid,”Calsays,butitpleaseshimtoseethedrawnlookdissolve.“Nowgetoutamyhair.Beforeyourmamawonderswhereyou’vegottento.”
“Shewon’t.”
“ThengetbeforeIchangemymind.”
Thekidbouncesoutofhischairwithalacrity,buthegrinsatCalagainashedoesit,toshowhe’snotworried.HetakesforgrantedthatCal,hiswordoncegiven,won’tgobackonit.Calfindsthisbothmoretouchingandmoreintimidatingthanhewouldhaveexpected.
“CanIcomebacktomorrow?Seewhatyou’vefoundout?”
“Jeez,kid,”Calsays.“Givemetime.Idon’twantyouexpectinganythingforatleastaweekortwo.Maybenever.”
“Yeah,”Treysays.“CanIcomeanyway?”
“Yeah,youcan.Yougotanappointmentwithadeskandatoothbrush.”
Treynods,asingledefinitejerk,makingitclearhetakesthatseriously.
“Comeintheafternoon,”Calsays.“Igotplacestogointhemorning.”
Thekid’searsprickup.“What’reyougonnado?”
“Lessyouknow,thebetter.”
“Iwantadosomething.”
He’sallchargedupandfizzingwithenergy,practicallybouncingonhistoes.Callikesseeinghimthatway,butatthesametimeitmakeshimwince.He’salreadyprettysurewhathe’sgoingtofind.Brendanistextbookrunaway,ticksjustabouteverybox:abored,restless,underachievingkidwithashittyhomelife,nojoborgirlfriendorclosefriendstoroothimdown,nocareerplan,inanareathatoffershimnoprospectsandnofun.Ontheothersideofthescales,there’sapparentlynothing:noseriouscriminalactivity,noseriouscriminalassociates,nomentalillness,nothing.Calputsthisataboutfivepercentchanceofanaccident,fivepercentsuicide,ninetypercentupandgone.Ormaybeeighty-ninepercentupandgone,onepercentsomethingelse.
“OK,”hesays.“Youcheckifanyofyourbrother’sstuffismissing.Youguyssharearoom?”
“Nah.HeshareswithLiam.”
“Whoelseshareswithwho?”
“MeandMaeve.Alanna’sinwithmymam.”
AndSheilahasn’tmovedherout.She’sleftBrendan’sspacewaitingforhim,evenaftersixmonths.ThatsoundstoCallikeshetoldTreythetruth:shethinksBrendantookoff,andhe’llbeback.Thequestioniswhetherthat’sjusthope,orwhethershe’sgotreasons.
“Huh,”Calsays.“Liam’sfour,right?Sohe’sgonnanoticeifyougosnooping.Waittillhe’soutplayingorsomething.Youdon’tgetagoodopportunity,leaveitforanotherday.”
TreygivesCalalookthatsaysDuh.Hezipshisparka.Thatsharpwindisstillrattlingaroundthedoor,lookingforawayinandnotgivingup.
“LookforstufflikeBrendan’sphonecharger,”Calsays,“orhisrazor.Stuffthatcouldfitinpockets,thathemightwantwithhimifhewasplanningonbeinggoneacoupleofdays.Ifhe’sgotarucksack,orabackpack,checkforthat.Andformissingclothes,ifyouknowwhathe’sgot.”
Treyhasglancedup,instantlyalert,fromfightingwithhiszipper.“Youthink?Hewentsomewhereonpurpose,andthentheykepthim?”
“Idon’tthinkanything,”Calsays.“Notyet.”Allofasuddenhehasthatsensationhekeptgetting,backwhenTreywasanunknownquantityandCalwasdecidingwhattodoabouthim:anintenseawarenessofthespreadofthedarkcountrysideallaroundhishouse;asenseofbeingsurroundedbyavastinvisibleweb,whereonewrongtouchcouldshakethingssofardistanthehasn’tevenspottedthem.
Hesays,“You’resureaboutthis,kid.Right?Becauseifyou’renotsure,thisiswhenyouneedtotellme.”
Thekidthrowshimaneye-rolllikeCaljusttoldhimtoeathisbroccoli.“Seeyatomorrow,”hesays,andheflipsuphishoodandstepsoutintothedark.
EIGHT
Themountainsideiscolderthanthegrasslandbelow.ThecoldhasadifferentqualityfromwhatCalgetsdownathisplace,too,finerandmorechallenging,comingstraightforhimonahonedwind.Afterdecadesofclassifyingweatherinbroadcategoriesofnuisancevalue—wet,frozen,sweltering,OK—Calenjoysnoticingthesubtlegradationshere.Hereckonsatthispointhecoulddrawdistinctionsbetweenfiveorsixdifferenttypesofrain.
Asmountainsgo,thesearen’tmuchtowritehomeabout,alongsweepofhunchesmaybeathousandfeethigh,butcontrastgivesthemaforceoutofproportiontotheirsize.Rightuptotheirfeetthefieldsareeasy,gentleandgreen;themountainsrisebrownandwildoutofnowhere,commandeeringthehorizon.
TheslopepullsinCal’sthighs.Theroadisn’tmuchmorethanatrack,twistingupwardsbetweenheatherandrockyoutcrops,weedsandwildgrassleaninginfrombothsides.Abovehim,thickpatchesofspruceclingtothemountainside.Somewhereabirdsendsupahighwarningcry,andwhenCallooksupheseesaraptortiltingdownthewind,smallagainstthethinbluesky.
Trey’sdirectionsturnouttobegood:acoupleofmilesupthemountainside,Calcomesacrossalow,pebbledashedgrayhouse,setbackfromtheroadinapoorlydefinedyardofbaldinggrass.Abeat-upsilverHyundaiAccentwitha2002licenseplatesagsinonecorner.Twolittlekids,presumablyLiamandAlanna,arebangingapieceofrustymetalwithrocks.
Calkeepsgoing.Ahundredyardsfartheruptheroad,hefindsaboggypatchofgroundandsinksonefootinituptotheankle.Pullingitoutagainisharderthanheexpected;theboghangsontohisbootstartlinglytight,tryingtokeepit.Oncehe’sfree,heturnsaroundandheadsbacktothehouse.
Thekidsarestillsquattingovertheirpieceofmetal.WhenCalleansonthegate,theystopbangingandwatchhim.
“Morning,”Calsaystothebiggerone,theboy.“Isyourmamahome?”
“Yeah,”theboysays.Hehasovergrowndarkhair,aworn-outbluesweatshirtandenoughofalookofTreythatCalknowshe’sintherightplace.
“Canyouaskhertocomeouthereforaminute?”
Bothkidsstare.Calrecognizesthatslightdrawingback:thewarinessofkidswhoalreadyknowthatastrangerlookingforyourparentsislikelysomeincarnationoftheMan,andtheManisnevertheretomakethingsbetter.
“Iwasouthavinganicewalk,”Calsays,grimacingruefully,“andlookwhatIwentanddidtomyself.”Heholdsuphiswetfoot.
Thelittlegirlgiggles.Shehasasweetdirtyfaceandbrownhairpulledupintwounevenpigtails.
“Yeahyeahyeah,”Calsays,mock-offended.“Yougoaheadandlaughatthedummywiththesoggyboot.ButIwaswonderingifyourmamamightbeabletogivemesomethingtodryitoffalittle,soIdon’thavetosquelchmywaydownthismountain?”
“Squelch,”thelittlegirlsays.Shegigglesagain.
“That’sright,”Calsays,grinningbackatherandwagglinghisfoot.“Squelchallthewayhome.”
“We’llgetMammy,”theboysays.Hepullsonthegirl’ssleeve,hardenoughthatsheoverbalancesandsitsdownonherbehindinthedirt.“Comeon.”Andherunsoffroundthebackofthehouse,withthelittlegirltryingtokeepupandlookbackatCalatthesametime.
Whilethey’regone,Callookstheplaceover.It’srun-down,withthewindowframespeelingandsagging,andmossgrowingbetweentherooftiles.Someonehasmadeanefforthereandthere,though.Thereareflowerpotsoneachsideofthedoor,withamulticoloredcroponlyjustdyingoff,andtoonesideoftheyardisaplaystructurebuiltofrandompiecesofwoodandropeandpiping.Calwouldhaveexpectedawomanaloneupherewithamessofkidstohaveadogortwo,butthere’snosoundofbarking.
Thekidscomebackcirclingatall,scraggywomaninjeansandthekindofbafflinglyuglypatternedsweaterthatonlyexistssecondhand.Shehasroughred-brownhairpulledbackinasloppybun,andaweather-beaten,high-bonedfacethatmusthavebeenvergingonbeautiful,waybackwhen.Calknowsshe’safewyearsyoungerthanhim,butshedoesn’tlookit.Shehasthesamewaryexpressionasthekids.
“Sorrytodisturbyou,ma’am,”Calsays.“Iwasoutwalking,andIwasfoolishenoughtostepofftheroad.Foundmyselfanicebigpuddle.”
Heholdsuphisfoot.Thewomangazesatitlikeshehasnoideawhatitisanddoesn’tmuchcare.
“Iliveafewmilesdownthataway,”Calsays,pointing,“andthat’salongwalkwithawetfoot.Iwaswonderingifyoumightbeabletohelpmeout.”
Thewomanmoveshergazetohisface,slowly.Shehasthelookofawomanwho’shadtoomuchlandontopofher,notinonegreatbigavalanchebuttricklingdownlittlebylittleoveralotofyears.
“You’retheAmerican,”shesaysintheend.Hervoiceisrustyandunaccustomed,likeshehasn’tdonemuchtalkinglately.“InO’Shea’s.”
“That’sme,”Calsays.“CalHooper.Pleasedtomeetyou.”Heholdsouthishandoverthegate.
Mostofthewarinessfades.Thewomancomesforwards,wipingherhandonherjeans,andgivesitbrieflytoCal.“SheilaReddy,”shesays.
“Hey,”Calsays,withpleasedrecognition,“I’veheardthatnamebefore.Nowwhere…”Hesnapshisfingers.“That’sit.Lena.Noreen’ssister.Shewastellingmeaboutheryoungdays,andshementionedyou.”
Sheilalooksathimwithoutcuriosity,waitingforwhathewants.
Calgrins.“Lenasaidthetwoofyouusedtorunwildtogether.Getoutyourwindowsatnightandhitchridestodiscos.”
ThatfindsSheila,enoughtogetafainttwitchofasmile.Oneofhertopteethismissing,nearthefront.“Thatwasalongtimeago,”shesays.
“Knowwhatyoumean,”Calsaysruefully.“Irememberwhen,ifIwentout,IwasheadinghalfadozendifferentplacesandIwasn’tcominghometilldaylight.Nowadays,threebeersinSeánóg’sandI’vehadjustaboutalltheexcitementIcanhandleforoneweek.”
Hegivesherasheepishsmile.Calhashadplentyofpracticebeingharmless.Athissize,hehastoputtheworkintothat,speciallywithalonewoman.Sheiladoesn’tseemafraid,though,notnowthatshe’splacedhim.She’snotthetimidkind.Herfirstwarinesswasn’tofhimasaman,butofwhateverauthorityhemightbecarryingwithhim.
“Backthen,”hesays,“I’dhavethoughtnothingofwalkinghomewet.Thesedays,though,mycirculationisn’ttoogood;bythetimeImakeitallthewaydownthemountain,Iwon’tbeabletofeelmytoes.CouldItroubleyouforahandfulofpapertowelstosoakupalittleofthis,oranoldcloth?Maybeevenadrypairofsocks,ifyou’vegotsometospare?”
Sheilaexamineshisfootagainandfinallynods.“I’llgetsomething,”shesays,andsheturnsandgoesbackbehindthehouse.ThekidshangofftheplaystructureandwatchCal.Whenhesmilesatthem,theirexpressionsdon’tchange.
Sheilacomesbackcarryingarollofpapertowelsandapairofmen’sgraysocks.“Now,”shesays,passingthemoverthegate.
“MizReddy,”Calsays,“youjustsavedmyday.Muchobligedtoyou.”
Shedoesn’tsmile.Shewatches,armsfoldedatherwaist,ashemakeshimselfcomfortableonaboulderbythegatepostandtakesoffhisboot.“Excusemyfoot,”hesays,withanembarrassedgrin.“Itwascleanthismorning,evenifit’snotnow.”Thekids,whohaveedgedclosertowatch,giggle.
Calwadsuppapertowelandpressesitinsidehisboottosoakupsomeofthewater,takinghistime.“It’sbeautifulcountryroundhere,”hesays,noddingatthemountainsloperisingbehindthehouse.
Sheilatakesoneglanceoverhershoulderandthenlooksawayagain.“Maybe,”shesays.
“Goodplacetoraiseafamily.Cleanairandplentyofspacetorunwild;there’snotmuchelseakidneeds.”
Sheshrugs.
“Iwasraisedacountryboy,”Calexplains,“butIwasinthecityalongtime.Thisherelookslikeparadisetome.”
Sheilasays,“I’dbehappyenoughifIneversawitagain.”
“Oh?”Calsays,butshedoesn’tanswer.
Heteststheboot,whichisaboutasdryasit’sgoingtoget.“I’mfondofhillwalking,”hesays.“Thecityturnedmefatandlazy.NowthatI’mhere,I’mgettingbackintogoodhabits.AlthoughIbettergetbackintothehabitoflookingwhereIputmyfeet.”
Thatdoesn’tgetaresponse,either.Sheilaisharderworkthanhebargainedfor—NoreenandMartandtheguysinthepubhavegivenhimhighexpectationsofthesmalltalkaroundhere—butatleastnowheknowswhereTreygothisconversationalskills.Andshedoesn’tseemtomindhimtalkingaway.She’swatchinghimwraphiswetsockinmorepapertowelandtuckitawayinhispocket,withoutinterest,butwithoutgivingtheimpressionthatshehasanythingurgenttogetbackto.
“Ahh,”Calsays,pullingonthedrysock,whichiswornbutwhole.“Nowthat’sanimprovement.I’llgivetheseagoodwashandgetthembacktoyou.”
“Noneed.”
“IguessIwouldn’twantmysocksbackoncethey’dbeenonsomestranger’sbigol’muddyfeet,either,”Calsays,lacinguphisbootandgrinning.“Inthatcase,I’llbringyouanewpair,soonasIgetintotown.Inthemeantime…”HeproducestwoKitKatbarsoutofhisjacketpocket.“Ibroughtthesetoeatalongmyway,butnowthatI’mturningbackearly,doesn’tseemlikeI’llneedthem.WoulditbeOKifIofferedthemtoyouryoung’uns?”
Sheilacomesupwithatraceofasmile.“They’dlikethat,allright,”shesays.“Theydolovethesweetstuff.”
“That’skids,”Calsays.“Mygirl,whenshewasthatsize,she’daeatencandyalldaylongifwe’dalether.Icouldtellifmywifehadcandyanywhereinthehouse,becausemygirlwaslikeabirddog,pointingrightatit.”Hemimes.Sheila’ssmilegrows,andsoftens.Afreebie,evenalittleone,doesthattopoorpeople;itloosensthem.Calstillrecognizesthatinhimself,eventhoughit’sbeentwenty-fiveyearssincehewasthatkindofpoor.It’sthesweetwarmwaveofastonishmentthat,justforonceandoutoftheblue,theworldisfeelinggeneroustoyoutoday.
“Hey,”hecalls,gettingupandholdingoutthechocolateoverthegate.“YouguyslikeKitKats?”
Thekidsglanceattheirmamaforpermission.Whenshenods,theyedgecloser,shoulderingeachother,tilltheycangrabthebars.
“Saythankyou,”Sheilasaysautomatically.Theydon’t,althoughthelittlegirlgivesCalabighappygrin.Thetwoofthemretreattotheplaystructurefast,beforesomeonecantakethechocolateback.
“Youjusthavethesetwo?”Calasks,proppinghimselfmorecomfortablyonthegate.
“Six.Thosearemylittleones.”
“Whoa,”Calsays.“That’salotofhardwork.Yourbigkidsinschool?”
Sheilalooksaroundlikeoneofthemmightmaterializefromsomewhere,whichCalagreesisentirelypossible.“Two,”shesays.“Theothersaregrown.”
“Waitaminute,”Calsays,delightedtohavemadetheconnection.“IsBrendanReddyyourboy?Theonewhodidtheelectricalworkforthatguy,what’shisname,skinnyoldguywithacap?”
Sheilaspacesrightbackout,instantlyandcompletely.HereyesskidoffCal’sfaceandshegazesuptheroadlikeshe’swatchingsomeactionunfold.“Don’tknow,”shesays.“Hemight’vedone.”
“Well,there’sapieceofluck,”Calsays.“’Cause,see,myhouse,O’Shea’splace?I’vebeenfixingitupmyself.I’mdoingOKwithmoststuff,theplumbingandthepainting.ButIdon’twannagomessingaroundwithanywires,nottillsomeone’stakenalookwhoknowswhathe’sdoing.Brendanknowshiswayaroundelectrics,right?”
“Yeah,”Sheilasays.Herarmshavecomeuptowraptightlyunderherbosom.“Hedoes,yeah.Buthe’snotaround.”
“When’llhebeback?”
Hershoulderstwitch.“Don’tknow.Hewentoff.Lastspring.”
“Oh,”Calsays,withdawningunderstanding.“Hemovedout?”
Shenods,stillnotlookingathim.
“Hegosomewherecloseby,whereIcouldmaybegivehimacall?”
Sheshakesherhead,aquickjerk.“Hedidn’tsay.”
“Well,that’srough,”Calsayspeacefully.“Mygirl,shedidthatonetime.Whenshewaseighteen.Gotabeeinherbonnetabouthowmeandhermamadidn’tgiveherenoughfreedom,andoffshewent.”Alyssaneverdidanysuchthing.Shewasalwaysagoodkid,stucktotherules,hatedmakingpeopleunhappy.ButSheila’seyeshavecomebacktohim.“Hermamawantedtolookforher,butIsaidno,letherwinthisone.Ifwegofindher,she’llbeevenmadder,andshe’lljustgofarthernexttime.Lethergo,andshe’llcomebackwhenshe’sready.Youbeenlookingforyourboy?”
Sheilasays,“Wouldn’tknowwhere.”
“Well,”Calsays,“hegotapassport?Can’tgettoofarwithoutoneofthose.”
“Ineverhadhimone.Hecould’vegotithimself,but.He’snineteen.OryoucangettoEnglandwithout.”
“Anyplaceshewantedtosee?Peoplehetalkedaboutvisiting?OurgirlalwaysdidsayshelikedthesoundofNewYork,andsureenough,that’swheresheranto.”
Sheliftsoneshoulder.“Plentyofplaces.Amsterdam.Sydney.NowhereIcangolookforhim.”
“Whenmygirlwent,”Calsaysreflectively,rearranginghisforearmsonthegateandwatchingthekidstakeaparttheirchocolate,“hermamakeptthinkingweshould’veseenitcoming.AllthattalkaboutNewYork,shefiguredthatwasahintweshould’vecaught.Shetoreherselfupprettybadaboutit.Boys,though,they’redifferent.”Calneverdidliketouseadaughterinhisworkstories;hemostlypreferredtostickwithhisimaginaryson,Buddy.Sometimes,though,agirlmakesforabetterangle.“Theykeepquiet,don’tthey?”
“Brendandoesn’t,”Sheilasays.“He’sagreattalker.”
“Yeah?Hedroppedhintshewasthinkingaboutleaving?”
“Nothingaboutleaving.Hesaidhewassickofit,only.Sickofhavingnothingtodo.Nomoney.Therewasaloadofthingshewanted,always,andhecouldnever…”ShethrowsCalaglancethat’samixofshameanddefianceandresentment.“Itwearsyouout.”
“Thatitdoes,”Calagrees.“Speciallyifyoucan’tseeyourwayout.That’shardonayoungman.”
“Iknewhewasfedup.MaybeIshouldhave…”Thewindisslappingstragglesofhairacrossherface;shewipesthemaway,hard,withthebackofawork-reddenedhand.
“Youcan’tblameyourself,”Calsaysgently.“That’swhatItoldmywife.You’renotamindreader.Allyoucandoisworkwithwhatyou’vegot.”
Sheilanods,unconvinced.Hereyeshaveslippedoffhimagain.
“Theotherthingthathurther,”Calsays,“wasthenoteourgirlleft.Tellingushowmeanwewere,andhowitwasallourfault.Me,Ifiguredshewasjustworkingupagoodheadofsteamtogetherselfoutthedoor,buthermamadidn’tseeitthatway.Yourboyleaveyouanote?”
Sheilashakesherheadagain.“Nothing,”shesays.Hereyesaredry,buthervoicehasaraw,scrapedsound.
“Well,he’syoung,”Calsays.“Sameasmygirlwas.Thatage,theydon’trealizewhatthey’redoingtous.”
Sheilasays,“Didyourgirlcomeback?”
“Suredid,”Calsays,grinning.“Tookheracoupleofmonths,butonceherpointwasmadeandshegottiredofworkinginadinerandsharingastudiofullofroaches,shecamerunning.Safeandsound.”
Shesmiles,justatwitch.“ThankGod,”shesays.
“Oh,wedid,”Calsays.“Godandtheroaches.”Andthen,moresoberly:“Thewaitingwashard,though.Wewereworryingeveryminute,whatifshe’sfalleninwithsomeguythatdoesn’ttreatherright,whatifshe’sgotnowheretostay.Andworsethings.”Heblowsoutair,lookingupatthemountain.“Toughtimes.Maybeit’sdifferentwithaboy,though.Youworryabouthim?Oryoufigurehecantakecareofhimself?”
Sheilaturnsherfaceawayfromhim,andheseesthelongcordinherneckmoveassheswallows.“Iworry,allright,”shesays.
“Anyparticularreason?Orjust’causeyou’rehismama,andthat’syourjob?”
Thewindwhipsstrandsofherhairagainstthesharppeakofhercheekbone.Thistimeshedoesn’tpushthemaway.Shesays,“There’salwaysreasonstoworry.”
“Idon’tmeantopry,”Calsays.“PardonmeifI’veoverstepped.I’mjustsaying,kidsdothedarnedestthings.Mosttimes,itallcomesoutinthewash.Notalways,butmostly.”
Sheilatakesaquickbreathandturnsbacktohim.“He’llbegrand,”shesays,withacrispsnaptohervoiceallofasudden;shedoesn’tsoundspaceyanymore.“Sure,Idon’tblamehim.He’sonlydoingwhatIshould’vedonemyself,whenIwashisage.Areyouright,now,withthemsocks?”
“I’manewman,”Calsays.“Thankstoyou.”
“Right,”Sheilasays.Herbodyishalf-turnedtowardsthehouse.“Liam!Alanna!Getoffthatyokeandcomeinforyourdinner!”
“Muchobliged,”Calsays,butshe’salreadyhurryingoffacrossthegrass.Shebarelyturnstonodoverhershoulderbeforeshe’sgonebehindthehouse,herdingthekidsinfrontofherwithsharpflapsofherhands
Calwalksbackdownthemountain.Apartfromthepatchesofspruce,treesarefewandfarbetween;justtheoddlonesomeone,spikyandcontorted,bareforwinterandblownpermanentlysidewaysbythememoryofhardprevailingwinds.Inthecrookofahill,someone’sbeendumpinggarbage:arustyironbedstead,completewithstainedmattress,andaheapofbigplasticbagsrippedopenandspilling.Oncehepassesthestone-wallscrapsofanabandonedcottage.Anoldcrow,perchedamidthegrassthat’sseededinthecracks,opensitsbeakwideandtellshimtokeepmoving.
He’scomeacrossplentyofpeoplelikeSheila,bothinhischildhoodandonthejob.Whethertheystartedoutthatwayorgotbroughttoitsomehow,theirfocusisn’tmuchbroaderthanapreyanimal’s.They’reallusedupbyscrabblingtokeeptheirfooting;theydon’thaveroomtoaimforanythingbiggerorfartherthanstayingonejumpaheadofbadthingsandsnatchingtheoccasionaltreatalongtheway.HegetsanotherinklingofwhatabrotherlikeBrendanmusthavemeanttoakidlikeTrey,inthathouse.
Sheilatoldthekidthetruth,oratleastshetoldhimthesamethingshe’stellingherself:shebelievesBrendangotfedupandranaway,andhe’llbeback.Thatmaywellbetrue,butSheilahasn’tofferedCalanythingtonudgehimfartherinthatdirectionthanhealreadywas.Herbeliefisbuiltpurelyoutofhope,piledontopofnothing,solidassmoke.
Herworry,ontheotherhand,isdenseandsharp-corneredasalumpofrock.Sheila’sgotreasonstoworryaboutBrendan,evenifshe’snotabouttosharethemwithCal.OneofBrendan’sbuddiesmight,though.
Calthoughthewasdonewiththisstuffforgood,thedayheturnedinhisbadgeWell,wouldyoulookatthat,hethinks,withafeelinghecan’tidentify.IguessIstillgotit.
Donnawouldhaverolledhereyesandsaid,Iknewit,theonlysurpriseisthatittookyouthislong.ShesaidCalwasaddictedtofixingthings,likeaguyjabbingonandonataslotmachine,unabletoleaveitaloneuntilthelightsflashedandtheprizecamepouringout.Calobjectedtothatcomparison,giventheamountofhardworkandskillheputintofixingthings,butthatjustmadeDonnathrowupherhandsandmakeanexplosivenoiselikeapissed-offcat.
ProbablyDonnawasright,oralittlebitright,anyway.Therestlessfeelingisgone.
MartisleaningonCal’sgate,staringoutacrossthefieldsandsmokingoneofhishand-rolledcigarettes.WhenhehearsthecrunchofCal’sbootsontheroad,hewhipsroundandgreetshimwithawhoopandafistpump.“Getup,yaboyya!”
“Huh?”Calsays.
“IheardyouwereoveratLena’splacetheotherday.How’dyougeton?Didyougettheride?”
“Jesus,Mart.”
“Didyou?”
Calshakeshishead,grinningagainsthiswill.
Mart’sscrewed-upeyesarealightwithmischief.“Don’tbelettingmedown,bucko.Didyougetakissandacuddle,atleast?”
“Igottocuddleapuppy,”Calsays.“Doesthatcount?”
“Ah,forChrist’ssake,”Martsays,disgusted.Morephilosophically,headds,“Well,it’sastep,anyhow.Thewomendoloveamanthatlikespuppies.You’llbeinlikeFlynnbeforeyouknowit.Areyoutakingherout?”
“Nope,”Calsays.“Mighttakethepuppy,though.”
“Ifit’soutathatbeagleofhers,youmightaswell.That’safinedog.Isthatwhereyou’vebeentheday?Cuddlingpuppies?”
“Nah.Wentforawalkupthemountain.Stoodinapatchofbog,though,soIcamehome.”Calholdsuphiswetboot.
“Watchyourselfaroundthembogs,now,”Martsays,inspectingtheboot.Todayhe’swearingadirtyorangebaseballcapthatsaysBOATHAIRDON’TCARE.“Youdon’tknowtheirways.Stepinthewrongpatchandyou’llneverstepoutagain.They’refullatourists;eat’emlikesweeties,sotheydo.”HeshootsCalawickedslantwiselook.
“Gee,”Calsays.“Ididn’trealizeIwastakingmylifeinmyhands.”
“Andthat’sbeforeyoustartonthemountainymen.They’reallstonemad,upthere;splityourheadopenassoonaslookatyou.”
“Touristboardwouldn’tlikeyou,”Calsays.
“Touristboardhasn’tbeenupthemmountains.Youstaydownhere,wherewe’recivilized.”
“Imightdothat,”Calsays,reachingtoopenhisgate.And,whenMartdoesn’tmove:“Ihaven’tbeentotown,man.Sorry’boutthat.”
ThemischieffallsoffMart’sfaceinstantlyandcompletely,leavingitgrim.“I’mnotherelookingforbiscuits,”hesays.Hetakesonemoreharddrawonhiscigaretteandthrowsitintoapuddle.“Comeonuptomybackfield.I’vesomethingtoshowyou.”
Mart’ssheepareclumpedtogetherinthenearfield.They’reedgy,jostlingandpickinguptheirfeetnervously,notgrazing.Thefarfieldisempty,oralmost.Inthemiddleofthegreengrassisaroughpaleheap,notimmediatelyidentifiable.
“Oneofmybestewes,”Martsays,swingingthegateopen.HisvoicehasaflattonesofarfromitsusualsnappyliltthatCalfindsitalittlebitunsettling.“Foundherthismorning.”
Calwalksroundtheewethewayhewouldwalkacrimescene,keepinghisdistanceandtakinghistime.Clustersofbigblackfliesarebusyamongthewhitewool.Whenhemovescloserhewavesanarmtomakethemrise,loopingandbuzzingangrily,sohecangetaclearview.
Somethingbadhasgotatthesheep.Itsthroatisamessofclottedblood;soistheinsideofitsmouth,lollingtoowideopen.Itseyesaregone.Arectangularpatchonitsside,twohand-spansacross,isflayedtotheribs.Underitstailisagreatredhole.
“Well,”Calsays.“Thisisn’tgood.”
“SameasBobbyFeeney’s,”Martsays.Hisfaceishard.
Calisexaminingthegrass,butit’stoospringytoholdprints.“Ilooked,”Martsays.“Inthemuckoutbytheroad,aswell.There’snothingtosee.”
“Kojakpickupanytrail?”
“He’saherddog,notatrackingdog.”Marttiltshischinattheewe.“Hedidn’tlikethisatall,atall.Hewentpuremental.Didn’tknowwhethertoattackitorrunforhislife.”
“Poorguy,”Calsays.Hesquatstolookmoreclosely,stillkeepingsomedistance—therichsmellofrotisalreadystartingtoseepfromtheewe.Theedgesofthewoundsarecleanandprecise,liketheyweremadebyasharpknife,butCalknowsfromshootingtheshitwiththeHomicideguysthatdeadskincandostrangethings.“Bobbylostanymoresheep?”
“Hehasnot,”Martsays.“He’sbeenoutonhislandhalfthenightsthislastwhile,hopingtospotthelittlegreenmencomingdownformore,andhehasn’tseenhidenorhairofanythingworsethanabadger.Youtellme:whatanimaliscuteenoughtotakejusttheonesheepfromafarm,andthenmoveonfromaplacewhereitknowsthere’sfood,assoonasthefarmer’songuard?”
Calwaswonderingthesamething.“Bigcatmight,maybe,”hesays.“Butyoudon’thavethosehere,doyou?”
“They’recutehoors,allright,”Martsays.Henarrowshiseyesatthehills.“Wehaven’t,notnative,anyhow.Butwhoknowswhatsomeonemightawantedtogetridof.They’reagreatplaceforgettingridofthings,themmountains.”
Calsays,“Ahumanwouldbesmartenoughtomoveonafteronesheep.”
Martdoesn’tlookawayfromthemountains.Hesays,“Someonethat’sgoneinthehead,iswhatyou’retalkingabout.Gonerotteninhismind.”
“Anyoneroundherefitthatdescription?”
“NoonethatIknowof.Butwemightn’tknow,sure.”
“Inaplacethissize?”
“You’dneverknowwhatmaggot’satingsomeone’smind,”Martsays.“TheMannions’lad—lovelyyoungfella,neverabitoftroubletohismammyanddaddy—afewyearback,hethrewacatonabonfire.Burneditupalive.Nodrinkonhimornothing.Hejustfancieddoingit.”
Anyonecoulddoanything;even,apparently,here.Calsays,“Where’stheMannionkidthesedays?”
“HewenttoNewZealand,afterthat.Hasn’tbeenback.”
“Huh,”Calsays.“Soyougonnacallthepolice?AnimalControl?”
MartflickshimaglanceexactlylikeTrey’smoronlook.“OK,”Calsays.He’swonderingwhatMartwantsfromhimhere.Thingshavegotplentyoutofhandalready;hedoesn’tplanonaddingadeadsheeptohiscaseload.“Yoursheep,yourcall.”
“Iwanttoknowwhatdonethis,”Martsays.“Yourbittawoodsthere,that’sthickenoughtokeepmehid.I’maskingyoutoletmespendthenightsinthereforawhile.”
“Youthinkit’llcomeback?”
“Nottomysheep.ButthatbittawoodshasagreatviewofP.J.Fallon’sland,andhe’sgotafineflock.Ifthiscreaturegoesafterthem,it’llfindmewaiting.”
“Well,bemyguest,”Calsays.He’snotcrazyabouttheideaofMartoutthereonhisown.Martisascrawnylittleoldguywithricketyjoints,andCalknows,inawaythatMartmightnot,thatashotgunisn’tamagicwand.“Imightjoinyou.Keepalltheanglescovered.”
Martshakeshishead.“I’lldobetteronmyown.Onemancanstayhidbetterthantwo.”
“I’vedonemyshareofhunting.Iknowhowtokeepstill.”
“Ah,no.”Mart’sfacecrunchesintoagrin.“Thesizeofyou;sure,whatever’soutthere,it’dseeyoufromspace.Youstayindoorsanddon’tbefreezingyourbollocksoffforsomethingthat’slikelylonggoneanyway.”
“Well,”Calsays.“Ifyou’resureaboutthat.”HeneedstowarnTreynottomakeanymorenighttimevisits,orhe’sliabletoendupwithanassfullofshotgunpellets.“Youletmeknowifyouchangeyourmind.”
Theflieshaveresettledintotight,roilingclumps.Martpokestheewewiththetoeofhisbootandtheyriseagain,briefly,beforegettingbacktowork.“Ineverheardasound,”hesays.Hekickstheeweonemoretime,harder.Thenheturnsandstumpsoff,handsdeepinhisjacketpockets,towardshishouse.
Themailmanhasbeenby:Cal’sfirearmlicenseiswaitingforhimonthefloorbythedoor.Whenheappliedforthatlicense,hediditwithahankeringforhomemaderabbitstewratherthanwithanysenseofrealneed.Oneofthethingsthathadcaughthisattention,whenhefirststartedlookingintoIreland,wasthelackofdangers:nohandguns,nosnakes,nobearsorcoyotes,noblackwidows,notevenamosquito.Calfeelslikehe’sspentmostofhislifedealingwithferalcreatures,onewayoranother,andhelikedthethoughtofpassinghisretirementwithouthavingtotakeanyofthemintoaccount.ItseemedtohimthatIrishpeoplewerelikelytobeateasewiththeworldinwaystheydidn’tevennotice.Nowthatriflefeelslikesomethingitwouldbegoodtohaveinthehouse,thesoonerthebetter.
Hemakeshimselfahamsandwichforlunch.Whileheeatsit,hemanagestogettheinternettoshowhimbustimetables.OnTuesdayevenings,abusheadedforSligogoesbyonthemainroadsometimearoundfive,andoneheadedforDublingoespastalittleafterseven.Bothofthesearepossible,althoughneitheroneleapsoutatCalastheobviousanswer.Themainroadisaboutathree-milewalkfromtheReddyplace,andTreysaysBrendanleftthehousearoundfive,justasSheilawasservingtea,whicharoundheremeansdinner.Trey’ssenseoftimehasahaphazardqualitythatmeanshisguessmightwellbeoff,andCaldoubtsthatSheilaservesmealsonastrictschedule,butevenfour-fifteenwouldbecuttingitclosefortheSligobus.Ontheotherhand,fiveorevenfive-thirtywouldbetooearlytoleavefortheDublinbus,speciallyifitmeantskippingdinnerunnecessarily.Overall,ifBrendanwasgoinganydistance,Calinclinestowardshimgettingaridefromsomeone.
HecallsBrendan’snumber,justforthehellofit.LikeTreysaid,itgoesstraighttovoicemail:Hi,thisisBrendan,leaveamessage.Hisvoiceisyoung,rough-edged,quickandcasual,likehedashedthisoffinbetweentwomoreimportantthings.Caltakesafewshotsatthevoicemailpassword,incaseBrendanleftitonthedefault,butnoneofthemgethimanywhere.
Hefinisheshissandwich,washesupandheadsforDanielBoone’sGuns&Ammunition.DanielBoone’sisconcealeddownmultiplebackroads,andKevin—Daniel’srealname—isaloose-limbed,scraggly-hairedguywholookslikehewouldbemoreathomerunningamildewybasementrecordstore,butheknowshiswaresinsideoutandhehasCal’sHenry.22oiled,readyandwaiting.
It’sbeenalongtimesinceCalheldoneofthese,andhe’dforgottenthepurephysicalsatisfactionofit.Thewarmsolidityofthewalnutstockisasheerpleasuretohispalm;theactionissosmoothhecouldracktheleverbackandforthallday.“Well,”hesays.“Thiswasworthwaitingfor.”
“Don’tgetalotofdemandforthose,”Kevinsays,leaninghishipagainstthecounterandeyeingtheriflesourly.“OrIwouldn’t’vehadtoorderitin.”Kevintookthatpersonally.Heclearlyfelthehadlethimselfdown,andpossiblyletdownhiscountrywhilehewasatit,byallowingsomeYanktofindhimunprepared.
“Mygranddaddyhadone,”Calsays.“WhenIwasakid.Don’tknowwhathappenedtoit.”Heliftstherifletohisshoulderandsights,enjoyingtheelegantlybalancedweightofit.CalcouldnevermusterupmuchfondnessforhisdutyGlock,withitsthuggishlines,theinsolentswaggerwithwhichitworethefactthatitexistedtobepointedathumanbeings.Itcarriednothingbutaggression;ithadnodignity.TheHenryis,tohim,whatagunshouldbe.
“Theyhaven’tchangedmuch,”Kevinsays.“You’llhaveyoureyebackinbeforeyouknowit.Downtotherangenow,isit?”
“Nah,”Calsays.He’salittlenettledbytheideathathelookslikesomeonewhoneedsarangetoshoot.“Gonnagogetmyselfsomedinner.”
“Idolovearabbit,”Kevinsays.“Speciallynow,withthemgoodandfatforwinter.BringmeoneinandI’llgiveyouafewboboffbullets.”
Calheadshomeplanningondoingexactlythat,toearnKevin’sforgivenessfortheHenry.HisplanschangebecauseTreyissittingagainsthisfrontdoor,kneesup,eatingadoughnut.
“QuitswipingshitfromNoreen,”Calsays.
ThekidgetsoutofthewaysoCalcanunlockthedoor.HedigsaroundinhiscoatpocketandhandsCalapaperbagcontaininganother,slightlymasheddoughnut
“Thanks,”Calsays.
“Yougotagun,”Treypointsout,impressed.
“Yep,”Calsays.“Yourfamilydoesn’thaveany?”
“Nah.”
“Howcome?IfIlivedallthewayupthere,nooneformilesaround,I’dwantsomeprotection.”
“Mydadhadone.Hesolditbeforeheleft.Youfindoutanythingyet?”
“Itoldyou.It’sgonnataketime.”Calheadsinsideandleanstherifleinacorner.Hedoesn’tfeellikeshowingTreywherehekeepshisgunsafe.
Treyfollowshim.“Iknow,yeah.What’dyoufindouttoday,but?”
“Youkeepbuggingmeaboutit,I’mgonnamakeyougetlostandnotcomebackforaweek.”
Treystuffstherestofhisdoughnutinhismouthandthinksthisoverwhilehechews.ApparentlyheconcludesthatCalmeansit.“Yousaidyou’dteachmehowtousethat,”hesays,noddingatthegun.
“Isaidmaybe.”
“I’moldenough.MydadshowedBrenwhenhewastwelve.”
Whichisn’trelevant,seeingasthatgunwasgonebeforeBrendanwas,butCalfilesitawayinhismindanyway.“Yougotajobtodo,”heremindsthekid.HeopenshistoolboxandtossesTreytheoldtoothbrush.“Warmwateranddishsoap.”
Treycatchesthetoothbrush,dumpshisparkaonachair,getshimselfamugofsoapandwater,andtipsthedeskcarefullyontoitsbacksohecankneelbesideit.Cal,spreadinghisdropsheetandleveringthelidoffhispaintcan,watcheshimsideways.Thekidsetstoworkatapacethathe’snotgoingtobeabletokeepup:provinghimselfalloveragain,afterhisoutbursttheotherday.Calpourspaintintotherollertrayandleaveshimtoit.
“IcheckedBren’sthings,”Treysays,withoutlookingup.
“And?”
“Hisphonecharger’sthere.Andhisrazorandhisshavingfoam,andhisdeodorant.Andhisbagfromschool,that’stheonlyonehe’sgot.”
“Clothes?”
“NothingmissingthatIcantell.Onlywhathewaswearing.Hedoesn’thavealot.”
“Hegotanythinghewouldn’tleavebehind?Anythingthat’sprecioustohim?”
“Hiswatch,thatwasmygranddad’s.Mymamgavehimthatonhiseighteenth.It’snotthere.Healwayswearsitanyway,but.”
“Huh,”Calsays,dippingtheroller.“Goodjob.”
Treysays,louder,withaflashoftriumphandfear,“See?”
“Thatdoesn’tmeanmuch,kid,”Calsaysgently.“Hemightafiguredsomeonewouldnoticeifhesnuckthingsout.Hehadcash;hecouldreplaceallthatstuff.”
Treybitestheinsideofhischeekandbendshisheadbackoverthedesk,butCalcantellhe’sworkingtowardssayingsomething.Hestartsputtingasecondcoatofpaintonhiswall,andwaits.
Ittakesawhile.Inthemeantime,Calfindsthathelikeshisworkrhythmbetterwiththekidthere.Onhisownthelastfewdays,hegotragged,speedingupandslowingdown;notenoughtomakeanydifferencetothejob,justenoughtogetonhisnerves.Withthekidneedingtobeshownhowtodoitright,hestaysniceandeven.GraduallyTrey’sferociouspaceslowstosomethingsteadier.
Eventuallyhesays,“Youwenttomyhouse.”
“Yeah,”Calsays.“Youmight’veactuallybeeninschool,foronce.”
“What’dmymamsay?”
“Whatyouthoughtshewould.”
“Doesn’tmeanshe’sright.Mymam,shemissesthings.Sometimes.”
“Well,”Calsays,“don’tweall.What’dshesaytoyou?”
“Shedidn’ttellmeyouwerethere.Alannadid.SaidabeardyfellawithawetshoegavethemKitKats.”
“Yep.Iwasoutforawalk,hadthemisfortunetostepinthebogrightbyyourmama’splace.What’stheodds?”
Treydoesn’tsmile.Afterasecondhesays,“Mymam’snotmental.”
“Neversaidshewas.”
“Peoplesayit.”
“Peoplesayaheapbesidestheirprayers.”
Treyobviouslyhasnoideawhatthismeans.“Doyouthinkshe’smental?”
Calthinksthisover,noticingalongthewaythathewouldstronglyprefernottolietoTreyifhecanhelpit.“No,”hesaysintheend,“Iwouldn’thavesaidmental.Sheseemstomemorelikealadywhocouldreallyuseafewpiecesofgoodluck.”
HecantellbythetwitchofTrey’seyebrowsthathehasn’tlookedatthingsinthislightbefore.Afteraminutehesays,“SofindBrendan.”
Calsays,“Brendan’sbuddies,thatyoutoldmeabout.Whichof’em’sthemostreliable?”
ClearlyTreyhasn’tconsideredthis.“Dunno.Paddy’sanawfulblow,he’dsayanything.AndAlan,he’saspacer,wouldn’tknowhisarsefromhiselbow.Fergal,maybe.”
“Where’sFergallive?”
“Outtheothersideofthevillage,’bouthalfamiledowntheroad.Sheepfarm,whitehouse.Yougonnaquestionhim?”
“Whichone’sthesmartest?”
Trey’slipcurls.“EugeneMoynihanthinksheis.He’sdoingacourseinSligoTech,businessorsomething.Thinkshe’sonlybrilliant.”
“Goodforhim,”Calsays.“HemovetoSligoforthat,orishestillaround?”
“Hewouldn’twanttobestuckindigs.Bethegoesineveryday.Hehasamotorbike.”
“Where’sEugenelive?”
“Inthevillage.Thatbigyellahousewiththeconservatoryontheside.”
“What’retheylike?”
Treyblowsascornfulpuffofairoutofthesideofhismouth.“Eugene’sawanker.Fergal’sthick.”
“Huh,”Calsays.Hefiguresthisisasmuchdetailashecanhopetoget.“SoundslikeBrendandoesn’thavemuchofagiftforpickinggoodbuddies.”
Thatgetshimaglare.“Notalottochoosefrom,roundhere.What’shesupposedtodo?”
“I’mnotcriticizing,kid,”Calsays,liftinghishands.“Hecanrunwithwhoeverhewants.”
“Yougonnaquestionthem?”
“I’mgonnatalktothem.LikeItoldyoubefore.Wetalktothemissingperson’sassociates.”
Treynods,satisfiedwiththis.“WhatdoIdo?”
“Youdonothing,”Calsays.“YoustayawayfromEugene,stayawayfromFergal,keepyourheaddown.”WhenTrey’smouthgetsamutinousset:“Kid.”
Treyrollshiseyesandgoesbacktowork.Caldecidesagainstpushingit;thekidknowsthedeal,andhe’snodummy.Fornow,anyway,thelikelihoodisthathe’lldowhathe’stold.
Whentheskyinthewindowstartstoburnorangebehindthetreeline,Calsays,“Whattimedoyoureckonitis?”
Treygiveshimasuspiciouslook.“Saysonyourphone.”
“Iknowthat.I’maskingforyourbestguess.”
Thesuspiciouslookstays,butintheendTreyshrugs.“Seven,maybe.”
Calchecks.It’seightminutesof.“Closeenough,”hesays.IfTreyfiguresBrendanleftatfive,heprobablyisn’ttoofaroff.“Andlateenoughthatyouneedtogethome.Iwantyoutokeepawayfromhereafterdark,thenextwhile.”
“Why?”
“MyneighborMart,somethingkilledoneofhissheep.He’snotahappyguy.”
Treythinksthisover.“OneofBobbyFeeney’ssheepgotkilled,”hesays.
“Yep.Youknowofanythingaroundherethatmightgokillingsheep?”
“Dog,maybe.Thathappenedbefore.SenanMaguireshotit.”
“Maybe,”Calsays,thinkingoftheneatflayedpatchontheewe’sribs.“Youeverseeadogrunningfree,whenyouwerehangingaroundhereatnight?Oranyotheranimalbigenoughtodothat?”
“It’sdark,”Treypointsout.“Youdon’talwaysknowwhatyou’reseeing.”
“Soyou’veseensomething.”
Thekidshrugs,one-shouldered,eyesontheneatback-and-forthofthetoothbrush.“Seenpeoplegoingintohouseswheretheyshouldn’tabeen,couplatimes.”
“And?”
“Andnothing.Iwentaway.”
“Goodcall,”Calsays.“Nowget.Youcancomebacktomorrow.Afternoon.”
Treystandsup,dustinghishandsonhisjeans,andnodsatthedesk.Calgoesoverandexaminesit.“Lookinggood,”hesays.“Anotherhourortwo’sworkandit’llbebackontrack.”
“WhenI’mdone,”Treysays,shovinganarmintohisparka,“youcanteachmethat.”HejerkshischinatthegunandheadsoutthedoorbeforeCalcananswer.
Calgoestothedoorandwatchesthekidstrideoff,keepingtothehedgeline.Therearesmallflickersofmovementamongthelonggrassinhisfield,rabbitsoutfortheireveningmeal,buttheHenryandstewaren’tonhismindanymore.OnceTreyturnsuptheroadtowardsthemountains,Calgiveshimaminuteandthengoestothegate.Hewatchesthekid’sskinnybackashelopesuptheroad,handsinhispockets,betweentheblackberrybramblesintothethickeningdusk.EvenafterTreyisinvisibleCalstaysthere,leaninghisarmsonthegateandlistening.
NINE
Calhasalwayslikedmornings.Hedrawsadistinctionbetweenthisandbeingamorningperson,whichheisn’t:ittakestime,daylightandcoffeetoconnectuphisbraincells.Heappreciatesmorningsnotfortheireffectonhim,butforthemselves.EvensmackinthemiddleofatemperamentalChicagoneighborhood,dawnsoundsroseupwithastartlingdelicacy,andtheairhadalemony,clean-scouredtingethatmadeyoubreathedeeperandwider.Here,thefirstlightspreadsacrossthefieldslikesomethingholyishappening,strikingsparksoffamilliondewdropsandturningthespiderwebsonthehedgetorainbows;mistcurlsoffthegrass,andthefirstcallsofbirdsandsheepseemtoarceffortlessmiles.Wheneverhecanmakehimself,Calgetsupearlyandeatshisbreakfastsittingonhisbackstep,enjoyingthechillandtheearthytangoftheair.ThedoughnutTreybroughthimyesterdayisstillinprettygoodshape.
TheWi-Fiisinanobligingmood,soCalpullsupFacebookonhisphoneandpokesaroundforEugeneMoynihanandFergalO’Connor.Eugeneisdarkandnarrow,withasemi-artyshotofhiminprofileonabridgesomewherethatlooksEasternEuropean.Fergalhasabiggrin,amoonfacewithspit-shinedredcheekslikeakid’s,andaraisedpint.
BrendanhasaFacebookaccount,too,althoughhislastpostwasayearago,somelike-and-shareattempttowinticketstoamusicfestival.Hisphotohashimonamotorbike,grinningoverhisshoulder.He’sthin,brown-haired,withthekindofsensitivehigh-bonedfeaturesthataregood-lookinginsomemoodsandnotinothers,andthatimplyquickchanges.CalseesSheilainhim,inthecheekbonesandaroundthemouth,buthecan’tfindanylookofTrey.
IfEugeneisastudentandFergalisafarmer,thenCalhasnodoubtsaboutwhichofthemismorelikelytobeupearlyonaSaturdaymorning.Hewalksdownthroughthevillage,whereNoreen’sandSeánóg’sandthedecorouslittleladieswearboutiquearestillshutteredandasleep,andtheroadisempty:onlyanoldwomanputtingflowersintheVirginMarygrottoatthecrossroadsturnstosaygoodmorning.Halfamileonareasetofbroadfieldsfulloffat,feistysheep,andasprawlingwhitefarmhouse.Intheyard,abigyoungguyinafleeceandworkpantsisunloadingsacksfromatrailerandhaulingthemtoanimpressivecorrugated-ironshed.
“Morning,”Calsays,atthegate.
“Morning,”saystheyoungguy,heftingthenextsack.He’salittleoutofbreath.Theexercisehasgivenhisfacethesameshineithasinthepubphoto,andhehasthesamelookofpleasedexpectationforCalashehadforthecamera,likeCalmightbeheretobringhimasurprisesnack.
“That’safinebunchofsheepyou’vegotoutthere,”Calsays.
“They’lldo,”Fergalsays,hoistingthesackmorefirmlyontohisshoulder.He’schubby,withsoftbrownhairandwomanishhips.Helookslikemostthingsmighttakehimawhile.“Oughtabemoreofthem,butsure,we’llmakethemostofwhatwe’vegot.”
“Yeah?Why’sthat?”
ThatmakesFergalpauseandgiveCalawide-eyedlook,likehe’sstartledanyonemightnotknowthis.“Thedroughtlastsummer,sure.We’dtoselloffsomeoftheflockbecausewecouldn’tfeed’em.”
“That’sabadblow,”Calsays.“Plentyofrainthissummer,though.”
“’Twasbetter,anyway,”Fergalagrees.“Lastyearthedroughtwentonrightthroughbreedingseason.Hurtthelambcropsomethingfierce.”
“Iwasn’thereforthat,”Calsays.Hesquintsupatthesky,whichismottledinpearlywhitesandgrays.“Hardtoimaginethisplacegettingmoresunshinethanitcanhandle.That’snotwhattheysellonthetouristwebsites.”
“Ilovethesunshine,soIdo,”Fergalconfesses,withabashfulgrin.“Itwasamadfeelinglastyear,hatingthesightofit.Ididn’tknowifIwascomingorgoing.”
Callikesthiskid,helikesthisconversation,andhewouldbeperfectlycontenttocontinueitalongthesesamelines.HefeelsajabofaggravationatTreyandhisdumbassbrother.
“CalHooper,”hesays,holdingouthishand.“I’mintheoldO’Sheaplace,outtheothersideofthevillage.”
Fergalclumpsovertohim,readjustingthesacksohecanfreeupahandandshake.“FergalO’Connor,”hesays.
“Well,lookatthat,”Calsays,pleased.“IheardyoumightbethemanIneed,andhereyouare.CanIgiveyouahandwiththatwhilewetalk?”
WhileFergalisworkinghiswaythroughthis,Calgoesinthegate,closesitcarefullybehindhimandpullsasackoffthetrailer.Hegetsituponhisshoulder,appreciatingtherealizationthatfourmonthsagohewouldprobablyhaverippedhalfadozenmusclestrying.ThesackshavealinedrawingofasheepandthewordsQUALITYRATIONunderneath.“Thesegointheshed?”heasks.
Fergalislookingperplexed,buthecan’tcomeupwithanythingreasonabletodoaboutCal,sohegoesalongwithhim.“Theydo,yeah,”hesays.“Sheepfeed.”
CalfollowsFergalintotheshed.It’sclean,high-roofedandairy,dividedintolongrowsofmetal-barredpens;balesofhayandsacksoffeedarestackedalongonewall.Upintheraftersacoupleoffledglingswallowsareswoopingaroundtheirnest.“Yougotsomeluckysheep,”Calsays.“Thisisaniceplace.”
“We’llbeneedingitsoonenough,”Fergalsays.“Theaul’fellasaresayingit’llbeabadwinter.”Hekeepslookingoverhisshoulder,buthecan’tworkoutwhatquestiontoask.
“Theoldguysmostlygetitright?”
“Theydo,yeah.Mostly,anyway.”
“Wellthen,”Calsays,dumpinghissackontopofaneatpile,“Isurehopeyoucanhelpme.I’maimingtogetmyhouseinshapebeforethatwinterhitsus,andI’mlookingtorewiremykitchen.Someguyinthepub,hementionedthatBrendanReddywasthego-toguyforthatstuff.”
HeglancesovertoseehowBrendan’snamestrikesFergal,butFergalmerelyblinksathim,perplexed.
“Iwentlookingforhim,”Calsays,“butMizSheilaReddytoldmehe’snotaroundthesedays.Shesaidyoumightbeabletohelpmeout.”
Fergal’sbafflementdeepens.“Me?”
“That’swhatshesaid.”
“Sure,Ihaven’taclueaboutelectrics.Brendandoes,allright.Buthe’snothere.”
Calnotesthedoes.“Well,shoot,”hesays.“LookslikeIgotitwrong.Don’tIfeelliketheidiot.”HegrinsruefullyatFergal,whogrinsback,obviouslyfamiliarwiththatfeeling.“Sorrytohavedisturbedyourwork.LeastIcandoisfinishtheseupwithyou,tomakeupforit.”
“Ah,no.You’regrand,sure.SorryI’mnogoodtoyou.”
“NowI’mwonderingifMizReddywasjusttryingtogetridofme,”Calsays,astheyheadbacktowardsthetrailer,“andyoubeingBrendan’sbestbuddy,youwerethefirstpersonwhopoppedintohermind.”HeheftsanothersackontohisshoulderandmakeswayforFergaltodothesame.“See,IthinkIputmygreatbigfootinmymouththere.Ijustwadedrightin,askingwhereImightfindBrendan.Ididn’tknowthestory,then.”
ThespeedwithwhichFergal’sheadturnstowardshimiswhatgivesCalhisfirstinklingthatBrendanReddymaynotjusthaverunofftothebrightlights.Itcomestohimwiththeclarityofasound,aneatsmallchinklikemetalhittingstone.
Fergalsays,“Whatstory?”
Callooksmildlyintohisround,startledblueeyes.
“What’dhismamsay?”
“Well,it’snotsomuchwhatshesaid,”Calexplains.“It’smorewhatIgathered.”
“What…?”
Calwaitsalittle,butFergaljuststares.“Let’sputitlikethis,”Calsaysintheend,pickingthewordscarefullyandlettingthecareshow.“WhenpeoplesayBrendan’snotaround,theydon’tmeanhepackedhisthingsandkissedhismamagood-byeandfoundhimselfanicelittleapartmentintown,andhecomesbackeverySundayforahome-cookeddinner.Nowdothey?”
Fergalislookingwary.Hisfeaturesaren’tconstructedforthis,anditgiveshimacomicalfrozenlook,likeakidwithabugsittingonhim.“Idunno,”hesays.
“Here’sthething,”Calsays.“Brendan’sfamily’sprettyworriedabouthim,son.”
Fergalblinksathim.“Worriedlikewhat?”Hehearshimself,figuresthatwasastupidquestion,andgoesredder.
“They’reafraidhemight’vebeentaken.”
ThatleavesFergalutterlyastounded.“Taken?Ah,God,no.Taken?Bywho?”
“Well,youtellme,son,”Calsays,reasonably.“I’mastrangeraroundhere.”
“Dunno,”Fergalsays,eventually.
“You’renotworriedabouthim?”
“Brendan’snot—sure,he…He’sgrand.”
Callookssurprised,whichdoesn’ttakemuchdoing.“You’retellingmeyouknowthisforafact,son?You’veseenhiminthelastsixmonths?Talkedtohim?”
AllthisisconsiderablymorethanFergalwaspreparedfor,thismorning.“Ah,no,Ihaven’t—Ihaven’ttalkedtohim,oranything.Ijustthinkhe’sgrand.Brenalwaysis,sure.”
“See,”Calsays,shakinghishead,“thisishowIknowI’mgettingold.Youngfolksalwaysthinkoldfolksworrytoomuch,andoldfolksalwaysthinkyoungfolksdon’tworryenough.Yourbuddy’sbeenmissingformonths,andallyouthinkis,‘Gee,Iguesshe’sOK.’Toanoldguylikeme,thatsoundsdownrightcrazy.”
“I’dsayhejustgotspooked,isall.Nottaken.Sure,whatwouldanyonetakehimfor?”
“Spookedbywhat?Orbywho?”
Fergalshiftstheweightofthesackonhisshoulder,lookingincreasinglyuncomfortable.“Idunno.Noone.”
“Yousaidhegotspooked,son.Meaningsomeonemustaspookedhim.Whowouldthatbe?”
“Ijustmeant…He’slikethat,sure.MymamsaysalltheReddyssufferterriblefromtheirnerves.He’llbebackoncehe’ssettled.”
“MizReddy’swearingherselftoathread,”Calsays,“worryingabouthim.Howwouldyourmamafeel,ifyouweregonethislongwithoutaword?”
ThisgetstoFergal.Hethrowsahuntedlooktowardsthehouse.“Notgreat,I’dsay.”
“She’dbedownonherkneesdayandnight,sobbingherheartoutandprayingforherboytocomehome.Nottomention,”Calsays,pushingontheweakspot,“whatwouldshesayifsheknewyouwerekeepinganothermamainthatkindofpain,whenyoucouldeasehermind?”
Fergalglanceswistfullyattheshed.Clearlyhe’dliketogointhere,eithertositdownonastackoffeedsacksandthinkthisover,orelsetostayhiddenuntilCalgivesupandgoesaway.
“Ifanyonecanhelpherout,son,it’syou.You’retheoneBrendanwenttomeettheeveningheheadedoff.Yougivehimaridesomewhere?”
“What?Hedidnot!”
TheastonishmentonFergal’sfaceseemsasgenuineasanyCalhaseverseen,butCallooksskepticalanyway.
“Hewasn’tmeetingme.ThelasttimeIsawhimwastwoorthreedaysbefore.Hecalledinlookingtoborrowafewquid.Igavehimahundred.Hesaid,‘Sound,I’llgetitbacktoyou,’andhewentoff.”
“Huh,”Calsays.IfBrendanwasplanningontakingoff,theneverylittlebitwouldhelp,butCaldoeswonderwhythesuddenrush.“Hesaywhatheneededitfor?”
Fergalshakeshishead,butthere’saveryslightshiftydiptoit,andheblinkstoofast.“AndIdidn’tseehimafterthat,”hesays.“Iswear.”
“Imustamisheardthatpart,”Calsays.“Mypointis,ifyouknowwhereBrendan’sfetchedup,youneedtosaysomethingtohismama.Rightaway.”
“Ihaven’tanotionwhereheis.HonesttoGod.”
“Well,thepartyoudon’tknowisn’tgonnabemuchhelptoMizReddy,son,”Calpointsout.HedoubtsitwilloccurtoFergaltowonderwhysomestrangerisgettingsoexercisedaboutSheilaReddy’sfeelings.“What’sthepartyoudoknow?Brendantoldyouwhathewasplanning,isthatit?”
Fergalmoveshisfeetinthedirtlikearestlesshorse,tryingtogetbacktowork,butCalstaysput.
“Idunno,”Fergalsays,intheend.Hisfacehassmoothedout;he’sretreatedintovacantblankness.“Ijustthinkhe’llcomebackinawhile.”
Calknowsthatlook.He’sseenitonplentyofstreetcornersandinplentyofinterviewrooms.It’sthelookyouget,notfromthekidwhodidit,butfromhisbuddy,theonewhocanconvincehimselfthatheknowsnothingbecausehewasn’tthere;theonewhojustgottoldaboutit,andisdeterminedtoprovehimselfworthyofthatlittlebitofsecondhandadventurebynotbeingasnitch.
“Now,son,”Calsays,liftingatoleranteyebrow.“Ilookdumbtoyou?”
“What?…No.Ididn’t—”
“Well,that’sgoodtohear.I’malottathings,butI’mnotdumb,atleastnotsofarasanyone’stoldme.”
Fergalisstillholdingontothevacantstare,butithaslittletwitchesofworrygoingonaroundtheedges.Calsaysgently,“AndIwasawildkidmyself,onceuponatime.WhateverBrendan’sbeenupto,Iprobablydidworse.ButIneverleftmymamascaredoutofherwitsformonthsonend.Idon’tblameyoufornotwantingtodealwithMizReddyyourself,butshehasarighttoknowwhat’sgoingon.Anymessageyou’vegotforher,I’mwillingtopassitalong.Idon’tneedtotellherwhereitcamefrom.”
Buthe’srunintoabarrierinFergal’smind,amixtureofconfusionandloyaltythat’ssetlikeconcrete.“IdunnowhereBrendanwent,”Fergalsays,moresolidlythistime.He’splanningtokeeponsayingit,andnothingelse.Likemostpeoplejustquickenoughtounderstandthattheylagalittlebehind,heknowshecanbeatallthequickeroneswiththis.
Calhaswaysofchippingawayatthisbarrier,buthedoesn’twanttousethem.Heneverlikedrubbingdumbpeople’sdumbnessintheirfaces.Itfeelstoomuchlikeplaygroundpickingontheweakkid,andbesides,onceyoudothatthere’snogoingback.He’snotlookingtomakeanenemyinthisplace.
“Well,”hesays,withasighandashakeofhishead,“that’syourcall.Ihopeyouchangeyourmind.”Hecan’tworkoutwhetherFergalactuallyknowssomethingthatneedskeepingquiet,orwhetherthisisjustreflex.Heallowsforthepossibilitythathe’soverthinkingthings,outofprofessionaldeformation:backonthejobthatwasalwaysoneofthemaintime-wasters,peoplekeepingtheirmouthsshutfornogoodreason,butCaldidn’texpecttorunintoithereinthelandofthegiftofthegab.“Whenyoudo,youknowwheretofindme.”
Fergalmumblessomethingandheadsofftowardstheshedasfastashecango.Calamblesalongafterhimandasksaquestionaboutsheepbreeds,whicharewhattheytalkaboutwhiletheyfinishunloadingthesacks.FergalhasrelaxedafairamountbythetimetheygetdoneandCalheadsbacktowardsthevillage,turningoverFergalandBrendaninhismind.
Beingnineteendidn’tsitrightwithCal.Hethoughtitdidatthetime,whenhewasrunningwildinChicago,giddyonfreedom,workingasabounceratskeevyclubsandplayinghousewithDonnainafourth-floorwalkupwithnoair-conditioning.Itwasonlyafewyearslater,whentheyfoundoutAlyssawasontheway,thatherealizedrunningwildneverhadsuitedhim.Ithadbeenalotoffun,butdeepdown,sodeepthathe’dneverspotteditthere,Calyearnedaftergettinghisfeetonthegroundanddoingrightbysomeone.
Hefeelsthatnineteen-year-olds,almostallofthem,don’thavetheirfeetontheground.They’returningloosefromtheirfamiliesandtheyhaven’tfoundanythingelsetomoorthemselvesto;theyblowliketumbleweed.They’reunknowns,tothepeoplewhousedtoknowtheminsideoutandtothemselves.
Thepeoplewhoknowanineteen-year-oldbestarehisbuddies,andhisgirlifhehasagoodone.Fergal,whoknowsBrendan’smindalotbetterthanhisbabybrotherorhismamaorOfficerDennis,thinksBrendanisinthewindbyhisownchoice,andthathe’srunningnottowardssomethingbutawayfromsomething,orsomeone.
ThisplacehasonethingincommonwiththetougherneighborhoodsCalusedtowork:infineweatherpeoplespendmuchoftheirtimeoutside,whichishandywhenyouwanttorunintothembychance.Inthedrivewayofthebigyellowhousewiththeconservatory,justontheedgeofthevillage,adark-hairedyoungguyinskinnyjeansiswaxingamotorbike.
ThebikeisaweedylittleYamaha,butit’sprettynearbrand-new,anditwasn’tcheap.NeitherwasthegiantblackSUVparkedbesideit,orthefamousconservatory,cometothat.Thefrontgardenhasneatflowerbedsaroundawaterfeatureshapedlikeastonepagoda,withalit-upcrystalballontopthatkeepschangingcolor.CalknowsfrompubtalkthatTommyMoynihanissomekindofbigshotinthemeat-processingplantacoupleoftownlandsover.TheMoynihans—liketheO’Connors,althoughinadifferentway—areawholelotbetteroffthantheReddys.
“Nicebike,”hesays.
Theguyglancesup.“Thanks,”hesays,favoringCalwithahalfsmile.Hisfeaturesarefinelymodeledenoughthatplentyofpeople,himselfincluded,probablyconsiderhimgood-looking,buthe’sgotaskimpyjawandnochin.
“Gottabetoughtokeepitlookinggood,ontheseroads.”
ThistimeEugenedoesn’tbothertolookupfromhismicrofibercloth.“It’snotaproblem.Youjusthavetobewillingtoputthetimeintoit.”
Thisguydoesn’tgiveCalthesameurgetohangaroundshootingthebreezeasFergaldid.“Hey,”hesays,struckbyathought.“YouEugeneMoynihan,byanychance?”
AtthatEugenedoestakethetroubletolookathim.“Iam,yeah.Why?”
“Well,that’sapieceofgoodluck,”Calsays.“IwastoldyouwerethemanIshouldtalkto,andhereyouare.Itwasthebikethatgaveyouaway.Iheardyouhadtheprettiestbikeintheseparts.”
“It’sallright,”Eugenesays,shruggingandgivingtheglossyredpaintworkanextraswipe.Hehasalight,pleasantvoicewithmostofthelocalaccentscrubbedoffit.“I’mplanningontradingupsoonenough,butthis’lldofornow.”
“Iusedtohaveamotorcycle,”Calsays,leaninghisarmsonthebigstonegatepost.“BackwhenIwasaboutyourage.Littlebittyfourth-handHonda,butman,didIlovethatthing.JustabouteverycentImadewentstraightintoit.”
Eugeneisn’tinterested,andisn’tgoingtobotherpretending.HeliftshiseyebrowsatCal.“Youwerelookingforme?”
Cal,whoiscomingtoagreewithTrey’sassessmentofEugene’spersonality,bringsouthisstoryabouttherewiringandBrendanandSheilaReddygivinghimEugene’sname.BytheendEugenedoesn’tlookwary,likeFergaldid;hejustlooksmildlydisdainful.“Idon’tdoelectricalwork,”hesays.
“No?”
“No.I’mdoingfinanceandinvestment.Incollege.”
Calissuitablyimpressed.“Wellthen,”hesays,“you’rerightnottowasteyourtimeonoddjobs.Iain’taneducatedmanmyself,butIknowthatmuch.Ifyoudoneearnedyourselfanopportunitylikethat,why,yougottamakethemostofit.”
Hecanseethelook,wryandguarded,thatDonnausedtogivehimwhenhedidthat,slouchedintothethickbackwoodsdrawlofhisgranddaddy’sbuddies.Redneckingup,shecalledit,andshehatedit—sheneversaidso,butCalcouldtell.DonnawasaJerseygirlfromthehood,butsheneverleanedonheraccent,orhiditeither;peoplecouldtakeherorleaveher.ShethoughtCalwasloweringhimselfbyplayingtopeople’sdumbpreconceivedideas.Calhashispride,butitdoesn’truninthatdirection.Actinglikeahickcanbeallkindsofuseful.ToDonna,thatwasbesidethepoint.
Donna’sopinionsdon’tchangethefactthatEugene’sglancehasjusttherightdismissiveflicktoit.“Yeah,”hesays.“I’mplanningto.”
“LookslikeIgotthewrongendofthestick,”Calsays,takingoffhisbaseballcapsohecanscratchhisheadthoughtfully.“ButBrendanReddydoeswiring,doesn’the?Igotthatpartright?”
“Hedid,yeah.ButIdon’tknowwhereheisthesedays.Sorry.”
ThispuzzlesCal.“Youdon’t?”
“No.WhywouldI?”
“Well,”Calsays,readjustinghiscap,“nobodyelseseemsto.It’samystery,seemslike.Butfolkkeepontellingmeyou’rethebiggeniusaroundtheseparts.IreckonedifanybodywouldhaveanideawhereBrendanwent,it’dbeyou.”
Eugeneshrugs.“Hedidn’tsay.”
“Hegothimselfinhotwatersomewayorother,didn’the?”
Anothershrug,one-shouldered.Eugeneconcentratesonbuffinghispaintwork,squintingalongittomakesurethere’snotasinglestreak.
“Oh,”Calsays,grinning.Heisn’tgoingtobothertryingthemama-guiltcard,notwiththiskid.“NowIgetit.Asmartguylikeyou,it’seasyformetoforgetyou’restillakid.Youstillthinkyoucan’ttelltalesoryou’llgetbeatupintheplayground.”
Eugenelooksupsharplyatthat.“I’mnotakid.”
“Right.Sowhattheheckdidyourlittlebuddydo?”Calisstillgrinning,proppinghimselfmorecomfortablyonthegatepost.“Lemmeguess.Hespray-paintedbadwordsonawall,gotscaredhe’dcatchawhippingfromhismama?”
Eugenedoesn’tlowerhimselftoanswerthat.
“Knockedupsomegirl,hadtogetoutoftownbeforeherdaddyfoundhisshotgun?”
“No.”
“Thenwhat?”
Eugenesighs.“Idon’tactuallyknowwhatBrendangotmixedupin,”hesays,tiltinghisheadtoexaminethesheenfromafreshangle,“andIdon’tcare.AllIknowis,heisn’tassmartashethinks,andthat’sagreatwaytoendupinhassle.That’sall.”
“Huh,”Calsays,hisgrinwidening.Heregisterstheisn’t.“You’retellingmethiskidBrendancameupwithsomeshenanigansfancyenoughthatyoucan’tmakeheadortailof’em,buthe’sthedumbasshere?”
“No.I’mtellingyouIdon’twanttomakeheadortailofit.”
“Uh-huh.Right.”
“Whatdoyoucare?”
IfCalhadevertalkedthatwaytoamanoldenoughtobehisdaddy,hewouldn’thavebeenabletositdownforaweek.“Well,”hedrawls,“IguessI’mjustnosy-like.I’mfromalittlebackwoodstownwherepeoplelikeknowingeachother’sbusiness.”Hescratchessomethingoffthebackofhisneckandexaminesit.“Andbackhometherewereplentyofpeoplewhotalkedliketheyknewitall,onlywhenyougotdowntoit,theydidn’tknowshitfromShinola.Guessthat’sthesameallovertheworld.”
“Look,”Eugenesays,irritated.Hesitsbackonhishaunches,preparinghimselftoexplainthisinsmallwords.“IknowBrendanhadsomeplantomakemoney,becausehe’salwaysskint,andthenallofasuddenhewasgoingonabouthowthissummerwecouldgotoIbiza.AndIknowitwasdodgy,becauseafewdaysbeforeheleftwewerehangingouthereandacoupleofGuardswentpast,andBrendanfreakedout.Ithoughtmaybehehadsomehashonhim,soIwaslike,‘God,chillout,theydidn’tcomeallthewaydownherejustforyourspliff,’buthewasall,‘Youdon’tgetit,man,thiscouldbebad,likereallybad,’andhetookofflikehisarsewasonfire.SoI’mveryhappynothavingaclueaboutthedetails,thanksverymuch.I’mnotinterestedinspendingdaysinsomeinterrogationroomansweringpointlessquestionsfromsomehalf-witGuard.OK?”
“Right,”Calsays.HefindshimselfdespisingEugenealittlebit.HeunderstandsthatEugeneandBrendanwerefriendsduetohappenstanceandhabitratherthantochoice.Calhasthosechildhoodfriends,someofwhomgrewuptodovariousthingsthatlandedtheminprison,ortodonothingatallexceptsitontheirporchesdrinking40sandmakekidstheycan’tsupport.Hestillstaysintouchwiththem,andwhentheirneedsgeturgenthestilllendsthemafewbuckshe’llneverseeagain.ItseemstohimthattheleastEugenecoulddoiscarewhatkindofmessBrendangothimselfinto.“WhatweretheGuardshereabout?”
“Ihaven’tgotaclue,”Eugenesays.Hedrapeshisclothneatlyoverhisbumper,picksupacanoflubeandstartscarefullysprayinghiscables.“Idoubtitwasanythingserious.Isawthemleavingliketwentyminuteslater.ButknowingBrendan,iftheGuardsweren’tafterhimthattime,thatwouldjustmakehimfigureeverythingwasgrandandgorightbacktohisbigplan,insteadofdoingthesmartthinganddroppingitbeforetheyactuallydidcomeafterhim.That’swhatImeanaboutBrendannotbeingassmartashethinks.He’sintelligentenough,buthedoesn’tthinkthingsthrough.Ifhe’dusedhisbraininschoolinsteadofmitchingofftogetstoned,hecouldhavegotintocollege.Andifhe’dusedittothinkthroughhisbrilliantidea,hewouldn’thaveendedupsoterrifiedoftheGuardsthathe’sprobablysleepinginadoorwaysomewhere.”
Calsays,“Hewouldn’tgetintouchwithyou,ifitcamedowntothat?Borrowafewbucks,soonerthansleeprough?”
“Oh,”Eugenesays,consideringthatforthefirsttime.“Imean,obviouslyI’d,ifhereallyneeded…Buthewouldn’t.Brendan’sridiculousaboutmoney.Like,youcan’tevenoffertobuyhimapint,orhegetsthehumpaboutcharityandstormsoffhome.It’slike,fuck’ssake,we’realljusttryingtohaveagoodnightouttogetherhere,what’syourproblem?Youknow?”
CalfiguresEugene’smannerofofferingmightbethekindthatwouldhavesenthimstormingoffhome,too,atnineteen.HewholeheartedlyagreeswithBrendan’sdecisiontogotoFergal,ratherthanEugene,forextracash.Forhimtodoeventhat,theneedmusthavebeenurgent.“Well,somefolksaretouchythatway,”hesays.“Hedidn’tsaynothingtoyouthatday,aboutwherehewasheaded?”
“Whatday?”
“Thedayheleft.Hewasmeetingyou,wasn’the?”
EugenestaresatCallikeheshouldn’tbeallowedoutalone.“Um,no?WhatwithmebeinginPraguewiththeladsfromcollege?ItwasEasterhols?”
“Right,”Calsays.“Easterhols.SoundslikeIcan’tcountonBrendancominghomeanytimesoon,huh?”
Eugeneshrugs.“Whoknows,withhim.Hecouldtakeanotionandbehometomorrow,orhemightnevercomebackatall.”
“Huh,”Calsays.“Thereanyoneelsethatmightbeabletohelpmeout?”
“Iwouldn’tknow,”Eugenesays.Hedabsawayatrickleofexcesslubeandleansbacktoexaminethebike.“ThinkI’lltakethisforaspin,getitproperlydriedout.”
“Goodidea,”Calsays,straighteningupoffthegatepost.“IfyouhearfromBrendan,tellhimthere’sworkwaitingforhim.”
“Noproblem,”Eugenesays,pickinguphishelmetfromthedriveandflickingaspeckofsomethingoffit.“Don’tholdyourbreath.”
“I’manoptimistickindofguy,”Calsays.“Nicetalkingtoyou.”
HewatchesEugeneroaroffuptheroad,weavingtheYamahaneatlyaroundpotholes.OnlyalittlebitofthemotorbikemadeitintoBrendan’sFacebookshot,buthe’sprettysureitwasthisone.Eugenewasatleastgenerousenoughtogivehisbuddyarideonhisbike.Eitherhedoesn’tsharehishelmet,orBrendanwastoomuchofadumbasstowearit.
Calheadsbackthroughthevillage,whichhasitsSaturdayupandrunningnow.Theagingblondwomanwhoownstheboutiqueisdeckingoutherwindowmannequininanoutfitrunningriotwithferocioustropicalflowers,Noreenispolishingthebrassworkonherdoor,andBartythebarmanisgivingthewindowsofSeánóg’sawipewithnewspaper.Calnodstothemall,andpicksuphispacewhenheseesNoreenwhiproundwithherpolishingclothraisedandagleaminhereye.
Hewalksthelanesforawhilebeforeheheadsforhome.Inhismind,he’sspreadingoutandarrangingwhathe’sgotsofar.IfEugeneisrightandBrendanisontherunfromthepolice,thenatthetopofthelistofpotentialreasonshastobedrugs.Brendanhadcontacts,eveniftheywerejustlow-levelones,andhewantedcash.Maybehewantedtostartselling,oractuallyhadstartedselling,buthedidn’thavetheconstitutionforit.Thefirsttimethepolicecamesniffingaround—ormaybethefirsttimehissuppliersgotalittlebitscary,andCalknowssupplierscangetplentyscary—hepanickedandran.
OfficerO’Malleyupintowndidn’tmentionanythingaboutadrugsopfocusedonthevillage,oraboutBrendanReddybeinginanyone’ssights.Butthen,OfficerO’Malleymightnotknow.
OrBrendan’sbusinessplanmightnothaveinvolveddrugsatall.Thereareplentyofwaysforakidtopickupsomecashonthewrongsideofthelawaroundhere:runningstolencarsacrosstheborder,helpingouttheguyswholaunderagriculturaldiesel.Andthoseareonlytheonesthatruncloseenoughtothesurfacethatevenastrangercanseethem.AkidlikeBrendan,withideasandanentrepreneurialstreak,couldhavecomeupwithalotmore.
Anotherpossibility,onethatEugenetheboygeniushasn’tthoughtof,isthatBrendan’smoneymakingschemeandhisfearofthepoliceweretwoseparatethings.Maybehewasplanningontakinghisodd-jobsbusinesslegit,orgettingfamousonYouTube.Andmeanwhile,unrelated,hewasdoingsomethingbad.
Andthenthere’sthepossibilitythatneitherthemoneymakingschemenorthebadthingwaseverreal.Brendan’smindcouldhavebeenmisfiring.EverythingCalhasheardputshimontheunsteadyside:oneminuteontopoftheworldandspinningbigplans,thenextminutepanickedandrunningawayfromnothing,thenextminuteblowingitalloff.Nineteenistherightageforalotofthingsthatcanstartmisfiringinsidesomeone’smind.
AmongthecasesCallikedleastweretheoneswherehewastryingtopickupatrailthathadneverexistedoutsidesomeone’smind.IfaguyrantoClevelandbecausehisfavoritecousinwasthere,orhisoldcellmate,orthegirlwhogotaway,thetrailwassolid;Calcouldfinditandfollowit.IfherantoClevelandbecauseavoicefromtheTVtoldhimanangelwaswaitingforhiminashoppingmallthere,thenthetrailwasmadeofnothingbutwispsandair.CalneedstofindoutwhetherBrendan’smindwasmakingthingsoutofair.
HeconsidersthepossibilitythatBrendanisupinthemountains,livingoffthegridinsomeabandonedcottage,andcomingdownatnighttoslicesheeptorags.Theimageunsettleshimalittlebitmorethanitshould.Hesincerelyhopesthathe’llneverhavetopassitontoTrey.
Infact,whenitcomestoTrey,Calisn’tinclinedtopassonanyofthemorning’sevents,atleastnotuntilhefindsoutwhyBrendanwasrunningscaredofthepolice.Hepromisedtotellthekidanythinghefoundout,buthefeelsitwouldbeallowabletowaituntilhehassomethingreal,ratherthanafoggyclusterofhintsandpossibilities.TherearethingsBrendancouldhavedonethatthekidwouldneedtobetoldcarefully.
ItoccurstoCalthatthisisthefirsttimehe’smadethedecisiontotakeonacase.Onthejob,hetookcasesbecausetheygotassignedtohim.Heneverspentmuchtimeweighinguptheintricaciesofwhetherthepeopleconcernedandthewidersocietyandtheforcesofgoodwouldbebestservedbyhimtakingontheinvestigation;partlybecausehewasgoingtodoitanyway,butmainlybecausehebelievedthatitwasinfacttherightthingtodoinageneralsense,ifnotnecessarilyineveryparticularinstance.Mostoftheguysfeltthesame,atleasttheoneswhocaredonewayortheother.Therewereexceptions—occasionallysomeshort-eyesgothimselfbeatupandthewitnessessomehowneverdidgettrackeddown,orsomepimpwithaworse-than-averagerependedupshotandnooneputtoomucheffortintounravelingwhohadpulledthetrigger—butonthewhole,yournamecameupsoyoudidyourjob.ThisisthefirsttimeCalhasbeeninapositiontochoosewhetherornottotakeacase,andhasmadethechoicetodoit.Hehopes,evenmoresincerely,thathe’sdoingtherightthing.
TEN
OnhiswayhomeCalstopsbyMart’splace,tocheckifMartmadeitthroughhisnightwatch.MartanswersthedoorwithapapertoweltuckedintheneckofhissweaterandKojak,snortingthreateningly,athisknee.Thehousesmellsofoldturfsmoke,cookingmeatandabafflingmixofspices.
“Justcheckingthatthealiensdidn’tabductyou,”Calsays.
Martgiggles.“Sure,whatwouldtheywantwiththelikesofme?You’retheonewhoshouldbewatchingyourself,greatbigfellalikeyou.Plentytheretoprobe.”
“Ibettermakemyselfatinfoilsuit,”Calsays,cuppinghishandforKojaktosniff.
“AskBobbyFeeneyforalendofhis.I’dsayhehasonehanginginhiswardrobe,towearwhenhe’southuntingthelittlegreenmen.”
“Youseeanythinglastnight?”Calasks.
“Nothingthat’ddowhatwesaw.Iprotectedyourpropertyfromabigbruiserofahedgehog,butthat’sasdangerousasitgot.”MartgrinsatCal.“WereyouafraidIwaslyingoutinthemwoodswithbitscutoffme?”
“JustwantedtoknowifIcouldcrossthosecookiesoffmyshoppinglist,”Calsays.
“Don’tbeholdingyourbreath,boyo.Whateverdonethat,it’dbetterbringitsfriendsandrelationsifitwantstotakemeon.”Martholdsthedoorwider.“Comein,now,andhaveabitofspaghettiandacupoftea.”
Calwasabouttosayno,butthespaghetticatcheshiscuriosity.HehadMartdownasameat-and-potatoesguy.“Yousureyou’vegotsometospare?”heasks.
“Sure,I’veenoughtheretofeedhalfthetownland.IdomakeabigpotofwhateverIfancy,andthenseehowlongitlastsme.Goon.”HemotionsCalin.
Mart’shouseisn’tdirty,exactly,butithasanairofhavingbeenlowpriorityforalongtime.Ithassludge-greenwallsandalotoflinoleumandFormica,andmostsurfaceshavebeenworndowntillthey’respeckled.Inthekitchen,KylieMinogueissingingtheLocomotionfromabigwoodentransistorradio.
“Sitdownthere,”Martsays,pointingatthetable,wherehismealislaidoutonanoldred-checkedoilcloth.ItlookslikespaghettiBolognese,barelystarted.Caltakesaseat,andKojakflopsdownbythefireplaceandstretchesoutwithapleasurablegroan.
“HereIthoughtyou’dhaveyourplacepaintedeverycoloroftherainbow,”Calsays.“Afteralltheshityougavemeaboutplainwhite.”
“Ididn’tpaintthisplaceatall,”Martinformshim,withtheairofamanscoringapoint.Hepullsanotherplateandanothermugoutofacupboardandstartsscoopingspaghettioutofabigpotonthecooker.“Mymammy,Godresther,shediditupthisway.WhenIdogetaroundtopaintingit,youcanbetyourlifeitwon’tbeanyplainwhite.”
“Yeah,butyouwon’tgetaroundtoit,”Caltellshim.Hefiguresit’spasthisturntoyankMart’schainalittlebit.“Youcantellyourselfwhateveryouwant,butifyouhaven’tdoneitbynow,it’sbecausedeepdown,youlikeitthisway.”
“Idonot.It’sthecolorthat’dcomeoutofthearseofasicksheep.I’mthinkingbrightblueinhere,andyellaoutinthehall.”
“Won’thappen,”Calsays.“Betyoutenbucks:thistimenextyear,everywallyouownisstillgonnabesheep-shitgreen.”
“I’mnotputtinganydeadlinesonmyself,”Martsayswithdignity,settingaheapedplateinfrontofCal.“Nottosuityouoranyoneelse.Now:getyourlaughing-tackleroundthat.”
ThespaghettineedsplentyofchewingandtheBolognesesauceisheavilyseasonedwithmint,corianderandsomethingthattasteslikeaniseed.Itkindofworks,aslongasCaltakesitonitsownterms.
“It’sgood,”hesays.
“Ilikeit,”Martsays,pouringCalteafromateapotshapedlikeaDalek.“AndI’veonlymyselftoplease.There’sgreatfreedominthat.Aslongasthemammywasalive,nothingbutgoodaul’meatandpotatoescameinthishouse.She’dboilthemtillyoucouldn’ttellonefromtheotherifyou’dyoureyesclosed,andnoseasoning:shesaidthespiceswerehalfthereasonforeignplaceshadthedivorceandthegaysandall.Thespicesgotintheirbloodandaddledtheirbrains.”HepushesacartonofmilkandabagofsugaracrossthetabletoCal.“Onceshewasgone,Iwentabitexperimentalformyself.IwentintoGalway,tooneofthemfancyyuppieshops,andIboughteveryspicetheyhad.Thebrotherdidn’tlikeit,butsure,he’dburnwater,sohehadtolumpit.Diginthere,beforeitgoescoldonyou.”
Hepullsuphischairandsettlesbacktohisfood.CalhasapparentlystumbledontheonecircumstancewhereMartdoesn’tbelieveinconversation:heeatswithahardworker’ssingle-mindeddedication,andCalfollowshislead.Thekitcheniswarmfromthecooking;outsidethewindow,thehillsaresoftwithmist.Kyliehaswrappeditupandanotherwomanstartssinging,pureandsweet,withpracticedsoulfulness:nofrontiers…InhissleepKojakmakeslittlehuffingnoisesandtwitcheshispaws,chasingsomething.
“Therain’llholdoff,”Martsayseventually,pushinghisplateawayandsquintingoutthewindow,“butthatcloud’sgoingnowhereforawhileyet.Nomatter:anythingIdon’tsee,I’llhear.”
“Yougonnabeoutthereagaintonight?”
“Iwill,lateron,”Martsays,“butI’moffdutythisevening.ImightseeifP.J.fanciestakingtheoddshift,ifyou’venoobjection.Ican’tbemissingmybeautysleepforever.”Infacthelookssurprisinglybright-eyed.Theonlysignthathespentthenightsittingoutunderatreeisanextrahitchtohismovements,likehisjointsaretroublinghimmorethanusual,buthesaysnothingaboutit.
“P.J.’swelcometohangoutinmywoods,”Calsays.HeknowsP.J.alittlebit:along-legged,hollow-cheekedguywhonodstoCaloverwallswithoutstartingconversations,andwhosometimessingsashegoesabouthiseveningrounds,melancholyoldballadsinasurprisinglypoignanttenor.“Howlongareyougonnagivethis?”
“Wouldn’tIlovetoknowthatmyself,”Martsays,toppinguphistea.“Whateverthiscreatureis,it’sgottogethungrysoonerorlater.Orgetbored,maybe.”
“Lottasheeparoundhere,”Calsays.“Yougotanyparticularreasontothinkit’sgonnacomeafterP.J.’s?”
“Well,sure,”Martsays,glancingupfromthesugarwithhisfacecrinklingintoagrin,“Ican’twatcheverysheepinArdnakelty.P.J.’sareconvenient.”
“Right,”Calsays.HehasastrongimpressionthatMartiskeepingsomethingback.
“Besides,”Martpointsout,“don’tweknowthecreaturelikesthisarea?Andalotoftheotherfarmsaroundherearecattle,andtheymightn’tbeanygoodtoit:itmightn’tbebigenoughtotakedownacow.IfIwasthisyokeymajig,P.J.’siswhereI’dbeheadingnext.”Hetapshistemple.“Theaul’psychology,”heexplains.
“Neverhurts,”Calsays.“Hasitbeenjustthosetwosheep,yoursandBobbyFeeney’s?Orhasthisbeengoingonawhile?”
“Therewasoneother,beginningofthesummer.FrancieGannon’s,besidethevillage.”MartgrinsandpointshismugatCal.“Don’tyoubegoingallColumboonme,now,askingquestions.Thisisundercontrol.”
Sothesheep-killingstartednotlongafterBrendanwentmissing.Calthinksofthattumbledowncottageagain,oracaveinthemountainside.Therewerewildmenouthisgranddaddy’sway,oratleastrumorsofthem.Calandhisbuddiesneversawthem,buttheysawcampfiresitesandsnarewires,coolershiddeninunderbrush,animalskinspeggedtobranchestodry,deepinthewoodswherenooneshouldhavebeenspendinganyamountoftime.OnetimeCal’sbuddyBillyalmostfellintoanexpertlyhiddenpittrap.Whoeverdugit,probablyhestartedoutasarestlessteenagerprowlingtheperimeterofhislifeforanescaperoute.
“Now,”Martsays,scrapingbackhischair,“Iknowwhatyouneed,tofinishoffwith.”Hebendsoverwithapainfulgrunt,pokesaroundinacupboardandcomesupholdingapacketofcookies.“Thereyougo,”hesays,puttingittriumphantlyonthetable.“Timeyoufoundoutwhatallthefussisabout.”
He’ssodelightedwithhisinspirationthatitwouldbeunmannerlyforCaltorefuse.Thecookietastesexactlylikeitlooks:sugarandfoamrubber,inavarietyofconsistencies.“Well,”Calsays.“Wedon’tgetthesebackhome.”
“Haveanotheronethere,goon.”
“I’llleave’emtoyou.Notreallymystyle.”
“Youcan’tbecomingoverhereinsultingtheMikados,”Martsays,miffed.“EverychildinIrelandisweanedonthese.”
“Nodisrespectintended,”Calsays,grinning.“Idon’thavemuchofasweettooth.”
“D’youknowwhatthatis?”Martdemands,struckbyathought.“That’sthemAmericanhormones.They’reafterwreckingyourtastebuds.Theway,whenawoman’spregnant,she’lleatfruitcakewithsardines.Comebacktomeinayearandtrythoseagain,oncewe’vegotyourecalibratedbacktonormal,andwe’llseewhatyouthinkofthemthen.”
“Willdo,”Calsays,stillgrinning.“Crossmyheart.”
“Comeheretome,Columbo,whileIhaveyou,”Martsays,dippingacookieintohismug.“Tellmeyoudon’tsuspectthatlittlescutterEugeneMoynihanofgettingatmysheep.”
“Huh?”Calsays.
MartthrowsCalonebright-eyedglance.“Iheardyouwerehavingagreataul’chatwithhimthismorning.Wereyouinterrogatinghim?I’dsayhe’dcrackinminutes,thatfella.Onesternlookoffayouandhe’dbebawlingforhismammy.Washe?”
“NotthatInoticed,”Calsays.“ButIdidn’tgivehimanythingtobawlabout.”
“Eugenedidn’ttouchmyewe,”Martsays.“NordidFergalO’Connor.”
“Neverthoughttheydid,”Calsays,truthfully.
“Sowhatwereyouatwiththem?”
“AllIwant,”Calsays,withmountingirritation,“issomeonewho’llhelpmerewiremykitchensoIcanputinawashingmachineandwashmydamnunderpantsinmyownhome,insteadofhaulingthemtotowneveryweek.OnlyIkeepgettingtherunaround.OneguysaysIneedthisguy,soIgolookingandnah,he’snotaround,Ineedthisotherguy.Trackhimdownandhedoesn’tknowacablefromhisass,Ineedthisotherguy.Trackhimdown”—Marthasstartedgiggling—“andheactslikeIaskedhimtounclogmytoiletwithhisbarehands.I’mtryingtogiveworktolocalfolkhere,outaplaingoodmanners,butI’maboutreadytogiveuponthatbullshitandhireaprofessional,justsoIhavethatwasherbeforeIgettoooldtoworkit.”
Martiswheezingwithlaughter.“Godalmighty,”hesays,wipinghiseyes,“coolyourjetsthere,buckaroo,oryou’llgiveyourselfaheartattack.I’llfindyousomeonelocalwho’llputinawashingmachineforyou.Getyouoneatagoodpricetoo.”
“Well,”Calsays,settlinghimselfdownbutstillalittlebitruffled.“I’dappreciatethat.Thanks.”
“Andsure,howwouldEugeneMoynihanbeanyusetoyou,anyway?Hewouldn’tlowerhimselftogethishandsdirtywiringanything,”Martpointsout,withvastscorn.“Whowasittoldyouhewould?”
“Well,”Calsays,scratchinghisbeardthoughtfully,“I’mnotrightlysure.Itwassomeguyinthepub.Hepointedmetowardsacouplapeoplewhomightbeabletohelpmeout,butIcan’tseemtorememberhisname—I’dhadafewbeerswhenIwastalkingtohim,andIgottaadmit,Ihaven’tgoteverybodystraightyet.Oldguy,seemslike.Shorthair.Fewinchestaller’nyou,maybe,butIcouldhavethatwrong.Gotacap.”
“SpannerMcHugh?DessieMullen?”
Calshakeshishead.“AllIknowis,hesoundedlikeheknewwhathewastalkingabout.”
“NotDessie,so,”Martsayswithfinality.
Calgrins.“Well,hedidn’texactlyturnouttobeontherighttrack.MightabeenDessieafterall.”
“I’llaskhim.Hecan’tbesendingstrangersonwild-goosechaseslikethat.He’llgiveusabadname.”MartfindshistobaccopacketandtiltsitatCal.
“Appreciatetheoffer,butIbettergetmoving,”Calsays,pushingbackhischairandpickinguphisplate.“Muchobligedforthemeal.”
Martcocksaneyebrow.“Where’stherush?Gotabigdate?”
“DatewithYouTube,”Calsays,puttinghisplateinthesink.“Seeingasnooneelsearoundhereisgonnahelpmerewiremykitchen.”
“Don’tbemessingaboutwiththatYouTube;you’llhavetheplaceburnedtotheground.ItoldyouI’llgetthatwashersortedforyou.”MartpointshiscigaretteatCal.“Andcomeheretome:ifyoudon’thaveadate,letyoucomedowntoSeánóg’stonight.”
“What’sgoingon?”Calasks.“Ityourbirthday?”
Martlaughs.“HolyGod,no.Igaveupthemyokesyearsago.Justcomeondown,andyou’llseewhatyou’llsee.”HeblowsathinstreamofsmokebetweenhisteethandgivesCalanextravagantwink.
Calleaveshimthere,tiltinghischairbackandhummingalongtoDustySpringfield,andletshimselfout.Kojakthumpshistailandrollsoneeyeathimashepasses.Calwalkshomewonderingwhatitwas,somewherearoundP.J.andhissheepandthekillings,thatMartdecidednottotellhim.
Intheend,Treydoesn’tshowuptilllateafternoon.“Hadtadothemessages,”hesaysbywayofexplanation,knockingmudoffhissneakersagainstthedoorstep.
“Well,that’sgood,”Calsays.“Yougottahelpyourmamaout.”Aftersomebewildermentatthestart,heworkedoutthataroundhere“themessages”isthegroceryshopping.OneofthereasonshepickedIrelandwassohewouldn’thavetolearnanewlanguage,butsometimeshefeelslikethejokeisonhim.
Treyiswiredtighttoday;Calcanseeit,inthejutofhischinandtheshiftofhisfeetonthestep.Hetakesaquickglancebehindhim,likesomeonemightbewatching,beforehecomesinsideandshutsthedoor.
“Iwasjusttidyingupthisthicketofmine,”Calsays,sweepingbeardclippingsoffthetableintothecardboardboxheusesasawastebasket.Hisbeardwasgettingprettyunruly,anditoccurredtohimthatifhe’sgoingtogoroundaskingnosyquestions,itwouldn’thurttolookrespectable.“Whaddayathink?”
Treyshrugs.HefishesapacketoutofhisparkaandhandsittoCal.Calrecognizesthewax-paperpackaging:halfadozensausages,outofNoreen’sfridge.Ithitshim,allofasudden,whyTreykeepsbringinghimthings.Thisispayment.
“Kid,”hesays.“Youdon’thavetobringmestuff.”
Treyignoresthis.“FergalandEugene,”hesays.“What’dtheysay?”
“Wereyoufollowingme?”Caldemands.
“Nah.”
“Thenhow’dyouknowIalreadytalkedtothem?”
“HeardEugene’smamsayingtoNoreen,whenIwasgettingthemessages.”
“Jesus,”Calsays,headingforthefridgetoputthesausagesaway.“Aguycan’tpickhisnosearoundherewithoutthewholetownlandtellinghimtowashhishands.”Hewondershowmuchlongerhecankeepthisthingunderwraps,andwhatthetownlandwillthinkwhenitcomesout.Hefindsthathehasnoidea,eitheroftheanswerorevenofwhatfactorsmightinfluenceit.“What’dEugene’smamasay?”
Treyfollowshim.“Justthatyouwereaskingforsomeonetodowiring.Faceonherlikeabulldoglickingpissoffanettle.What’dtheysay?”
“Howcome?Shedoesn’tlikethelookofme?”
“’CauseEugene’stoogoodforthat.And’causeyouthoughthe’dneedthebittaextracash.”
“Well,I’mjustabigdumbstrangerthatdoesn’tknowhiswayaround,”Calsays.“What’dNoreensaytothat?”
“Saidthere’snoharminhonestwork,andajobwoulddoEugenegood.Shedoesn’tlikeMrs.Moynihan.What’dtheysay?”
Thekidisstandinginthemiddleofthekitchenfloor,feetplantedapart,blockingCal’sway.Calcanfeelhimpracticallyvibratingwithtension.
“Theyhaven’theardfromyourbrothersincehewent,neitheroneofthem.Theyboththinkhe’salive,though.”Caldoesn’tmisstheslackeningofreliefinTrey’sspine.RegardlessofhowsurethekidclaimstobeaboutBrendan’sstateofmind,hecameinherescaredthatBrendan’sbuddiesknewdifferent.“AndI’vegottatellyou,kid,theydon’tthinkanyonetookhim.Theythinkhewentofhisownaccord.”
“Theycouldabeenlying.”
“Iwasacopfortwenty-fiveyears.I’vebeenliedtobythebestinthebusiness.YouthinkabiggooflikeFergalO’Connorcanbullshitme?”
Treyacknowledgesthat.“Fergal’sthick,but.Just’causehethinkssomething,thatdoesn’tmeanhe’sright.”
“Iwouldn’tpickhimtobuildmearocketship,butheknowsyourbrother.IfhethinksBrendanwentoff…”
Treysays,lookingCalstraightintheeyes,“Doyouthinkhe’salive?”
Calknowsbetterthantoleaveeventhesmallestpausethere.Luckilyhealsoknowswhattosay,havingsaiditafewhundredtimesovertheyears.“Idon’tthinkanything,kid,”hesays.“RightnowI’mjustcollectinginformation.I’lldomythinkinglateron,onceI’vegotalotmoreofthat.AllIcantellyouis,Idon’thaveonesinglepieceofinformationthatpointstohimbeingdead.”Allofwhichistrue,andSheilaReddy’sfaceasshelookedupatthemountainsisn’tinformation.ThewordsstillleaveabadtasteinCal’smouth.Itcomestohim,morepowerfullythanever,thathehasgothimselfintoterritoryhedoesn’tunderstand.
Treyholdsthatstraightstareforanothermoment,checkingforcracks;thenhenods,acceptingthat,andletshisbreathout.Heheadsovertothedeskandstartspokingatit,seeingwhat’slefttodo.
Calleansbackagainstthekitchencounterandwatcheshim.“Whatkindadrugsdoyougetroundhere?”heasks.
Treyflasheshimafast,unexpectedgrin,overhisshoulder.“Youlooking?”
“Funnyguy,”Calsays.“I’llpass,thanks.ButsayIwas.What’sonoffer?”
“Lottahash,lottabenzos,”Treysayspromptly.“E,offandon,like.SpecialK.Coke,sometimes.Acid,sometimes.Shrooms.”
“Huh,”Calsays.Hewasn’texpectingafullmenu,althoughmaybeheshouldhavebeen.Lordknowsbackhomethesmallesttowns,wherethekidshadnothingelsetokeepthemoccupied,weretheoneswhereyoucouldgetyourhandsonanydrugyou’dheardofandafewyouhadn’t.“Crack?”
“Nah.NotthatIeverheard.”
“Meth?”
“Notalot.FewtimesIheardsomeonehadsome.”
“Heroin?”
“Nah.Anyonewhogetsonthat,theyleave.GotoGalway,orAthlone.Roundhere,youwouldn’tknowwhat’dbearoundwhen.Junkieshavetaknowtheycangetitanytime.”
“Thedealersaroundhere,”Calsays.“Youknowwheretheygettheirstuff?Istheresomelocalguyinchargeofdistribution?”
“Nah.BunchaladsbringitdownfromDublin.”
“DidBrendanknowtheseguys?TheonesfromDublin?”
“Brenisn’tadealer,”Treysays,instantlyandhard.
“Ineversaidhewas,”Calsays.“Butyouthinkbadpeopletookhim.Ineedtoknowwhatkindofbadpeoplehecould’verunintoaroundhere.”
Treyexaminesthedesk,runningafingernailalongcracks.“ThemDublinfellasarebadnews,allright,”hesaysintheend.“You’dhearthem,sometimes:theycomedowninthembigHummers,racethemacrossthefieldsatnight,whenthere’samoon.Orinthedaytime,even.TheyknowtheGuardswon’tcomeintimetocatch’em.”
“I’veheard’em,”Calsays.He’sthinkingaboutthathuddleofguysinthebackofthepub,everynowandthen,guystooyounganddressedwrongforSeánóg’sandeyefuckinghimforjustasecondtoolong.
“Kiltacouplasheepthatway,onetime.AndtheybetupafellafromupnearBoylebecausehedidn’tpaythem.Bethimupbad,like.Helostaneye.”
“Iknowthekind,”Calsays.“Theystartoutdangerous,andtheygetawholelotworseifsomeonepissesthemoff.”
Treylooksupatthat.“Brencouldn’thavepissedthemoff.Hedoesn’tevenknowthem.”
“Yousureaboutthat,kid?Certainsure?”
“Theywouldn’tselldirecttothelikesofhim,thatonlydoestheoddbithereandthere.Brenjustboughtfromthelocallads,whenhewantedsomething.Hewouldn’tbearoundthemfellas.”
Calasks,“Thenwhotookhim?Thesearetheonlybadguysanyone’smentionedaroundhere.Youtellme,kid:ifnotthem,thenwho?”
“Theycould’vegotitwrong.Gothimmixedupwithsomeoneelse.”TreyscrapesatpaintresiduewithathumbnailandwatchesCaltocheckwhathethinksofthistheory.
“Maybe,”Calsays.Hecan’timagineanylikelywaythiscouldhaveplayedout,butifTreyneedsit,hecankeepit,atleastfornow.“Thattypemostlyaren’tgeniuses,I’llgiveyouthat.IfBrendandidn’thangwiththeseguys,whodoes?Anyofhisbuddies?”
Treyblowsoutadismissivepuffofair.“Nah.YousawFergal,andEugene.Youthinkthey’reonthegear?”
“Nah,”Calsays.“Nevermind.”He’sthoughtofonepersonwhoknowsplentyabouttheDublinguys.DonieMcGrathhasbeenattheedgeofthathuddleinthepub,mosttimes.
Treyglancessidewaysathim,withaglimmerofthatgrincreepingback.“Youeverdoanydrugs?Beforeyouwereacop,like?”
ForasecondCalisn’tsurewhattosaytothis.WhenAlyssaaskedhimthissamequestion,thethoughtofherondrugskickedhiminthestomachsohardthatallhecoulddowastellherstoriesofthingshe’dseenandbeghernevertogonearanythingstrongerthanweed.Shehasn’t,asfarasheknows,butthensheprobablywouldn’thaveanyway.Here,therightanswercouldmatter.
Intheendhegoeswiththetruth.“Itriedafewthings,backinmywilddays.Didn’tlikeanyof’emonelittlebit,soIquittrying.”
“What’dyoutry?”
“Doesn’tmatter,”Calsays.“Iwouldn’t’velikedanythingelseanybetter.”Thefactis,everythinghetriedrepelledhimwithanintensitythatstartledhimandthathewasunwillingtoadmiteventoDonna,whobackinthosedaysacceptedtheodddragorsnortwithcheerfulease.Hehatedthewayeverydruginitsdifferentwayscoopedthesolidityrightoutoftheworldandleftitquicksand-textured,crackedacrossandwaveringattheedges.Theydidthesamethingtopeople:peopleondrugsstoppedbeingwhatyouknewthemtobe.Theylookedyourightinthefaceandsawthingsthathadnothingtodowithyou.OneofthehappysideeffectsofhavingAlyssaandleavinghiswilddaysbehindwasnothavingtohangoutwithpeoplewhowereondrugs.
Heaskscasually,hiseyesonthedesk,“How’boutyou?Youevertryanyofthatstuff?”
“Nah,”Treysaysflatly.
“Yousure?”
“Noway.Makesyoustupid.Anyonecouldgetyou.”
“Trueenough,”Calsays.He’sthrownbythestrengthoftherelief.“Iguessifyou’renotthetrustingtype,drugsprobablyaren’tforyou.”
“I’mnot.”
“Yeah,Ipickeduponthat.Meneither.”
Treylooksathim.Heseemsthinnerinthefacethisweek,andpaler,likethisistakingsomethingoutofhim.Hesays,“Nowwhat’reyougonnado?”
Calisstillturningthatoverinhismind;notwhattodo,exactly,somuchashowtogoaboutit.Whathedoesknowrightnowisthatthekidneedssomethinggoodtohappentoday.Hesays,“I’mgonnateachyouhowtousethatrifle.”
Thekid’smouthopensandhelightsuplikeCaljusthandedhimthatbirthdaybike.“Easy,tiger,”Calsays.“You’renotgonnajustpickitupandbeasharpshooter.Mostlywhatyou’regonnadotodayislearnhownottoshootyourfootoff,andmissafewbeercans.Ifwehavetime,maybeyoucanmissafewrabbits.”
Treytriestogivehimaneye-roll,buthecan’twipethegrinoffhisface.Calcan’thelpgrinningback.
“But,”Treysays,hisfacesuddenlyfalling.“That’snotfinished.”Heindicatesthedesk.
“Soit’llgetfinishedsomeotherday,”Calsays,straighteningupoffthecounter.“Comeon.”
ThegunsafelooksoutofplaceonCal’sbarebedroomfloorboards.Theonlyotherthingsintheroomarethemattressandsleepingbag,thesuitcasewhereCalkeepscleanclothesandthegarbagebagwherehekeepsdirtyones,andthefourdamp-mottledindigowalls;amidthose,thetalldarkmetalboxhasanairofsleek,alienmenace.“Thisisagunsafe,”Calsays,givingthesideofitaslap.“MygunstaysinhereuntilI’mplanningonshootingit,becauseit’snotatoyandthisisn’tagame;thisthingwasbuiltforkilling,andifIevercatchyoudisregardingthat,you’llneverlayafingeronitagain.Weclear?”
Treynods,likehe’sscaredtotalkincaseCalchangeshismind.
“This,”Calsays,liftingitout,“isaHenrytwenty-twolever-actionrifle.Oneofthefinestgunsevermade.”
“Ah,man,”Treysays,onareverentrushofbreath.“Mydad’sgunwasn’tlikethat.”
“Probablynot,”Calsays.NexttotheHenry,hefindsmostothergunsseemeitherruntyorbad-tempered.“TheyusedthisrifleintheWildWest,onthefrontier.Ifyoueverwatcholdcowboymovies,thisisthegunthoseboysuse.”
Treyinhalesthescentofgunoilandrunsafingerdowntherichwalnutofthestock.“Beauty,”hesays.
“Firstthing,beforeyoudoanythingelsewithit,”Calsays,“yougottacheckthatit’sunloaded.Magazinecomesoutlikethis,levergoesdownlikethis,makesurethere’snoroundinthechamber.”HeslidesthemagazinetubebackintoplaceandholdsouttheguntoTrey.“Nowlet’sseeyoudoit.”
Thekid’sfacewhenhetakestheguninhishandsmakesCalgladhedecidedtodothis.Hisprivateopinionaboutalotofthebabythugsanddelinquentsheencounteredonthejobwasthatwhattheyreallyyearnedafter,whethertheyknewitornot,wasarifleandahorseandaherdofcattletodrivethroughdangerousterrain.Giventhose,plentyofthem—notall,butplenty—wouldhaveturnedoutfine.Failingthat,theygotascloseastheycould,withresultsrangingfrombadtodisastrous.
Treychecksthegunwiththesameneat-handed,intentcareheputsintothedesk.“Good,”Calsays.“Nowseethishere?Thisisthehammer.Youpullitbackalltheway,it’scocked,readytofire.Butyoubringitbackjustalittlebit,likethis,soyouhearitclick?Thatmeansit’ssafe.Youcanpullthetriggerallyouwant,nothing’llhappen.Togofromcockedtosafe,youeasethetriggerback,justalittlebit,thenclickthehammerforwards.Likethis.”
Treydoesit.Hishandsontheriflelooklittleanddelicate,butCalknowshehasmorethanenoughstrengthtohandleit.“Thereyougo,”hesays.“Nowit’ssafe.Butremember:safeornot,loadedornot,youdon’teverpointitatanycreatureunlessyou’repreparedtokillit.Yougotthat?”
“Igotit,”Treysays.Callikesthewayhesaysit,withalevelunblinkinggazeacrosstheguninhishands.Thekidisfeelingtheweightofthis,andheneedsthat.
“OK,”hesays.“Let’sgogiveitatry.”
HegetstheplasticbagwherehekeepsemptybeercansandgivesittoTreytocarry.Heputstherifleonhisshoulder,andtheygooutintoairthat’ssoftandheavywithmistandrichwithwet-earthsmells.Thefirstoftheeveningisjuststartingtoseepin;offtothewest,wherethecloudsthinhereandthere,theiredgesaregold.
“Weneedtopickourselvesagoodspot,”Calsays.“Somewherewe’renotgonnahitanythingwedon’tintendto.”
“Willweshootthem?”Treyasks,flickinghischinattherooks,whoarearguingoversomethinginthegrass.
“Nah.”
“Whynot?”
“Ilikehaving’emaround,”Calsays.“They’resmart.Besides,Idon’tknowifthey’regoodeating,andIdon’tkillcreaturesforkicks.Wegetsomething,we’regonnaskinit,gutit,cookitandeatit.YouOKwithallthat?”
Treynods.
“Good,”Calsays.“How’boutwesetuphere?”
Thelowdry-stonewallofCal’sbackfieldhasclearviewsofopengrassallaround;noonecanwalkintotheirfiringlineunexpectedly.It’salsoonthesideofthelandoverlookedbysilent,incuriousP.J.,ratherthanthesideoverlookedbyMart,althoughrightnowevenP.J.isnowheretobeseen.Theybalancebeercansontheroughstones,stackedtherewhoknowshowlongagobywhatancestorsofMart’sandP.J.’sandTrey’s,andretreatacrossthefield.Theirfeetswishinthedampgrass.
CalshowsTreyhowtopulloutthemagazinetube,dropthebulletsintoitsslotandslideitbackintoplace.They’vepickedagoodday:thecloudkeepsthelow-angledlightfromdazzlingthemorthrowingshadows,andthebreezeisjustaneasybrushalongonecheek.Thebeercansaresilhouettedsharplyagainstthegreenfields,liketinystandingstones.Thebrownmountainsrisebehindthem.
“OK,”Calsays.“Youcanshootstanding,kneeling,orflatonyourbelly,butwe’regonnastartwithkneeling.Onelegunderyou,onekneeup.Likethis.”
Treyimitateshimcarefully.
“Thestockgoesinthehollowofyourshoulder,righthere.Goodandtightagainstyou,soitwon’tkicktoohard.”Thebalanceoftherifleisperfect;Calfeelslikehecouldkneeltherealldaylongwithouthismusclesgettingtired.“Seethatbeadontheendofthebarrel?That’sthefrontsight.Thishalf-moonhere,that’syourrearsight.Youlineupthetwoof’emrightonyourtarget.I’maimingforthethirdcanfromtheleft,soI’vegotthosesightslineduponit.I’mgonnatakeabreathandthenletitoutagain,niceandeasy,andwhenallthatbreathisgoneI’mgonnasqueezethetrigger.Nothard;thisisn’tagunyouneedtohaulat.It’llworkwithyou.Youjustbreatheoutthroughyourmouth,andthenoutthroughthegun.Gotit?”
Treynods.
“Good,”Calsays.“Nowlet’sseeifIstillgotit.”
Somehow,afteralltheseyears,Cal’seyewitharifleisstillthere.Heknocksthecancleanoffthewallwithatriumphalringofmetalonmetalthatechoesacrossthefields,overthegun’ssharpreport.
“Ahyeah,”Treysays,awed.
“Well,lookatthat,”Calsays.Heinhalesthesmellofgunpowderandfindshimselfsmiling.“Yourturn.”
Thekidholdstheriflewell,settlingitintohisshoulderlikeitbelongsthere.“Elbowsin.Letyourcheekfallagainstthestock,niceandeasy,”Calsays.“Takeyourtime.”
Treysquintsdownthebarrel,carefullypickinghiscanandliningupthesights.“It’sgonnagobang,”Calsays,“andit’sgonnakickintoyourshoulderalittlebit.Don’tgetstartled.”
Treyistoofocusedtobotherwiththeeye-roll.Calhearshislongslowbreathinandout.Hedoesn’twobbleinanticipationofthekick,andhedoesn’tflinchwhenitcomes.Hemisses,butnotbytoomuch.
“Notbad,”Calsays.“Allyouneedissomepractice.Pickupyourshellcasing;yougottaleaveaplacethesamewayyoufoundit.”
Theytaketurnstillthemagazineisempty.Calbagshimselffivebeercans.Thekidgetsone,whichlightshimupsovividlythatCalgrinsandtrudgesacrossthefieldtoretrievetheholedcanforhim.“Here,”hesays,passingitover.“Youcanhangontothat.Yourfirstkill.”
Treygrinsback,butthenheshakeshishead.“Mymam’dwanttoknowwhereIgotit.”
“Shegothroughyourstuff?”
“Didn’tuseta.OnlysinceBrendanwent.”
“She’sworried,kid,”Calsays.“Shejustwantstoknowthatyou’renotthinkingofgoinganywhere.”
Treyshrugs,tossingthecanintotheplasticbag.Thelighthasgoneoutofhisface.“OK,”Calsays.“Nowthatyou’vegottheidea,let’sgetourselvessomedinner.”
Thatpullsthekidback;hisheadsnapsupagain.“Where?”
“Thatpieceofwoodlandoverthere,”Calsays,noddingtowardsit.“Rabbitsgotabunchofburrowsattheedgeofthat.Iseethemupfeedingmostevenings,aroundthistime.Comeon.”
Theycollectthebeercansandsetthemselvesupfarenoughfromthelittlewoodnottospooktherabbits,butcloseenoughthatthekidstandsachance.Thentheywait.Thegoldinthewesthasshiftedtopinkandthelightisstartingtofade,turningthefieldsgray-greenandinsubstantial.OffinCal’sgarden,therooksarehavingtheirbedtimepowwow;distancegentlestheirrackettoacomfortablebabble,runningunderthehighscatteredchitchatofthesmallerbirds.
Treyhastheriflerestingcarefullyonhisknee,readytoraise.Hesays,“Yousaidyourgranddaddytaughtyoutoshoot.”
“That’sright.”
“Howcomenotyourdad?”
“LikeItoldyou.Hewasn’taroundalot.”
“Yousaidnotsteady.”
“That’sright.”
Treythinksthisover.“Howcomeyourmamdidn’tteachyou?Wasshenotsteadyeither?”
“No,”Calsays,“mymamawassteadyastheycome.Sheworkedtwojobstopayourway.Thingis,thatmeantshewasn’thomeenoughtowatchme.Soshesentmetostaywithmygranddaddyandmygrandma,mostofthetime,tillIgotbigenoughtowatchmyself.Andthat’swhyhe’stheonethattaughtmetoshoot.”
Treyabsorbsthis,watchingtheedgeofthewood.“Whatjobs?”
“Careassistantinanoldfolks’home.Andwaitressinginadiner,inhertimeoff.”
“Mymamusedtoworkinthepetrolstationupthemainroad,”Treysays.“WhenEmerwentoff,but,therewasnoonetomindthelittleoneswhilewewereinschool.Mygranddadsandgrannies’realldead.”
“Well,”Calsays,“thereyougo.Peopledotheirbestwithwhatthey’vegot.”
“Whataboutyourbrotherandsisters?Didtheygowithyou?”
“Well,they’vegotdifferentmamas,”Calexplains.“I’mnotsurewhat-alltheydid.”
“Yourdadwasahoormaster,”Treysays,lightdawning.
IttakesCalasecondtofigurethatoneout;whenhedoes,heletsoutacrackoflaughterthathehastostifle.“Yeah,”hesays,stilllaughing.“Thataboutcoversit.”
“Shht,”Treysayssuddenly,noddingupwardsatthewood.“Rabbit.”
Sureenough,attheedgeofthewoodthere’smovementinthelonggrass.Halfadozenrabbitshavecomeupfortheireveningfeed.They’reattheirease,tryingoutleapsandlollopsjusttostretchtheirlegs,pausingnowandagaintonibblesomedelicacy.
CallooksdownatTrey,whoisnestlingtherifleintohisshoulder,hiswholebodyalertandeager.HisbuzzedhairlookslikethebabyfuronLena’spuppy.Calfeelsanimpulsetolayhishandonthetopofthekid’shead.
“OK,”hesays.“Seeifyoucangetussomedinner.”
Thebulletzipsovertherabbits’heads,andtheyleapfortheundergrowthandaregone.TreylooksupatCal,dismayed.
“’SOK,”Calsays.“They’llbeback.Yougotcloseenoughthatit’lltake’emawhile,though,andit’stimewewerebothheadinghome.”Theduskiscomingdownthicker;soonenough,MartorP.J.willbeheadingforthewoodtokeepwatch.
“Aah!Fivemoreminutes.Ialmosthadthatone.”
Thekidlooksbereft.“Soyou’llgetonenexttime,”Calsays.“Norush;they’renotgoinganywhere.Nowlemmeshowyouhowtounload.”
Theyunloadthegunandstartbackacrossthefieldtowardsthehouse.Treyiswhistlingtohimself,somethingCalhasn’tknownhimtodobefore,ajauntylittletunethatsoundslikesomethingthatmightcomeoutofthetinwhistleinSeánóg’s;likeitmightbeaboutsettingoutonaspringmorningtoseeaprettygirl.Therooksaresettlingdownandthefirstofthenightcreaturesareout:abatdipsoverthetreeline,andsomethingsmallscuttlesinthelonggrassattheirapproach.
“Niceone,”Treysays,glancingupsidewaysatCal.“Thanks.”
“Mypleasure,”Calsays.“Yougotagoodeye.You’lllearnfine.”
Treynodsand,withnothinglefttosay,slopesofftowardsthecoverofthehedge.Caltriestowatchafterhim,butlongbeforehereachestheroadhe’sinvisible,vanishedintothedusk.
Calfindshimselfcuriousaboutwhat’sgoingdownatSeánóg’stonight.Hemakesagrilledcheesesandwichfordinnerandthentakesabath,tosprucehimselfupforwhateveritmightbe.It’sSaturday,sohephonesAlyssa,butshedoesn’tpickup.
ELEVEN
WhenCalsetsoutforthepub,thedarknesshasasawtoothedgeofcold.SmokeisrisingfromDumboGannon’schimney,andasCalpasseshishousehecatchesthescentofit,richandearthy:theturfthatpeopleroundherecutfrompeatbogsupinthemountains,dryout,andburn.Thefieldsandhedgesseemfilledwithsharp,restlessmovement;alltheanimalsarefeelingthecountdowntowinter.
ThedoorofSeánóg’sopensonbrightnessandawarmfug,leapingwithloudvoicesandmusicandcurlingwithsmoke.Mart,athisalcovetablesurroundedbyhisbuddies,letsoutawelcomingroarwhenheseesCalstepin.“Themanhimself!Comeheretomenow,SunnyJim,andtakeaseat.I’vesomethingforyou.”
Mart’salcoveiscrowded:Senanisthere,andBobby,andabunchofotherguyswhosenamesCalisn’tsureof.Allofthemhaveahigh-colored,glittery-eyedlook,likethey’realotdrunkerthanCalwouldexpectatthishour.“Evening,”hesays,noddingtothem.
Martmovesalongthebanquettetomakeroomforhim.“Barty!”hecallsuptothebar.“ApintofSmithwick’s.Youknowthisshowerofreprobates,amn’tIright?”
“We’remostlyacquainted,”Calsays,takingoffhisjacketandsettlinghimselfonthebanquette.Marthasneverinvitedhimintohiscornerbefore,exceptwhentheyneedafourthforcards.Tonightthemusicalcornerhasafiddleandaguitaraswellasatinwhistle,andthey’resingingsomesongthatinvolvesroaringout“No!Nay!Never!”andhittingthetable.Deirdreissingingalong,halfabeatbehind,almostsmilingandmoreanimatedthanCalhaseverseenher.“What’sgoingon?”
“There’sagentlemanhereI’dlikeyoutomeet,”Martsays,gesturingwithaflourishtoaslight,thin-facedguytuckedintoacorner.“ThisisMr.MalachyDwyer.Malachy,thisismynewneighbor,Mr.CalvinHooper.”
“Pleasure,”Calsays,shakinghandsacrossMartandstartingtogetaclearersenseofwhattonightisallabout.Malachyhasmessybrownhairandadreamy,sensitivelookthatdoesn’tmatchthewildrenegadehewaspicturing.“I’veheardplentyaboutyou.”
“Mal,meetCal,”saysBobby,gettingthegiggles.“Cal,meetMal.”
“Thestateofyou,”Senansaysindisgust.
“I’mgrand,”Bobbysays,miffed.
“Mr.Dwyer,”MarttellsCal,“isthefinestdistillerinthreecounties.Amastercraftsman,soheis.”Malachysmilesmodestly.“Everynowandthen,whenMalachyhasaparticularlyfineproductonhishands,he’sgraciousenoughtobringsomeofitinheretosharewithus.Asaservicetothecommunity,youmightsay.Ithoughtyoudeservedanopportunitytosamplehiswares.”
“I’mhonored,”Calsays.“AlthoughIfeellikeifIhadanysenseI’dbescared,too.”
“Ah,no,”Malachysayssoothingly.“It’salovelybatch.”Heproduces,fromunderthetable,ashotglassandatwo-literLucozadebottlehalf-fullofclearliquid.HepoursCalashot,carefulnottospilladrop,andhandsitover.“Now,”hesays.
Therestofthemenwatch,grinninginawaythatCaldoesn’tfindreassuring.Theliquorsmellssuspiciouslyinnocuous.“ForJaysus’sake,don’tbesavoringthebloodybouquet,”Martordershim.“Knockthatback.”
Calknocksitback.He’sexpectingittogodownlikekerosene,butittastesofalmostnothing,andtheburndoesn’thaveenoughharshnesseventomakehimgrimace.“That’sgoodstuff,”hesays.
“Didn’tItellyou?”Martsays.“Smoothascream.Thisfella’sanartist.”
RightthenthepoteenhitsCal;thebanquetteturnsinsubstantialbeneathhimandtheroomcirclesinslowjerks.“Whoo!”hesays,shakinghishead.
Thealcoveroarswithlaughter,whichcomestoCalasapulsingjumbleofsoundsomedistanceaway.“That’ssomeseriousfirepoweryougotthere,”hesays.
“Sure,thatwasonlytogiveyoutheflavorofit,”Malachyexplains.“Waittillyougetstarted.”
“Lastyear,”SenantellsCal,jerkingathumbatBobby,“thisfellahere,afterafewgoesofthatstuff—”
“Ah,now,”Bobbyprotests.Peoplearegrinning.
“—hegotupoutofthatseatandstartedshoutingatthelotofustobringhimtoapriest.Wantedtomakehisconfession.Attwoo’clockinthemorning.”
“What’dyoudone?”CalasksBobby.
He’snotsurewhetherBobbywillhearhim,sincehe’sfindingithardtogaugeexactlyhowfaraparttheyare,butitworksoutfine.“Porn,”Bobbysayswithasigh,leaninghischinonhisfist.Thedrinkhasgivenhimanairofdreamymelancholy.“Ontheinternet.Nothingshocking,like;justpeoplehavingabitofarattle.Itdidn’tevendownloadright.ButwhateverwasinthatbatchofMalachy’s,itgavemepalpitations,andIgotitinmyheadIwashavingaheartattack.IthoughtIoughtaconfessmysins,incaseIdied,like.”
Everyoneislaughing.“Thatwasn’tmystuffgivingyouthempalpitations,”Malachytellshim.“Thatwasyourguiltyconsciencecomingout.”Bobbytiltshishead,acknowledgingthepossiblejusticeofthis.
“Didyoutakehimtoapriest?”Calasks.
“Wedidnot,”saysSenan.“Weputhiminthebackroomtosleepitoff.Toldhimwe’dsaytherosaryoverhimtillhewokeup.”
“Theydidn’tdoit,”Bobbysays,aggrieved.“TheyforgotIwasthereatall.IwokeupthenextmorningandthoughtIwasdead.”
Thatgetsanotherwaveoflaughter,andCalissweptalong,rockinghelplesslywithit.“Hewasstillhalfcut,”Senansays.“Rangmeaskingwashedead,andwhatshouldhedoaboutit.”
“Atleast,”Bobbysayswithdignity,raisinghisvoicetobeheard,“IneverbrokemynosetryingtojumpawallIhadn’tleapedsinceIwaseighteen—”
“Damnnearmadeit,”Martsays,liftinghispintandwinkingattherest.
“—ortookadareandknockedonaul’Mrs.Scanlan’swindowbucknakedandgotcoldwaterthrownonme.”
Aguyonthefaredgeofthegroupgetsacollectivewhoopofapprovalandacoupleofback-slaps,andshakeshishead,grinning.Callikesseeingthemallthisway,thewildboysshiningthroughthesolidfarmers.ForamomenthewonderswhichoneofthemwasBrendanbackintheday,therestlessoneonthehuntforhustlesandescaperoutes,andhowheendedup.
“Haveanotheronethere,”Martsays,eyesalightwithmischief,reachingforthebottle.“You’vesomecatchinguptodo.”
Calissurfacedrunkbutnotdeep-downdrunk,andhereckonsheoughttokeepitthatway.Boozehasneverbotheredhimthewaydrugsdo—itdoesn’thollowoutreality,andpeople,inthesameway—buttheairofthisroomhasahighgiddyspin,likeundertherightcircumstancesthingscouldgetoutofcontrolwithfree-fallspeed,andthissituationhasaflavorofinitiationritethatcouldwellturnouttobetherightcircumstances.“SoundstomelikeIshouldtakeitslow,”hesays.“SoIdon’twindupbucknakedoutsideMizScanlan’swindow.”
“Nothingwrongwiththat,”Martassureshim.“Sure,itcouldhappentoabishop.”
“Youboyswereweanedonthisstuff,”Calpointsout.“IfItrytokeepupwithyou,I’mgonnaendupgoingblind.”
“Notonmine,youwon’t,”Malachysays,hisprofessionalpridetouched.
“Ah,stopyourfussingandfoostering,man,”MartordersCal.“You’renotsometouristthatcomesinforapintofGuinnesswiththequaintnativesandthenheadsbacktohishotel.You’realocalmannow;you’lldoaswedo.Don’tbetellingmeyouneverdoneanythingmadonthegarglebefore.”
“Mostlyjustcrashedparties,”Calsays.“Madefriendswithsomestrangers,sangsomesongs.Stoletheoccasionalstreetsign.Nothingfancylikeyouguysgetupto.”
“Well,”Martsays,puttingtheglassbackintoCal’shand,“we’venostreetsignsandnostrangershandy,andyou’realreadyattheonlypartyaround,solet’sgetyousinging.”
“Areyougoingtocarryhimhome?”Bartydemands,frombehindthebar.“Thesizeofhim.”
“Sure,isn’tthatmypointexactly,”Martsays.“It’lltakemorethantheonetodothejobonafellahissize.Morethanthetwo,butwe’llstartthereandseewhereweget.”
WhatmakesupCal’smindisn’tthefactthatquittingnowwouldearnhimanineradicablereputationasapussyandatourist,oratleastnotprimarily.Whatdoesitistheeffortlessrhythmsofthetalksnappingbackandforthacrossthetable.Calhasbeenmissingthecompanyofmenhe’sknownalongtime.HisfourbestbuddieswereamongthereasonsheleftChicago;thedepthanddetailwithwhichtheyknewhimhadcometofeelunsafe,somethingtobekeptatasmuchdistanceaspossible.Bythatpointhecouldn’tbesurewhattheremightbe,insidehim,thattheywouldspotbeforehedid.Allthesame,somewhereinthebackofhishead,hishungerforaneveninginthebarwiththemhasgrown,sograduallythathe’sonlyjustnoticingitsmagnitude.Hemaynotknowthesemen,buttheyknoweachother,andthere’scomfortinbeingaroundthat.
Heresignshimselftothelikelihoodofwakingupinaditchwithhispantsmissingandagoattiedtohisleg.“Here’smudinyoureye,”hesays,andthrowsbacktheshot,whichisconsiderablylargerthanthefirstone.There’saburstofhalf-mockingcheers.
Thisonesmoothseverythingover.Theroomstartsmovingagainandthebanquetteturnsevenmistier,butthisfeelsonlynaturalandright.Calisgladhedidthis.Healmostlaughsathowclosehecametochickeningout.
Intheothercorner,thesongbuildstoacrescendo,endsonawhoop,anddissolvesinaroundofapplause.“Isn’tthatgreattiming,”Martsays.“What’syoursong,boyo?”
Cal’ssong,atpartiesthatwentthisway,wasalways“PanchoandLefty.”Heopenshismouthandstartstosing.Calisnooperasinger,buthecancarryatune,andhehasadeepramblingvoicethatholdsaroomandsuitsasongaboutopenspaces.Thelastoftheapplausetricklesoff,andpeopleleanbackintheirseatstolisten.Themanwiththeguitarpicksuptheshapeofthesongandsendsaloose,pensiveriverofnotesdriftingalongsideit.
WhenCalfinishesthere’samomentofsilence,beforetheburstofclapping.Handsreachouttoslaphimontheback,andsomeoneshoutstoBartytogethimanotherpint.Calgrins,pleasedandallofasuddenalittlebitstartledathimself.“Welldone,”Martsaysinhisear.“That’safinepairoflungsyou’vegotonyou.”
“Thanks,”Calsays,reachingforhisbeer.Hefindshimselfabitsheepish,notaboutthesingingitselfbutattheunfeignedapprovalaroundthetableandthedepthofthepleasurehetakesinit.“Ienjoyedthat.”
“Sure,wealldid.’Tisgreattohavesomeonewhocanspiceuptheaul’singsong.We’veallbeenlisteningtoeachotherallourlives;weneedthenewblood.”
TheguywhoshowedupbucknakedatMrs.Scanlan’swindowstartssinging,inacleartenor:“LastnightasIlaydreamingofpleasantdaysgoneby…”Themusicianstakeupthetune,andafewpeoplehumalonginadeepsoftunderscore.Marttiltshisheadbacktolisten,hiseyeshalfclosed.
“WhenIwasayounglad,”hesays,afterawhile,“you’dneverhaveanightoutwithoutabitofasingsong.Dotheyoungpeoplestillsingatall,exceptwhenthey’retryingtogetthemselvesonthetelly?”
“Iwouldn’tknow,”Calsays.HewondersifAlyssaandherfriendssingatparties.Youneedsomeonewithaguitar,mostly,tostartthingsoff.Benisthetypeofguywhowouldconsiderlearninganinstrumenttobefrivolous.“BeenawhilesinceIwasyoung.”
“Comeheretome,SunnyJim,”Martsays.“You’resureyouwantsomeonetorewirethatkitchen,areyou?”
“Huh?”Calsays,blinkingathim.
“I’mnotputtingmyreputationontheline,”Martexplains,“gettingoneoftheseladstotaketimeoutofhisbusyschedule,andthenhaveyouchangeyourmindonus.Doyouwantthejobdone?”
“Sure,”Calsays.“CourseIdo.”
“Thenit’sasgoodasdone,”Martsays,clappinghimontheshoulderandbreakingintoagrin.“Locky!Mr.Hooperneedshiskitchenrewired,andheneedsadacentwasherthatwon’tcosttheearth.Canyoulookafterthatforhim?”
“Ican,o’course,”saysastockyguywithlittleeyesandadrinker’snose.Lockydoesn’tlookallthatreliabletoCal,buthedoesn’tfeelhe’sinapositiontoexpressanydoubts,evenifheweresoberenoughtoframethemdelicately,whichheisn’t.“GivemeafewdaysandI’llbedowntoyou.”
“Goodman,”Martsayshappily,beckoningfortheLucozadebottle,whichhasworkeditswayaroundthepubandbackagain.“Now,mister:there’llbenomoreneedforyoutogochasinguppityyoungladsalloverthetownland,gettingyourselfallworkedupandfrustrated.Locky’llhaveyousortedinsidethefortnight.”
“Well,thankyou,”Calsays.“Iappreciatethat.”
MartfillsCal’sshotglassandraiseshisown.“Nobother.Wehavetolookaftereachotheraroundhere.Nooneelseisgoingtodoit,amn’tIright?”
Theyclinkglassesanddrink.Calcomesunmooredfromtheroomagain,butthistimehe’sexpectingitandfindshimselfabletoenjoytheride.Thebuck-nakedwindowguyfinisheshissongandnodsgravelyattheroundofapplause,andthefarcornerstrikesupsomethingsmartandsnappythatstarts“Whateveryousay,saynothing.”
“NowthatIhaveyouloosenedup,”Martsays,louder,pointinghisglassatCal.“How’reyougettingonwiththelovelyLena?”
Thatgetsascatteringofwhoopsandlaughterfromtheothermen.“She’sanicelady,”Calsays.
“Sheis.AndsinceIwasgoodfriendswithherdaddy,Godresthim,IthinkIshouldaskyou:what’syourintentionsthere?”
“Well,”Calsays,takingitslowlyandcarefully,“Imightintendtotakeoneofherpups.ButIhaven’tmademymindupyet.”
MartisshakinghisheadvigorouslyandwavingafingeratCal.“Ahnonono.Thatwon’tdoatall.Youcan’tbeleadingonafinewomanlikeLenaDunneandthenlettingherdown.”
“Ionlymethertwice,”Calpointsout.
“We’vegotthebloodyvillagematchmakerhere,”someonesays.
“EvenifIwas,”Marttellshim,“there’snothingIcoulddoforthelikesofyou.Iliketoseepeoplesettledandhappy,isall.Thisfellaneedsawoman.”
“NopointinhimcourtingLena,”adeepvoicesaysfromthecornerofthealcove,“ifhe’llbeheadingbackofftoYankeestaniabeforethewinter’sout.”
There’sasplinterofapause.Acrossthepub,thetinwhistleletsoutanear-piercingtrill.
“He’sgoingnowhere,”Martsays,alittlebitlouder,glancingaroundthetabletomakesureeveryonehearshim.“Thisman’safineneighbor,andI’mplanningtohangontohim.”Headds,withagrintoCal,“Sure,noneofthisshowerwouldbearsedgettingmethembiscuits.”
“IfLenawon’thavehim,”someoneelsesays,“we’llsorthimoutwithBelinda.”
There’saburstoflaughter.Calcan’tgettheflavorofit.There’smockeryinit,butaroundheremockeryislikerain:mostofthetimeit’seitherpresentorincipient,andthereareatleastadozenvariants,rangingfromnurturingtosavage,andsosubtlydistinguishedthatitwouldtakeyearstogetthehangofthemall.
“Who’sBelinda?”heasks.
“Ablow-in,likeyourself,”Senansays,grinning.“D’youfancytheredheads?”
“Iwouldn’tsaythecarpetmatchesthecurtainsthere,”someoneelsesays.
“Whatwouldyouknow?Youhaven’tbeennextnornearawomansinceElviswasnumberone.”
“That’snotwhatyoursistersays.”
“Goonoutathat.Mysister’drollthelikesofyouintoaballanduseyoutopolishherfloors.”
“Belinda’sanEnglishone,”MarttellsCal,takingpityonhim.“ShehasaweecottageupbyKnockfarraney,beenthereneartwentyyear.Madasabrush,sosheis.CoveredingreatbigpurpleshawlsandjewelrywithCelticyokeson.Shecameherebecauseshethoughtshe’dhavethebestchanceatmeetingtheLittlePeopleroundthisway.”
“Didshe?”Calasks.“Meetthem?”Theroomisstillrealigningitsangleseverytimeheblinks,butlessdramatically.
“Shesaysshegetsglimpsesofthematthefullmoon,”Martsays,grinning.“Outinthefields,like,orinthewoods.ShedoespaintpicturesofthemandselltheminthetouristshopsinGalway.”
“Iseenherpaintings,”someonesays.“They’vesomefinesetsofknockersonthem,theLittlePeople.I’llhavetostartspendingmoretimeinthemfieldsatnightmyself.”
“Offyougo.YoumightbeluckyandmeetBelinda.”
“Dancingroundafairyringinthenip.”
“Tellheryou’rethekingofthefairies.”
“Belinda’sgrand,”Martsays.“ShemaybeaSassenachandshemaybegoneinthehead,butthere’snoharminher.She’snotlikeyourmanLordMuck.”
Theyalllaugh.Themockeryisrightupfrontthistime,loudandferocious,anaggression.
“Who’sLordMuck?”Calasks.
“Noneedtoworryyourheadabouthim,”Senansays,reachingforhispint,stillgrinning.“He’sgone.”
“Anotherblow-in,”Martsays.“Englishman.Hewashereforabitofpeace,sohecouldwriteagreatnovel.Aboutageniuswhoridesthearseoffaloadofyoungonesbecausehiswifedoesn’tappreciatehispoems.”
“I’dreadthatbook,”someonesays.
“Youneverreadabookinyourlife,”someoneelsetellshim.
“Howwouldyouknow?”
“What’veyouread?BittaShakespeare,isit?”
“I’dreadthatone.”
“Ifitwasapicturebook.”
Martignoresthis.Hesays,“Abouteightyearago,itwas,LordMuckmovedhere.”
“Allreadytocivilizeussavages,”Senansays.
“Ah,no,”Martsaysfairly.“Hestartedoutgrand.Lovelymannersonhim:alwaysExcuseme,Mr.Lavin,andMightItroubleyou,Mr.Lavin.”Senansnorts.“Don’tbejeering,you.Afewmoremannerswoulddoyounoharm.”
“D’youwantmetocallyouMr.Lavin,isit?”
“Whynot?Bringabitofelegancetothisaul’place.Youcanbowtomeoffyourtractor,whenyougopast.”
“Iwillinmearse.”
“Whereitallwentofftherails,”MarttellsCal,settlingtohisstory,“iswhenLordMuckfoundoutaboutthebadger-baiting.D’youknowwhatthatis?”
“Notexactly,”Calsays.Thefirstviolentflareofthepoteenisdyingdown,butitstillfeelssmartertosticktoshortsentences.
“It’sagainstthelaw,”Martsays,“butthecattlemendon’tlikethebadgers.TheyspreadTBtothecattle,d’yousee?Thegovernmentdoescullthem,butsomeofthemen,theyprefertotakemattersintotheirownhands.They’llsendacouplaterriersintoasetttofindthebadger,andthenthemen’lldigitout.Theymightshootitortheymightletthedogsfinishit,dependingwhatkindofmentheyare.”
“Afewoftheladsweremakingplansonenight,inhere,”Senansays.“Anddidn’tLordMuckoverhearthem.”
“Hedidn’tapproveofthatcarry-on,atall,”someoneelsesays.“Outrageous,itwas.”
“Persecutingthehelplesscreatures.”
“Disgraceful.”
“Barbaric.”
Themenlaughagain.Thistimethere’salowrumbletoit,adarklayerrunningunderneath.
“TheEnglisharepuremad,”MarttellsCal.“They’vemorecompassionforanimalsthantheyhaveforanyhumanbeing.There’schildergoinghungryinthatfella’sowncountry,hisarmydoesbombthelivingshiteoutaciviliansallroundtheMiddleEast,andhewouldn’tbataneyelid,butthethoughtofthatbadgerhadhimalmostintears.Andhimonlyonhissecondpint.”
“Fuckin’sap,”saysSenan.
“Idon’tlikethebadger-baitingmyself,”Martsays.“Idoneitonce,whenIwasayounglad,andIneverdoneitagain.ButIdon’thavecattle.Ifaman’safraidthebadgers’llruinhislivelihood,it’snotmyplacetotellhimtositbackandhopeforthebest.Andifit’snotmyplace,thenit’snottheplaceofsomeblow-inthatwasneveronafarminhislifeexcepttowriteapoemaboutit.”
“ApityLordMuckdidn’tseeitthatway,”Senansays.
“Hedidnot,”Martsays.“LordMuckshowedupatthatsettonthenight,withabigtorchinonehandandavideocameraintheother.”
“Screamingandyellingoutofhim,”someoneelsesays,“abouthowhewasgoingtotakehisfootagetotheGardaíandthetelevision.”
“He’dhavethewholetownlandthrowninjail.Getthebloodyrottenoperationshutdown.”
“HenevergotthatfootagetotheGardaíandthemedia,”Malachysays,“thepoorcreature.Somehoworanother,hisvideocameradidn’tsurvivethenight.”
“Ah,hesmashedithimself,”someonesays.“Throwinghimselfaboutlikealunatic,hewas.”
“Tryingtobatterpeopleawayfromthesettwiththattorch.”
“Gavehimselfabloodynosewithit.”
“Couplablackeyes,andall.”
“Oneofthedogswentforhim,anddidn’tthelittlefuckerupandkickitintheribs.Someanimal-lover,hah?”
“HeshotJohnJoeinthearm,”Bobbysaysimpressively.
“Whatareyouonabout?”Senandemands.“WhatthehellwouldheshootJohnJoewith?”
“Agun.Whatthehelldopeopleusually—”
“Howwouldheholdagun?He’dthetorchinonehand,thevideocameraintheother—”
“HowwouldIknowhowheheldit?”
“—hewasn’tafuckin’octopus—”
“Maybehe’dthetorchinhisteeth.”
“Thenhowdidheshoutatthem?”
Bobbysaysstubbornly,“AllIknowis,JohnJoeshowedmethebulletwound.”
“YourmancaughtJohnJoeaclatterwithhistorch,isallheeverdone.IfJohnJoeshowedyouabulletwound,hedoneittohimself;thatfellawouldn’tknowoneendofariflefrom…”
Animpassionedall-partiesargumentgetsunderway,andCalisleftlookingatMart,whoissmilingbackathim.
“Don’tbelisteningtothemeejits,”Marttellshim,“aboutBelinda.She’dhaveyourheadmelted.She’dwantyououtdancingroundfairyringsatthefullmoon,andyouhaven’tthebuildforit.YousticktoLena.”
Cal’ssenseofdistanceisstillscrewy;Mart’sfaceseemsveryclose,andslightlywateryaroundtheedges.“So,”Calsays,“LordMuckdoesn’tliveroundhereanymore.”
“I’dsayhewentbacktoEngland,”Martsays,consideringthepossibilities.“He’dbehappierthere.Iwonderifheevergotthatnovelwritten.”
Calsays,“Whatyouguysdotobadgersisnoneofmybusiness.”
“Idon’tdoanythingtobadgers,”Martremindshim.“Sure,Isaidthatalready.Idon’tbelieveinharminganycreatureunlessthere’saneed.”
Calwouldlikehisheadtobealotclearer.Hetakesaswigofhisbeer,inthehopethatitmightdilutethepoteeninhisblood.
“D’youknowwhatyoudidthatwasgreat,”Martsays,aimingaknobblyfingeratCal,“whenyoufirstmovedin?Youaskedforadvice.Alwaysaskingmewhatwasthebestbuilders’providers,andwhattodoabouttheseptictank.Ithoughtwellofyouforthat.Ittakesawisemantospotwhenheneedsthebittaadvicefromsomeonethatknowshiswayaround.Thisfellawon’tenduplikeLordMuck,Ithoughttomyself;thisfella’lldogrand.”HepeersreproachfullyatCal,throughthehazeofsmokethathasthickenedintheair.“Andthenyoustoppedaltogether.Whathappenedthere,boyo?DidIleadyouastraysomeway,andyounevertoldme?”
“NotthatIknowof,”Calsays.“Didyou?”
“Ididnot.Sowhyareyounotaskingmyadviceanymore?Doyounotthinkyouneedit,hah?You’vegotthemeasureofthisplacenow,you’regrandonyourown?”
“OK,”Calsays.“Gimmesomeadvice.”
“Now,”Martsaysapprovingly.“That’sbetter.”
Hesettleshimselfdeeperintothebanquetteandgazesupatthedamp-stainsontheceiling.Themusichasslowedtosomethingoldandhaunting,thetinwhistlespinningatunewhoseshapesarestrangetoCal,thefiddlealonglowdroneunderneath.
“Afterthebrotherdied,”Martsays,“Iwasatabitofalooseend.Allonmyowniointhemdarkwinterevenings,noonetochatto.Iwasn’tmyself,like;mymindwouldn’tsettle.’Twasn’thealthy.SoI’lltellyouwhatIdid.IwentintoabookshopinGalway,andIgotthemtoordermealoadofbooksontheaul’geology.Ireadthembooksfromcovertocover.Icantellyoueverythingthereistoknowaboutthegeologyroundhere.”
Hepointsatthelittlewindow,coatedthicklywithdarkness.“D’youknowthosemountainsoutthere,”hesays,“whereyouwentforyourweebitofasauntertheotherday?Thoseareredsandstone.Fourhundredmillionyearsago,thosewerelaiddown,whenthelandwasrightdownbytheequator.’Twasn’tgreenthen;itwasnothingbutreddesert,hardlyalivingthingonit.Butitgottherainthen,too,torrentsofit.Ifyougoupinthosemountainsandyoudigaboutabit,you’llfindlayersofpebblesandsandandmuck,andthattellsyoutherewereflashfloodsoutinthatdesert.Afewmillionyearsafterthat,acouplacontinentssmashedintoeachother,andtheycrumpledupthosemountainslikebitsofpaper;that’swhysomeofthoserocksdobestandingupvertical.Avolcanoshotrocksintotheairandsentlavaflowingdownthemountainside.”
Hereachesforhispint,smilingatCal.“Whenyouwentforyourweewander,”hesays,“that’swhatyouwerewanderingover.It’sagreatcomforttome,knowingthat.Thethingswedoupthosemountains,yourwalkandMalachy’sstillandalltherestofit,theydon’tmakeablindbitofdifference.Nomorethanthemidges.”
HeraiseshispinttoCalandtakesalongswallow.“That’swhatIdid,”hesays,wipingfoamoffhislip,“whenIcaughtmymindgettingrestless.”
Calsays,“Idon’tknowifgeology’smystyle.”
“Doesn’thavetobethegeology,”Martreassureshim.“Whateveryoufancyyourself.Astronomy,maybe—sure,haven’tyouthewholeskyatyourdisposal,nowyou’reawayfromthecitylights?Getyourselfanaul’telescopeandafewcharts,andawayyougo.OrabittaLatinmightsuityou.Youstrikemeasamanwhonevergotalltheeducationhecouldhandle.We’veagreattraditionhereofgoingoutandgettingourowneducation,ifnooneoffersittousonaplate.Seeingasyou’reherenow,it’sonlyrightyoushouldjoinin.”
“IsthislikebuyingBobbyaharmonica?”Calasks.“Keepmebusy,soIdon’tstartdoingcrazyshit?”
“I’mlookingoutforyou,isall,”Martsays.Thetwistofmockeryis,foronce,gonefromhisvoice;hiseyesaresteadyonCal’s.“You’readacentman,andI’dliketoseeyouhappyhere.Youdeservethat.”
HeclapsCalontheshoulder,hisfacebreakingintoagrin.“Andifyougoalien-madlikeBobby,I’mtheonethat’llhavetolistentoyou.Getyourselfatelescope.Andgoonupthereandgetmeapint,inexchangeforallthatgoodadvice.”
BythetimeCalreturns,walkingverycarefully,withMart’spintandhisown,theconversationisclearlyover:MartisdeepinanargumentwithacoupleoftheguysabouttherelativemeritsoftwoTVgameshowsCalhasneverheardof,andbreaksoffonlylongenoughtothrowCalawinkashetakeshisglass.
Thenightgoeson.TheargumentaboutTVshowsgetsheatedenoughthatCalkeepsahandonthetableincasesomeonetriestoturnitover,andthensomehowdissipatesinaburstofinsultsandlaughter.Deirdresings“Crazy”inamournfulcontralto,herheadthrownbackandhereyesclosed.TheLucozadebottleempties,andMalachyproducesanotheronefromunderthetable.Themusicalcornertakesoffintoawildreelthathaspeoplestampingandslappingtablestothebeat.
“D’youknowwhatwethoughtwhenyoufirstcame?”Bobbyshoutsoverthemusic,louderthannecessary,toCal.Hishairisstragglingoutofitsneatcomboverandhe’shavingtroublefocusingonCal’sface.“WethoughtyouwereoneofthemAmericanpreachers,andyou’dbestandingintheroadshoutingaboutJudgmentDay.”
“Ididn’t,”Senansays.“Ithoughtyouwereoneofthemhipstershitesandyou’dbeaskingNoreenforavocados.”
“Itwasthebeardthatdoneit,”MartexplainstoCal.“Wedon’tseemanylikethataroundhere.Itneededaccountingfor.”
“Thisfellathoughtyouwereontherun,”someoneelsesays,nudginghisneighbor.
“Justlazy,”Calsays.“Ilettheshavingslideforawhile,andnextthingyouknow,thishappened.”
“We’llgiveyouahandwiththat,”thedeep-voicedguyinthecornersays.
“I’vegotusedtoit,”Calsays.“IthinkI’llhangontoitawhilelonger.”
“Lena’sgotarighttoseewhat’sunderthere,beforeshegetsherselfintoanything.”
“You’llbeonlygorgeous.”
“Noreen’sgotrazors.”
“Barty!Giveustheshopkeythere!”
They’reallgrinningatCal,leaningforwards,glassesgoingdown.Thereelbeatsintheairlikeapulse.
Calhasbeensizingthemupallevening,justincase.Thedeep-voicedguyinthecornerishistoppriority.HeandSenanaregoingtobetrouble,andprobablyMalachy;ifCalcantakecareofthem,therestarelikelytobackdown.Hereadieshimself,asbesthecan.
“Getoutathat,”Marttellsthem,throwinganarmaroundCal’sshoulders.“Itoldyeallfromthestart,thisfellawassoundasapound.Andwasn’tIright?IfhewantsabigChewbaccaheadonhim,hecanhaveone.”
Foramomentthealcoveisstill,balancedontheedgeandreadytotipeitherway.ThenSenanroarswithlaughterandtherestjoinin,liketheywerejustkiddingallalong.“Thefaceonhim,”someonesays,“thoughthewasabouttobefuckin’shearedlikeasheep,”andsomeoneelseshouts,“Lookathimthere,readytotakeonthelotofus!Getup,yaboyya!”
Theysettlebackintotheirseats,stilllaughing,withtheireyesstillonCal,andsomeoneshoutstoBartytobringthismadmananotherpint.Calstaresrightbackatthemandlaughsaslongandloudastherest.Hewonderswhichofthesemenisthemostlikelytospendhisnightsinafieldwithasheepandasharpknife.
SenansingssomethinginwhatmustbeIrish,longmelancholyphraseswithaquaverattheend,hisheadbackandhiseyesclosed.Thedeep-voicedguy,whosenameturnsouttobeFrancie,slidesovertointroducehimselftoCal;thissomehowspiralsintoafullaccountofhowFrancie’struelovelefthimbecausehehadtolookafterhismotherthroughhertwelve-yeardecline,astoryheartrendingenoughthatCalismovedtobuyFrancieapintandtheybothneedanothershotofpoteen.AtsomepointDeirdreisgone,andsoisthebuck-nakedwindowguy.SomeonesetsofftherubberfishbehindthebarwhenBartyisn’tlooking,andtheyallsing“IWillSurvive”alongwithit,atthetopoftheirlungs.
Bythetimepeoplestarttoleave,CalisdrunkenoughtoacceptaridehomefromMart,mainlyoutofaconfusedfeelingthatitwouldbeunciviltorefuse,giventhatheowesMarthisbeard.Martsingsalltheway,inacrackedtenorwithsurprisingvolume,jauntysongsaboutgirlswhoarealltheprettiestintown,withsomeofthewordsmissing.Coldairstreamsthroughtheopenwindows,andthecloudsarebreakingupsothatstarsanddarknesswhiskdizzyinglyacrossthewindshield.Ateverypotholethecarsoars.Calfigureseitherthey’llgethomeortheywon’t,andjoinsinonthechoruses.
“Now,”Martsays,pullingupwithajoltoutsideCal’sgate.“How’stheaul’stomachholdingup?”
“Prettygood,”Calsays,fumblingforhisseat-beltclip.Hisphonebuzzesinhispocket.Ittakeshimamomenttoworkoutwhatonearththatmightbe.ThenitcomestohimthatitmustbeAlyssa,WhatsAppinghim:SorryImissedyou,catchyoulater!Heleavesthephonewhereitis.
“Itis,ofcourse.Nobetterman.”Mart’swispygrayhairisstickingstraightoutononesideofhishead.Helooksbeatificallyhappy.
“Bartylookedprettygladtogetridofus,”Calsays.Thelasttimehelookedathiswatch,itwasthreeinthemorning.
“Barty,”Martsayswithmagnificentscorn.“Sure,thatpub’snotevenrightlyhis.HeonlygothishandsonitbecauseSeánóg’ssonfanciedhimselfsittinginanaul’office,thebigjessie.Hecanputupwithushavingaweecarouseeverynowandagain.”
“ShouldIhavegivenMalachyacouplabucks?”Calasks.“Forthe”—hecan’tcomeupwiththerightword—“the’shine?”
“Sure,Ilookedafterallthat,”Marttellshim.“Youcansortmeoutsomeothertime.You’llhaveplentyofoppornoon—opteroon—”HewavesahandatCalandgivesup.
“Whoops,”Calsays,asheclambersoutofthecar.Heregainshisfooting.“Thanksfortheride.Andtheinvitation.”
“Thatwassomenight,bucko,”Martsays,leaningoveralittletoofartotalkthroughthepassengerwindow.“You’llrememberthatone,hah?”
“NotsureI’llrememberadamnthing,”Calsays,whichmakesMartlaugh.
“Arrah,you’llbegrand.Getagoodsleep,that’sallyouneed.”
“Iintendto,”Calsays.“Youtoo.”
“Iwill,”Martsays.Hisfacecrunchesintoagrin.“HereIwasplanningontakingoverguarddutyfromP.J.halfwaythroughthenight,d’youremember?Ishouldaknownbetter.Thatwasneveronthecards.ButI’vebeenanoptimistallmylife.”HewavestoCalandrevsoffuptheroad,taillightsweaving.
Caldecidesnottobothergettingasfarasthehousejustyet.Insteadheliesdownonhisgrassandlooksupatthestars,whicharethickandwildasdandelionsrightacrossthesky.HethinksaboutthattelescopeMartsuggested,anddecidesitwouldn’tsuithim.Hefeelsnourgetounderstandthestarsbetter;he’scontentedwiththemastheyare.It’salwaysbeenatraitofhis,whetherforbetterorforworse,toprefersettinghismindtothingshecandosomethingabout.
Afterawhile,hesobersupenoughtofeeltherockspokingathisbackandthecoldseepingintohim.Italsooccurstohim,gradually,thatitmightnotbesmarttolieoutherewithsomethingorsomeoneontheloosethattakesthethroatsoutofsheep.
Whenhepickshimselfuphisheadspins,andhehastoleanoverwithhishandsonhisthighsforalittlebittillitstops.Thenhetrudgesacrossthelawn,whichfeelsverywideandbare,towardshishouse.There’snomovementinthefields,andnosoundinthehedgesorthebranches;thenighthascometoitsdeepestpoint,thedesertedpre-dawnborderland.Hisclumpofwoodsisadensesmudgeagainstthestars,silentandstill.Mart’shouseisdark.
TWELVE
Calwakesuplate:sunispouringinathisbedroomwindow.Hisheadisalittletenderandfeelslikeit’sbeenstuffedwithstickycarpetfluff,butapartfromthathe’sinsurprisinglyOKshape.Herunshisheadunderthecoldtap,whichclearsitalittlebit,andfixeshimselfsomefriedeggsandsausages,acoupleofpainkillersandalotofcoffeeforlunch.Thenhetosseshisbagofdirtylaundryintothetrunkofhiscarandheadsfortown.
Thedayisdeceptivelybright,withahardchillintheshadowsandalittlebreezethatflirtsitswaycloseandthenslicesrightin.ThePajerobumpsrhythmicallyoverthepotholesataneasylope.Alongside,theshadowsofsmallcloudsglideacrossthebrownmountains.
Calisclearthatlastnighthegotwarned.Thewarning,however,wasdonewithsuchsubtletythat—whetherbydesignornot—he’sunsurewhat,exactly,hewasbeingwarnedoff.HehasnoideawhetherArdnakeltyhasworkedoutthathe’slookingintoBrendanReddy’sdisappearanceandwantshimtoknockthatshitoff,orwhetherhe’sjustbeenpokingaroundtoomuchforastrangerandneedsinstructioninlocalcustoms.
Oneinterestingpartiswhereandhowthewarningwasdelivered.Martcouldhavejustgivenhimafewquickpointersinprivate,overthegatesomeafternoon;instead,hesaveditupforthepoteenparty.EitherhewantedCaltohearthemessagefromabunchofpeopleatonce,todriveithome,orhewantedtomakesureeveryoneelseknewCalhadbeenwarned.Calhascomeawaywiththestrongimpressionthatitwasthesecondone,andthatthiswasforhisprotection.
He’sunsurewhatcircumstancesmightmakethisnecessary.Calisaccustomedtobeinginthedarkatthestartofaninvestigation,whichmeansit’stakenhimawhiletorealizethatthisisanentirelydifferentthing.Hehasnoidea,notjustwhatthepeoplearoundhimknowandwhattheybelieve,butalsowhattheymightthinkofit,whattheywant,whytheywantit,orhowtheymightgoaboutachievingit.Theirdecadesoffamiliarity,whichseemedlikeacomfortatthebeginningoflastnight,weavethemselvesintoanimpenetrablethicket;itslayersobscureeveryactionandeverymotivationtillthey’renearindecipherabletoanoutsider.Heunderstandsthatthiseffectis,atleastinpart,deliberateandpracticed.Theguyslikehimblindfolded.It’snotpersonal;keepinghimthatwayis,tothem,anelementaryandnaturalprecaution.
Calisawarethatheseemslikethekindofplacid,amenableguywhowouldheedthatwarning.Thatappearancehascomeinhandyplentyoftimes.He’dlovetoletitkeepbeingusefulhere:letthetownlandrelaxintothebeliefthathe’sgonebacktomindinghisownbusinessandpaintinghishouse.Thetroubleis,hehasnooptionsthatallowforthat.Backonthejob,hecouldhavestayedaccommodatinglyawayfromBrendan’sassociatesandfocusedonthebehind-the-scenesstuffforawhile:hookedupwiththetechieguystodumpBrendan’sphoneandtrackhislocationsandgothroughhisemails,gotthebanktocheckwhetherandwherehisbankcardhadbeenused,runallthoseassociatesthroughthesystem,talkedtoNarcoticsabouttheDublindrugboys.Hecouldhavebouncedpossibilitiesoffhispartner,O’Leary,alittlecop-belliedcynicwithadeceptiveairoflazinessandakeensenseoftheridiculous,andgotO’Learytodosomelegworkforhim.
Here,allthatartilleryandallthoseallieshavebeenstrippedaway.Thereisnobehindthescenestotakecoverin.He’sinthisempty-handedandalone,outinthewideopen.
Cal’soriginalplanfortodaywastotrackdownDonieMcGrath,butthat’schanged.Foronething,Donieislikelytobeahugepainintheasstointerview,andCal’sheadcan’ttakeit.Moreimportantly,hedoesn’thaveagoodenoughhandleonwhat’sgoingon.EvenifpeoplewerewarninghimawayfromBrendan,alltheyknowsofaristhathe’stryingtofindoutwherearunawaykidranto,inordertoreassurehisworriedmamaorjustoutofpurenosiness.ButCalknowsthey’llbekeepinganeyeonhim.IfhetalkstoDonie,oranyoneelsewhohasconnectionstotheDublindrugboys,they’llknowwhathe’sthinking.Calisn’tinclinedtotakethatstepuntilhe’sgoodandready.
Hedoeshaveonethingonhislistthatwon’tshowanymoreofhishandandthatneedsaweekend.Intown,hehandsinhisclothestothelaundromatandheadsforthegiftshop.
CarolineHoranisstillFacebookfriendswithBrendan,whichmakesCalfigurethebreakupwasn’ttooshitty.Herprofileshotshowsherandtwoothergirlsonabeachwiththeirarmsaroundeachother,laughingandwindblown.Carolinehasdisorganizedbrowncurlsandaround,freckledfacewithanengagingsmile.Shealsohas“StudiesatAthloneInstituteofTechnology”onherprofile,meaningthatifshe’sstillworkingatthegiftshop,she’slikelytobepullingweekendshifts.
Sureenough,whenhepushesopenthegift-shopdoorwithatinkleofbells,theresheis,reorganizingastandofnameplateswithleprechaunsonthem.She’sshorterthanCalexpected,withaneat,roundedfigure.Hercurlsaresmoothedintoaponytailandshe’swearingalittlebitofmakeup,justenoughtolookgroomedbutstillwholesome.
“Afternoon,”Calsays,lookingaround,alittlebewilderedbytheamountofstuff.Theplaceissmallandchockablockwithgreenthings,thingsmadeofwool,andthingsmadeofmarble.MostofthemhaveeithershamrocksortwirlyCelticsymbolsonthem.InthebackgroundsomeguyissingingacheesyballadthatevenCalcantellhasnothingincommonwiththemusicinSeánóg’s.
“Hiya,”Carolinesays,turningtosmile.“CanIhelpyouwithanything?”
“Well,I’mlookingtobuyapresentformynieceinChicago,”Calsays.“She’sgonnabeturningsix.Maybeyoucouldgivemeafewrecommendations?”
“Noproblem,”Carolinesayscheerfully.Sheheadsbehindthecounter,pickingthingsoffracksandshelvesonherway:agauzygreenfairydoll,ashamrockT-shirt,asilvernecklaceinalittlegreenbox,afuzzyblack-facedtoysheep.“Ifshelikesfairies,she’dlovethis.Orifshe’smoresporty,maybeatopandabaseballcap?”
Calleansonthecountertop,keepingarespectfuldistance,andnodsalong,takingstockofCaroline.Shehasn’tscrapedoffheraccentforcollege,thewayEugenehas;it’salmostasstrongasTrey’s.Cal,whoafternearlythirtyyearsinChicagostillsoundslikeaNorthCarolinaboy,approvesofthat.Helikesherreadinessofresponseandtheefficiencyofhermovements,too.Brendanwentforconfidentandcompetent.Andifthisgirlwantedhim,thenhewasnodummy,either.
“Oryoucan’tgowrongwithacladdaghnecklace.It’sthetraditionalIrishsymbolforlove,friendshipandloyalty.”
“Thisisprettycute,”Calsays,pickingupthesheep.Alyssausedtolovesmallsoftcreatures.Herroomhadthemoneverysurface,neatclustersarrangedwithcaretolookliketheywerehavingconversationsorplayinggames.Hewouldpickupacoupleofthemandmakethemtalktoeachother,whileAlyssagiggledherheadoff.Therewasaraccoonwhowouldsneakupontheothersandticklethemandthenbounceaway.
“They’reaslocalasyoucanget,”Carolinetellshim.“AladyinCarrickmorehand-feltsthemwithwoolfromherbrother’ssheep.”
Calglancesupatherwithhisbrowstwitchingtogether.“Igotafeelingyouliveroundmyway,”hesays.“DidIseeyouhelpingNoreenoutinArdnakeltystore,onetime?”
Carolinesmiles.“Youprobablydid,yeah.It’shardtosaynotoNoreen.”
“Tellmeaboutit,”Calsays,grinningandputtingoutahand.“CalHooper.TheAmericanthat’sboughttheO’Sheaplace.”
HisnamegetsnoreactionfromCaroline,forwhateverthat’sworth.Herhandshakeisolderthansheis,aprofessional’s.“CarolineHoran.”
“OK,”Calsays,“lemmeseeifNoreen’staughtmeanything.Ifyou’reCaroline,thenyou’retheonethatbrokeherwristfallingoffNoreen’sladdertryingtosnitchsomecakesprinkles.Igetthatright?”
Carolinelaughs.“God,Iwassix.I’llneverlivethatdown.AndIdidn’tevengetthesprinkles.”
“Don’tworry,”Calsays,grinningback.“That’sasbadasitgets.OnlyotherthingsIknowareyouusedtodateBrendanReddy,theguywho’snotavailabletodomywiringbecausehetookoffsomewhere,andyou’reincollege.What’reyoustudying?”
Brendan’snamedoesmakeCarolineblink.“Hotelmanagement,”shesays,easilyenough,turningawaytogetmoresheepofftheshelf.“Youcangoanywherewiththat,youknow?”
“Planningontraveling?”
Shesmilesoverhershoulder.“OhGod,yeah.Themorethebetter.AndthiswayIcangetpaidforit.”
CalreckonsBrendan’sbigmistake,oroneofthemanyway,wasdoingwhateverhedidtomakeCarolinedumphim.Thisgirlhasthesparkofawomanwho’sgoingplaces.ShewouldhavetakenthepairofthemasfarasBrendancoulddreamof,andthensome.
“Now,”shesays,lininguphalfadozenmoresheepindifferentcolorsonthecounter.“Takeyourpick.Iliketheexpressiononthisone.”
“Lookskindalocotome,”Calsays,examiningthesheep’swhite-rimmedstare.“Likeit’swaitingfortherightmomenttoattack.”
Carolinelaughs.“It’sjustgotpersonality.”
“IfIgivemyniecenightmares,mysister’sgonnacomeoverhereandbeatmeup.”
“Howaboutthisone?”Shepicksoutacream-coloredonewithablackhead.“Lookatthefaceonthat.Itwouldn’thurtafly.”
“Thatone’sscaredofthecrazyone.Look.”Calputsthetimidsheephidingbehindtheothers,withthelocoonestaringthemdown.“It’sshakinginitshooves.”
Carolineislaughingagain.“Thenyououghtagetitoutofhere.Giveitasafenewhomeandit’llbegrand.”
“OK,”Calsays.“I’lldothat.Mygooddeedfortheday.”
“Youcantellyournieceit’sarescuesheep,”Carolinesays.Shestartsputtingtheextrasheepbackontheirshelf.
“Youknow,”Calsays,turningthegreenbaseballcapinhishands,“Idon’twanttointerfere,butIwastalkingwithBrendanReddy’smamatheotherday,andshe’sprettyworriedabouthim.Ifyou’veheardfromhim,maybeyoumighttakeaminutetoletherknowhe’sOK.”
Carolineglancesbackathim,butonlyforasecond.Shesays,“Ihaven’theardfromhim.”
“Youdon’tneedtotellme.Justtellhismama.”
“Iknow.Ihaven’t,though.”
“Evenifhementionedsomewherehemightbeheaded.She’snothandlingittoowell.Anythingwouldhelp.”
Carolineshakesherhead.“Heneversaidanythingaboutittome,”shesays.“There’snoreasonhewould,sure.Weweren’treallyintouch,afterwebrokeup.”
Thehurtinhervoicehasn’thealedover.Whateverwentwrongbetweenthetwoofthem,shelikedBrendanalot.
“Hetookithard?”Calasks.
“Sortof.Yeah.”
“Youworriedabouthimtoo?”
Carolinecomesbacktothecounter.Sherunsafingerdownthesheep’snose.
“I’dliketoknow,”shesays.
“Yougotanyguesses?”
Carolinepicksacurlofgrayfuzzoffthesheep’sback.“ThethingaboutBrendan,”shesays.“Hegetsideas,andhegetscarriedawaybythem.Heforgetstotakeotherpeopleintoaccount.”
“How’sthat?”
“Like,”Carolinesays,“OK,webothreallylikethissingerHozier,right?AndhewasplayinginDublinlastDecember.SoBrendanpickedupanybitsofworkhecouldfind,togettogetherthemoneyforticketsandthebusandaBandB.FormyChristmaspresent.Whichwouldhavebeenamazing,onlyhegotthemforthenightbeforemylastexam.”
“Oh,man,”Calsays,grimacing.
“Yeah.Notonpurpose,like;hejustforgottocheckwithme.ThenwhenIsaidIcouldn’tgo,hewasgenuinelyshocked.Andangry.Like,‘Youonlycareaboutcollege,youthinkI’mnotworththehasslebecauseI’mgoingnowhere…’WhichIdidn’tthinkatall,but…yeah.”
“Butyou’renotgonnagetthatthroughtoaguywho’sfeelingsensitive,”Calsays.
“Yeah.That’swhywebrokeup,basically.”
Calconsidersthis.“Soyouthinkhewentoffchasingabigidea,”hesays,“andheforgothismamawouldworry?”
Carolineglancesathim;thenhereyesslideawayagain.“Maybe,”shesays.
Calsays,“Or…?”
Carolineasks,“WillIgift-wrapthisforyou?”
“Well,that’dbegreat,”Calsays.“I’mnotmuchofahandwithwrappingstuff.”
“Noproblem,”Carolinesays,deftlywhippingoutsomegreentissuepaperfromunderthecounter.“Sure,ifshe’ssixshewon’tcareeitherway,butyoursistermight.Let’sdoitright.”
Caltriesspinningthebaseballcapononefinger,listenstothesingercrooningabouthomesickness,andconsidersCaroline,whoislayeringsheetsoftissuepaperinvariousshadesofgreen.WithEugene,heplayeddumb,becauseEugenewantspeopletobedumb.It’scleartoCalthatCarolinewantspeopletobesmart,andtogetthingsdone.
“MissCaroline,”hesays,“I’mgonnaaskyouacoupleofthings,becauseIfigureyou’remybestchanceatgettinggoodanswers.”
Carolinestopswrappingandliftsherheadtolookathim.Shesays,“Aboutwhat?”
“BrendanReddy.”
Carolinesays,“Why?”
SheandCallookateachother.Calknowshe’sbeenluckytogetthisfarwithoutanyoneaskinghimthatquestion.
“YoucouldsayI’mjustnosy,”hesays,“orrestless,orboth.Icanpromiseyouthismuch:I’mnotaimingtodohimanykindofharm.Justfindoutwherehe’sgone,isall.”
Carolinenods,likeshebelieveshim.Shesays,“I’vegotnothingtosaytoyou.”
Calsays,“Youwanttoknowwherehewent.Yougonnagoaskingaroundyourself?”
Carolineshakesherhead.ThesharpjerkmakesCalunderstandthatshe’safraid
Hesays,“ThenI’mthebesthopeyou’vegot.”
“Andifyoufindout,you’lltellme.”
“Ican’tpromiseyouthat,”Calsays.Aminuteagohemighthave,butthatshakeofherheadhasturnedhimwary.Shedoesn’tseemlikethetypewhoscareseasy.“ButifIfindhim,I’lltellhimheshouldgiveyouacall.That’sbetter’nnothing.”
Afteramomentshesays,withoutanyexpression,“OK.Fireaway.”
“HowwasBrendan,inhismind?”
“Whatway?”
“Washedepressed?”
“Idon’tthinkso,”Carolinesays.TheanswercomespromptlyenoughtotellCalthatshe’sthoughtaboutthisbefore.“Hewasn’thappy,butthat’sadifferentthing.Hedidn’tseemdraggeddownbyit,youknow?Morejust…frustrated.Annoyed.He’sbasicallyanoptimist.Healwaysreckonedsomethingwouldturnup,intheend.”
“Iapologizeforputtingthisharshly,”Calsays,“butdoyouthinkthere’sanychancehemighthavetakenhisownlife?”
“Idon’t,”Carolinesays.Thiscomesoutinstantly,too.“Iknowyoucan’tsaysomeone’snotthetypeforsuicide,andpeoplemightbealotworseoffthantheyleton,but…thewayBrendanthinks:always‘Sure,I’llfindaway,it’llbegrandintheendonewayoranother…’Thatdoesn’tseemlikeitgoeswithsuicide.”
“Iwouldn’thavethoughtso,”Calsays.HetendstoagreewithCaroline,althoughhealsosharesherreservations.“Heeverseemoutoftouchwithreality?Sayingstuffthatdidn’tmakesense?”
“Youmeanlikeschizophrenia,orbipolardisorder.”
“Oranythingelsealongthoselines.”
Carolinethinksforamoment,herhandslyingstillonthetissuepaper.Thensheshakesherhead.“No,”shesays,withcertainty.“Hegetsunrealistic,sometimes,likewiththeticketsandmyexam—‘It’llbegrand,justdoallyourstudyingbeforehandandwe’llcatchtheearlybushomethenextday…’Butthat’sdifferentfrombeingoutoftouchwithreality.”
“Thatitis,”Calsays.He’s,hegets.Caroline,justlikeFergalandEugene,thinksBrendanisalive.Caldoesn’tsettoomuchstorebythat.Tothem,theideaofsomeonetheiragedyingisimpossible.Hehopesitcanstaythatwayawhilelonger.“Thatunrealisticattitudemakehimanyenemies?”
Caroline’seyeswiden,justaflicker,buthervoicestayseven.“Notlikeyou’retalkingabout.Peoplegotannoyedwithhim,sometimes.But…sure,we’veallknowneachotherallourlives.Everyoneknowswhathe’slike.Itwasneverabigdeal.”
“Iknowhowthatgoes,”Calsays.“Ishereliable?Sayhetellsyouhe’sgonnadosomethingforyou,orgetyousomething.Wouldyouexpectthathe’dgetitdone,orthathe’dforgetthewholething?”
“He’dfollowthrough,”Carolinesaysimmediately.“It’samatterofprideforhim,like.Hisdadwasanawfulmanformakingpromisesandforgettingthem.Brendanhatedit.Hedidn’twanttobelikethat.”
“Well,thereyougo.Peoplecanforgiveamanforbeingalittlebitunrealistic,aslongashe’sreliable.”Calputsthebaseballcapbackonthecounterandpatsitintoshape.“I’mguessingthatmeanshewouldn’thaveupandleftifhethoughtyouwerepregnant.”
He’sbettingonCarolinehavingmoresensethantogethuffyaboutthat.Sureenough,shesaysmatter-of-factly,“Noway.He’d’vedoneeverythinghecouldtobetheperfectdaddy.Anyway,there’snoreasonhe’dthinkthat.I’dnoscareoranything.”
“YousaidmoneywastightforBrendan,andheworriedthatyouthoughthewasgoingnowhere.Hehaveanyplanstotryandfixthat?”
Carolineblowsoutairthroughasmallwrysmile.“Ibethedid,yeah.Hesaid—whenwewerebreakingup,like—hesaidhe’dshowmehewasgoingplaces.”
“Hementionhow?”
Sheshakesherhead.
Calsays,“Maybebygettinginvolvedinsomethingheshouldn’t’ve?”
“Likewhat?”
Caroline’svoicehassharpened.“Well,likesomethingagainstthelaw,”Calsaysmildly.“Stealing,maybe,orrunningdrugs.”
“Heneverdidanythinglikethat.Notwhenweweregoingout.”
“How’dhegetthemoneyforthebandtickets?”
“Oneofourfriends’uncledoesfurnitureremovals,soBrendangotafewdayswithhim.Andhegavegrinds.”AtCal’suncomprehendinglook,shesays,“Tutoredpeoplefromourschoolinchemistry,andengineering—they’rehisbestsubjects.Stufflikethat.”
Backonthejob,Calcouldhaveverifiedallthis.Nowallhe’sgotishisgut,whichistellinghimthatCarolinewantstothinkwellofBrendan,butalsothatshe’snofool.“Smartthinking,”hesays.“Notgonnamakeaguyrich,though.”
“No,butyouseewhatImean.Hedidn’tdoanythingdodgy.”
“You’renottellingmeheneverwould,though,”Calpointsout.
Carolinegoesbacktohertissuepaper,foldingitaroundthesheepwithdeftquickfingers.Calwaits.
“Therewererumorsgoinground,”Carolinesaysintheend,“afterBrendanwent.”Herhandsaremovingfaster,andhervoicehastightened.Shedoesn’tenjoytalkingaboutthis.“Peopleweresayinghe’drapedme,andhewentontherunbecauseIwasgoingtotheGuards.”
“Andthatwasn’ttrue?”
“No,itwasn’t.BrendanneverlaidafingeronmethatIdidn’twant.Isquashedthatonequick,onceIheardaboutit.ButtherewereplentyofothersIcouldn’tdoanythingabout.Thatheranbecausehebeatuphismam.Orbecausehegotcaughtpeepinginwomen’swindows.Probablyworseonesthatnoonetoldme.”
Shepullsapieceoftapeoffthedispenserwithasnap.“That’swhatArdnakeltywasliketoBrendan,allhislife.Becausehecamefromthatfamily,peoplealwaysbelievedtheworstabouthim,whethertherewasanyreasontoornot.Evenmyparents—andthey’renotlikethat—theywerehorrifiedwhenIstartedgoingoutwithhim,onlytheysaidIhadsense,soifIsawsomethinginhimthenitwasprobablythere.Buttheydidn’tlikeit.Evenwhentheysawhewasgoodtome,theydidn’tlikeit.”SheglancesupatCal.Thefastjerkofherheadhasangerinit.“SoI’mjustsaying,don’tbebelievingeverythingpeopletellyouaboutBrendan.Mostofit’saloadofshite.”
“Thenyoutellme,”Calsays.“Wouldhedoanythingcriminal,ornot?”
“I’lltellyouwhatBrendan’slike,”Carolinesays.Herhandshavestoppedmoving;she’sforgottenallaboutthetoysheep.“Hehasarakeoflittlebrothersandsisters,right?Mostpeople,whentheystartgoingoutwithsomeone,theyignoreeveryoneelse.ButBrendan:evenwhenwefirststartedgoingout,whenwewerepuremadabouteachother,he’dbesaying,‘Ican’tmeetuptonight,I’vetogowatchTrey’sfootballmatch,’or‘Maeve’safterhavingarowwithherbestfriend,I’llhangaroundhomeandcheerherup.’Theirparentsweren’tdoinganyofthat,soBrendandidit.Notlikeitwasapaininthearse.Likehewantedto.”
“Hesoundslikeagoodman,”Calsays.“Butgoodmenbreakthelaw,sometimes.Youhaven’ttoldmewhetherhewouldornot.”
Carolinegoesbacktofoldingtheedgesofthepaper.Intheendshesays,“Ihopenot.”
Herfacehastightenedup.Calwaits.
Shestartstosaysomething,andthenstops.Insteadshesays,“I’djustliketoknowhe’sOK.”
Calsaysgently,“Ihaven’theardanythingtosayhe’snot.”
“Right.”Carolinetakesaquickbreath.She’snotlookingatCalanymore.“Yeah.I’dsayhe’sgrand.”
“Tellyouwhat,”Calsays.“I’llsaytoMizReddy,ifshedoeshearfromBrendan,sheshouldletyouknow.”
“Thanks,”Carolinesayspolitely,unrollinggreenribbonfromaspool.Theconversationisover.“That’dbegreat.”
Shewrapsupthesheepniceandpretty,andtwirlsthegreenribboninringlets.WhenCalthanksherforallherhelp,heleavesasecondincaseshemightsaysomethingelse,butshejustgiveshimabrightimpersonalsmileandwisheshisnieceahappybirthday.
Theoutdoors,awayfromtheclutterandthesyrupyballads,feelsspaciousandloose,peaceful.Inthemainsquare,familiesintheirgoodclothesandoldwomeninheadscarvesarecomingoutofthechurch;behinditsspire,thewindchivviesscrapsofcloudacrossthebluesky.
CalwashopingBrendanmighthavetalkedtoCarolineabouthisbigmoneymakingplan.Boysruntheirmouths,whenthey’retryingtoimpressgirls.Carolineisn’tthetypetobeimpressedbycriminalactivity,butBrendancouldhavebeentooyoung,toohastyandtoodesperatetonoticethat.CalbelievesCaroline,though.Whateverwasintheworks,Brendankeptittohimself.
Calhasn’tcomeawayempty-handed,though.Suicideisoffthetable,orasgoodas.NotbecauseCarolinethinksBrendanwasn’tthetype,butbecauseCaroline—andCalconsidershertobethebestwitnesshe’stalkedtosofar—CarolinesaysBrendansetalotofstorebykeepinghispromises.Brendansaidhe’dgetTreyabikeforhisbirthday,andBrendansaidhe’dpaybackFergal’shundredbucks—moneyhewouldn’thaveneededifallhewasaimingtodowasgoupthemountainandhanghimself.IfBrendanwasplanningongoinganywhere,hewasalsoplanningoncomingback.
AndCarolinethinkstherewasnothinggoingwronginBrendan’smind.Calisgladofthis.IfBrendangotspooked,ifheran,ifhe’shidingoutinthemountains,thenhehadareasonthatexistedoutsidehismind.Thatmeansitmusthaveleftsolidtracks,somewherealongtheway.
ItmightbethatCarolinedoeshaveaguessatwhatBrendanwasdoingandit’snotsomethingshewantstodiscuss,atleastnotwithastrangerandanex-cop.Ontheotherhand,itmightbethatCalisn’ttheonlypersonwho’shadawarning.
Caldoesn’tholdoutmuchhopeoffindingthepolicestationopenonaSunday,butGardaO’Malleyissittingathisdesk,readinghispaperandeatingabigpieceofchocolatecakewithhisfingers.“Ah,God,it’sOfficerHooper,”hesays,beamingandtryingtoworkoutwhethertostandup.“Iwon’tshakeyourhand,look—”Heholdsuphisstickyfingers.“Mylittlefella’safterturningeight,andthesizeofthecakemymissusmade,we’llbeatingitforhisninthaswell.”
“Noproblem,”Calsays,grinning.“Lookslikegoodcake.”
“Ah,it’sgorgeous.Shedoeswatchallthembake-offshows.IfI’daknownyouwerecoming,I’dabroughtyouaslice.”
“Catchyounextyear,”Calsays.“IjustdroppedintoletyouknowIgotthatrifleintheend.Thankyoukindlyforyourhelp.”
“Noproblematall,”O’Malleysays,relaxingbackintohisseatandsuckingfrostingoffhisthumb.“Haveyoutakenitoutyet?”
“Justshootingattincans,gettingmyeyebackin.It’sagoodgun.Igotrabbitsonmyland,soI’mgonnatryandbagmeafewofthose.”
“Cunninglittlebastards,”O’Malleysays,withthemelancholyofexperience.“Goodluck.”
“Well,”Calsays,“theonlyotherthingIgottohandisatreefullofrooksmessingupmylawn.Maybeyoucantellme:theygoodeating?”
O’Malleylooksstartled,butheconsidersthequestionoutofpoliteness.“I’veneveretrookmyself,”hesays.“Butmydaddytoldushismammyusedtomakerookstewwhenhewasalittlefella,ifthey’dnothingelse.Withpotatoes,like,andthebitofonion.I’dsayyou’dgetarecipeontheinternet;sure,they’veeverythingonthere.”
“Worthatry,”Calsays.Hehasnointentionofshootinganyofhisrooks.Hehasafeelingthesurvivorswouldmakebadenemies.
“Iwouldn’tsayit’dbenice,”O’Malleysays,thinkingitoverfurther.“Awfulstrong-tasting,I’dsay.”
“I’llsaveyouahelping,”Calsays,grinning.
“Ah,no,you’regrand,”O’Malleysays,slightlyapprehensive.“Sure,I’llstillbeworkingmywaythroughthiscake.”
Callaughs,givesthecounteraslapandisturningforthedoorwhenathoughtstrikeshim.“Almostforgot,”hesays.“SomeguywastellingmeacoupleofofficersgotcalledouttoArdnakelty,backinMarch.Wouldthathavebeenyou?”
O’Malleythinksthatover.“’Twasn’t,no.TheonlytimesI’vebeenoutthatwaythisyear,Iwasupthemountain,tryingtogetthoseReddychildertogetaneducation.Ardnakeltydoesn’thavemuchcallforourservices.”
“Well,that’swhatIthought,”Calsays,frowningalittle.“YougotanyideawhatthatthinginMarchwasabout?”
“Can’thavebeenanythingserious,”O’Malleyassureshim.“Sure,ifitwas,I’dhaveheardaboutit.”
“I’dlovetoknow,allthesame,”Calsays,hisfrowndeepening.“Ican’tresteasyunlessIknowwhatI’mlivingwith.Sideeffectofthejob—Imean,hey,whoamItelling,right?”
O’Malleydoesn’tlooklikethisanglehaseveroccurredtohimbefore,buthenodsalongvigorouslyallthesame.“TellyouwhatI’lldo,”hesays,anideastrikinghim.“Youhangonhereaminute,andI’lllookitupinthesystem.”
“Well,that’skindofyou,”Calsays,surprisedandpleased.“I’dappreciatethat.I’llbringyousomerookstewforsure.”
O’Malleylaughs,extractshimselffromhischairwithafewloudcreakingnoises,andheadsbacktotheoffice.Calwaitsandlooksoutthewindowatthesky,wherethecloudsarethickening,gettingdarkerandmoreominous.Hecan’timagineevergettingaccustomedtotheeffortlesshairpinturnsoftheweatheraroundhere.He’susedtoahotsunnydaybeingahotsunnyday,acoldrainydaybeingacoldrainyday,andsoon.Here,somedaystheweatherseemslikeit’sjustfuckingwithpeopleonprinciple.
“Now,”O’Malleysays,comingbackout,happywithhisresults.“LikeItoldyou:nothingseriousatall,atall.Marchthesixteenth,afarmerreportedsignsofintrudersonhislandandapossibletheftoffarmequipment,butwhentheboysgotoutthere,hetoldthem’twasallamistake.”Heresettleshimselfinhischairandpopsachunkofcakeintohismouth.“I’dsayhefoundout’twasthelocalyoungscallywagsmessing,like.Theydogetbored;sometimestheboldones’llhidesomethingjustforthecrack,toseethefarmergomentallookingforit.Ormaybeitwasrobbed,butthefarmerfoundoutwhodoneitandgotthestuffback,soheleftitatthat.They’relikethat,aroundhere.They’dratherkeepusoutofit,unlessthey’venochoiceatall.”
“Well,eitherway,”Calsays,“thatsetsmymindatease.Idon’thaveanyfarmequipmenttogetstolen.Igotanoldwheelbarrowthatcamewiththeplace,butifanyonewantsitthatbad,they’rewelcometoit.”
“They’remorelikelytoputitontopofyourroof,”O’Malleysaystolerantly.
“It’dprobablyimprovethelookoftheplace,”Calsays.“There’sdesignerguyswhochargeyuppiesthousandsofbucksforideaslikethat.Whowasthefarmer?”
“FellacalledPatrickFallon.Idon’tknowtheman.Thatmeanshe’snotaregular,anyway;there’snolocalfeudgoingon,nornothinglikethat.”
PatrickFallonispresumablyP.J.“Huh,”Calsays.“That’smyneighbor.Ihaven’theardhimmentionanytroublesinceIgothere.Iguessitmust’vebeenaonce-offthing.”
“Ladsmessing,”O’Malleysays,withcomfortablefinality,breakingoffanotherbighunkofcake.
LookingatthatcakehasmadeCalhungry.Hefindsacaféandgetshimselfasliceofapplepieandmorecoffee,topassthetimetillhislaundryisready.Whilehefinishesthecoffee,hegetshisnotebookoutofhisjacketpocketandturnstoafreshpage.
HetossesaroundthepossibilitythatBrendanwassettinghimselfupasasourceofstolenfarmequipment,boostedP.J.’sstuff,gotspookedandgaveitbackwhenhefoundoutthecopshadbeencalledin,andskippedtowntoavoidthefalloutorwasrunout,likethecat-killingMannionkid.Itdoesn’tsitquiteright—anyonewithhalfabrainwouldhaveexpectedpolice,andBrendanisorwasnodummy—butmaybehedidn’tthinkthetheftwouldbenoticedsosoon.Carolinesaidhedidn’ttakepeople’sreactionsintoaccount.
Hewrites:Farmequipment3/16.Whatwasstolen?Wasitrecovered?
Theotherthinghangingaroundtheedgesofhismindisthethoughtofthosedeadsheep.Martisn’tsittingupinthosewoodsontheoffchance.HehassomereasonforthinkingP.J.’ssheeparenext.
CaldrawshimselfaquicksketchofArdnakeltytownland,withhelpfrominternetmaps.HemarksinMart’sland,P.J.’sandBobbyFeeney’s;hedoesn’tknowwhereFrancieGannon’sisexactly,but“besidethevillage”giveshimaroughidea.Thenhemarksinalltheothersheepfarmsheknowsabout.
Geographically,thosefourhavenothingtosinglethemoutfromtherest.They’renotthenearestonestothemountainsorawoodwheresomecreaturemightstayhidden,notallclosetogether,notthenearesttothemainroadforaquickgetaway.There’snoreason,atleastnonethatCalcansee,whytheywouldbeanobvioussetoftargetsforeithermanorbeast.
Hewrites:Francie/Bobby/Mart/P.J.Links?Related?BeefwBrendan?Wanyone?
HecanthinkofonepersonwhohadbeefwithMart,anyway,notlongbeforeMart’ssheepgotkilled.Hewrites:WDonieMcG?
Thelastofthecoffeehasgotcold.Calbuyshisgroceries,includingMart’scookiesandathree-packofsocks,picksuphislaundry,andheadsoutoftown.
Theroadupintothemountainsfeelsdifferentinacar,rockierandlesswelcoming,likeit’sbidingitstimetopunctureCal’stireorsendhimsideslippingintoapatchofbog.HeparksoutsidetheReddys’gate.There’snoshoulder,buthe’snottooworriedthatanothercarwillneedtogetby.
ThistimetheReddys’yardisempty.Thebreezenipsathisneck,andtheropeshangingfromtheclimbingstructureswayrestlessly.Thefrontwindowsofthehouseareblankanddark,butasCalcrossestheyard,hefeelswatched.Heslowsdown,lettingthemgetagoodlook.
IttakesSheilaalongtimetocometothedoor.SheholdsitafootopenandlooksatCalthroughthegap.Hecan’ttellwhethersherecognizeshim.Fromsomewhereinsidethehousecomesfaint,brightcartoonlaughter.
“Afternoon,MizReddy,”hesays,stayingwellback.“CalHooper,whoyouhelpedoutwithdrysocksacoupleofdaysback,remember?”
Shekeepslookingathim.Thistimethewarinessdoesn’tdissolve.
“Ibroughtyouthese,”hesays,holdingoutthesocks.“Withmythanks.”
ThatbringsasparkoflifeintoSheila’seyes.“Idon’tneedthem.I’mnotsopoorthatIcan’taffordtogiveawayapairofoldsocks.”
Cal,takenaback,duckshisheadandshiftshisfeetonthestep.“MizReddy,”hesays,“Ididn’tintendtogiveanyoffense.Yousavedmealongwetwalkhome,andIwasraisednottobeungrateful.MygrammawouldsitupinhergravetoyellatmeifIdidn’tbringyouthese.”
Afteramomenttheresentmentfadesandshelooksaway.“You’regrand,”shesays.“Just…”
Calwaits,stillabashed.
“I’vethechildren.Ican’tbelettingstrangemencallround.”
WhenCalliftshishead,startledandaffronted,shesaysalmostangrily,“It’snothingtodowithyou.Peoplearefiercetalkers,roundhere.Ican’tgivethemanexcusetosayworseaboutmethantheyalreadydo.”
“Well,”Calsays,stillbeingalittlemiffed,“Iapologize.Idon’tmeantocauseyouanytrouble.I’llgetoutofyourhair.”
Heholdsoutthesocksagain,butSheiladoesn’ttakethem.Foramomenthethinksshe’sgoingtosaysomethingmore,butthenshenodsandstartstoclosethedoor.
Calsays,“YouhearanythingfromyourboyBrendan?”
TheflashoffearinSheila’seyestellshimwhathewaslookingtoknow.Sheila’sbeenwarned,too.
“Brendan’sgrand,”shesays.
“Ifyoudo,”Calsays,“youmightletCarolineHoranknow,”butbeforehe’sfinishedthesentence,Sheilahasshutthedoorinhisface.
OnhiswayhomeCaldropsoffthecookiesatMart’splace,asathank-youforlastnightandanindicationthathespenttodaybehavinghimself.Martissittingonhisfrontstep,watchingtheworldgobyandbrushingKojak.
“How’sthehead?”heinquires,shovingKojak’snoseawayfromthecookies.Helooksperkyasever,althoughhecoulddowithashave.
“NotasbadasIexpected,”Calsays.“How’boutyou?”
Martthrowshimawinkandafinger-point.“Ah,yousee,now,that’swhyweloveMalachy.Hisstuff’spureasholywater.It’stheimpuritiesthat’lldestroyyou.”
“HereIthoughtitwasthealcohol,”Calsays,rubbingbehindKojak’sears.
“Notatall.IcoulddrinkabottleofMalachy’sfinest,getupinthemorninganddoaday’swork.ButI’veacousinovertheothersideofthemountains,Iwouldn’ttouchhisstuffwithaten-footpole.Thehangover’dlasttillChristmas.Hedoesalwaysbeinvitingmetocallinforaweedrop,andI’vetofindanewexcuseeverytime.It’sasocialminefield,so’tis.”
“P.J.seeanythinglastnight?”Calasks.
“Notasausage,”Martsays.Hepullsafluffoffuroutofthebristlesandtossesitontothegrass.
Calsays,“ThatguyDonieMcGrathisn’ttoofondofyourightnow.”
Martstaresathimforasecondandthenburstsintohigh-pitchedgiggles.“HolyGod,”hesays,“you’llbethedeathofme.Areyoutalkingaboutthatweekerfuffleinthepub?IfDonieMcGrathwentaroundkillingsheeponeverymanwhoputhimbackinhisbox,he’dnevergetanight’ssleep.Hehasn’tgottheworkethicforit.”
“P.J.puthimbackinhisboxlately?”Calinquires.“OrBobbyFeeney?”
“Ifit’snotonethingwithyou,SunnyJim,it’sanother,”Martsays,shakinghishead.“Nevermindthattelescope;whatyouneedisagameofCluedo.I’llbuyyouonemyself,andyoucanbringitdowntoSeánóg’sforusalltoplay.”HegetsridofthelastofhisgigglesandsnapshisfingersforKojaktocomebacktothebrush.“Willyoubeintonight,forastraightener?”
“Nah,”Calsays.“Igottarecover.”Hedoesn’tfeelanydesiretogotoSeánóg’s,tonightoringeneral.Healwayslikedtheglintandspeedofthementhere,oftheirtalkandtheirshiftingexpressions,butnow,whenhethinksback,allthatlooksdifferent:lightflashingonariver,withwhoknowswhatunderneath.
“Afinestrongfellalikeyou,”Martsays,moreinsorrowthaninscorn.“What’stheyoungergenerationcomingto,atall?”Callaughsandheadsbacktohiscar,withthepebblesofMart’sdrivewaycrunchingunderhisfeet.
Whenhegetshome,hetakesouthisnotebookandsettleshimselfinthearmchairtoreadthrougheverythinghe’sgot.Heneedstoorderhisthoughts.He’snevermuchlikedthisphaseofaninvestigation,whenthingsaremessyandlayered,forkingoffinmultipledirections,andtoomanyofthemdidn’tactuallyhappen.Hehangsinthereforthepartwhen,ifhe’slucky,hegetstostripawaythemistytheoriesandtakeholdofthesolidthingshiddenamongthem.
Thistimetheprocesshasapersonalqualitythathe’snotaccustomedto.ThefearinSheila’seyes,andCaroline’s,toldhimthatlastnight’swarningwasn’tageneralcautionagainstbeingabusybody.ItwasaboutBrendan
Calwouldlovetoknowwhatorwho,exactly,he’ssupposedtobescaredof.BrendanappearstohavebeenfrightenedoftheGuards,andSheilamightwellbewaryofthemeitheronhisbehalforbyreflex.ButCalhasahardtimefindingareasonwhyCaroline,orMart,orhehimselfshouldbeterrifiedofGardaDennis,unlessthewholetownlandisuptoitsneckinsomevastcriminalenterprisethatcouldbeblownsky-highifhegoesaskingtoomanyquestions,whichseemsunlikely.
Theobviousalternative,inthattheyseemtobetheonlythreatanyonecanpointto,isthedrugboysfromDublin.Calassumesthat,likedruggangseverywhereelse,theywouldn’tthinktwiceaboutgettingridofanyonewhocausedtheminconvenience.IfBrendanbecameinconvenientonewayoranother,andtheydisappearedhim,theywouldn’tbebestpleasedaboutsomenosyYankpokingaround.Thequestionishowtheywouldknow.
Calfeelsit’sgettingclosetotimeforhimtotalktoDonieMcGrath.Now,atanyrate,hehasanunimpeachablereasonfordoingthat.MartknowsCalwasfeelingprotectiveafterthepubargument.ItwouldbeonlynaturalforhimtogorattleDonie’scagealittlebitaboutthatsheep.Thatwouldn’tviolatelastnight’swarning;notunlessMartthinksthesheephavesomethingtodowithBrendan.CalisinterestedtoseewhathappensafterhetalkstoDonie.
Hesitswithhisnotebookforawhile,lookingatthemapandconsideringwhereArdnakelty,rightlyorwrongly,thinksBrendanhasgone,andwhy.
Outsidethewindow,thecloudsarestillholdingtheirrain,butthegreenofthefieldsisdimmingasthelightstartstofade.Eveninghasitsownsmellhere,denseandcool,withaheadytingeofplantsandflowersthatplaynopartinthedaytime.Calgetsuptoturnonthelightandputhisshoppingaway.
HewasplanningtosendthewoollysheeptoAlyssa,butnowhe’snotsurewhetherthatwouldbeadumbidea.Shemightthinkhe’streatingherlikealittlekid,andtakeoffense.Intheendheunwrapsthesheepfromitsgreentissuepaperandstandsitonhisliving-roommantelpiece,whereitleanswearilytoonesideandgiveshimasadreproachfulstare.
THIRTEEN
Firstthingnextmorning,CaltextsLena.Hi,CalHooperhere.WonderingifImightbeabletocomeseehowthatpup’sdoingsometimetoday.Noproblemifthat’snotconvenient.Thanks.
Thecloudsopenedupduringthenight.Eveninhissleep,Calheardtheheavyunceasingdrumofrainonhisroof;itdrilleditswaythroughhisdreams,whichseemedimportantatthetime,althoughhecan’tnowrememberthem.Heeatsbreakfastwatchingitstreakpastthewindow,denseenoughtoblurthefieldsbeyond.
He’sdoingthedisheswhenLenatextshimback.I’minallmorningtillhalftwelve.Pupistwicethesize.
Giventheweather,Caltakesthecar.Thewindshieldmottleswithbigsplatterstoofastforthewiperstokeepup,andhistiressendfansofmuddywatersprayingfrompotholes.Thesmellofthefieldscomesthroughthecrackedcarwindow,freshwithwetgrassandfertilewithcowdung.Themountainsareinvisible;beyondthefieldsthere’sonlygray,cloudblendingintomist.Theherdanimalsstandstill,huddledtogether,withtheirheadsdown.
“Youfoundtheplaceagain,”Lenasays,whensheopensthedoor.“Fairplaytoyou.”
“I’mgettingthehangofthearea,”Calsays.HestoopstopatNellie,who,delightedtoseehim,iswaggingherwholehindend.“Littlebylittle.”
HeexpectsLenatoputonajacketandcomeout,butinsteadsheholdsthedooropenforhim.Hescrapeshisbootsonthematandfollowsherdownthehall.
Lena’skitchenisbigandwarm,madeupofthingsthathaveseenplentyofusebutaresolidenoughthatthey’veheldup:graystonefloortileswornsmoothinspots,woodencabinetspaintedachippedbutter-yellow,alongfarmhousetablethatcouldbedecadesoldorcenturies.Thelightsareonagainstthedarkday.Theroomiscleanbutnotneat:there’satumbleofbooksandnewspapersspreadacrossthetable,andpilesofironingwaitingtobeputawayontwoofthechairs.Theplacemakesitclearthatwhoeverlivestherehasonlythemselvestoplease.
Mewlingandrustlingnoisescomefromabigcardboardboxtuckedinacorner.“Theretheyare,”Lenasays.
“Theymovedindoorsintheend,huh?”Calsays.Themamadogliftsherheadandletsoutalowrumble,deepinherchest.HeturnsawayandfussesoverNellie,who’sbroughthimachewedsneaker.
“Thatbitoffrosttheothernightdidit,”Lenasays.Shekneelsdownandcupsthemamadog’sjawtocalmher.“Midnight,shecamescratchingatthedoorwithapupinhermouth,wantingtobringthemallintothewarm.They’llhavetogooutagainoncetheystartrunningabout—I’mnotcleaningthefloorafterthem.Butthey’lldograndhereforanotherfewdays.”
CalamblesacrossandsquatsbesideLena.Themamadogdoesn’tobject,althoughshekeepsonewaryeyeonhim.Thecardboardboxislinedwiththicklayersofsofttowelsandnewspaper.Thepupsareclamberingovereachother,makingsoundslikeaflockofseabirds.Eveninthesefewdays,they’vegrown.
“There’syourfella,”Lenasays.Calhasalreadyspottedtheraggedblackflag.Shereachesintothebox,scoopsoutthepupandpassesittohim.
“Hey,littleguy,”Calsays,holdingupthepup,whichsquirmsandpaddlesitspawsfuriously.Hecanfeelthechangeinit,bothitsweightanditsmuscle.“He’sgottenstrong.”
“Hehas.He’sstillthesmallest,butit’snotgettinginhisway.Thatbigblack-and-tanbruisertherebargesrightovertherest,butyourfella’shavingnoneofit:givesasgoodashegets.”
“Attaboy,”Calsaysgentlytothepup.Itcanholdupitsheadwithoutwobblingnow.Oneofitseyesisbeginningtoopen,showingadropletofhazygray-blue
“Willyouhaveacupoftea?”Lenaasks.“Youlooklikeyoucouldbethereawhile.”
“Sure,”Calsays.“Thanks.”Shegetsupandgoestothecounter.
Thepuphasstartedtostruggle.Calsettleshimselfonthefloorandbringsitintohischest.Itrelaxesagainsthiswarmthandhisheartbeat,turningsoftandheavy,nuzzlingalittle.Herunsoneofitsearsbetweenhisfingers.Atthecounter,Lenamovesabout,fillingtheelectrickettleandtakingmugsoutofacabinet.Theroomsmellsoftoast,ironingandwetdog.
CalfiguresNoreenisboundtohaveeverykindofcardboardboxintheland.Hecouldgetonetherightsizeandlineitwitholdshirts,sohissmellwouldbeacomforttothepup.Hecouldputitrightbesidehismattress,wherehecouldkeeponehandonthepupduringthenight,justtillitsettlesinandgetsusedtodoingwithoutitsmama.Thethoughthitshimpowerfully.Eveninimagination,itchangeshissenseofhishouse.
“IwasexpectingI’dbemobbedwithchildrenlookingtopetthem,”Lenasays,overthebuildinghissofthekettle.“Irememberdoingthatwhenwewerelittle,thewholelotofusrunningdowntoanyonethathadpuppiesorkittens.Butthere’sonlybeenafew.”
“Therestofthemtoodeepintheirscreens?”
Lenashakesherhead.“There’snorestofthem.Likeweweretalkingaboutbefore.It’snotjustthisgenerationthatheadedforthetowns.Eversincetheystartedbeingallowedtodogoodjobs,thegirlsgo.Theladsstayifthere’slandbeinglefttothem,butmostpeopleroundheredon’tleavelandtogirls.Sotheyheadoff.”
“Youcan’tblamethemforthat,”Calsays,thinkingofCaroline.Thepupisstartingtoteethe.HeshovesatCal’sfingerwithbothtinyforepaws,finallymanagestogetacornerofitintohismouth,anddoeshisbesttogumittodeath.
“Idon’t.I’d’vedonethesameifIhadn’tfalleninlovewithSean.Butitmeanstheladshavenoonetomarry.Andnowwe’venochildrencomingtoseethese,andaloadofaul’bachelorsuponthefarms.”
“That’stoughonthearea,”Calsays.
Thekettlebubblesandclicksoff,andLenapoursthetea.“Morewaysthanone,”shesays.“Menwithnochildrengettofeelingunsafe,whentheygetolder.Theworld’schangingandthey’venoyoungpeopletoshowthemit’sgrand,sotheyfeellikethey’rebeingattacked.Liketheyneedtobereadyforafightthewholetime.”
“Havingkidscandothesamething,”Calsays.“Makeyoufeellikeyouneedtofightthings.”
Lenaglancesoverathim,asshedropsteabagsintothetrashcan,butshedoesn’task.“That’sdifferent.Ifyou’vekids,you’realwayslookingoutintotheworldtoseeifanythingneedsfighting,becausethat’swherethey’reheaded;you’renotbarricadingyourselfindoorsandlisteningfortheIndianstoattack.It’snotgoodforaplace,havingtoomanyaul’bachelorsoutontheirlandwithnoonetotalkto,feelingliketheyneedtodefendtheirterritory,eventhoughthey’renotsurefromwhat.D’youtakemilk?”
“Nope.Justthewayitcomes.”
Shetakesmilkfromthefridgeforherself.Callikesthewayshemovesaroundthekitchen,efficientbutnotrushed,ateasewiththeplace.Heconsiderswhatitwouldbeliketoliveyourlifeinaplacewhereyourpersonaldecisions,whethertogetmarriedortohavekidsortomoveaway,altertheentiretownland.Outsidethewindows,therainisstillcomingdownthickasever.
“Sowhat’llhappenwhenallthebachelorsdieoff?”heasks.“Who’lltakeoverthefarms?”
“Nephewsorcousins,someofthem.Godknowsabouttherest.”
ShebringsthemugsofteaovertoCalonthefloorandsitsdown,withherbackagainstthewallandherkneesup.Oneofthepupsisscrabblingattheedgeofthebox.Shescoopsitintoherlap.“Ilikethemthisage,”shesays.“IcancomeandhaveacuddlewheneverIfancyone,andthenputthembackwhenI’vehadenough.Anotherweekortwoandtheywon’tstayputforit;they’llbegettingundermyfeetinstead.”
“Ilike’emthisway,”Calsays,“butIlike’emalittlebitbigger,too.Whentheygettoplayingwithyou.”
“They’realwaysneedingsomethingthen.Evenifit’sjustaneyeoutsoyoudon’tsteponthem.”Sheholdsherteaouttotheside,awayfromherpup,whichistryingtoclamberupherknees.“Oncethey’reoutofthebasket,Ican’twaitforthemtogetbigenoughtohaveabitofsense.That’swhyIgotahalf-growndogandnotapup.Andnowlookatme.”
“Youfindhomesfortherest?”
“Two.Noreen’lltaketheothers,ifnooneelsedoes.Shesaysshewon’t,butshewill.”
“Yoursister’sagoodwoman,”Calsays.
“Sheis.Shedrivesmementalsometimes,buttheworldwouldn’tgetfarwithoutthelikesofher.”Shesmiles.“Idomakefunofhersometimesbecauseheryoungest,Cliona,she’sexactlythesameashermam,butthetruthisI’mgladofit.WithoutsomeonetotakeoverArdnakeltywhenNoreengetsold,theplace’dfallapart.”
“Clionatheonethat’saroundtenoreleven?”Calasks.“Redhair?”
“That’stheone.”
“ShewashelpingoutonetimeIwentintothestore.ShetoldmeIwasbuyingthewrongdishsoap,it’ddryoutmyhandsandwouldn’tgetmydishesshiny,andshewentupthatladdertofetchmetheonesherecommends.ThensheaskedmewhyImovedhereandwhyI’mnotmarried.”
Lenalaughs.“Thereyougo.We’reinsafehands.”
Calshiftssohecanholdthepupone-handedanddrinkhistea,whichisstrongandgood.Hesays,“I’vebeenaskingaroundaboutBrendanReddy.”
“Iknow,yeah,”Lenasays.Herpuppy,exhaustedbyitsefforts,hascollapsedonherlap.Sheticklesthetinypadsofonepaw.“Why?”
“ImetyouroldfriendSheila.She’sprettycutupaboutherboygoingoff.”
Lenashootshimanamusedlook.“Knightinshiningarmor?”
“Justsawaquestionthatneededanswering,”Calsays.“MyneighborMart,hethinksI’mbored,lookingforsomethingtooccupymymind.Hemightberight.”
Lenablowsonherteaandregardshimacrossthemug,stillwiththatwryquirktoonecornerofhermouth.“How’reyougettingonwithit?”
“Nottoogood,”Calsays.“I’veheardplentyaboutBrendan,butnoonewantstotalkaboutwherehemighthavegone,orwhy.”
“Maybetheydon’tknow.”
“I’vetalkedtohismama,histwobestbuddies,andhisgirlfriend.Notoneofthemhadanythingtosay.Iftheydon’tknow,whowould?”
“Maybenooneknows.”
“Well,”Calsays,“Ididwonderaboutthat.ButthenMartwarnedmetobackoff,theothernight.HethinksI’mgonnagetmyselfintrouble.Thatsoundstomelikesomeoneknowssomething,orthinkstheydo.”
Lenaisstillwatchinghimsidewayson,asshedrinksherteaawayfromthepup.“Areyouoneofthosepeoplethatcan’tresteasy?Iftheydon’thaveanytroubleintheirlives,theygolookingforsome.”
“Notme,”Calsays.“WhatIwentlookingforwaspeaceandquiet.I’mtakingwhatcamemyway.Sameasyouare.”
“Thesepupsarehassle.They’renottrouble.”
“Well,”Calsays,“noone’sexplainedtomehowBrendanReddymightbetrouble,either.Who’sMartscaredof?”
Lenasays,“Ididn’tthinkMartLavinwaseverafraidofanyone.”
“Maybenot.ButhethinksIshouldbe.”
“Thenmaybeyoushould.”
“I’mcontrarybynature,”Calexplains.“Themorepeopletrytoshoomeawayfromsomething,themoreIdigmyheelsin.Ialwayswasthatway,evenasalittleguy.”Hispuppyhaseaseditsgnawingonhisfinger;whenhelooksdownheseesthatit’sfallenasleep,sprawledgracelesslyagainsthischest,inthecupofhispalm.“Ifigure,”hesays,“ifanyoneinthistownland’sgonnagivemeastraightansweraboutBrendanReddy,it’llbeyou.”
Lenaleansbackagainstthewallandexamineshim,drinkingherteaandstrokingherpupwithherfreehand.Intheendshesays,“Idon’tknowwhathappenedtoBrendanReddy.”
“Butyoucouldtakeaguess.”
“Icould,yeah.ButIwon’t.”
“Youdon’tstrikemeasthekindthatscareseasy,”Calsays.“AnymorethanMartdoes.”
“I’mnotscared.”
“Thenwhat?”
“Idon’tgetinvolvedinthings.”Shegrinssuddenly.“Thatdoespeople’sheadsin.There’salwayssomeonetryingtogetmetojointheCountrywomen’sAssociation,ortheTidyTowns.Probablyifwe’dhadkidsI’dadoneit:thePTAandsportsclubs,andalltherest.Butweneverdid,soIdon’thaveto.Sure,Noreen’sinvolvedenoughforthetwoofus.”
“Thatsheis,”Calsays.“Somepeoplearebuiltthatway,andsomearen’t.”
“TellthattoNoreen.She’sbeenthatwaysincethedayshewasborn;itdriveshermentalthatI’mnotthesame.That’sonereasonwhyherandtherestarealwaystryingtomatchmakeme.TheythinkifIgetmyselfanicefellawho’suptohisneckinthetownland’sbusiness,he’llpullmeinaswell.”LenagivesCalanothergrin,frankandmischievous,unembarrassed.“Whichkindareyou?”
“Ienjoybeingthekindthatdoesn’tgetinvolved,”Calsays.“Thatsuitsmedowntotheground.”
Lena’seyebrowsliftalittle,butallshesaysis,“Youcandothat;noone’llgiveyouhassle.Peoplearoundhererespectamanwhokeepstohimself.It’sjustawomanthatmakesthemnervousascats.”
“Well,I’mnotaskingyoutogetinvolved,”Calsays.“I’mjustaskingforyourthoughts.”
“AndI’mnotplanningonsharingthem.You’rewellabletogetyourown.”Sheglancesupattheclocktickingonthewall.“I’vetoheadintowork.Tellmenow,doyouwantthispup,ordidyoujustwantanexcusetoaskmeaboutBrendan?”
“Littlebitofboth.”
LenaeasesherownpupbackintothebasketandholdsoutherhandsforCal’s.Shesays,“Soyou’lltakethisfella.”
Calputsthepupgentlyintoherhands,tryingnottowakeit,andgivesitalaststrokealongthewhiteblazeonitsnose.Thepup,stillmostlyasleep,liftsitsfaceandlickshisfinger.
Hesays,“Gimmeanotherweekortwo.Justtobesure.”
Lenalooksathimforamoment,unsmiling.Thenshesays,“Fairenough.”Sheturnsawayfromhimandtucksthepupcarefullyinamongtherest.
Treyshowsuplateintheafternoon.Therainhasfinallywornitselfout,soCalissittingonhisbackstep,havingabeerandwatchingtherooks.Theirdayseemstobewindingdown.Twoofthemareplayingtug-of-warwithatwig;anothertwoaretakingturnspreeningeachother,lazily,exchangingremarksaboutwhattheyfind.Anotheroneisoffunderthedrippinghedge,buryingsomethingandthrowingsneakyglancesoverhisshoulder.
ThesoundoffeetinwetgrassmakesCalturn.Treycomestrampingaroundfromthefrontofthehouseanddumpsapacketoflittlewhite-frostedcupcakesontothestep.“Youneedtoquitdoingthat,”Calsays.“Noreen’sgonnacallthecopsonyou.”
“Thosearen’tfromNoreen’s,”Treysays.Helookstenseandskinnyagain.ToCal,squintingupathimfromthestep,healsolooksashadetaller,likehemightbestartinghisteenagegrowthspurt.“Iknocked.”
“Didn’thearyou,”Calsays.“Iwasthinking.”
“Icalledroundearlier.Andyesterday.Youweren’tin.”
“Nope.”
“Whatwereyoudoing?Youfindoutanything?”
Calfinishesthelastofhisbeerandgetsup.“Firstthingsfirst,”hesays,brushingoffhisrearend,whichisdampfromthestep.“I’mgonnagetmygunandwecanhaveanothertryatthoserabbits.”
Treyfollowshimindoors,closeonhisheels.“Iwantaknow.”
“AndI’mgonnatellyou.Butifwewantachanceattherabbits,weneedtogetourselvessetupbeforetheycomeoutfortheirdinner.”
AfteramomentTreyacceptsthiswithanod.Calgetshisgunoutofthesafeandfillsuphispocketswiththeotherthingstheymightneed—bullets,hishuntingknife,abottleofwater,aplasticbag—andtheyheadfortheirspotfacingtheedgeofthewood.Theskyisonemotionlessspreadofsulkygraycloud,withstreaksofpale-rinsedyellowunderthewesternedge.Thegrassisheavywithrain,andtheearthgivesunderfoot.
“We’regonnagetwet,”Calsays.“Andmuddy.”
Treyshrugs.
“OK,”Calsays,settlinghimselfononekneeinthegrass.“YouremembereverythingIshowedyoutheotherday?”
Treygiveshimthemoronlookandholdsouthishandsforthegun.
“OK,”Calsays,handingitover.“Let’ssee.”
Treychecksthegun,clicksthesafetyonandloadsit,slowlybutneatlyandmethodically,makingnomistakes.ThenhelooksupatCal.
“Good,”Calsays.
Treykeepslookingathim,unblinking.“Rabbitsaren’toutyet.”
“Allright,”Calsays.Hesitshimselfdowninthewetgrass,takesthegunfromTreyandrestsitacrosshisknees.Hedidn’twanttotellTreythatBrendanhadsomeplantillheknewwhatitwas,butnobodyappearstohaveanyintentionofsharingthatinformationwithhim,andheneedstogetitsomehow.“Here’syourupdate.I’vetalkedtoabunchofpeople.WhatI’mgettingisthatBrendanhadgotprettyfrustratedwithbeingpoor,sohecameupwithsomeplanthathereckonedwouldfixthat.Thatfitswithwhatyoutoldmeabouthimpromisingyouabikeforyourbirthday.When’syourbirthday?”
“ThirdofMay.”Thekid’seyesarefixedonCallikehe’sapreacherabouttohanddowntheWord.ItmakesCaledgy.Heturnshisvoiceafewnotchesmorecasual.
“Sohefiguredthecashwouldbecominginprettysoon.Yougotanyideawhathisplanmight’vebeen?”
“Hegavegrindssometimes.Couldabeenmoreofthose.Examswerecomingup.”
“Idoubtit.HealsotalkedabouttakingavacationinIbiza,andaboutshowingpeoplehewasgoingplaces.Tutoringafewkidswasn’tgonnacoverallthat.Hewasthinkingbigger.”
Treyliftshisshoulders,baffled.
“Noideas?”
Thekidshakeshishead.
“TheotherthingIheard,”Calsays,“isthatyourbrotherwasnervousaboutpolice,theweekbeforehewentmissing.”
“Bren’snotdodgy,”Treysaysinstantlyandfiercely,glaring.“Just’causehe’saReddy,everyonethinks—”
“I’mnotsayinghe’sdodgy,kid,”Calsays.“I’mjusttellingyouwhatI’veheard,frompeoplewhocareabouthim.Canyouthinkofanyreasonwhyhemightabeenscaredofpolice?”
“Maybehehadabittahashonhim.Orafewyokes.”
“Hewasscarederthanthat.Thiswasn’tsomepissantlittlethinghewasdealingwith.LikeIsaid,yourbrotherwasthinkingbig.Andifhisbigplanwasontheup-and-up,thenhowcomenoonecantellmewhatitwas?”
“Hemightawantedtosurprisepeople,”Treysays,afteramoment.“Like,yeallthoughtIwasawaster,fuckyou.”
“Youeverthinkhewasawaster?”
“No!”
“Thenwhywouldheneedtosurpriseyou?”
Treyshrugs.“Justfeltlikeit,maybe.”
“Lemmeaskyousomething,”Calsays.“WhenBrendanwasplanningoutwhathewantedtodoincollege,hetellyouaboutit?”
“Yeah.”
“Whenhewasthinkingaboutdoingtutoring?”
“Yeah.”
“HetellyouhisplantogetCarolineticketstosomesingerforChristmas?”
“Yeah.Hozier.Theybrokeupfirst,but,sohesoldtheticketstoEugene.Why?”
Calsays,“SoBrendantoldyouhisplans,whentherewasnoparticularreasonheshouldn’t.”
“Yeah.Hedid.”
“Whichmeans,whateverhisbigideawas,therewasareasonwhyyoushouldn’tknowaboutit.”
Treyissilent.Calisquiettoo,leavinghimtoturnthatoverandfititintohismind.Attheedgeofthewoods,thebrancheshangheavywithleftoverrain.Abovethem,swallowsarctinyandblackagainstthecloud,sendingdowntheirhightwittering.
AfterafewmomentsTreysayssuddenlyandsavagely,“Iwouldn’tarattedhimout.”
“Iknowthat,”Calsays.“Ibethedidtoo.”
“Thenwhywouldhenot—”
“Hewantedtokeepyousafe,kid,”Calsaysgently.“Whateverhewasgettinginto,heknewitcouldbringtrouble.Badtrouble.”
Treygoessilentagain.Hepicksthreadsoutofaholeinthekneeofhisjeans.
“Ithinkwecanmakeafairguess,”Calsays,“thatwhenBrendanleftyourhousethatday,actinglikehehadsomewhereimportanttobe,itwasconnectedtohisplansomewayorother.I’mnottakingitasdefinite,butI’mgonnagoaheadandworkonthatassumption.Eitherhewasskippingtownbecausehegotspooked,orelsehewasgoingtodosomethingthatwouldmovethatplanforwards.”
Thekidisstillmessingwithhisjeans,buthisheadhastiltedtowardsCal.He’slistening.
“Hepromisedyouthebikethatsameafternoon,andacoupledaysearlierheborrowedafewbucksfromFergalandsaidhe’dpayhimback.Soitdoesn’tseemlikelyheintendedtoleaveforgood.Hemighthavebeenplanningonlyinglowjustforafewdays,tillwhateverspookedhimhaddieddown,butinthatcaseI’dexpecthimtotakehisphonecharger,deodorant,couplachangesofclothes.Seeingasallhetookwithhimwashiscash,itseemsmorelikelyhewasheadedtobuysomething,ortogivesomeonemoney.”
Treysays,lowandtight,“Andtheykidnappedhim.”
“Couldbe,”Calsaid.“We’renotfarenoughontosettleonthatyet.Somethingcould’vegonewrong,maybe,andhehadtorun.Wherewouldhemeetsomeone?Hehaveanywherespecialhelikedtogo?”
Trey’seyebrowstwitchtogether.“Likeapub?”
“Nah.Somewhereprivate.Yousaidwhenheneededalittleprivacy,hewentupthemountains.Anywhereinparticularthatyouknowof?”
“Yeah.OnetimehesaidhewasgoingforawalkandIfollowedhim,’causeIwasbored.OnlywhenIfoundhim,hewasjustsittingthere.Hegavemeaclatterandtoldmetofuckoff’causehewantedsomeprivacy.Likethat?”
“Soundsaboutright,”Calsays.“Wherewashe?”
Treyjerkshischinatthemountains.“Aul’cottage.Empty,like.”
“Howlongagowasthat?”
“Fewyearsback.Buthewentthereagainafter.’CauseIfollowedhimacouplemoretimes,whenIwasboredagain.”
ForaminuteCalseesthekidtrudgingupthosebarewindyhillsides,trailingaftertheonepersoninhislifeworthfollowing.“Youlooktheresinceheleft?”
Treysays,“Lookedeverywhere.”
“Anysignofhim?”
“Nah.Bitsofaul’rubbish,just.”Thekid’seyesskidaway.Thememoryisahardone.HewenttherehopinghewouldfindeitherBrendanorsomethinghe’dleft,amessage,andafraidhewouldfindsomethingbad.
Calsays,“Anyreasonwhyyoudidn’ttellmeaboutthisplace?”
Treygiveshimthemoronstare.“WhywouldI?It’snotwherehewent.”
“Right,”Calsays.“I’dliketotakealookatitformyself.Couldyoutellmehowtogetthere?”
“Uppastourplacemaybeamile.Thenofftheroad,upthemountainabit.Throughsometrees.”
“Uh-huh.YougonnasendoutasearchpartywhenI’mnotbackinafewdays?”
“Iknowtheway.Icouldbringyouthere.”Thekidisupoffhisknee,halfwaytoarunner’sstance,likeonewordfromCalandhe’llshootrightoff.
“I’dratherthetwoofusdidn’tgetspottedwanderingaroundtogether,”Calsays.“Speciallynotroundthere.”
Trey’sfaceislitupfiercely.“I’llgoonmyown.Noone’llspotme.Lendmeyourphone,I’lltakephotos,bringthembacktoyou.”
“No,”Calsays,moresharplythanheintends.“Youstayawayfromthatcottage.Youhearme?”
“Why?”
“Incase,iswhy.Didyouhearme?”
“I’mnotgonnagetkidnapped.I’mnotthick.”
“Goodforyou.Youstayawayfromitanyway.”
“Iwantadosomething.”
“That’swhatyougotmeintothisfor.Todothings.Soletmedothem.”
Thekidisopeninghismouthtoargue.Calsays,“Youwannadosomethinguseful,getusdinner.”HeputstherifleintoTrey’shandsandnodstowardstheedgeofthewood.Therabbitshavecomeouttofeed.
Afterasecondofindecision,Treydropstheargument.Heeaseshimselfslowlyintoposition,settlestherifleagainsthisshoulderandsquintsdownthesight.“Takeyourtime,”Calsays.“We’reinnohurry.”
Theywaitandwatch.Therabbitsarefeelingfrisky;afewhalf-grownoneschaseeachotherthroughthegrass,springinghigh,inthelongslantsofgoldlightslippingunderthecloud.P.J.issingingtohissheepashelooksthemover:scrapsofsomeplaintiveoldballad,toofragmentedtocatch,driftacrossthefields.
“Thatbigguythere,”Calsayssoftly.Onerabbitisturnedbroadsideontothem,workingawayataclumpofwhite-floweredweed.Treyshiftstherifleafraction,lininguphissights.Calhearsthelongwhisperofhisbreath,andthenthegun’sroar.
Therabbitswhirlandstreakforcover,andahighscreamingstarts.Itsoundslikeachildbeingtortured.
TreyswingsroundtoCal,hismouthopeningandnothingcomingout.
“Yougotit,”Calsays,standingupandtakingthegunfromTrey.“We’llhavetofinishitoff.”
Hepullshishuntingknifeoutofhispocketonhiswayacrossthefield.Treyhalf-runstokeepup.Hiseyesareflaringwithpurewildpanicattherunawaymomentumofwhathe’ssetinmotion.Hesays,“Wecouldtrytofixhim.”
“It’sinbadshape,kid,”Calsaysgently.“Weneedtostopitsuffering.I’lldoit.”
“No,”Treysays.He’swhite.“Ishothim.”
Oneoftherabbit’sforelegshasbeentakenhalfoffandisbleedinginfastbright-redspurts.Itliesonitsside,jerking,withitsbackarched;itseyesarewhite-ringedanditsmouthisopen,lipspulledback,showingstrongteethandabloodyfoam.Itsscreamingfillsuptheair.
“Yousure?”Calsays.
“Yeah,”Treysaystightly,andholdsouthishandfortheknife.
“Backoftheneck,”Calsays.“Righthere.Youneedtocutthroughthespine.”
Treypositionstheknife.Hismouthissetlikehe’sstoppinghimselffromthrowingup.Hetakesabreathandletsitoutlong,likehe’sabouttofiretherifle.Iteasestheshakeinhishand.Hecomesdownhardontheknife,withhisweightbehindit,andthescreamingstops.Therabbit’sheadlolls.
“OK,”Calsays.Hedigsinhispocketfortheplasticbag,sohecangettherabbitoutofthekid’ssight.“It’sdonenow.Youdidgood.”Hepicksuptherabbitbytheearsandmaneuversitintothebag.
TreywipesthehuntingknifeonthegrassandgivesitbacktoCal.He’sstillbreathinghard,butthepanichasgoneoutofhiseyes,andhisfaceisstartingtogetitscolorback.Itwasthesufferinghecouldn’ttake.
“Gimmeyourhands,”Calsays,findinghiswaterbottle.
Treylooksdownathishands.They’recrisscrossedwithfinelinesofblooddroplets,fromthearterialspray.
“Comehere,”Calsays.HepourswateroverTrey’shands,whileTreyrubsattheblood,tillit’srunoffintothegrass.“That’lldofornow.Youcanscrubupgoodandhardoncewe’redonewiththemessypart.”
Treydriesoffhishandsonhisjeans.HeturnshisfaceuptoCal,stillalittlestunned,likeheneedstobetoldwhattodonext.
“Hereyougo,”Calsays,holdingouttheplasticbag.“It’syourkill.”
Treylooksdownatthebag,anditsinksin.“Hah!”hesays,asoundhalfwaybetweenaburstofbreathandatriumphantcrackoflaughter.“Ididit!”
“Youdid,allright,”Calsays,grinningdownathim.Hefeelsanimpulsetoclapthekidontheshoulder.“Comeon,”hesaysinstead,turningtowardsthehouse.Itswallislittopalegoldbythesettingsun,sothatitstandssquare-setandradiantagainstthegraysky.“Let’stakeithome.”
TheydresstherabbitonCal’skitchencounter.HeshowsTreyhowtotakeoffthefeet,makeaslitacrosstherabbit’sbackandhookhisfingersundertheskintopullitoff,twistingtheheadawaywithit;thenhowtocutopenthebelly,freetheorgansandcoaxthemout.He’spleasedtofindtheskillcomingbacktohimsosmoothly,afteralltheseyears.Hismindhardlyrememberswhattodo,buthishandsstillknow.
TreywatchesintentlyandfollowsCal’sinstructions,withthesamemethodicalneatnessthathebroughttothedeskandtothegun,asCalshowshimhowtopinchouttheurinesaccleanlyandhowtochecktheliverfordiseasespots.Togethertheystripoffsilverskinandsinewandthemangledfrontleg,thencutawaythethreegoodlegs,thebellyandtheloin.“There’syoureatingmeat,”Calsays.“NexttimeI’llmakestockfromtherest,buttodaywe’regonnaputalittlebitofthisbackwherewegotit.”It’swhatheandhisgranddaddydidwithhisfirstsquirrel,waybackwhen:gavethepartstheydidn’tneedbacktothewild.Itseemsliketherightthingtodowithafirstkill.
Theytaketheoffaldowntothebackofthegardenandleaveitonthestump,fortherooksorthefoxesorwhoevergetstoitfirst.Calwhistlesuptotherooks,butthey’resettlingintotheirtreeandignorehim,exceptforahalfheartedruderemarkortwo.
“Well,wedidoffer,”hesays.“Youhungry?Orthattaketheedgeoffyourappetite?”
“Starving,”Treysayspromptly.
“Good,”Calsays,glancingupatthesky.Thestripofpaleyellowhasdimmedintoacleargreen.“Iwasplanningonstew,butthattakesawhile.We’lljustfryitup.”HewantsTreyhomebeforeitgetstoolate.“Youlikegarlic?”
“Iguess.”
ItoccurstoCal,lookingathisblankface,thathemaynotknow.“Let’sfindout,”hesays.“Youcook?”
Treyshrugs.“Sometimes.Sorta.”
“OK,”Calsays.“You’regonnacooktoday.”
Theyscrubup,andCalputsonsomeWaylonJenningstohelpthemwork.Treygrinsupathim.
“What?”
“Aul’-fellamusic.”
“OK,DJCool.Whatdoyoulistento?”
“Nothingyou’veheardof.”
“Smartass,”Calsays,gettingingredientsoutofthelittlekitchencupboardwiththebustedhinge.“Lemmeguess.Opera.”
Treysnorts.
“OneDirection.”
Thatgetshimanoutragedstarethatmakeshimgrin.“Well,thanktheLordforsmallmercies.Quitcomplainingandlisten.Maybeit’llteachyoutoappreciategoodmusic.”Treyrollshiseyes.Calturnsupthevolumeanothernotch.
HeshowsTreyhowtoshakethechunksofmeatinaplasticbagofflour,saltandpepper,andthenfrythemupinoil,withstripsofbellpepperandonionandsomegarlicCalpickedupintown.“IfIhadtomatoesandmushrooms,”hesays,“wecouldthrowthoseintoo,butNoreen’stomatoesweren’tlookingtooperkythisweek.This’lldofine.We’llhaveitwithrice.”HemicrowavespacketricewhileTrey,frowningwithconcentration,turnsthemeatfryinginthepan.Thekitcheniswarm,condensationveilingthewindow,andstartingtosmellgood.ForaminuteCalthinksoftheduskthickeningoutsidethatwindow,andaboutthefearinSheila’seyesandCaroline’s,butheputsthemoutofhismind.
CaliswaitingforTreytobringupBrendanagain,orthecottage,buthedoesn’t.ForawhileCaliswaryofthis;he’sinclinedtotakeitasasignthatthekidismakingplanshe’snotsharing.Thenhehappenstoglanceover,checkinghowtherabbitisdoing.Thekidispokingatthefryingpanandnoddinghisheadalongto“IAin’tLivingLongLikeThis,”hislipspursedinagoofyhalfwhistle,hischeeksrosyfromtheheatofthestove.Helooksseveralyearsyoungerthanheis,andcompletelyatease.ItcomestoCalthat,foronce,thekid’smindisn’ttakenupbyworryingaboutBrendan.He’srewardedhimselffortherabbitbyallowinghimselftoputthataway,justforalittlewhile.
Treylooksaskanceathisplatewhentheysitdownatthetable,butafteronebitehisdoubtsdisappear.Heshovelsinthefoodlikehehasn’teateninweeks.Hisfaceispracticallytouchingtheplate.
“Turnsoutyoulikegarlic,huh?”Calasks,grinning.
Thekidnods,overanotherbigforkful.
“Thisdinner’sdowntoyou,”Calsays.“Starttofinish.Nofarmer,nobutcher,nofactory,noNoreen:justyou.How’sthatfeel?”
Treyissmilingaparticularsmall,privatesmilethatCalhascometorealizemeanshe’sspeciallyhappy.“Notbad,”hesays.
“IfIhadmyway,”Calsays,“I’ddothisforeverypieceofmeatIeverate.It’sharderandmessierthanbuyingahamburger,butthatseemsfitting.Eatingacreatureshouldn’tbealightthing.”
Treynods.Theyeatwithouttalkingforawhile.Outsidethewindow,twilightissettinginandthecloudhasstartedtobreakup,leavingpatchesofskyaluminouslavender-blue,edgedbythelacyblacksilhouetteofthetreeline.Somewherefaraway,afoxbarkssharply.
“Youcouldliveupthemountains,”Treysays.Hehasclearlybeenthinkingthisover.“Ifyougotgoodatit.Nevercomedownagain.”
“Youcan’tshootjeans,”Calpointsout.“Orsneakers.Unlessyouwanttosewyourclothesoutofhides,you’dhavetocomedownsometimes.”
“Onceayear.Stockup.”
“Youcould,Iguess,”Calsays.“I’dgetlonesome,though.Ilikehavingsomeonetotalkto,nowandagain.”
Thekid,scrapinghisplate,throwshimaglancethatsaystheydifferwidelyonthis.“Nah,”hesays.
CalgetsuptofixTreyasecondhelping.Fromthestovehesays,“Youwannabringoneofyourfriendswithus,nexttimewegohunting?”
Thelastthinghewantsismorerandomkidshangingaroundhishouse,buthefeelsprettysafe;hejustwantstoconfirmasuspicionhehas.Sureenough,Treystaresathimlikehejustsuggestedinvitingabuffalotodinner,andshakeshishead.
“Yourcall,”Calsays.“Yougotfriends,though,right?”
“Huh?”
“Friends.Buddies.Compa?eros.Peopleyouhangoutwith.”
“Ididhave.I’llgetbackwiththemsometime.”
CalputsTrey’splateinfrontofhimandgoesbacktohisowndinner.“Whathappened?”
“They’renotallowedhangaroundwithmeanymore.Theydon’tcare,but;theywouldanyway.Ijust…”Hetwitchesoneshoulder,sawingatachunkofrabbit.“Notnow.”
Anedgeoftensionhasslidbackintohisbody.Calsays,“Howcomethey’renotallowedtohangoutwithyou?”
“Wedidsomestufftogether,”Treyexplainsthroughamouthful,“likewerobbedacouplabottlesofciderandgotdrunk.Stufflikethat.Therewasthefourofusinit—theciderwasn’tmyidea,even.Buttheirparentsreckoneditwasallmyfault’causeI’mthebadone.”
“Youdon’tseemlikeabadkidtome,”Calsays,eventhoughTreydoesn’tseemparticularlyupsetaboutit.“Whosaysyouare?”
Treyshrugs.“Everyone.”
“Likewho?”
“Noreen.Teachers.”
“What’dyoudothat’ssobad?”
Treytwistsonecornerofhismouth,implyingasurfeitofexamples.Calsays,“Pickone.”
“Teacherwasgivingmehassletoday.Fornotpayingattention.ItoldherIdon’tgiveashite.”
“Well,that’snotbad,”Calsays.“It’sunmannerly,andyoushouldn’tadoneit.Butit’snotaquestionofmorals.”
Thekidisgivinghimthatlookagain.“That’snotmanners.Mannersislikechewwithyourmouthclosed.”
“Nah.That’sjustetiquette.”
“What’sthedifference?”
“Etiquetteisthestuffyougottadojust’causethat’showeveryonedoesit.Likeholdingyourforkinyourlefthand,orsaying‘Blessyou’ifsomeonesneezes.Mannersistreatingpeoplewithrespect.”
“Idon’talways,”Treysays.
“Well,thereyougo,”Calsays.“Maybeit’syourmannersthatneedwork.Youcoulddowithkeepingyourmouthshutwhenyouchew,too.”
Treyignoresthat.“Thenwhat’saquestionofmorals,so?”
Calfindshimselfuncomfortablewiththisconversation.Itbringsbackthingsthatputabadtasteinhismouth.Overthelastfewyearsit’sbeenbroughthometohimthattheboundariesbetweenmorals,mannersandetiquette,whichhavealwaysseemedcrystal-cleartohim,maynotlookthesametoeveryoneelse.Hehearstalkabouttheimmoralityofyoungpeoplenowadays,butitseemstohimthatAlyssaandBenandtheirfriendsspendplentyoftheirtimeconcentratingonrightandwrong.Thethingisthatmanyoftheirmostpassionatemoralstances,asfarasCalcansee,havetodowithwhatwordsyoushouldandshouldn’tuseforpeople,basedonwhatproblemstheyhave,whatracetheyare,orwhotheyliketosleepwith.WhileCalagreesthatyoushouldcallpeoplewhatevertheyprefertobecalled,heconsidersthistobeaquestionofbasicmanners,notofmorals.ThisoutragedBenenoughthathestormedoutofCalandDonna’shouseinthemiddleofThanksgivingdessert,withAlyssaintearsrunningafterhim,andittookhimanhourtocooldownenoughtocomebackin.
InCal’sview,moralsinvolvesomethingmorethanterminology.Bendamnnearlosthismindovertheimportanceofusingthepropertermsforpeopleinwheelchairs,andheclearlyfeltprettyproudofhimselffordoingthat,buthedidn’tmentioneverdoinganythingusefulforonesinglepersoninonesinglewheelchair,andCalwouldbetayear’spensionthatthelittletwerpwouldhavebroughtitupifhehad.Andontopofthat,therighttermschangeeveryfewyears,sothatsomeonewhothinkslikeBenhastobealwayslisteningforotherpeopletotellhimwhat’smoralandimmoralnow.ItseemstoCalthatthisisn’thowaman,orawomaneither,goesabouthavingasenseofrightandwrong.
Hetriedputtingitdowntohimgettingmiddle-agedandgrumpyaboutyoungpeoplethesedays,butthenthedepartmentwentthesameway.Theybroughtinamandatorysensitivitytrainingsession—whichwasfinebyCal,giventhewaysomeoftheguystreated,forexample,witnessesfrombadhoodsandrapevictims,exceptthesessionturnedouttobeallaboutwhatwordstheywereandweren’tallowedtouse;nothingaboutwhattheyweredoing,underneathallthewords,andhowtheycoulddoitbetter.Everyonewasalwaystalkingabouttalking,andthemostmoralpersonwastheonewhoyelledatthemostotherpeoplefordoingthetalkingallwrong.
He’safraidtoanswerTrey,incaseheleadshimwrongandgetshimintoallkindsoftrouble,butnooneelseisgoingtodoit.“Morals,”hesaysintheend,“isthestuffthatdoesn’tchange.Thestuffyoudonomatterwhatotherpeopledo.Like,ifsomeone’sanassholetoyou,youmightnotbemannerlytohim;youmighttellhimtogofuckhimself,orevenpunchhimintheface.Butifyouseehimtrappedinaburningcar,you’restillgonnaopenthedoorandpullhimout.Howevermuchofanassholeheis.That’syourmorals.”
Treychewsandconsidersthis.“Whatifhewasapsychokiller?”
“ThenmaybeIwouldn’thelphimupifhefelldownandbrokehisleg.Stillwouldn’tleavehiminthatcar,though.”
Treythinksthatoversomemore.“Imight,”hesays.“Depending.”
“Well,”Calsays,“Igotmycode.”
“Youdon’teverbreakit?”
“Ifyoudon’thaveyourcode,”Calsays,“you’vegotnothingtoholdyoudown.Youjustdriftanywaythingsblowyou.”
“What’syourcode?”
“Kid,”Calsays,withasuddensurgeofweariness,“youdon’twanttolistentomeaboutthisstuff.”
“Howcome?”
“Youdon’twanttolistentoanyoneaboutthisstuff.Yougottacomeupwithyourowncode.”
“Butwhat’syours?”
“Ijusttrytodorightbypeople,”Calsays.“Isall.”
Treyissilent,butCalcanfeelmorequestionsshapingthemselvesinhismind.Hesays,“Eatyourdinner.”
Treyshrugsanddoesashe’stold.Whenhefinisheshissecondhelping,hesetsdownhisforkandknife,leansbackinhischairwithhishandsonhisbellyandgivesasatisfiedsigh.“Stuffed,”hesays.
Calhatestobringthekid’smindbacktoBrendan,butifhedoesn’tprovideaplanforthenextstep,Treyisliabletocomeupwithoneofhisown.Afterheclearsthetable,hefindsapenandafreshpageinhisnotebook,andputstheminfrontofTrey.“Drawmeamap,”hesays.“HowtogettothecottagewhereBrendanhungout.”
Thekidgenuinelytries,butCalcantellwithinaminutethatit’shopeless.AllthelandmarksareshitlikeBIGGORSEBUSHandWALLTHATBENDSLEFT.“Forgetit,”hesaysintheend.“You’regonnahavetotakemethere.”
“Now?”Thekidishalfoffhisseat.
“No,notnow.We’llgotomorrow.Uptohere”—Caltapsthemapatabendinthemountainroad—“Icanfollowwhatyou’redrivingat.I’llmeetyouhere.Three-thirty.”
“Earlier.Morningtime.”
“Nope,”Calsays.“Yougotschool.Whichmeansrightnowyouneedtogohomeandgetyourhomeworkdone.”Hestandsupandtakesthenotebookaway,ignoringthelookthatsaysTreywilldonosuchthing.“Takeoneofthosecupcakeswithyou,foryourdessert.”
OnhiswayoutthedoorTreyturns,unexpectedly,togiveCalagreatbiggrinoverhisshoulder,throughthehalfofthecupcakethat’salreadystuffedinhismouth.Calgrinsback.Hewantstotellthekidtobecarefuloutthere,butheknowsitwouldn’tdoanygood.
FOURTEEN
Duringthenight,somethinghappens.ItreachesCalthroughhissleep,asnagsomewhereinthenight’sestablishedrhythms,adisturbance.Ashecomesawakehehears,awayacrossthefields,ahardsavagehowlofpainorrageorboth.
Hegoestothewindow,cracksitopenandlooksout.Thecloudhasclearedsome,butthemoonisslimandhecanseeverylittleexceptdifferentdensitiesandtexturesofdarkness.Thenightiscoldandwindless.Thehowlhasstopped,butthere’sstillmovement,faroffandragged,rufflingtheedgeofhishearing.
Hewaits.Afteraminuteortwo,thesoundsgrowandsharpen,andhiseyespickoutashapeamongthegrassinhisbackfield.It’slopingtowardstheroadatagoodpacebutwithanoddungainlygait,likeit’sinjured.Itcouldbeabiganimal,orahunched-overhumanbeing.
Whenitmovesoutofhissightline,Calpullsonhisjeans,loadshisrifleandgoestohisbackdoor.Heswitcheslightsonashegoes.Marthasashotgun,presumablyP.J.doestoo,andtheotherthingmighthaveorbeanything.Calisn’taimingtotakeanyonebysurprise.
Hesweepsthefieldswithhisflashlight,butit’snotstrongenoughtomakemuchofadentinthisdark.Thehunchedshapeisnowheretobeseen.
“I’marmed!”heshouts.Hisvoicespreadsoutalongway.“ComeoutwithyourhandswhereIcansee’em.”
Foramomentthere’ssharpsilence.Thenacheeryvoiceyellsback,fromsomewhereoffonP.J.’sland,“Don’tshoot!Isurrender!”
Anarrowbeamoflightflicksonandbobsacrossthefields,gettingcloser.Calstayswhereheis,keepingtheriflepointeddown,untilafigurestumpsintothepalespilloflightfromthewindowsandliftsanarminawave.It’sMart.
Calgoestomeethiminthebackfield,makingafewmoresweepswithhisflashlightontheway.“HolyGod,SunnyJim,putthataway,”Martsays,noddingatCal’srifle.Hisfaceisalivewithexcitementandhiseyesglitterlikehe’sdrunk,althoughCalcantellhe’sstone-coldsober.He’sholdinghisflashlightinonehandandahurlingstickintheother.“D’youknowwhatyousoundedlikethere?YousoundedlikesomethingoffthatCopsshow.You’dmakeagreataul’Garda,soyouwould.Areyougoingtotellmetogetdownontheground?”
“What’sgoingon?”Calsays.Heclicksthesafetyon,butkeepshisfingerready.Whateverthatcreaturewas,itwentsomewhere.
“IwasrightaboutthatyokecomingafterP.J.’ssheepnext,iswhat’sgoingon.Andtherewasyoudoubtingme.You’llknowbetternexttime,won’tyou?”
“Whatwasit?”
“Ah,”Martsaysruefully,“that’stheonlyhitch.Ididn’tgetagoodlook.Iwasotherwiseoccupied,youmightsay.”
“Didyougetit?”Calasks,thinkingofthecreature’slopsidedrun.
“Ihititacouplagoodskelps,allright,”Martsayswithglee,slappinghishurlingstickagainsthisleg.“ThereIwas,sittingupinyourbittawoods,thinkingIwasoutaluckagain.I’llbehonestwithyou,Iwasalmostnoddingoffthere.OnlythenIheardabitofakerfuffledownamongP.J.’ssheep.Icouldn’tseeafeckin’thinginthisdark,butIsnuckdownthereniceandquiet,andsureenough,therewasasheepdown,andsomethingonit.Sobusyitdidn’tevenhearmecoming.Icaughtitagreataul’clatter,anditletahowloutofitlikeabanshee.Didyouhearthat?”
“That’swhatwokemeup,”Calsays.
“Iwasaimingtoknockitout,butImustnothavegotitright.Itookitbysurprise,though,anyhow.Igotinanotherskelpbeforeitworkedoutwhatwashappening.”Heheftsthestick,savoringtheweightofitinhishand.“IwasafraidImightalosttheknackwiththehurl,afteralltheseyears,butit’slikeridingabike:itneverleavesyou.IfI’dabeenabletoseethatcreature,I’dsayI’datooktheheadcleanoffit.Sentitflyinghalfwaytoyourdoor.”
“Itdoanythingtoyou?”
“Didn’teventry,”Martsays,withcontempt.“Maimingsheepisallit’sfitfor;theminuteitwasupagainstsomethingthat’dfightback,itturnedtailandran.Iwentafterit,butIhavetofacefacts,I’mnoT.J.Hooker.AllIdidwasbanjaxmyback.”
“Shouldathrownthestickatit,”Calsays.
“LastIsaw,itwasheadingyourway.”MartlooksupatCal,hisfacecreasedintoaguilelesssquint.“Youdidn’thappentogetagoodlookatit,didyou?”
“Itdidn’tcomecloseenough,”Calsays.SomethingaboutMart’slookbothershim.“Itwasprettybig,isallIsaw.Couldabeenadog,maybe.”
“D’youknowwhatitlookedliketome?”Martsays,pointinghisstickatCal.“IfIdidn’tknowbetter,I’dathoughtitwasacat.Notalittlepussycat,like.Oneofthemmountainlions.”
Thewayitmoveddidn’tlooklikeacattoCal.Hesays,“MainthingInoticedwasitlookedlikeitwaslimping.Youmustagotitprettygood.”
“I’llgetitbetterifitcomesback,”Martsaysgrimly.“Itwon’t,but.It’shaditsfill.”
“Howcomeyoudecidedonthat?”Calasks,noddingatthehurlingstick.“Me,I’dabroughtmygun.”
Martgigglesathim.“Barty’srightaboutyouYanks.Ye’dbringyourgunstomass,soyewould.WhatwouldIwantagunfor,atall?I’moutheretryingtosaveP.J.’ssheep,notshootthepoorfeckersbecauseIcan’tseeayardinthisdark.Thisyokeheredidthejobgrand.”Heexaminesthehurlingstickwithsatisfaction.There’sawidedarksmearnearthetipthatcouldbemud,orblood.Martspitsonitandwipesitonhispants.
“Guessitdid,”Calsays.“How’sthesheep?”
“Dead.Thethroat’stakenoutofit.”Martarcheshisbackexperimentally.“I’dbettergogiveP.J.thenews,beforethisstiffensuponme.Yougobacktoyourbed,now.Theexcitement’soverfortonight.”
“Gladallthatwaitingpaidoff,”Calsays.“GiveP.J.mycondolencesonhissheep.”
Marttipshiscapandheadsoff,andCalturnsbacktowardshishouse.Insidethegardengate,heswitchesoffhisflashlightandmovesintothethickdarkundertherooks’oaktree.
Thenightissostillthatthepatchesofstarsandclouddon’tevenshiftinthesky,andthecoldhasanedgethatcutsthroughthesweatshirtCalhastakentowearinginbed.Afterafewminutes,alightgoesoninP.J.’shouse.Aminuteafterthat,twoflashlightbeamsbobandcrisscrosstheirwayacrossthefields,stopandfocusinonsomethingontheground.Calhearsorimagineshehears,veryfaintly,thelow,anger-filledrhythmsoftheirdiscussion,andtherestlessjostlingoftheunsettledsheep.ThenthetwobeamsworktheirwaybacktoP.J.’splace,moreslowly.MartandP.J.aredraggingthedeadsheep,alegeach
Calstayswhereheisandwatchestheland.Afewlatemothswhirlinthelightfromhiswindows.Nothingmuchelseismoving,onlytheusualsmallthingsinthehedgesandtheoccasionalcallfromanightjarorahuntingowl,buthewaitsandwatchesanyway,justincase.WhateverMartmet,itmighthavetakencoverwhenCalcameout,anditmightbepatient.
TheuneasethatstartedwithMart’sinnocentinquiringlookhasgrownandworkeditswaytothesurface.Martknewthat,outofallthesheepinArdnakelty,thiscreaturewouldgoafterP.J.’s.
ThemoreCalthinksaboutit,thelesshelikesthathurlingstick.Onlyafoolwouldriskgettingupcloseandpersonalwithsomethingthatripsthesoftpartsoutofsheep,whenhehasaperfectlygoodshotgunthatwouldlethimkeepasafedistance.Martisnofool.Theonlyreasonhewouldhavelefthisgunathomewasifhewasexpectingtomeetsomethinghewouldn’tshoot.Martwassittingupinthatwoodwaitingforahumanbeing.
Calfindshimselfafraid.Hefeelsthefearfirst,andunderstandsitonlygradually.Ithastodowiththekid,andthewaypeoplearoundheretreathimandhisfamilylikeshit,andthewayhisbrotherleavingthrewhimintoasavage,desperatetailspin.Ithastodowiththematter-of-fact,unflinchingneatness—whichseemedlikeagoodqualityatthetime—withwhichhekilledandbutcheredthatrabbit.Hecouldn’thandlecausingsuffering,butthenthesheepdidn’tsuffer,oronlyforasecondortwo.
Calthinks,That’sagoodkid.Hewouldn’tdothat.ButheknowsthatnoonehasevermadeitcleartoTreywhat,exactly,goodandbadmean,ortheimportanceoffindingthelinebetweenthemandstayingontherightside.
Afterawhile,aloneflashlightbeammakesitswayupthefieldsfromP.J.’splacetoMart’s.AwhileafterthatP.J.’slightsgoout,andfinallyMart’sdotoo.Thecountrysideisdark.
Calheadsforhome.Onhiswayupthegardenheshineshisflashlightoveratthestump.Somethinghastakenawaytheremainsoftherabbit,cleanasawhistle,notascrapleftbehind.
WhenCalgetstothemeetingpoint,atthree-twentyandbyalongramblingroute,Treyisn’tthere.Themountainsideissodesertedthathefeelslikeanintruder.Alongthewaygrazingsheepturnedtheirheadstostareathim,andhepassedfragmentsoflichen-mottledfieldwalls;butupheretheonlysignsofhumanexistencearethedirttrackhe’sbeenfollowing,withweedsgrowingtallalongthemiddle,andtheoccasionaldarkscarintheheatherwheresomeonewascuttingturfsometime.
Lastnight’suneasebuildshigher.Theonlywaythekidwouldmissthisisifhewashurttoobadlytocome.
Calturnsinacircle,scanningthemountain.Thewindcombstheheatherandgorsewithalowceaselessrustle.Itssmellhasasweetnessalmosttoocoldtocatch.Theskyisafine-grainedgray,andfromsomewhereinitsheightsabirdsendsdownapurewildwhistling.
Whenheturnsback,thekidhasmaterializedontheroadabovehim,likehewasthereallalong.
“You’relate,”Calsays.
“Doingmyhomework,”Treysays,withtheedgeofasassygrin.
“Sureyouwere,”Calsays.Hecan’tseeanybruisesorgashes.“YougethomeOKlastnight?”
Treygiveshimasuspiciouslook,likethisisaweirdquestion.“Yeah.”
“Iheardnoises,lateron.Likeananimalgothurt,maybe.”
Thekidshrugs,implyingthatthisisbothpossibleandnothisproblem,andturnstoheaduptheroad.Calwatcheshimwalk.Hislong,springylopeisthesameasever;he’snotfavoringanything,orholdinghimselflikeanythinghurts.
SomeoftheworrygoesoutofCal,butaresiduestays.He’smoreorlesssatisfiedthatthekidisn’ttheonehurtingsheep,butthisnolongerseemslikethecentralpoint,oratleastnottheonlyone.It’sbeenbroughthometohimthathe’snotclear,oranythinglikeclear,onwhatTreyisandisn’tcapableof.
BeyondthebendTreystrikesoffthepath,upwardsintotheheather.“Mindyourself,”hesaysoverhisshoulder.“Boggybits.”
CalwatcheswhereTreyputshisfeetandtriestomatchhim,feelingthegroundsinkunderhimhereandthere.Thekidknowsthisterrainbetter,andsuitsitbetter,thanCaldoes.“Shit,”hesays,asthebogsucksathisboot.
“Youhavetagofaster,”Treysays,overhisshoulder.“Don’tgiveitachancetogetholdayou.”
“ThisisasfastasIgo.Notallofusarebuiltlikejackrabbits.”
“Moose,morelike.”
“YourememberwhatItoldyouaboutmanners?”Caldemands.Treysnortsandkeepsmoving.
Theypassbetweengorsebushes,aroundoldturf-cuttingscars,underasheercliffsidewheretuftsofgrasssproutinthecracksbetweenboulders.Calkeepsaneyeoutforwatchers,butnothingmovesonthemountainside,exceptheatherstirringinthewind.Thisisn’taplaceanyonewouldstumbleacrossbyaccident.WhateverBrendanwasdoinguphere,hewantedtodoitundisturbed.
TreytakesthemupaslopesteepenoughtouseupCal’sbreath,andplungesintoathickplantationofspruces.Thetreesaretallandneatlyspaced,andthegroundispaddedwithyears’worthofneedles.Thewinddoesn’treachthemhere,butitrakesthetreetopswithanunceasingrestlessmutter.Caldoesn’tlikethestarkcontrastsinthisterrain.Theyhavethesamefeelastheweather,ofanunpredictabilitydeliberatelycalculatedtokeepyouonestepbehind.
“There,”Treysays,pointing,astheystepoutofthetrees.
Brendan’shideoutisbelowthem,shelteredfromtheworstofthewindsinaslightdip,withitsbackupagainstthemountainside.Itisn’twhatCalexpected.Hewaspicturingoneofthoseclustersofraggedystone-wallscrapswithmaybeapieceofroofhereandthere,lefttonature’sslowdevicesforgenerations.Thisisasquatwhitecottagenoolderthanhisown,andinmuchthesameshapeashisownwaswhenhearrived.Itsdoorandwindowframesevenhavemostoftheirredpaintleft.
Calfindsthismoreunsettlingthanhisoriginalimage.Aderelicttwo-hundred-year-oldhousefitsintothewaysofnature:thingshavetheirtimeandthenfallapart.Forarelativelynewandusablehousetobeabandonedseemstoimplysomeunnaturalevent,sharp-edgedandfinalasaguillotine.Theplacehasalookhedoesn’tlike.
“Wait,”hesays,puttingoutahandtoblockTreyashestartstowardsit.
“Why?”
“Justgiveitaminute.Let’sbesurenooneelsehadthesameideaasyourbrother.”
“That’swhyBrencamehere.’Causenooneelseever—”
“Justwait,”Calsays.Hemovesback,niceandeasy,tostandamongthesprucetrees.Treyrollshiseyesimpatiently,buthefollows.
Nothingcomesfromthecottage,neithermovementnorsound.Theweedsgrowinghighagainstitswallshavebeentrampledawayonthepathtothefrontdoor.Itswindowsaremostlybrokenoutandplentyofitsroofslatesaremissing,butsomeonehasbeentryingtoremedythis,notlongago:atarphasbeentackeddownoveronepatchofroof,andthere’splywoodinthewindows.
“Yousaidyou’vebeenintheresinceBrendanwent,”Calsays.“Right?”
“Yeah.Coupladaysafter.”
Thatmeansthey’reunlikelytowalkinonhisdeadbody.Apairofswiftsskiminandoutundertheeaves,unhurried,practicingtheiracrobaticsinthecoolair.“LooksOK,”Calsays,atlast.“Let’sgotakealook.”
Downinthedip,soundiscondensedinawaythatcomesasstartlingaftertheopenspaceabove.Theirstepsaresharpandloudonthegritofthepath.Theswiftssetupanangrychitteringanddiveforcover.
Thedoorhasabigsplintereddentnearthebottom,wheresomeonehaskickeditinwithanicecombinationofprecisionanddedication.Nottoolongago:thebrokenwoodisonlystartingtodiscolor.Asteelhasp,itspadlockstillattached,hangsloosefromitsstaple;thereareholesinthedoorwhereitwaswrenchedfree.Calpullshisjacketsleevedownoverhishandbeforehepushesthedooropen.
“Wasitlikethislasttimeyouwerehere?”
“Likewhat?”
“Kickedin.Lockbrokenout.”
“Yeah.Justwalkedin.”TreyisrightatCal’sheel,likeabarelytrainedhuntingdogpulsingwithimpatience.
Inside,nothingismoving.There’salittlefallofweaklightsomewhereinthebackroom,butapartfromthat,theplywoodmakesthehousetoodarktosee.Calfindshispocketflashlightandsweepsitaround.
Thefronthalfofthehouseisonemid-sizedroom,withnooneinit.ThenextthingCalnoticesisthatit’sclean.Thefirsttimehewalkedintohisownplace,itwaslayeredupwithcobwebs,dust,mold,deadbugs,deadmice,formsofgungehecouldn’tevenidentify.Thishasbarefloorboardswithonlyathincoatingofdust.Thewallpaper,columnsoffancypinkandgoldflowers,isdamp-stained,butanypeelingpieceshavebeenrippedaway.
Inonecornerisapropanecampingstove,brand-new,withafewsparetanksbesideit.Underoneboarded-upwindowisacooler,alsobrand-new.AlongthebackwallareashittywhiteMDFsideboard,notnew,abroomanddustpan,amopandbucket,andarowofbigplasticwaterbottles.Therearescuffmarksonthefloorboardswherethingshavebeendraggedinandmaybeout.
Nothingmovesastheystepinside.“Waitthere,”Calsays.Hegoesswiftlythroughtotheback.Here,inwhatusedtobeakitchenandabedroom,noonehasbotheredcleaning.Thefloorsarescatteredwithfallenplasterandrandompiecesofdilapidatedfurniture,anddustycobwebshangheavyaslacecurtainsfromtheceiling.Thebackwindowsareunboarded,yellow-floweredweedsswayingbehindthem,butthemountainsidepressescloseenoughtoblockmuchofthelight.
“See?”Treysays,athisshoulder.“Noone.”
“Sowewastedtwominutes,”Calsays.“Better’nwalkingintotrouble.”Heheadsbackintothefrontroom,squatsdownbythecoolerwiththekidhangingoverhisshoulder,andopensitthroughhissleeve.It’sempty.Heexaminesthecampingstove,whichissetupreadytogobutlookslikeit’sneverbeenused.Herockseachofthesparepropanetanksonitsbase:onefull,twoempty.Hemovestothesideboard,priesthedoorsopenbytheircornersandpointshisflashlightinthere.
Insidethecabinetarethreepacksofrubbergloves,threebottlesofhouseholdcleaners,apileofdirtyscrubbingspongesandcleaningcloths,afewTupperwarecontainers,abigpackofcoffeefilters,acoiled-uprubberhose,twosetsoflabgoggles,apackoflabsafetymasks,andastraybatterythat’srolledintoacorner.
Cal’sheartzigzags.Forasecondhecan’tmove.Hewantedsomethingthatwouldburnoffallthehazypossibilitiesandshowhimthesolidthingintheirmidst.Nowthathe’sgotit,hefindshedoesn’twantitonebit.
HehadBrendanwrong.Hewaspicturingawildkidgallopingafterthefirstandeasiestideathatsprangupinhishead,allhoppeduponresentmentandtheprospectofshowingeveryonethey’dunderestimatedhim.ButBrendanwentaboutthismethodically,systematically,takinghistimeandsettingallhispiecesinplace.Ahalf-cockedkidinahuffcangethimselfintoplentyofshit.Akidwithmethodislesslikelytogethimselfintoshit,butifhedoes,theshitisawholelotdeeper.
HecanfeelTreycrouchedbesidehimwatchingeveryflickerofhisface,catchingtheinstantofstillness.“Huh,”hesayseasily,straighteningup.“Here,holdthisforme.”Hehandsovertheflashlight.
“Whatfor?”Treyasks.He’scoiledtight,barelycontaininghiselectricity.
Calfindshisphoneandswitchesonthecamera.“Whenyou’reinvestigating,youdocument.Youneverknow.”
Treydoesn’tmove.HiseyesarestillonCal’sface.
“Startrightthere,”Calsays,noddingtothefrontdoor.“Thensweepitroundtheroom,niceandslow.”
Afteramoment,Treydoesashe’stoldwithoutcomment.HemovestheflashlightevenlywhileCalvideostheroom,thenholdsitsteadyforphotosofthecooler,thesideboard,thestove,thepropanetanks,thewaterbottles.ThenCaltakesvideosofthebackrooms,withouttheflashlight.Theunboardedbackwindowswereagoodcall.Ifyou’regoingtodowhatBrendanReddywasgoingtodoinhere,youwantplentyofventilation.
Theplacesmellsofnothingbutdamp,rainandspruce.Brendannevergotstarted.Hehadmosteverythinginplace,maybeeverything,andthensomethingwentwrong.
Whentheyfinishupthephotos,Caltakestheflashlightbackandwalksthefrontroom,keepingthebeamonthefloor.“Whatyoulookingfor?”Treyasks,hovering.
“AnythingIcanfind,”Calsays.“Nothingthere,though.”He’slookingforbloodstains.Hecan’tseeany,butthatdoesn’tmeanthey’renotthere—thefloor’sbeencleanednottoolongago,althoughthere’snowaytoknowwhetheritwasbeforeBrendanwentorafter.Luminolwouldstillshowblood,buthehasn’tgotLuminol.“Takeagoodlookround.Anythingdifferentfromwhenyouwereherelast?”
Treyscanseveryroom,takinghistime.Finallyheshakeshishead.
“OK,”Calsays.Heputshisphoneaway.“Let’sgotakealookaroundoutside.”
Treynods,handsCaltheflashlightandheadsforthedoor.Calhasnoideawhathe’smakingofallthis.Hecan’ttellwhetherthisisjustbecausethekidisthewayheis,orwhetherTreyisdeliberatelykeepinghisthoughtstohimself
Theywalktheovergrownareathatusedtobetheyard,butthere’snoconvenientstashandnosignofdigging.Alltheyfindisamiddenfromthehouse’sinhabiteddays:alittleheapofbrokencrockeryandglassbottles,halfburiedunderyears’worthofsilted-updirtandweeds.
Treyfindsastickandbeatsdownnettles.“Knockitoff,”Calsays.
“Howcome?”
“I’drathernottelltheworldthatsomeone’sbeenhere.”
Treyglancesathim,butsaysnothing.Hethrowsthestickontothemidden.
Upherehasasilencethatseparatesitfromthelowlands.Downbelow,there’salwaysalavishmixofbirdsfussingandflirting,sheepandcattleconversing,farmersshouting,butupheretheairisempty;nothingbutthewindandonesmallcoldcalllikepebblesbeingtappedtogether,overandoveragain.
Theyworktheirwayupthesidesofthedip,pokingintoclumpsoflonggrass,goingsystematicallybackandforthtomakesuretheymissnothing.Theyfindarustedgardenhoewithhalfahandle,andasnarlofbarbedwire,alsorusty.Whentheyreachthetoptheycrunchthroughthesprucegrove,kickingatpilesoffallenneedlesandsquintingupintothebranchesforcaches.Acoupleofoldnestsmakethemlooktwice.
Calknewfromthestartitwashopeless.There’stoomuchspaceuphereforonemanandakidevertocover.WhatheneedsisaCSIteamswarmingalloverthehouse,andaK-9unitcombingthemountainside.Hefeelsliketheworld’sbiggestfool,outhereinaforeigncountryplayingcopwithnobadgeandnogun,andathirteen-year-oldkidandOfficerDennisforbackup.HetriestoimaginewhatDonnawouldsay,butthetruthis,Donnawouldn’tsayanythingatall;shewouldgivehimastarewheresheerincredulitybeatoutanumberofotherthingsfortopspot,andthenthrowupherhandsandwalkaway.EvenDonna’sextravagantsupplyofwordsandnoisesdidn’tcontainanythingtocoverthis.
“Well,”hesays,intheend.“Iguesswe’veseenaboutallthereistoseearoundhere.”It’stimetogo.Thelightisstartingtoshift,thespruceshadowsstretchingdownthesideofthediptowardsthehouse.
Treylooksupathimsharply,inquiring.Calignoresthatandheadsdeeperintothetrees.He’sgladtogetawayfromthisplace.
Afteraminuteortwo,herealizeshe’swalkingfastenoughthatthekidistrottingtokeepup.“So,”hesays,slowingdown.“Whatdoyoumakeofthat?”
Treyshrugs.Hejumpstosnapabranchoffoneofthespruces.
Calfeelsapowerfulneedtohavesomeideaofwhat’sgoingoninthekid’shead.“YouknowBrendan,”hesays.“Idon’t.Thathousegiveyouanyideawhathemight’vebeenplanning?”
Treywhipsthebranchagainstatrunkastheypass.Thehissandsmackarecompressedbythetreesallaround.Nothingflapsorscuttlesinresponse.
“WhenIwentthere,”hesays,“afterBrenwent.Ithoughtmaybehewaslivingthere.’CauseIsawhowhe’dfixeditup,theroofandall,andthecookerandthecooler.Thosedidn’tusetobetherebefore.Ithoughtmaybehe’dgotsickofusandmovedinthere.Iwaitedallnightforhimtocomeback.IwasgonnaaskcouldIcometoo.”Hewhipsthebranchagainstanothertrunk,harderthistime,butthesoundstillflattenstoinsignificance.“Ionlycoppedoninthemorning:Iwasfuckingthick.There’snomattressorsleepingbagornothing.Hewasn’tlivingthere.”
ThisisthelongestspeechCalhaseverheardthekidmake.He’snotsurprisedTreydidn’tmentionthecottageearlier,notafterthatlongnightandthatstingingslapofdisappointment.“Doesn’tlooklikeit,”hesays.
Afterashortersilence,Treysays,glancingupathimsideways,“Allthatstuffinthesideboard.”
Calwaits.
“Cleaninggear.Brendancouldabeenmeaningtodouptherestoftheplace.Rentitout,ontheQT,like.Tohikers,backpackers.Onlythepeoplewhoownthehousefoundout,andtheygotpissedoff.Andthat’swhoBrenwasgoingtomeet.Tosortit.Givethemcash.”
“Couldbe,”Calsays,duckingunderabranch.Hecanfeelthekidwatchinghim
“Andthat’swhotookhim.”
“Youknowwhoownstheplace?Wholivedtherelast?”
Treyshakeshishead.“Butsomeofthemupthemountains,they’rerough.”
“Well,”Calsays.“LookslikeImightneedtohavealookatpropertyregisters.”
“You’regonnafindhim,”Treysays.“Right?”
Calsays,“I’maimingto.”Hedoesn’twanttofindBrendanReddyanymore.
Treystartstosaysomethingelse,thencheckshimselfandgoesbacktowhackingtreetrunkswithhisbranch.Theymaketheirwaythroughthesprucesandbackdownthemountainsideinsilence.
Whentheygetbackontothepath,atthebendwheretheymetup,Calslows.“Where’sDonieMcGrathlive?”heasks.
Treyiskickingarockdownthepathinfrontofhim,buthelooksupatthat.“Whatfor?”
“Iwanttotalktohim.Where’shelive?”
“Justthissideofthevillage.Thatgrayhousethat’sinbits.Withthedarkbluedoor.”
Calknowsit.Peopleinthevillagetakeprideintheirhomes,keepingtheirwindowsclean,theirbrassespolishedandtheirtrimpainted.Arun-downhousemeansanemptyhouse.Donie’sistheexception.
“Byhimself?”
“Himselfandhismam.Hisdaddied.Hissistersmarriedaway,andIthinkhisbrotheremigrated.”Therockhasgoneoffthepath.Thekidnudgesitoutofaclumpofheatherwithhistoe.“Donieandhisbrother,theyusedtapickonBren,backinschool.Intheendtheybethimupbadenoughthatmymamwentin,andDonie’smamhadtaaswell.Shewaslike,‘Myboyswouldnever,they’relovelylads,we’readecentfamily’—eventhougheveryoneknewthedadwasadrunkandawaster.Thoughtshewasgreatjust’causeshe’sfromtownandherbrother’sapriest.Schooldidn’tgiveashiteeitherway,’causeitwasonlyus.”HeglancesupatCal.“Now,but,Brencouldbeattheshiteoutathatlittlescutanyday.Doniedidn’ttakehim.”
“Ineversaidhedid,”Calsays.“Ijustwanttotalktohim.”
“Howcome?”
“Because.AndIwantyoutostayawayfromhim.Faraway.”
“Donie’sonlyanarsewipe,”Treysays,withcompletescorn.
“OK.Stayawayfromhimanyway.”
Treykickshisrock,hard,intotheheather.HegetsinfrontofCalandstops,blockingthepath.Hisfeetaresetapartandhischinisout.
“I’mnotafuckingbaby.”
“Iknowthat.”
“‘Stayawayfromthis,stayawayfromhim,donothing,youdon’tneedtoknow—’”
“Youwantedmetodothis’causeIknowhowtodoitright.Ifyoucan’tstayoutamywaywhileI—”
“IwantatalktoDonie.He’llsaynothingtoablow-in.”
“Andyouthinkhe’lltalktosomekid?”
“Hewill,yeah.Whynot?Hethinksthesameasyou:I’mababy.Hecansayanythingtome;there’snothingIcandoaboutit.”
Calsays,“WhatI’mtellingyouis,Ifindoutyou’vebeenanywherenearDonie,I’mdonehere.Nosecondchances.Clear?”
Treystaresathim.ForasecondCalthinksthekidisgoingtofliphisshit,thewayhedidwhenhesmashedupthedesk.Hegetsreadytododge.
Instead,thekid’sfaceshutslikeadoor.“Yeah,”hesays.“Clear.”
“Betterbe,”Calsays.“I’lltalktohimtomorrow.Comeroundthedayafter,I’llupdateyou.”Hewantstotellthekidnottogetseenontheway,butthesleazyringofitstopshim.
Treydoesn’targueanymore,oraskanymorequestions.Hejustnodsandlopesoff,intotheheatherandgonebehindtheshoulderofthemountain.
Calunderstandsthatthekidknows.Heknowssomethinghappenedinsidethathouse;somethingsolidifiedandcameintosharpfocus,andthestakesshotup.Heknowsthatwasthemomentwhenthissituationwentbad.
Calwantstocallthekidbackandtakehimhuntingagain,orfeedhimdinner,orteachhimhowtobuildsomething.Noneofthosewillfixthis.Heturnsandstartstowalkhome,bythesamemeanderingroutehetooktogethere.Belowhimthefieldsareyellowingwithautumn.Theshadowofthemountainsideisspillingontothepath,withachillinsidewhenhecrossesit.Hewondersif,aweekortwofromnow,thekidwillhatehisguts.
AtleastnowheknowswhatfarmequipmentgotstolenbackinMarch.Brendanwentoutwithahoseandapropanetankonenight,oracoupleofnights,andsiphonedoffalittlebitofP.J.’sanhydrousammonia.Onlyhegotbusted:maybehegotsloppyandleftapieceofducttapestucktothetankwherehe’dattachedhishosepipe,maybeP.J.spottedthebrassfittingturninggreen.Eitherway,P.J.calledthecops.CalwouldlovetoknowwhatBrendansaidtohimtomakehimcallthemoff.
HecouldprobablyhavethoseCSIsandthatK-9,ifhewenttothepolice—notcheeryGardaDennis,butthebigboys,thedetectivesupinDublin.Theywouldtakehimseriously,speciallyoncetheysawthosephotos.Brendanwasn’tsettingupsomepissantshake-n-bakeopinthatcottage.Hewasgoingfortherealthing,thepurehigh-yieldtechnique,andhehadthechemistryknowledgetomakeitwork.Itseemslikeafairassumptionthathealsohadtheconnectionsinplacetosellthemethoncehemadeit.Thedetectiveswouldn’tfuckaround.
CalwouldbelightingthefuseonsomethingwhoseblastwouldreverberatethroughArdnakeltyinwayshecan’tpredict.
Nomatterwhathedoesordoesn’tdo,hecan’tseeawaythatthismightturnoutwell.That’swhatthatshiftintheairmeant,theoneheandTreybothfeltastheysquattedbythesideboard,thecoldimplacableshiftthat’sfamiliartohimfromahundredcases:thisisn’tgoingtohaveahappyending.
FIFTEEN
Thelossofoneoftheirnumberhasn’tscaredtherabbitsoff.InthemorninganeasydozenofthemareboundingaroundCal’sbackfieldliketheyownit,breakfastingoffhisdew-wetclover.Hewatchesthemfromhisbedroomwindow,feelingthecoldcreepinathimthroughtheglass.Whateverpeopledo,rightuptokilling,natureabsorbsit,closesoverthefissureandgoesonaboutitsowndoings.Hecan’ttellwhetherthisisacomfortingthingoramelancholyone.Therooks’oaktreeiseveryshadeofgold,leavestwistingdowntoaddtoapoollyinglikeareflectionbeneathit.
It’saWednesday,butCalfeelssafeinassumingDonieMcGrathwon’tbespendinghisdayingainfulemployment.HealsoassumesDonieisn’tanearlyriser,sohetakeshistimeoverhismorning.Hefixeshimselfabigbreakfast,bacon,sausages,eggsandblackpudding—hehasn’tworkedoutwhetherhelikesblackpudding,exactly,buthefeelsheshouldoccasionallyeatitoutofrespectforlocalcustom.Thiscouldtakeawhile,sohemightaswellbepreparedforalongwaitandnolunch.
Alittleafterelevenheheadsdowntothevillage.Donie’shouseisonthefringeofthemainstreet,maybeahundredyardsfromtheshopandthepub.It’sanarrow,ungainlytwo-storyhouse,itswindowscrowded,attheendofamismatchedrowfacingrightontothesidewalk.Thegraypebbledashisflakingoffinpatchesandthere’sasturdycropofweedsgrowingoutofthechimney.
OppositeDonie’splaceisapinkhousewithboarded-upwindowsandalowstonewalloutside.Calsettleshisassonthewall,turnsupthecollarofhisfleeceagainstthelushwetwind,andwaits.
Forawhilenothinghappens.ThesagginglacecurtainsinDonie’sfrontwindowdon’tmove.Therearelittlechinaornamentsonthewindowsill.
AskinnyoldguyCalhasseeninthepubafewtimesshufflespast,givinghimanodandasharplook.Calnodsback,andtheguyheadsontotheshop.Twominutesafterheleaves,Noreenpopsoutwithawateringcanandtiptoestoaimitatherhangingbasketofpetunias.WhenshecranesherheadoverhershouldertopeeratCal,hegivesherawaveandagreatbiggrin.
Byevening,allofArdnakeltywillknowhewaslookingforDonie.Calhashadenoughofbeingdiscreet.Hefiguresit’stimetokickafewbushesandseewhatscuttlesout.
Hewaitssomemore.Variousoldpeoplegopast,andacoupleofmotherswithbabiesandlittlekids,andafatgingercatthatgivesCalaninsolentstarebeforesittingdownonthesidewalkandwashingitsnetherpartstoshowhimwhatitthinksofhim.SomethingmovesbehindDonie’smama’slacecurtains,andthefoldswaver,buttheydon’tmoveasideandthedoordoesn’topen.
Abeat-upyellowFiat600bumpsdownthestreetandpullsupinfrontofNoreen’s,andawomanwhohastobeBelindagetsout.Shehasalotofdyed-redhairgoinginalotofdirections,andapurplecapewhichsheswirlsaroundherselfbeforeshegoesintotheshop.Whenshecomesbackout,sheslowsdownasshedrivespastCal,fluttersherfingersandgiveshimahugeglowingsmile.Henodsbrieflyandpullsouthisphonelikeit’sringing,beforeshecandecidetostopandintroduceherself.ItlookslikeNoreenhaschangedhermindaboutsettinghimupwithLena.
Themovementbehindthelacecurtainsbecomesmorefrequentandmoreagitated.Notlongaftertwoo’clock,Doniecracks.HethrowsopenhisfrontdoorandheadsacrossthestreettowardsCal.
DonieiswearingthesameshinywhitetracksuitthatheworetoSeánóg’s.He’saimingforathreateningswagger,butthisishamperedbythefactthathe’slimpingalittlebit.Healsohasaswollenblack-and-bluelump,withagashdownthemiddle,overoneeyebrow.
CalhasnodoubtthatDonieMcGrathcouldhaveearnedhimselfafewwhacksinplentyofways,buthedidn’t.Mart,thebigexpertonArdnakeltyandeveryoneinit,gotthisonewrong.CalwisheshecouldseeMart’sfacewhenhefindsout,ontheslimchancethathehasn’talready.
“Whatthefuckdoyouwant,man?”Doniedemands,stoppinginthemiddleoftheroad,asafedistancefromCal.
“Whatyougot?”Calasks.
Donieevaluateshim.“Fuckoff,”hesays.
“Now,Donie,”Calsays.“That’simpolite.I’mnotbotheringanybody.I’mjustsittinghereenjoyingtheview.”
“You’rebotheringmymam.She’safraidtogototheshops.Youfuckin’sittingtherestaringoutofyou,likeapervert.”
“Ipromiseyou,Donie,”Calsays,“Igotnointerestinyourmama.I’msureshe’salovelylady,butyou’retheoneI’vebeenwaitingfor.Yousitdownhereandhavealittletalkwithme,andthenI’llbeonmyway.”
DonielooksatCal.Hehasafatflatfaceandsmallpaleeyesthatdon’tshowexpressionswell.“Gotnothingtosaytoyou.”
“Well,Icansitheretillkingdomcome,”Calsaysamiably.“Igotnowhereelsetobe.How’boutyou?Dayoffwork?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?Whatdoyoudoforaliving?”
“Bitofthis,bitofthat.”
“Thatdoesn’tsoundlikeenoughtokeepamanoccupied,”Calsays.“Youeverconsidergoingintofarming?Plentyofthattogoroundhereabouts.”
Doniesnorts.
“What,youdon’tlikesheep?”
Donieshrugs.
“Seemstomeyougotsomekindagrudgeagainstthem,”Calsays.“Oneof’emturnyoudown?”
Donieeyeshim,butCalisalotbiggerthanheis.Hespitsonthestreet.
“How’dyougetthat?”CalnodsatDonie’seyebrow.
“Fight.”
“ButIoughtaseetheotherguy,right?”
“Yeah.Right.”
“Igottatellyou,Donie,”Calsays,“helookedOKtome.Infact,helookedhappyasaclam.That’sprettysad,consideringhe’shalfyourweightandtwiceyourage.”
DoniestaresatCal.Thenhegrins.Histeetharetoosmall.“Icouldtakeyou.”
“Well,Ibetyoufightdirty,”Calsays.“Butthen,sodoI.Luckyforbothofus,I’minatalkingmood,notafightingmood.”
HecanseeDonie’smindoperatingontwotracksatonce.Asmall,slowsurfacepartofitistakingintheconversation,moreorless.Themajorityofit,runningunderneathandalotmoreexpertly,isassessingwhathecangetoutofthissituationandwhat,ifanything,mightbeathreat.Althoughit’smutednowthathe’ssober,hestillhasthatbad,unpredictablehumthatfirstmadeCalpickhimout:thelookliketherearenoneoftheusualprocessesbetweenhisideasandhisactions,andtheideasaren’tonesthatwouldoccurtomostpeople’sminds.Caliswillingtobetthat,whilethegeneralconceptofthesheepmaynothavebeenDonie’sidea,thespecificswere.
“Giveusacigarette,”Doniesays.
“Idon’tsmoke,”Calsays.Hepatsthewallnexttohim.“Takealoadoff.”
“AmIunderarrest?”Doniedemands.
Calsays,“Areyouwhatnow?”
“’CauseifIam,I’msayingnothingwithoutasolicitor.AndifI’mnot,I’mgoinginside,andyoucan’tstopme.Eitherway,fuckofffromoutsidemyhouse.”
Calsays,“YouthinkI’macop?”
Doniesnickers,enjoyingthelookonhisface.“Ah,man.Everyoneknowsyou’reDrugs.SentoverfromAmericatogiveourlotahand.”
BynowCalshouldbeusedtotheunfetteredpanacheofthetownland’srumormill,butitstillhasthepowertocatchhimbysurprise.Thisisnotastorythathewantstakinghold.
“Son,”hesays,grinning.“You’reoverratingyourself.NopoliceforceinthewholeofAmericagivesashitaboutyouandyourpissantdrugops.”
Doniegiveshimadisbelievingstare.“Thenwhat’reyoudoinghere?”
“HerelikeArdnakelty,orherelikeoutsideyourhouse?”
“Both.”
“I’minArdnakeltybecausethescenery’ssopretty,son,”Calsays.“AndI’moutsideyourhousebecauseIliveinthisneighborhood,andI’mcuriousaboutacouplathingsthat’vebeengoingonaroundhere.”
HesmilesatDonieandletshimdecide.Withthebeardandthehairandall,helooksalotmorelikeabikerorasurvivalistloonthanlikeacop.DonieeyesCalandconsiderswhichofthepossibilitieshelikesleast.
“IfIwasyou,”Caladviseshim,“I’djustsitdown,answerafeweasyquestionswithoutmakingabigfussaboutit,andthengoonaboutmyday.”
“Iknownothingaboutdrugs,”Doniesays.
Thisisexactlythekindoffuckyconversation,withexactlythekindofpointlessshitweasel,thatCalhasbeencongratulatinghimselfonneverhavingtoputupwithagain.“Youalreadyadmittedyoudo,youfuckingmoron,”hesays.“That’sOK,though,becauseIdon’tgiveashitaboutyourpissantdrugopseither.I’mjustagoodSouthernboywhowasraisedtobeneighborly,andthere’sbeensomethingshappeningtomyneighborsthatI’dliketounderstandbetter.”
Donieshouldgoindoorsrightaboutnow,buthedoesn’t.Thiscouldjustbebecausehe’sdumborbored,orbecausehe’sstilllookingforsomewayhecanbenefit.OritcouldbebecausehefeelstheneedtofindoutwhatexactlyCalknows.
“Ineedasmoke,”hesays.“Giveusatenner.”
“Leftmywalletathome,”Calsays.EvenifhewasinclinedtogiveDoniemoney,thatwouldonlylandhimwithweeks’worthofmade-upbullshit,punctuatedbydemandsformorecash.“Haveaseat.”
Donieevaluateshimforanotherminute,mouthopeninasmallferalgrin.Thenhesitshimselfdownonthewall,outofCal’sreach.Hesmellslikesomemeal,cabbageanddeep-friedstuff,cookedafewdaysback.
Calsays,“You’vebeenkillingmyneighbors’sheep.”
“Proveit.”Doniepullsapackofcigarettesoutofhistracksuitpocketandlightsone,notbotheringtoblowthesmokeawayfromCal.
“Yougotsomeunusualtendencies,son,”Calsays,“butseeingasI’mnotashrink,Idon’tgiveashitaboutthat,either.Myonlyquestionis,whenyougoslicingtheprivatepartsoutofsheep,isthatforyourownpersonalenjoyment,oryougotabiggeragendagoingon?”
“Don’tworryaboutit,man.Therewon’tbeanymoresheepkilled.”
“Well,that’snicetoknow,”Calsays.“Butmyquestionstillstands.”
Donieshrugsandsmokes.Noreeniswateringherpetuniasagain.Hehuncheshisbacktoher,likeshemightnotrecognizehim.
“Igotsortofthesamequestion,”Calsays,“whenitcomestoBrendanReddy.”
Donie’sheadcomesaroundsharplyandhestaresatCal.Callookspleasantlyback.EvenDonie’sstringylittlebangs,whichlooklikeDoniesavestimeandmotionbykeepingthempermanentlymattedinplacewithmonths’worthofgrease,aregettingonhislastnerve.
“Whatquestion?”Doniedemands.
“Well,”Calsays,“Idon’tmuchcarewhathappenedtohim.ButI’dsureliketoknowwhetheritwasjustsomelittlepersonalaffair,orwhetheritwaspartofwhatyoumightcallagranderschemeofthings.”
“‘Granderscheme,’”Doniesays,andsnorts.
“Ithinkthat’sthephraseI’mlookingfor,”Calsays,considering.“Ifyougotamorefittingone,I’mallears.”
“WhydoyoucarewhathappenedtoBrendan?”
“Anyintelligentmanlikestoknowwhathe’sdealingwith,”Calsays.“I’msureyoufeelthesameway.Yougetedgywhenyoudon’tknowwhatyou’redealingwith,don’tyou,Donie?”
Doniesays,“Youinbusiness?”
“Mybusinessisbesidethepoint,son,”Calsays.“ThepointisthatIlikestayingoutofotherpeople’sbusiness.Ilikeitalot.Butinordertodothat,Ineedtoknowwhereotherpeople’sbusinesslies.”
“Doabittafishingforyourself,”Doniesays,andblowssmokeatCal.“Getafewchickens.That’llkeepyououtofotherpeople’sbusiness.”
“EveryoneinthistownlandappearstothinkIneedahobby,”Calsays.
“Youdo.SodidBrenReddy.”
“Well,Idolovemesomefishing,”Calsays.“ButwhatIwantyoutotakeinhere,son,isthatI’dverymuchappreciatesomeclarityonthesituation.”
“Yeah?Howmuch?”
“DependsonwhatkindofclarityIget.”
Donieshakeshishead,grinning.
“OK,Donie,”Calsays.“Lemmedosomeoftheworkforyou.BrendanReddyfuckedup.”Hehasnointentionoflettingonthatheknowsaboutthemethlab.Hedoesn’twantthathouseburneddown;hemighthaveauseforitatsomepoint.“YourbuddiesfromDublingotridofhim,onewayoranother.Myneighborsfoundout.Andyou’vebeengiventhejobofwarningthemtokeeptheirmouthsshut.”
DoniestaresatCal.Hesniggers.
“How’mIdoing?”
“Youwantalotofshitforfree,man.”
“I’maskingnicely,”Calsays.“Sofar.Thatoughtacountforsomething,eventhesedays.”
Doniestandsupandpickshistracksuitpantsoutofhisass.“Getfucked,”hesays.Hethrowshiscigaretteintotheroad,swagger-limpsbacktohishouseandslamsthedoorbehindhim.
Calwaitsafewseconds,wavesgood-byetothelacecurtainsandheadsforhome.There’snopointinstickingaround.TheonlythingsthatwillmoveDoniearegainandpain.Anythingfancierwillhavenomoreeffectonhimthanitwouldonawolverine.
Hedidn’texpecttogetmuchoutofDonie,anyway.HismaingoalsweretofindoutwhetherDonieisconnectedtowhateverhappenedtoBrendan,whichheis,andtokickthosebushes.Which,forbetterorforworse,hecertainlyhasdone.
Allthesame,theconversationhaslefthimstirredupandrestless.PuttingawayguyslikeDonieusedtobeoneofCal’sfavoritepartsofthejob.Theseguysaren’thankeringforarifleandahorseandaherdofcattle;youcouldgivethemallthosethings,andwithinaweektheywouldgetthemselvesshotforcheatingatcards,orstealinghorses,orrapingsomeone’swife.Theonlyusefulthingyoucandowiththemislockthemupwheretheycan’tharmanyoneexcepteachother.Withthatoptionoffthetable,CalgetsthesamefeelinghegotinthepubwhenDoniewassquaringuptoMart,thatsenseofnotbeingquiteabletogethisfeetontheground.HeoughttodosomethingaboutDonie,butthecontextpreventshimfromunderstandingwhatthatmightbe.
IntheendCaltakesDonie’sadviceandgoesfishing.Hisrestlessnessmakesthehousefeelcrampedandnagging,fullofshitheneedstodoandcan’tsettleto.Onamorepracticallevel,hedoesn’twanttobehomeifTreygetsimpatientandcomeslookingfornews.
CalisnolongerparticularlyinterestedinfindingoutwhereBrendanwent.Whilethecoppartofhimjerksakneeatthethoughtofabandoningacasethatstillhasplentyofcandyinit,theoverridingpriorityhereisthefactthat,atleastfortheforeseeablefuture,Treyneedstostoplooking.
Theriverissluggishtoday,movinginmuscular,viscous-lookingtwists.Leavesfallontoitssurface,driftforasecond,andarepulledunderwithoutaswirloratrace.CalthinksabouttellingthekidthatBrendanfetchedupinthere,someaccidentalway.Hecouldcomeupwithaconvincingstory,maybeinvolvingBrendanscoutinglocationsforabusinessrunningfishingtripsfortouristsonheritagepilgrimages,ornatureretreatsforsuitsinsearchoftheirinnerwildmen,eitherofwhichisthekindofthingthatthedumbasskidshouldhavefuckinggonefortobeginwith.
Hemightpullitoff.Treytrustshim,asmuchashetrustsanyone.AndalthoughthekidwouldfightthesuggestionthatBrendanisdead,he’dwelcomethethoughtthatBrendandidn’tdeliberatelygooffandleavehimwithoutaword.HewouldalsowelcometheopportunitytothinkofBrendanasafineupstandingentrepreneurinthemaking.HemightevenwelcomeitenoughnottowonderwhyBrendanwouldhavetakenhissavingswithhimtocheckoutsuitablelocationsforactuariestobuildtreeforts,orwhytheactuarieswouldneedlabmasks.
Calcan’ttellwhetherheoughttodoit.Thisseemslikethekindofthingheshouldknowinstantly,oninstinct,buthehasnoideawhetheritwouldberightorwrong.Thisunsettleshimrightdowntothebottomofhisguts.Itimpliesthatsomewherealongthewayhegotoutofpracticedoingtherightthing,tothepointwherehedoesn’tevenknowitwhenheseesit.
ThatfeelingisoneofthethingsthatdroveCaloutofhisjob.Heassociatesit,eventhoughheknowstherealityisnowherenearthatsimple,withascrawnyblackkidcalledJeremiahPayton,who,afewmonthsbeforeCalretired,robbedaconveniencestorewithaknifeandjumpedbail.CalandO’Learytrackedhimdownathisgirlfriend’shouse,atwhichpointJeremiahleapedoutofawindowandtookoff.
CalwasolderthanO’Leary,andheavier.Hewasthreepacesbehindhimroundingthecorner.HeheardO’Learyyell,“Letmeseeyourhands!”andthenhesawJeremiahturningtowardsthemwithonehandrisingandonedropping,andthenO’Leary’sgunwentoffandJeremiahlandedfacedownonthesidewalk.
Calwasalreadyontheradiocallingfortheambulanceastheyrantowardshim,butwhentheygotthere,Jeremiahshoutedintothesidewalkinavoicethatwaspureterror,“Don’tshootme.”
Calgothishandsbehindhisbackandcuffedthemthere.Someonehadstartedscreaming.“Youhit?”CalaskedJeremiah.
Heshookhishead.Calturnedhimoverandcheckedhimanyway:noblood.
“Imisshim?”O’Learysaid.Hewascabbage-greenandpouringsweatlikehewasmelting.HestillhadhisGlockinhishands.
“Yeah,”Calsaid.ToJeremiahhesaid,“Yougotanythingonyou?”
Jeremiahjuststaredupathim.IttookCalaminutetounderstandthathecouldn’ttalkbecausehethoughthewasgoingtodie.
O’Learysaid,“Hewasgoingforhispocket.Yousawhimgoforhispocket.”
“Isawhishanddrop,”Calsaid.
“Forhisfuckingpocket.Pantspocket.IsweartoGod—”O’Learybentover,panting,andburrowedinJeremiah’spocket.Hecameoutwithaswitchblade.
“Ithoughtitwasagun,”O’Learysaid.“Well,shitfuck,”andhesatdownonthecurblikehislegshadgivenway.
Calwantedtositdownnexttohim,butthewomanwasscreaminglouderandpeoplehadstartedtogather.“It’sgonnabeOK,”hesaid,pointlessly,andheleftO’Learythereandheadedofftocanceltheambulanceandsecurethescene.
Calwasfeelingalittletenderrightthen,whatwithDonnahavingjustwalkedoutonhim.Hehadspentmostofthepastyearfumblinginthedarktryingtodisentanglecomplications,andcomplicationsbehindcomplications;hedidn’tseemtoknowhowtostop.Hewassure,absolutely,thatO’LearyhadbelievedJeremiahwasgoingforaguninhispocket,whichforalotofguyswouldhavebeenenough.ButforCal,thatfactseemedtobeoverlaidandunderlaidbysomanylayersthathecouldn’ttellwhetherornotitwasimportant.WhatwasimportantwasthatheandO’Learyweresupposedtobeouttherekeepingpeoplesafe.Theyhadalwaysconsideredthemselvestobegoodcops,copswhotriedtodorightbyeveryonetheycameacross.Theyhadworkedhardtobethat,evenwhenplentyofpeoplehatedtheirgutsonsight,evenwhensomeoftheotherguysweregettingmeanerbythedayandsomehadbeenrattlesnake-meanfromthestart.Theyhaddonetheirdamnsensitivitytraining.Andyet,somehow,theyhadendedupalmostkillinganeighteen-year-oldkid.CalknewitwasunspeakablywrongthatJeremiahhadcomewithinafewinchesofdyingonthatsidewalk,andthathehadlookedatthetwoofthemandexpectedtodie;butnomatterhowmuchtimehespentfumblingatit,hecouldn’tputhisfingeronapointwherehecouldhavemadethingsgoright.HecouldhavestayedoutsideJeremiah’swindowtostophimtakingoff,butthatdoesn’tseemlikeitwouldhavefixedverymuchofanything.
HetoldInternalAffairsthatJeremiahwasgoingforhispocket.Calhadagoodrecordandfewercomplaintsagainsthisnamethanmostcops;IAbelievedhim.Itmightbetrue—Calthinksitis,hethinksthatprobablyiswhathesaw.Thatdoesn’talterthefactthathedidn’tsaythattoIAbecausehethoughtitwastherightthingtodo.Hediditbecausehekneweveryonearoundhimbelieveditwas,andhehimselfhadnoidea.Hewassodeafenedbythelocustbuzzofalltheangerandthewrongnessandthecomplicationssurroundinghim,hecouldn’thearthesteadypulseofhiscodeanymore,sothathefoundhimselfhavingtoturntootherpeople’s—athingthatinitselfwasafundamentalandunpardonablebreachofhisown.
Whenheputinhispapers,andthesargeaskedhimwhy,hedidn’tmentionJeremiah.Thesargewouldhavethoughthehadgoneoutofhisever-lovingmind,losinghisnerveoveranincidentwherenoonegothurtworsethanacoupleofscrapedknees.Calwouldn’thaveknownhowtoexplainthatitwasn’tthathecouldn’thandlethejobanymore.Itwasthatoneortheotherofthem,himorthejob,couldn’tbetrusted.
Theriver,outofitsendlesssupplyofcontrariness,hasdecidedtobecharmingtoday.Thepercharelittle,butinsidehalfanhourCalhasenoughofthemtomakeupagooddinner.Hekeepsfishinganyway,evenwhenthecoldsetsupanacheinhisjoints,makinghimfeelold.Heonlypacksuphisgearwhenthelightcomingthroughthebranchesstartstotarnishandcontract,turningthewatergreen-blackandsullen.Hedoesn’tfeellikewalkinghomeinthedarktoday.
AshecomesuphislaneheseesMartleaningbackagainsthisgate,lookingoutacrosstheroadandthewild-grownhedgeandthefieldsscatteredwithhaybales,tothegoldinthesky.Athincurlofsmoketricklesfromhismouthandmeandersoffuptheroad.Besidehim,Kojaknipsthroughhisfurafteraflea.
AsCalgetscloser,Martturnshisheadanddropshiscigaretteunderhisboot.“Herecomesthebigboldhunter,”hesays,grinning.“Anyjoy?”
“Gotamessofperch,”Calsays,holdinguphiskillbag.“Youwantsome?”
Martwavestheperchaway.“Idon’teatfish.Theydepressme.IhadfisheveryFridayofmylife,tillthemammydied.I’veetenoughfishforonelifetime.”
“Ioughtabethatwayaboutgrits,”Calsays.“ButI’mnot.I’deatgritsanydayandtwiceonSundays,ifIcouldgetthem.”
“Whatthefeckisgrits,anyhow?”Martdemands.“Allthecowboysinthefillumsdoeatit,buttheyneverhavethecourtesytotellyouwhatitis.Isitsemolina,orwhatisitatall?”
“They’remadeofcornmeal,”Calsays.“Youboil’emupandserve’emwithwhateveryoulikebest.Ifavorshrimpandgrits,myself.IfIcouldgetmyhandsonsome,I’dinviteyouovertotrythem.”
“Noreen’dorderthatinforyou.Ifyoubatthebigaul’babybluesather.”
“Maybe,”Calsays.HeremembersBelindawavingtohimouthercarwindow.Hedoesn’tthinkNoreenisinthemoodtospecial-orderanythingforhimrightnow.
“Areyougettinghomesickonme,bucko?”Martinquires,eyeinghimsharply.“I’vetwentyquidonyou,downatSeánóg’s,tostickitouthereatleastayear.Don’tletmedown.”
“Igotnoplanstogoanywhere,”Calsays.“Who’dyoubetagainst?”
“Don’tbemindingthat.They’reacrowdofaul’fools,downthere;wouldn’tknowagoodbetifitwalkedupandbitthem.”
“MaybeIoughtastickafewbucksonmyself,”Calsays.“Whataremyoddslike?”
“Neveryoumind.Ifyouwinitforme,I’llgiveyouabitoffathetop.”
“You’relookinggood,”Calsays.It’strue.Martdoesn’thavetherawmaterialstolookfresh-faced,exactly,butbothhisperkinessandhismovementshavelosttheeffortfulqualityofthelastfewdays.HeappearstohavenointentionofexplaininghispresenceatCal’sgate.“Yougetyourbeautysleeplastnight?”
“Oh,begod,Idid.Sleptroundtheclock.Whateverthatyokewas,itwon’tbebotheringanyone’ssheepagain.”MartpokesCal’skillbagwithhiscrook.“Youdidwellthere.What’llyoudowiththeonesyoudon’teat?”
“Iwasthinkingaboutthatmyself,”Calsays.“Thatlittlefreezercompartmentwon’thold’em.IfIknewwheretofindMalachy,Imightgivehimafew,inexchangefortheothernight.”
Martconsidersthisandnods.“Mightnotbeabadidea.Malachylivesupthemountains,but.Youwon’tfindhisplace.Give’emtome;I’llseehegetsthem.”
MartandKojakwalkuptothehousewithCaltogetabagforthefish,buttheydon’tcomein.Martleansashoulderinthedoorframe,araggedandbumpyoutlineagainstthesunset.Kojakslumpsathisfeet.
“Themansion’slookingwell,”Martsays,inspectingCal’slivingroom.
“It’sslowwork,”Calsays.“Igotalotlefttodobeforewinterhits.”
“Iseeyou’vegotyourselfanapprentice,”Martsays,bendingtopickbrushoutofKojak’sfur.“Thatoughtaspeedthingsupabit.”
“How’sthat?”
“TreyReddy’sbeenhelpingyouout.”
Calhasbeenwaitingforthisforweeks,butthetimingisinteresting.“Yep,”hesays,findingabigZiplocbaginhiscupboard.“Kidcameroundlookingforwork,IfiguredIcoulduseahand.”
“Didn’tIwarnyouaboutthemReddys?”Martdemandsreproachfully.“Bunchagurriers.They’drobthenoseoffyourface,andsellitbacktoyouthenextday.”
“Youdid,”Calsays.“Kiddidn’tgivealastname;tookmeawhiletomaketheconnection.AndI’mnotmissinganythingthatIknowof.”
“Betterkeepaneyeonthemtools.They’dsellforafewbob.”
Calgoestothemini-fridgeforhisicetray.“Heseemslikeaprettygoodkidtome.ThesegonnabeenoughtokeepthefishcoldtillyoucangetthemtoMalachy?”
Martsays,“He?”
“Trey.”
“TreyReddy’sagirl,bucko.Didyounotspotthat?”
Calstraightensupfast,icetrayinhishand,andstares.
Martstartstolaugh.
“Areyoushittingme?”
Martshakeshishead.Hecan’ttalk.He’slaughingsohardthathedoublesover,banginghiscrookontheground.
“Trey’safuckingboy’sname.”
Cal’soutragesendsMartintoafreshgaleofgiggles.“ShortforTheresa,”hemanagestoexplain,throughthem.“Thefaceonyou.”
“HowthehellwasIsupposedtoknowthat?”
“HolyGod,”Martsays,straighteningupandwipinghiseyeswithaknuckle,stillgiggling.Apparentlythisisthefunniestthingthat’shappenedtohiminweeks.“Thatexplainsit.Herewasmewonderingwhatthebloodyhellyouwereat,lettingayounggirlhangaroundyou,andallthetimeyouhadn’tanotionshewasagirlatall.Doesn’tthatbeatBanagher?”
“Thekidlookslikeaboy.Theclothes.Thefuckinghaircut.”
“I’dsayshemightbealesbian,”Martsays,consideringthispossibility.“Shepickedtherighttimetobeone,anyway,ifsheis.Shecangetmarriedandall,thesedays.”
“Yeah,”Calsays.“Goodforher.”
“Ivotedforthat,”Martinformshim.“Thepriestintownwasbullingatmass,swearinghe’dexcommunicateanyonethatvotedyes,butIdidn’tpayhimanyheed.Iwantedtoseewhatwouldhappen.”
“Right,”Calsays,easinghisvoice.“Whatdidhappen?”Nowthattheinitialshockispast,hedoesn’tfeellikelettingMartknowjusthowpissedoffheiswithTrey.Infact,he’snotsurewhyhe’ssopissedoff,giventhatTreyneverclaimedtobeaboy,butheis.
“Notalot,”Martadmits,withsomeregret.“Notaroundhere,anyway.MaybeupinDublinthegaysareallmarryingthebejaysusoutofeachother,butIhaven’theardofanyintheseparts.”
“Welllookatthat,”Calsays.He’sonlyhalf-hearingMart.“Youwentandpissedoffthepriestfornothing.”
“Fuckhim.He’sonlyanaul’blow;toousedtogettinghisownway.Ineverlikedhim,bigJabbatheHuttheadonhim.It’shealthierformentolivewithmen,anyway.Theydon’tbewreckingeachother’sheads.Theymightaswellgetmarriedwhilethey’reatit,haveadayout.”
“Can’thurt,”Calsays.HebangstheicetrayonthecounterandthrowscubesintotheZiploc.
Martwatcheshim.“IfTreyReddy’snotrobbingyou,”hesays,“thenwhatdoesshewantoutofyou?ThemReddys,they’realwayslookingforsomething.”
“Learnalittlecarpentry,”Calsays.“Hedidn’taskforpay—she.Iwasthinkingaboutthrowingherafewbucks,butI’mnotsureifshe’dtakeitright.Whatdoyouthink?”
“AReddy’llalwaystakemoney,”Martsays.“Mindyourself,but.Youdon’twantherthinkingyou’reasofttouch.Areyougoingtoletherkeepcominground,nowyouknowshe’sayoungone?”
ThereisnowayonGod’sgreenearththatCalwouldhaveletalittlegirlhangaroundhisyard,nevermindcomeinsidehishouse.“Haven’thadtimetothinkaboutthat,”hesays.
“Whywouldyouwantherabouttheplace?Don’tbetellingmeyouneedthehelpwiththatbloodydesk.”
“She’shandyenough.AndI’vebeenenjoyingthecompany.”
“Sure,whatkindofcompanyisthatchild,atall?You’dgetmorechatoutofthataul’chair.Doyouevergettwowordsoutofher?”
“Kid’snotmuchofatalker,allright,”Calsays.“Sheletsmeknowshe’shungry,nowandagain.”
“Sendherpacking,”Martsays.There’safinalitytohisvoicethatmakesCallookathim.“Giveherthefewbob,tellheryouwon’tbeneedinghernomore.”
Calopenshiskillbagandscoopsupacoupleofperch.“Imightdothat,”hesays.“HowmanywouldMalachyeat?Hegotafamily?”
Marthitsthedoorwithhiscrook,makingarawwhackthatechoesstartlinglyloudlyinthehalf-bareroom.“Listentome,man.I’mlookingoutforyou.IfthisplacefindsoutTheresaReddy’shangingroundhere,people’lltalk.I’lltellthemyou’reasoundman,andI’lltellthemyouthoughtshewasayoungfella,butthere’sonlysofarthey’lllistentome.Idon’twanttoseeyoubetup,orburnedoutofit.”
Calsays,“YoutoldmeIdidn’tneedtoworrymyheadaboutcrimeroundhere.”
“Youdon’t.Notunlessyougoaskingforit.”
“Youafraidyou’regonnaloseyourtwentybucks?”Calasks,butMartdoesn’tsmile.
“Whataboutthechild?D’youwantthetownlandtalkingaboutherthewaythey’llbetalkingiftheyfindout?”
ThishadnotoccurredtoCal.“She’sakidlearningtobehandy,”hesays,keepinghisvoiceeven.“Isall.Ifafewdumbfuckswouldrathershewasoutonthestreetsmakingtrouble—”
“She’llbeonthestreetsallright,ifyoudon’tgetsense.They’llhaveherhuntedoutofherebyChristmas.Whered’youthinkshe’llgo?”
“Forfixingadeskandfryingarabbit?Whatthehell—”
“You’llgivemebloodpressure,soyouwill,”Martsays.“HonesttoGod.Orpalpitations.WouldyeYanksnotlearntolistenonceinawhile,soeveryonearoundyecanhavesomefuckin’peaceofmind?”
“Hereyougo,”Calsays,handingovertheZiploc.“MycomplimentstoMalachy.”
Marttakesthebag,buthedoesn’tmovetoleave.“TheotherreasonIvotedforthemarriageyoke,”hesays.“Mybrotherwasgay.NotSeamus,thatlivedherewithme;theotherfella.Eamonn.Itwasagainstthelaw,backwhenwewereyoung.HewentofftoAmericabecauseofit,intheend.Iaskedhimwouldhenotjointhepriesthoodinstead.Sure,theycoulddowhattheyliked,andnoonewouldsaybootothem;I’dsayhalfofthemwereridingthearseoffeachother.ButEamonnwashavingnoneofit.Hehatedallthembastards.Sooffhewent.Thatwasthirtyyearago.Neverheardanotherwordoutofhim.”
“YoutryFacebook?”Calasks.He’snotsurewherethisisgoing.
“Idid.There’safewEamonnLavinsonthere.One’sgotnophotoornothing,soIsenthimamessage,justincase.Henevergotbacktome,eitherway.”Kojakissniffingatthebag.Martpalmshisnoseaway.“Ithoughtmaybeoncewegotthegaymarriage,he’dcomehome,ifhe’salive.Butheneverdid.”
“Hemightyet,”Calsays.“Youneverknow.”
“Hewon’t,”Martsays.“Ihaditwrong.’Twasn’tthelawsthatweretheproblem.”Helooksoutoverthefields,atthepinksky.“It’sahardaul’place,this.Thefinestplaceintheworld,andwildhorseswouldn’tdragmeoutofit.Butit’snotgentle.AndifTheresaReddydoesn’tknowthatbynow,she’lllearnsoonenough.”
SIXTEEN
Whatwithonethingandanother,Calhasbeenneglectingsomestuff:therooks,forexample,andhisdailywalksaroundthecountryside,andthatdesk.Whenheseesthemorning—pristineinthesharpautumnsunlight,coldenoughtochillhispalatewitheachbreath—hefiguresthisisasgoodatimeasanytogetbacktothem.They’llkeephimoutdoors,whichiswherehewantstobewhenTreycomesaround.Andheneedstoherdhismindoffitsdustyolddetectivetrail,backtothepretty,sceniconehewasthoroughlyenjoyinguntilthekidshowedupsmackinthemiddleofit.
Hestartsbywalkinghislegssore.Afterthathemovesontotherooks,whohavebeensurveillinghimforlongenoughthattheyoughttobecomfortablewithhimbynow.Alyssausedtohavesomebookaboutkidswhohaddonesurprisingthings,amongthemalittlegirlwhohadmadefriendswithacrow.Therewerephotosofthepresentsthecrowwouldbringher:candywrappers,carkeys,brokenearringsandLegofigurines.Alyssaspentmonthstryingtostrikeuparelationshipwiththeirneighborhoodpigeons,whoasfarasCalcouldtellweretoodumbeventoidentifyherasalivingcreatureratherthanaweird-shapedfooddispenser.Hewouldreallyliketosendheraphotoofsomerooksbringinghimpresents.
Helaysoutahandfulofstrawberriesonthestump,andthenatrailofthemleadingfromthestumptothebackstep,wherehesitsdowntowait.Therookstumbledownfromtheirtree,bickeroverthestumpful,gethalfwayalongthetrail,thengiveCalacollectiveeye-rollandheadbacktotheirbusiness.
Caltriestofindhispatience,butitappearstohavegonemissingsomewherealongtheway,andthestepiscold.Afternowherenearenoughtime,hedecidestherookscanfuckthemselves,andgoesinsidetofetchthedeskandhistools.Bythetimehecomesbackoutdoors,everystrawberryisgone,andtherooksarebackintheirtreelaughingtheirassesoffathim.
Thedeskstillhastrickydepositsofwhitepaintincrevices,andTreycrackedanothershelfwhenshewentatit.Disentanglingthebrokenshelffromalltherestlookslikeapainintherearend,soCalgoesatthepaintwithatoothbrushandacupofsoapywater,ajobthatstartstoirritatehimalmostimmediately.Despitenothavingtouchedadropofboozeyesterday,hehasthesamefeelingheassociateswithhangovers,aheavy,pricklydisinclinationtowardseverythingaroundhim.Hewantstodayoveranddonewith.
Hegivesuponthepaint,wranglestheshelflooseandstartstracingitsoutlineonafreshpieceofwood.He’sfinishingupwhenhehearstheswishoffeetthroughthegrass.
Thekidlooksthesameasalways,allrattyparkaandunyieldingstare.Calcan’tseeagirlthere.Forallheknows,shehasbosomsofsomedegree,butheneverhadanyoccasiontoexaminethatareaindetailbeforeandthere’snowayinhellhe’sgoingtodoitnow.Itoccurstohimthatonereasonhe’spissedoffwithTreyisbecausehewouldhavelikedatleastonepersonaroundthisdamnplacetobeexactlywhattheyseem.
“Iwenttoschool,”sheinformshim.
“Congratulations,”Calsays.“I’mimpressed.”
Thekiddoesn’tsmile.“YoutalktoDonie?”
“Comehere,”Calsays.“Let’sgetthisfixedup.Youwannadothesawing?”
Treystandsstillforanothermoment,lookingathim.Thenshenodsandcomestrampingacrossthegrass.
SheknowsCalhassomethingtotellherthatshedoesn’twanttohear.Shewouldneverhaveaskedforthemercyofafewextraminuteswithoutit,butshe’stakingthemwhenheputstheminherhand.Thestoicismofher,completeandunthinkingasananimal’s,makesCalfeelblinded.
Hewantstochangehismind.But,shittythoughhisplanis,everyotheronehecanthinkofisevenworse.Itfeelslikeavast,implacablefailinginhischaracterthathecan’tcomeupwithjustonegoodsolutiontoofferthisscrawny,dauntlesskid.
Hehandsherthesawandmovessoshecantakeoveratthetable.“Youhadasnackafterschool?”
“Nah,”Treysays,squintingalongthesawline.
Calgoesinsideandcomesoutwithapeanutbuttersandwich,anappleandaglassofmilk.“Saythankyou,”hesaysautomatically.
“Yeah.Thanks.”Thekiddropscross-leggedonthegrassandaimsherselfatthesandwichlikeshehasn’teatenallday.
Calgoesbacktohispaintstreaks.Hedoesn’twanttosaywhathe’sabouttosay.Hewouldliketoleavethisafternoonundisturbed,letitunrollitselfinitsownslowtimeacrossthenewlyplowedfields,totherhythmsoftheirworkandthewestwindandthelowautumnsun,rightupuntilthemomentwhenhehastowreckeverything.
But,Mart’stheorynotwithstanding,thereareacoupleofreasonsCalcanthinkofwhyagirlmightnotwanttolooklikeagirl.IfsomeonehasbeendoingbadthingstoTrey,hisplanwillneedtochange.
“Igotabonetopickwithyou,”hesays.
Treychewsandgiveshimablanklook.Calcan’ttellwhetherthisrelatestothesubjectathand,orwhethershejusthasn’theardtheexpressionbefore.
Hesays,“Younevertoldmeyou’reagirl.”
Thekidlowershersandwichandwatcheshim,withfastthingszippingbehindhereyes.She’stryingtoreadinhisfacewhatthismeans.Forthefirsttimeinalongtime,shelooksreadytorun.
Shesays,“NeversaidIwasaboy.”
“YouknewIthoughtyouwere,though.”
“Neverthoughtaboutit.”
Hermusclesarestillprimedforflight.Calsays,“AreyouscaredI’mgonnahurtyou?”
“Areyoupissedoff?”
“I’mnotmad,”Calsays.“I’mjustnotcrazyaboutsurprises.Didsomeonedosomethingbadtoyou’causeyou’reagirl?”
Hereyebrowstwitchtogether.“Likewhat?”
“Likeanything.Anythingthatmightmakeyoufeelbettergoingaroundlikeaboy.”
He’salertfortheslightestflinchoftensionorwithdrawal,butthekidjustshakesherhead.“Nah.Mydad,hewenteasieronusgirls.”
Shehasnoideawhathe’saimingat.Calfeelsafloodofrelief,chasedbysomethingthornierandhardertoidentify.Thekiddoesn’tneedhisrescuing;there’snoreasontochangehisplan.“Wellthen,”hesays.“QuitlookingatmelikeI’mgonnathrowthistoothbrushatyou.”
“How’dyouknow?Didsomeonesayittoyou?”
Calsays,“What’swiththehair?”
Treyswipesahandoverherheadandchecksit,likeshe’sexpectingaleaforsomething.“Huh?”
“Thebuzzcut.Makesyoulooklikeaboy.”
“Ihadlice.Mymamhadtashaveit.”
“Great.Youstillgot’em?”
“Nah.Lastyear.”
“Thenhowcomeit’sstillshort?”
“Lesshassle.”
Calisstilltryingtooverlayagirlontopoftheboyhe’saccustomedto.“Whatwasitlikebefore?”
Treyholdsupahandsomewherearoundhercollarbone.Calcan’tpictureit.“WhenIwasinschool,kidswould’vegivenagirlshitforhavingherhairlikethat.Noonedoes?”
Thekiddoesacombinationshrug,mouth-twistandeye-roll,whichCaltakestomeanthatthisistheleastofherproblems.“Theymostlyleavemealone.’CauseIbetupBrianCarney.”
“Howcome?”
Treyshrugsagain.Thisonemeansit’snotworthgoinginto.Afteramomentshesays,withaquickglanceatCalunderhereyebrows,“Doyoucare?”
“ThatyoubeatupBrianWhatsisname?Dependsonwhy.Sometimesyougotnochoicebuttosetsomeonestraight.”
“ThatI’magirl.”
“Atyourageakid’sakid,”Calsays.“Doesn’tmakemuchdifferencewhatkind.”Hewouldlovethistobetrue.
Treynodsandgoesbacktoherfood.Calcan’ttellwhetherthesubjectisclosedinhermind.Afteralittlebitshesays,“Yougotanykids?”
“One.”
“Boyorgirl?”
“Girl.She’sgrown.”
“Where’shermam?Wereyounotmarried?”
“Wewere.Notanymore.”
Treyabsorbsthis,chewing.“Howcome?Youahoormasterlikeyourdad?”
“Nope.”
“Didjabeather?”
“No.Neverlaidafingeronher.”
“Thenhowcome?”
“Kid,”Calsays,“Ihavenoidea.”
Trey’seyebrowstwitchtogetherskeptically,butshesaysnothing.Shebitesachunkofftheapple,putsitinsideherlastpieceofsandwichandtriesoutthecombination,withmixedresults,goingbythelookonherface.ItmakesCal’sbonesfeelweak,howlittleshesometimesis.
Shesays,“Doesyourgirlknowyou’rehere?”
“Sure.Italktohereveryweek.”
“Isthedeskgonnabeforher?”
“Nah,”Calsays.“She’sgotherownplace,herownfurniture.That’sstayingrighthere.”
Treynods.Shefinishestheappleandtossesthecore,withahardwhipofherwrist,downthegardentowardstherooks.Thenshewipesherhandsonherjeansandgoesbacktosawing.
Thesoundsoftheirworkfallintoabalancethatcouldsustainitselfforever.Theswiftsstreakandcrisscrossinthecoolbluesky,andtheweaninglambscalltoeachotherinwaverytrebles.OffonDumboGannon’slandaredtractorlumberspatientlybackandforth,smallasabeetlewithdistance,leavingabroadbandofdarkupturnedearthbehindit.
Calgivesthemaslongashecanafford.Treysawsouttheshelf,measuresandchecks,chiselsandplanes,squintsandmeasuresagain.Calscrubscracks,wipesthemdown,scrapesalittlewithabladewhenheneedsto.Trey,finallysatisfied,movesontosanding.
Thelightisstartingtocondense,lyinggoldenashoneyacrossthefields.Calneedstogetthisdone.
“ItalkedtoDonie,”hesays,hearingthewordsstartsomethingsplittinglikewood.
Trey’sshouldersset.Sheputsdowntheshelfandthesandpaper,carefully,andturnstolookathim.“Yeah,”shesays.
Calcanseethewhitearoundhereyes,andtheflareofhernostrilswhenshebreathes.Heknowsherheartisgoinglikearunawayhorse.
“It’snotbadnews,kid.OK?”
Ahardbreathcomesoutofher.Sheswipesthebackofherwristacrosshermouth.“OK,”shesays.
She’sthesamebadwhiteasshewaswhenshewingedtherabbit.“Youwannasitdownforthis,getcomfortable?”Calasks.“It’salongstory.”
“Nah.”
“Suityourself,”Calsays.Hebrushespaintdustoffthedeskandleanshisforearmsonthetopofit,keepinghismovementsslowandeasy,thewayhewouldaroundaspookedanimal;thewayhedidthefirstcoupleoftimesthekidcamearound,justafewweeksago.“Tostartwith:youwantedtoknowwhyIwasaimingtotalktoDonie.Mythinkingwentlikethis.Brendanwasplanningtousethatcottagetogenerateagoodincome.Hehadsomethingshadyinmind,orhe’d’vetoldyouaboutit.Whichmeanshewould’veneededtotalktopeoplewhohaveshadyconnections.TheonlypeoplelikethatroundherearetheboyswhocomedownfromDublinsellingdrugs.AndI’dseenDoniehangingoutwiththeminthepub.”
Treynods,onetightjerk.She’sfollowinghim.She’sstillwhite,butthewildnesshasgoneoutofhereyes.
“SoIwenttocallonDonie.Iknew,likeyousaid,hewouldn’tbetooeagertotellthestorytoastranger—speciallysince,ifyouheardIwasacop,hehadtohaveheardthesamething.Butwecametoanunderstandingintheend.”
“Didjabeathimup?”
“Nah.Noneed.YouonlyhavetomeetDonieoncetoknowhe’snotabigplayer.He’sjustsometwo-bithanger-on,kissingtherealguys’assesandscaredshitlessofthemthewholetime.SoallIhadtodowasmakeitsoundlikeIknewalotmorethanIdid,andthentellDonieifhedidn’tfillinthegapsforme,Iwasgonnamakesurehiscityfriendsheardhe’dbeentalkingtoacop.”
Treyclearlyapprovesofthis.“Andhetalked?”
“Sanglikealittlebirdie,”Calsays.“Donieisn’texactlyamastermind,sohemightahadsomedetailswrong,butIthinkhegotallthebonesofthematterinplace.Here’swhathesays,anyway.YouknowallthatcrapupinBrendan’shideout?”
Treynodssharply.
“Sometimespeoplegetholdofstufftheyshouldn’thave.Thentheyselliton.”
“Brendan’snotathief.”
“Shutupandlisten,kid.I’mnotsayingheis.WhatI’msayingis,sometimesitmighttakethesepeopleawhiletofindbuyers.Whilethey’relooking,theyneedsomewheretostorethestuff.Somewheresecureandoutoftheway,sonoone’sgonnastumbleonitbymistake,andthecopswon’tfinditunlesstheyknowexactlywheretolook.Iftheseguysfindtherightplace,runbysomeonereliablewho’sgonnakeeptheirstuffsafe,they’llpaydecentrent.”
“Likeawarehouse.”
“Yeah.Exactlylike.Andaplacelikehere,nottoofarfromtheborder,thisisprimeterritory.Brendansawagapinthemarket,andherealizedhishideoutwastheperfectplacetofillit.Allheneededtodowasfixitupsome,andgetintouchwithpeoplewho’duseit.”
Treyevaluatesthis.ApparentlyshecanfitthislevelofshadinessintoherideaofBrendan.Shenods.
“SoBrendanstartedfixingtheplaceup.Maybeheevengotacoupleoflocalguysusingit,hereandthere,butthey’dbetoosmall-timetobemuchusetohim.Heneededtolandsomebiggerfish.”
“TheladsfromDublin,”Treysays.
“Thispart’swhereDoniegotalittlehazyonthedetails,”Calsays.“Noone’sgonnatelladumbasslikehimmorethantheyneedto;hejustgotgiventhegeneralgistofwhatwentdown.Besthecantell,BrendanwaitedtilltheDublinboyswereintownandaskedthemtoputhimintouchwithpeoplewhomightwanthisservices.Theywereinterested,buttherewasalittlebitofdisagreementamongthemaboutBrendan’soperation.Someofthemthoughthe’dbeanasset,butsomeofthemthoughthe’dbemoreofaliability.FromwhatIcangather,they’replanningonrunningsomethingoftheirownupthosemountains,andtheydidn’twantBrendanandhisclientsdrawingpoliceattentioninthatdirection.”
“Guyslikethat,”Treysays.Shedoesn’tfinish.
“Yeah,”Calsays.“Youdon’twanttopissthemoff.Brendanprobablyshouldatakenthatpossibilityintoaccount,butfromwhatI’vebeentold,hehadatendencytogetcarriedawayandforgettofactorinotherpeople’sreactions.Thatsoundrighttoyou?”
Treynods.Calspenthalfthenightsmoothingtheedgesonthisstoryandlookingitoverfromdifferentangles,makingsureitholdstogetherandincorporatesallthepiecesTreyhaspossessionof.Therearelittleholeshereandthere,butnothingthatwouldmakeitfallapartunderpressure.Ithasenoughtruthinittoactasglue.There’sevenachance,andwhatatripthatwouldbe,thatwithafewminorsubstitutionsthishinkystoryisaccidentallytrue.
“So,”hesays,“Brendansetupameetingwiththem,thinkinghewasgonnapaythemforabunchofphonenumbersandeveryonewouldgoawayhappy.Bythetimethemeetingcamearound,though,theonesthatthoughthewasaliabilityhadshouteddowntherest.Theytoldhimtogetoutoftownandstaygone.”
“Justtoldhimtoleave,”Treysays.Herbreathiscomingfastandshallow.“Theydidn’ttakehim?Fordefinite?”
“Nah.Whatwouldtheywanthimfor?Alltheywantedfromhimwastogetoutoftheirhair,andhedidthathimself,rightquick.Hehadmoresensethantohangaroundtillhegottoldagain.”
“Sothat’swhyhewent.Not’causehewantedto.”
“That’sright,”Calsays.“Hedidn’thaveachoice.”
AhardbreathcomesoutofTreyandhereyesskidaway,oneplaceandthenanother.ThethoughtofBrendanwalkingoutwithoutaword,becausehewantedto,hasbeeneatingherrawandbloodyformonths.Nowthatit’sgone,shecan’ttakeintheclearspacewhereitusedtobe.
Calletsherbe.Afteraminutesheasks,“Where’dhego?”
“Donie’snotsure.HethinksScotland,forwhateverthat’sworth.Hesaystheboysdidn’ttakeanycashoffBrendan,soheshouldahadenoughtogethimsomewhereandgethimsetup.Andifhe’sgotsense,hewon’tbebackforawhile.”
Treysays,comingdownheavyonthewords,“Buthe’salive.”
“Farasanyoneknows.Noguarantees—hecouldafallenofftheboatonthewayover,orgothitbyacar,sameasanyonecould.Butthere’snoreasontothinkhe’sanythingbut.”
“Thenwhydidn’thering?Evenonce,letusknowhewasOK?”
Thequestionforcesitswayoutagainstherwill.Thisistheotherhalfofwhat’sbeengnawinghertothebones.ShewantedBrendankidnappedbecausethatwouldhavebeenfixable.
“Theseareprettyscaryguys,kid,”Calsaysgently.“Myguessis,Brendanknowsyouwellenoughtofigurethatifyougotanysmellofwhatwentdown,youmightgotryingtofixthingssohecouldcomehome.Andthatwould’vejustmadethesituationworse.Forhimandyouboth.Helikedtoprotectyou,right?”
“Yeah.Hedid.”
“That’swhathewasdoing.Ifyouwanttodothesameforhim,thebestthingyoucandoistrusthimandsticktowhathewantedyoutodo.Pullinyourhorns,keepyourmouthshutandgoaboutyourbusinesstillhefiguresit’ssafetocomehome.”
Treylooksathimforanotherlongminute.Thenshesays,“Thanks.”Sheturnsbacktothetableandstartssandingagain,verycarefullyandveryneatly.
Calgoesbacktohistoothbrushandhissoapywater,eventhoughthedeskisalreadyascleanashecangetit.Treydoesn’tsayanotherword,soneitherdoeshe.Theirsideofthemountainshasdarkened,itsgreatshadowbleedingacrossthefieldstowardsthem,bythetimethekidbringstheshelfovertohim.
Everyedgeissmoothaspaper.CalpassesTreythehammerandshefitstheshelfcarefullyintoplace,atapononesideandthenatapontheother.ShestandsbackandlooksupatCal.
“Goodjob,”hesays.“You’vedonefineworkonthis,kid.Nowyoubettergethome.”
Treynods,dustingherhandsonherjeans.
“So,”Calsays.“Yougotyouranswer,nearasIcancometoit.GladIcouldhelpout.”Heholdsouthishand.
Thekidlooksatit,andthenupatCal’sface,baffled.
“Caseclosed,kid,”Calsays.“Ihopeyourbrothercomeshomewhenthingssettledown.SeeyouroundNoreen’ssometime,ifshedoesn’tbanyou.”
Treysays,“I’llcomebackanyway.Finishthat.”Shejerksherchinatthedesk.
“Nope,”Calsays.“Nothingpersonal.You’rehandyandyou’refinecompany,butIcameheretogetawayfromcompany.”
Thekidisstaringathimwithherfacewipedblankbyshock.Calrealizes,withagriefsodeepandexhaustingthathewantstosinktohiskneesandputhisforeheaddownonthecoolgrass,howbadlyshewantstokeepcominground.
HehasexperienceinwhathappensifyoutrytomakeTreyReddygiveuponsomethingshe’ssetherhearton.Hisonlycourseistomakeherwanttonevercomeback.
Ifshedoesn’trealizewhatpeoplewillsay,hecan’tbringhimselftoputthatintohermind.Insteadhesays,“Youwantedmetofindoutwhathappenedtoyourbrother,kid.Ididthat.Whatelsedoyouwantfromme?”
Treykeepsstaring.Shelookslikeshemightsaysomething,butnothingcomesout.
Calletsawrygrinslideontohisface.“Huh,”hesays.“IdidgetwarnedabouttheReddysandcash.Isthatwhatyouwant?Payfortheworkyou’vedone?’CauseIcanprobablysparefifty,sixtybucks,butifyou’rethinkingabouttakingwhatyou’reowedwhenI’mnotlooking—”
Forasecondhethinksshe’sgoingtogoforthedeskagain,ormaybeforhim.He’sfinewitheitherone.Shecantakethedesktosplintersifthat’swhatsheneeds.Heevenmovesbacktogiveheraclearshot.Insteadshespits,swiftandviciousasarattlesnakestriking,athisfeet.Itlandsonhisbootwithasplat.Thenshewhipsaroundandstridesoff,fastandhard,towardstheroad.
Calwaitsaminuteandgoestothegate.Treyisalreadyfaraway,movingfastthroughtheblotchesoflightandshadowthatpatterntheroad,withherheaddownandherhandsjammeddeepinherpockets.Hewatchestillshereachestheupwardsslantintheroadandisreceivedintothebrightmuddleofsunandhedge-branchesatthetop,andalongtimeafter.Nothingfollowsher.
Hecarrieshistoolsinside,andhistable,andfinallythedesk.Heputsthedeskinthesparebedroom,whereitwon’tbealwayscatchinghiseye.HewouldhavelikedtofinishthatdesktogetherwithTrey,beforehehadtosendheraway.
Probablyheshouldmaketherestofyesterday’sperchintodinner,butinsteadhegetshimselfabeerandtakesitouttothebackstep.Intheeasttheskyisdeepeningtowardslavender;beneathittheredtractorstandsstill,abandonedinmid-furrow.Theplowinghasaddedanewlayertotheair’ssmell,somethingricheranddarker,thickwithhiddenthings.
See?hetellsDonna,inhishead.Icanwalkawayfromacase,ifit’stherightthingtodo.Donna,refusingtobeobligingeveninhisimagination,rollshereyesandmakesaferociousnoiseattheheavens.
CaltoldTreythetruth:hedoesnot,infact,knowwhyheandDonnasplitup.Asfarashecantell,whathappenedwasthatinAlyssa’sjunioryearofcollegeshegotmuggedandbeatupprettybad,andtwoyearslaterDonnawalkedout,andapparentlytherewassomemysteriousconnectionthatCalistoodumbtounderstand.
Atthetime,therewasnoindicationthatthefirstoftheseeventswouldleadtothesecond.HeandDonnaflewouttoSeattlesofastthattheygottherewhileAlyssawasstillinrecoveryfromsurgeryforasmashedshoulderbone.OnceCalwassureshewasgoingtobeOK,heleftDonnatositwithherandheadeddowntotheprecinct.Heknewexactlywhatprioritywouldbeassignedtoarandommugging,butthemuggingofacop’sdaughterwasadifferentmatter,andthedaughterofacopwhowasallupintheprecinct’sgrillewasanotherthingagain.OverthenextcoupleofweeksCalharriedthatprecinct,politelyandrelentlessly,tilltheypulledCCTVfootagefromeverycamerainablockradius.Thatgotthemacoupleofgrainyshotsofthemugger,whichCalandtheprecinctguysworked—somedaysCalputintwentyhours—tilltheydraggeduparunty,redheadedjunkiecalledLyle,whostillhadAlyssa’screditcardinhisjacketpocket.
WhenCaltoldAlyssa,shewasstilltooshakenupeventoshowrelief;shejustlookedathimandthenturnedherheadaway.Calunderstood:hehadhopedshewouldbepleased,buthehadseenenoughvictimstounderstandthattraumashapesfeelingsintoformsyouwouldneverexpect.
Overthenextwhile,heandDonnaweremostlytakenupbyworryingaboutAlyssa.Shewouldn’tletthemstaywithher,afterthefirstcoupleofweeks,andshewouldn’tcomehome,sotheyhadtodotheirworryinglong-distance.Theattackhadcrackedhermindallover,likeadroppedmirrorwherethepiecesarestillinplacebutthewholedoesn’tfunctionrightanymore.CalneverdidfigureoutwhetheritwasthephysicalharmorthethingsLylehadthreatenedtodotoher—Alyssahadtriedtotalkhimdown,connectwithhimlikeonehumanbeingtoanother,andLylehadn’ttakenwelltothat.Eitherway,shewouldbarelygetoutofbed,letalonegotoclassandhangoutwithherfriendsandwhateverelsesheshouldhavebeendoing.
Gradually,though,hermindhealedover.Shestartedgoingtoclassesagain.Onenightshelaughedonthephone.Afewweekslater,whenCalphonedtotellherthatLylewaspleadingguilty,shewasatabarwithBen.Calknewthecrackswerestillthereandstillfragile,buthealsoknewhowstrongthedrivetowardslifeisinhealthyyoungcreatures.Heputhistrustinthat,asfarashewascapableofdoing.
WhenDonnastartedgivinghimshit,atfirstCalputthatdowntothesamething:delayedtrauma,comingoutnowthatshehadroomforit.Theshitinquestionwasinitiallyageneralizedbuckshotspatterofanger,butgradually,asDonnatalkedherthoughtsintoclarity,itfocusedinontheirtimeinSeattle:specifically,thefactthatCalhadspentmostofthattimetrackingdownLyle.Donnafelt,apparently,thatheshouldhavespentitinAlyssa’sapartment,withherandherroommatesandDonnaandBenandwhateverotherfriendshadshownuptooffermoralsupportandgossipandcrapwithchiaseedsinit.
“WhatwasIgonnadothere?”
“Talktoher.Hugher.Justfuckingsitthere.Anythingwould’vebeenbetterthannothing.”
“Ididsomething.Iwentoutandgottheguy.Withoutme,theywouldhave—”
“Shedidn’tneedyououtsomewherebeingacop.Sheneededyourightinthatroombeingherfather.”
“Shedidn’twantmethere,”Calsaid,baffled.“Shehadyou.”
“Didyouaskher?”Donnasnapped,handsandeyebrowsflyingup.“Didyoueverask?”
Calhadn’t.Ithadseemedobvioustohimthatatatimelikethat,akidneededhermamawithher,andthatDonnawoulddothetalkingandhuggingpartalotbetterthanhewould.HehadgoneoutandbroughtAlyssathebesthehadtooffer,whichwasLyle’slouse-riddenscalp.Thatdidn’tseemlikenothingtohim.Withouthiswork,Lylewouldstillhavebeenonthestreets;everytimeshewentoutherdoor,Alyssawouldhavebeenwatchingforhimoneverycorner.Now,atleastforthenextseventotenyears,shecouldgooutwithoutbeingafraid.
Eitherway,thisdidnot,atfirst,seemlikemarriage-endingmaterial.Butoverthenextmonthsitledthem,viaaseriesofleapsandskidsthatCalbarelymanagedtofollowevenatthetime,intomuchdarkerandmuddierplaces.Theyarguedforhoursonend,lateintothenight,farpastthepointwhereCalbecametoopunch-drunkandexhaustedtounderstandwhattheywerearguingabout.IntheendDonnagotmadenoughthatsheleft,whichstunnedCaltothebones.HehadgotplentymadatDonna,inthecourseoftheirtimetogether,butnevermadenoughthatitoccurredtohimtowalkout.
TheonlythinghetookawayfromthoseargumentswithanyclaritywasthatDonnabelievedhewouldbeabetterhusband,andabetterfather,ifhewasn’tacop.Calthoughtthatwasaloadofhooey,buthefoundhimselfwillingtorunwithitanyway.Hehadhistwenty-five,Alyssawasoutofcollege,andthejobwasnolongerwhatithadbeen,ormaybewhatCalhadbelieveditwas.Hecouldn’ttellwhatitwas,anymore,buthewasbecomingclearerandclearerthathedidn’tlikeit.
Hedidn’ttellDonnawhathehaddecideduntilhehadturnedinhispaperwork,gotitallapprovedandgotinwritingthedatewhenhewouldhandinhisbadge.Hewantedtopresentherwithsomethingsolid,soshewouldknowhewasn’tbullshitting.Maybeheleftittoolong,becausewhenhetoldDonna,shesaidshehadsomethingtotellhim,too,whichturnedouttobethatshewasseeingsomeguycalledElliottfromherbookclub.
Caldidn’trevealthatparttohisbuddies.TheywouldhavesaidthatDonnahadbeenbangingElliottallalongandthatwaswhyshelefttobeginwith,andCalknowsshewasn’t.Hewouldliketobelieveshewas,forhisownpeaceofmind,butheknowsDonnabetterthanthat.Shehashercodetoo.ProbablythethoughtofhookingupwithElliottneversomuchascrossedhermindwhilesheandCalweretogether,orshewouldneverhavelaidafingeronhimevenaftertheysplit.Hejusttoldtheguysthatshehadsaiditwastoolate,whichshehad,andtheguysboughtCalmorebeerandtheyallagreedontheincomprehensibilityofwomen.
Butthis,whichshouldhaveprovidedsomecomfort,justmadehimfeelworse.Hefeelslikeafraud,becausetheotherthinghetookawayfromallthosefightswithDonnawasthatsomehow,withouteverintendingto,hehadletherandAlyssadown.AllCaleverwantedtobewasasteadymanwhotookcareofhisfamilyanddidrightbythepeoplearoundhim.Formorethantwentyyears,hewentabouthisbusinessbelievinghewasthatman.Onlysomewherealongtheway,hefuckedup.Helostholdofhiscode,andtheworstpartisthathecan’tunderstandwhathedid.Everythinghe’sbeensincethatmomenthasbeenworthnothing,andhedoesn’tevenknowwhatthemomentwas.
Calfinisheshisbeerandheadsupthefadingroad.MartandKojakcometotheirdoorinacloudofonionsandpaprika.“Well,wouldyoulookatthat,”Martsayshappily.“It’sSunnyJim.How’sshecutting?”
“ItoldTreyReddytogetlost,”Calsays.“Shewon’tbecomingroundanymore.”
“Goodmanyourself,”Martsays.“Iknewmymoneywassafeonyou.You’llbegladyoudiditintheend.”HewavesCaltowardsthekitchen.“Sityoudowntherenow,andI’llgetanotherplate.I’maftermakingachickenandbaconpaellathat’sonlyfeckin’beautiful,ifIdosaysomyself.”
“Iate,”Calsays.“Thanks.”HegivesKojak’searsarubandgoeshome,throughthecolddarkeningairandthesmellofsmokecomingfromsomewhere.
SEVENTEEN
WhenCalwalksintoNoreen’sthenextday,he’sexpectingafrostystareifhe’slucky,butshegreetshimwithablockofcheddar,alongaccountofhowBobbycameinaskingforitandshetoldhimthatwhenhismannerswereasgoodasCalHooper’she’dgetthesameserviceCalgetsandthebigeejitleftpracticallyintears,andareminderthatinacoupleofweeksLena’spupswillbeoldenoughtoleavetheirmammy.CalhasbeeninArdnakeltylongenoughtointerpretthenuancesofthisexchange.NotonlydoesNoreenknowthathe’sseenthelight,andapprovewholeheartedly,she’sgoingtomakesuretherestofthetownlandknowsittoo.CalwonderswhetherMartwentasfarasbreakingthetermsofhisfeudwithNoreentomakethishappen.
Bywayofconfirmation,hetestsoutSeánóg’sthatevening.HewalksinthedoorandishitbyaburstofwhoopsandironiccheeringfromMart’scorner.“Jaysus,”Senansays,“thedeadarose.WethoughtMalachyhadkiltyou.”
“Wereckonedyoumusthaveanawfuldelicateconstitutionaltogether,”saysthebuck-nakedwindowguy,“tobeputoffthedrinkforlifebyafewsipsofpoteen.”
“Who’swe,kemosabe?”Martdemands.“Itoldyehe’dbeback.Hedidn’tfancylookingatyouruglymugsforafewdays,isall.Idon’tblamehim.”HemovesovertomakeroomforCalonthebanquette,andsignalstoBartytobringhimapint.
“Comehere,”BobbysaystoSenan.“Askhim.He’dknow.”
“Whywouldheknow?”
“It’sprobablysomeAmericanyoke.TheyoungpeopledoallbetalkingAmericanthesedays.”
“Goonandeducateme,then,”SenansaystoCal.“What’sayeet?”
“Awhat?”Calsays.
“Ayeet.I’msittingonthesofatonightaftermytea,doingabitofdigesting,andmyyoungestladcomesrunningin,launcheshimselfontomyfeckin’bellylikehe’sbeenshotfromacannon,yells‘Yeet!’outofhimrightinmyface,andlegsitoutagain.Iaskedoneofmyotherfellaswhathewasonabout,butheonlylaughedhisarseoffandtoldmeI’mgettingold.Thenheaskedmefortwentyquidtogointotown.”
“Didyougiveittohim?”Calasks.
“Ididnot.Itoldhimtofuckoffandgetajob.Whatthehellisayeet?”
“Youneversawayeet?”Calsays.Hefindshimselffeduptothebackteethwithbeingtossedaroundbytheseguyslikeabeachball.“They’repetanimals.Likehamsters,onlybiggeranduglier.Greatbigfatfacesandlittlepiggyeyes.”
“Ihaven’tgotafatfuckin’face.You’retellingmemyyounglad’saftercallingmeahamster?”
“Well,”Calsays,“thatword’susedforsomethingelse,too,butIhopeyourboywouldn’tknowaboutthat.Howoldishe?”
“Ten.”
“Hegottheinternet?”
Senanisswellingupandturningred.“Ifthatlittlefecker’sbeenlookingatporn,hecansaygood-byetohisdrumkit,andhisXbox,andhis—everything.What’sayeet?Didhecallhisownfatheraprick?”
“He’sonlywindingyouup,yeeejit,”thebuck-nakedwindowguytellshim.“He’snomorenotionofyeetsthanyouhave.”
SenanglaresatCal.“Neverheardof’em,”Calsays.“Butyou’recutewhenyou’reangry.”
Everyoneroarswithlaughter,andSenanshakeshisheadandtellsCalwherehecanshovehishamsters.Theguysorderanotherround,andMartinsistsonteachingCaltherulesofFifty-Five,onthegroundsthatifhe’splanningonstickingaroundthesepartshemightaswellmakehimselfuseful.NobodysaysawordaboutTrey,orBrendan,orDonie,ordeadsheep.
NobodyCalmeets,infact,mentionsanyofthose.Caltriestotakethisasanindicationthatthewholethingiswellandtrulyover—surelyifthekiddidanythingdumb,hewouldhearaboutit,onewayoranother.He’snotentirelysurethat’sthecase.
Treyherselfhasdematerialized.Calispreparedforanythingfromslashedtirestoabrickthroughhiswindow—he’smovedhismattressintoacorneroutofrange,andhekeepsalookoutformissilesonhiswayinandoutofthehouse.Nothinghappens.Whenhesitsonhisstepintheevenings,nothingrustlesinthehedgesbutbirdsandsmallanimals.Whenheworksonhishouseorcookshisdinner,thebackofhisneckstaysquiet.Ifhedidn’tknowbetter,hecouldeasilyfindhimselfbelievingthatheimaginedthewholething.
Hegoesflatoutonthehouse:getsthenameofthelocalchimneysweepfromNoreen,finishespaintingthewallsinthefrontroomandmovesontostrippingthewallpaperinthelittlesecondbedroom.Mart’sbuddyLockycomesroundtodotherewiringandprovideawashingmachine,atapricethatCalknowsbetterthantoinquireinto.Lockyshowsaninclinationtochat,soCaltakestheopportunitytogointotownandbuyhimselfsomenewkitchencupboardsandanactualfridge-freezer.Withtheminstalledandafireinthefireplace,thefrontroomchanges.Itlosesitsremote,dismantledairandcomestogetherintosomethingwhosebarenesshasaspare,solidwarmth.HeWhatsAppsAlyssaaphoto.Ohwow,shetextsback,itlooksgreat!
Gettingthere,Caltexts.Youshouldcomeseeit.Alyssacomesbackwith,Yes!Assoonasworksettlesdownandaneye-rollemoji.EventhoughthisismuchwhatCalexpected,itleaveshimsoreandlow,withtheurgetocallDonnaandpissheroff.
Insteadhegoesouttohiswoodsandspendsacoupleofhourscollectingdeadbranchestostackforfirewood.Thecoldhassettledin,andafinenetcurtainofrainhangsintheair.WheneverCalleavesthehouse,evenjusttotakeoutthetrash,hedoesn’tfeeladrophithim,buthegetsbackinsidedampthrough.Somehowitseepsinsidethehouse,too:nomatterhowlonghekeepsthefireburningandtheoilheateron,hissleepingbagandhisduvetalwaysfeelalmostimperceptiblydamp.Hebuysanotherheaterforhisbedroom,whichhelpssomebutnotawholelot.
Hetriestotakeadvantageofthefactthathecanplayhismusicasloudashewantsagain,butitdoesn’tgotoplan.Hestartsoutwell,cookingdinnertoagoodrousingdoseofSteveEarlecompletewithfullairdrums,justlikenooneevercamepeepinginthewindowstoseehimmakeafoolofhimself.Somehoworother,though,bytheendoftheeveninghefindshimselfsittingonhisbackstepwithabeer,lookingupintothedarkeninghazeoftheskyandfeelingthemistofrainthickenonhisskinandhishair,whileJimReevesfillstheairwithanoldtearjerkeraboutaguytrudgingthroughablizzardwhoalmostmakesithome.
OneofthefewthingsthatgiveCalrealpleasureinthesedaysisthediscoverythathestillhashiseyeforarifle.Theweatherlendsitselfmoretofishing,buthedoesn’thavethepatiencejustnow.HewouldlovetospendmoretimeoutwiththeHenry,drizzleornodrizzle,butthere’salimittohowmuchrabbithecaneat.HestashesacoupleinhisnewfreezerandtakestwotoDanielBoone,whorewardshimwithadiscountonbulletsandatourofhisfavoriteguns,andapairtoNoreen,tomakeitclearthatheseesandappreciateshersupport.HeknowsheoughttotakeonetoMart,buthecan’tbringhimselftodoit.
HecouldtakeonetoLena,excepthe’savoidingherwithsuchdedicationthathefeelslikeadamnfool,skulkingoutsidetheshoptryingtomakesureshe’snotintherebeforehecanworkupthecouragetogoinhimself.Hewouldlovetodoallhisshoppingintownforafewweeks,buthecan’triskoffendingNoreenatthisdelicatemoment.Thisalsomeanshecan’thurryinandout;hehastolistentoallthenewsaboutAngelaMaguire’shearttrouble,completewithanexplanationofhowNoreenandAngelaarehalfcousinsviaagreat-grandmotherwhomayormaynothavepoisonedherfirsthusband,anddiscusswhatthenewwaterparkupbeyondtownmightmeanforArdnakelty.Normallyhewouldbehappytospendhalfhisdayonthis,butifLenaseeshimshe’llwanttotalkaboutthepup,andCalisn’tgoingtotakethepup.
Forthefirsttimesincehearrived,Irelandfeelstinyandcrampedtohim.Whatheneedsisthousandsofmilesofopenhighwaywherehecanflooritalldayandallnightlong,watchingthesunandthemoonpassovernothingbutochredesertandtangledbrush.Ifhetriedthataroundhere,hewouldgetaboutfiftyyardsbeforerunningintoanunjustifiableroadtwist,aflockofsheep,apotholethesizeofhisbathtuboratractorgoingtheotherway.Hegoeswalkinginstead,butthefieldsaresosoddentheysquelchlikebogunderhisfeet,andtheroadvergesarechurnedtoextravagantpitsandridgesofmudthatstophimfromeverfindingarhythmtohisstride.Mostlytheseinconvenienceswouldn’tbotherhim,butrightnowtheyfeelpersonallytargeted:pebblesinhisshoes,smallbutcarefullychosenfortheirsharpcorners.
Calrefusestolethisunsettledfeelingfazehimtoobadly.It’snaturalenough,afterthedisturbanceTreybrought.Ifheletsitbeanddoesplentyofhardwork,thefeelingwillpass.Thisiswhathedidattimeswhen,forexample,hismarriageorhisjobpinchedhimaroundtheedges,anditworked:soonerorlater,thingsshiftedthemselvesaroundenoughthathefeltateaseamidthemagain.Hereckonsbythetimehehasthehousereadyforwinter,heshouldhaveworntherestlessnessdown.
Intheevent,hedoesn’tgetthechance.LessthantwoweeksafterhesendsTreypacking,he’ssittinginhisnicespiffed-upfrontroom,infrontofawoodfire.It’sahigh-tempered,unrulynight,windyenoughtomakeCalwonderifhisroofisassoundashethought.He’sreadingtheskinnylocalpaper,andlisteningforthesoundofsmashingroofslates,whenthere’saknockatthedoor.
Theknockhasanoddquality,roughandsloppy,morelikeananimal’spawing.Ifithadn’tcomeinthelullbetweentwogusts,Calmighthaveputitdowntothewindhurlingabranchupagainstthedoor.It’stenatnight,pastfarmers’bedtimeunlesssomethingisbadlywrong.
Calputshispaperdownandstandsforamomentinthemiddleofhisfrontroom,wonderingwhethertogethisrifle.Theknockdoesn’tcomeagain.Hecrossestothedoorandcracksitopen.
Treyisstandingonhisdoorstep,shakingfromheadtotoelikeawhippeddog.Oneofhereyesispurpleandswollenshut.Bloodisstreakedacrossherfaceandpouringdownherchin.She’sholdinguponehand,curledintoaclaw.
“Aw,shit,”Calsays.“Aw,shit,kid.”
Herkneesarebuckling.Hewantstopickherupandcarryherinside,buthe’sterrifiedtotouchherincasehehurtsherworse.“Getinhere,”hesays.
Shestumblesinsideandstandsthere,wobblingandpanting.Shelookslikeshedoesn’tknowwheresheis.
Calcan’tseeanyonecomingafterher,buthelocksthedoorallthesame.“Here,”hesays.“Comeon.Overhere.”Heguideshertothearmchairwithhisfingertipsonhershoulders.Whenshedropsintoitsheletsoutasharphissofpain.
“Wait,”Calsays.“Waitthere.Holdon.”Hegetshissleepingbagandduvetfromhisbedroomandtucksthemaroundthekid,asgentlyashecan.Hergoodhandfastensontheduvetsohardtheknuckleswhiten.
“Thereyougo,”Calsays.“It’sgonnabeOK.”Hefindsacleantowelandsquatsbythearmchairtostemtheblooddrippingoffherchin.Treyflinchesaway,butwhenhetriesagainshedoesn’thavethefocustostophim.Heblotstillhecanseewherethebloodiscomingfrom.Herbottomlipissplitopen.
“Whodidthistoyou?”
Thekid’smouthopenswide,likeshe’sgoingtohowllikeabrokenanimal.Nothingcomesoutbutmoreblood.
“It’sOK,”Calsays.Hegetsthetoweltohermouthagainandpresses.“Nevermind.Youdon’thavetosayanything.Youjustsitstillawhile.”
Treystarespasthimandshakes.Shebreathesinshallowhuffs,likeithurts.Calcan’ttellifsheknowswhat’sgoingon,orifshetookablowtotheheadandwanderedhereinadaze.Hecan’ttellhowbadthathandis,orifanyteetharegone,orwhatotherdamagemightbehiddenunderherhoodie.Thebloodfromhermouthiseverywhere.
“Kid,”hesaysgently.“Idon’tneedyoutosayanything.Ijustneedtoknowwhathurtsworst.Canyoushowme?”
Foramomenthethinksshecan’thearhim.Thensheliftshercurledhandandmotionsathermouthandatherside.
“OK,”Calsays.Sheknowswhathe’ssaying,atleast.“Goodjob.We’regonnagetyoutoadoctor.”
Thekid’sgoodeyeflareswidewithpanicandshestartsstrugglingtogetherfeetunderher.“No,”shesays,inaharshgrowlblurredbytheswollenlip.“Nodoctor.”
Calputsuphishands,tryingtoblockherintothearmchair.“Kid.YouneedX-rays.Thatlip,youcouldneedstitches—”
“No.Getaway,get—”Shesmasheshishandsawayandmanagestostandup,rocking.
“Listentome.Ifyourhand’sbroken—”
“Idon’tcare.Fuckoff,get—”
She’sreadytofightherwaytothedoorandstumblebackintothenight.“OK,”Calsays,steppingbackandraisinghishands.“OK.OK.Nodoctor.Justsitdown.”
Hehasnoideawhattodoifshewon’t,butafteraminute,whenthewordsgetthrough,thefightgoesoutofherandshecollapsesbackintothechair.
“Thereyougo,”Calsays.“That’sbetter.”Heputsthetowelbacktohermouth.“Youfeellikeyou’regonnathrowup?”
Treyshakesherhead.Thepainmakeshersuckinabreath.“Nah.”
“Don’tswallowtheblood,oryouwill.Justspititrightintohere.Youdizzy?Seeingdouble?”
“Nah.”
“Didyoublackout?”
“Nah.”
“Well,that’sallgood,”Calsays.“Doesn’tsoundlikeyouhaveaconcussion.”Bloodiscreepingupthroughthetowelinarapidlywideningpatchofred.Heswitchestoacleanpartandtriestomakehimselfpressharder.Henotices,offinadistantcornerofhisbrain,theawarenessthatatsomepoint,oncehehasthissituationundercontrol,he’sgoingtokillsomeone.
“Listen,”hesays,whentheredstainslows.“I’mgonnagooutsidejustforoneminute.I’llberightoutsidethedoor.Youjustsittight.OK?”
Treystiffensagain.“Nodoctor.”
“I’mnotgonnacalladoctor.Iswear.”Hedetacheshergoodhandcarefullyfromtheduvet,closesherfingersonthetowelandarrangesitagainstherlip.“Youkeepthatthere.Pressashardasyoucanstand.I’llberightback.”
Thekidstilltrustshim,orelseshejusthasnochoice.Caldoesn’tknowwhichpossibilitykillshimworse.Shesitsthere,holdingthetowelandstaringatnothing,whilehegoesoutandclosesthefrontdoorgentlybehindhim.
Hekeepshisbackagainstthedoor,wipeshisbloodyhandsonhispantsandtriestoscanthegarden.Thenightishugeandwildwithwindandstars.Leavesscudandsoar,andshadowsroilonthegrass.Anythingcouldbeoutthere.
Lenatakeshertimeansweringherphone,andher“Hello?,”whenitfinallycomes,hasadefinitecoolnesstoit.Shehasn’tmissedtheslighttoherpup,andshedoesn’tappreciateit.
Calsays,“Ineedyourhelp.Someone’sbeatupTreyReddyprettybad.Ineedyoutocomeovertomyplaceandgivemeahand.”
AbigpartofhimexpectsLenatostickbyherprincipleofnotgettinginvolvedinotherpeople’sbusiness,whichwouldbethesmartestresponsebyfar.Insteadshesays,afterasilence,“Whatd’youwantmefor?”
“Lookherover,seehowbadsheisandwhethershe’sgotanyotherinjuries.Ican’tdothat.”
“I’mnodoctor.”
“You’veseentoplentyofhurtanimals.That’smore’nI’vedone.Justfindoutifshe’sgotanythingthatneedsmedicalattention.”
“Itmightn’tshow.Shecouldhaveinternalbleeding.Youneedtogethertoadoctor.”
“Shedoesn’twantone.IjustneedtoknowwhetherIshoulddragherkickingandscreaming,orwhethershe’sgonnasurvivewithout.AndifIdohavetodragher,thenI’mgonnaneedyoutoholdherdownwhileIdrive.”
There’sanother,longersilence,inwhichCalcandonothingbutwait.ThenLenasays,“Right.I’llbedowntoyouintenminutes.”Shehangsupbeforehecansayanythingmore.
TreyjumpsviolentlyatthesoundofCalcomingbackin.“Justme,”hesays.“Igotafriendofminecomingoverwho’sgoodatcaringforhurtanimals.Ifigureahurtkidcan’tbetoodifferent.”
“Who?”
“Lena.Noreen’ssister.Youdon’tneedtoworryabouther.Outofeveryonearoundhere,she’sthebestpersonIknowforkeepinghermouthshut.”
“What’llshedo?”
“Justtakealookatyou.Cleanupyourface—she’lldoitgentlerthanIcan.MaybestickononeofthosefancyBand-Aidsthatlooklikestitches.”
Treyclearlywantstoargue,butshe’sgotnothingleftinhertodoitwith.Thewarmthfromthecoveringsandthefirehaseasedhershaking,leavingherlimpandslumped.Shelookslikeshebarelyhasthestrengthtokeepholdingthetoweltohermouth.
Calpullsoveroneofthekitchenchairs,sohecansitbyherandcatchitifshedropsit.Hereyehasgotworse,plum-blackandswollensobigthattheskinistightandshiny.
“Let’sseehowthatcut’sdoing,”hesays.Treydoesn’treact.Calreachesoutonefingerandmovesherhandawayfromhermouth.Thebleedinghasslackened,justslowbrightdropswellingup.Herteethareallstillthere.“Better,”hesays.“How’sitfeel?”
Treymovesoneshoulder.Shehasn’tlookedstraightathimonce.Whenshetries,hereyeskidsawaylikehishurther.
Sheneedstorinseoutthatcutwithsaltwater,andsomeoneneedstotakeacloselookandseeifitneedsstitches.Calhasdonefirstaidonbabies,junkiesandeveryoneinbetween,buthecan’tdoithere.Hecan’ttaketheriskthathe’llputafingerwrongandbreakthekid.Justbeingthisneartohermakeshiswholebodysingwithnerves.
“Kid,”hesays.“Listentome.Ican’tmakesurethissituationgoesniceandsmoothunlessIknowwhatitisI’mdealingwith.I’mnotgonnasayawordtoanyonewithoutyourleave,butIneedtoknowwhodidthistoyou.”
Trey’sheadmovesagainstthebackofthechair.Shesays,“Mymam.”
ThefuryhitsCalsointenselythatforasecondhecan’tsee.Whenitclearsalittle,hesays,“Howcome?”
“Theytoldherto.Saiddoitorwewill.”
“Whotoldherto?”
“Dunno.Iwasout.Gothomeandshesaidtocomeoutback’causeshehadtatalktome.”
“Uh-huh,”Calsays.Hemakessurehehashiscopfaceandhiscopvoiceinplace,peacefulandinterested.“What’dsheuse?”
“Belt.Andhitme.Kickedmeacouplatimes.”
“Well,that’snotgood,”Calsays.HewantsLenatogetheresobadlythathecanhardlysitstill.“Yougotanyideawhy?”
TreymakesaraggedtwitchthatCalrecognizesasashrug.
“Youbeenstealingfromanyonewhomighttakeoffense?”
“Nah.”
“You’vebeenaskingquestionsaboutBrendan,”Calsays.“Haven’tyou?”
Treynods.Shedoesn’thavethewherewithaltolie.
“Dammit,kid,”Calbegins,andthenbitesitback.“OK.Who’veyoubeenasking?”
“WenttoseeDonie.”
“When?”
Ittakesherawhiletofigurethatout.“Daybeforeyesterday.”
“Hegiveyouanything?”
“Hejusttoldmetofuckoff.Laughedatme.”Herwordsaresloppyandwidelyspaced,butshe’smakingsense.HermindisOK,dependingonyourdefinitionofOK.“Hesaidwatchyourselforyou’llenduplikeBren.”
“Well,Doniecansayanythinghelikes,”Calsays.“Doesn’tmakeitso.”Thetalkinghasopenedupherlipagain;athintrickleofbloodismakingitswaydownherchin.“Hush,now.I’lltakecareofthatpart.Allyougottadoisstaystill.”
Windslamsagainstthewindowsandsingsfuriouslyinthechimney,settingthefireflutteringandsendingcurlsofrich-smellingsmokeintotheroom.Firewoodcracksandpops.CalchecksTrey’slipeverynowandthen.Whenthebleedingstopsagain,hestandsup.
ThemovementsendsajoltofpanicthroughTrey.“What’reyoudoing?”
“Gettingyousomeicetoputonthateye,andthatlip.That’sall.Bringdowntheswelling,andeasethepainalittlebit.”
He’satthesink,poppingicecubesintoafreshtowel,whenheseesthesweepofLena’sheadlightsacrossthewindow.“Here’sMissLena,”hesays,puttingdowntheicetraywithasurgeofrelief.“I’mgonnagowarnhernottopesteryouwithquestions.Youjustsittightandkeepthisonyourface.”
LenaisgettingoutofhercarbythetimeCalcomesoutside.Sheslamsthedoorandstridesupthedrive,handsshovedinthepocketsofaman’sgreenwaxjacket.Thewindwhipspiecesofherhairfreefromitsponytailandthestarlightturnsitaluminous,eeriewhite.AsshereachesCal,sheraiseshereyebrowsforanexplanation.
“Kidshowedupatmydoorinbadshape,”Calsays.“Ifyouaskherfordetailsshe’llfreakout,sodon’task.She’sgotablackeye,asplitlip,something’swrongwithherhand,andshesayshersidehurtsprettybad.”
Lena’seyebrowsflickhigher.“Noreentoldmeadatewithyouwouldbedifferentfromthelocallads,”shesays.“She’salwaysright,thatone,”andshewalkspasthimintothehouse.
ThesightofherhitsTreywithanotherjoltofpanic.Shedropsthetowel,icecubesscattering,andlookslikeshe’sabouttoscrabbleupfromthechairagain.“Hush,”Calsays.“MissLena’sheretotakealookatyou,remember?It’sheroradoctor,sodon’tgiveheranyhassle.OK?”
Treysinksbackintothechair.Calcan’ttellwhetherthat’sbecauseshe’sOKwithLenaorbecauseherstrengthhasgivenout.“Thereyougo,”hesays.“That’sbetter.”Hegoestothecupboardandfindshisfirst-aidkit.
“Firstthingistogetyoucleanedup,”Lenasaysmatter-of-factly,pullingoffherjacketandthrowingitoverthebackofachair,“soIcanseewhat’swhat.Haveyouanothercloth,Cal?”
“Underthesink,”Calsays.“I’llberightoutside.”Heputsthefirst-aidkitinLena’shandsandwalksoutthebackdoor.
Hesitsdownonthestep,leanshiselbowsonhiskneesandbreatheshardintohisfingersforawhile.Hefeelssomekindoflight-headed,ormaybesick,hecan’ttellwhich.Heneedstodosomething,buthecan’ttellwhatthatiseither.“Fuck,”hesaysquietly,intohisfingers.“Fuck.”
Thewindshovesathim,tryingtogetaroundhimandinthedoor.Thetreetopstossfuriouslyandthegardenhasadeserted,tight-battenedfeel,likenocreaturethat’snotdesperateorcrazywouldbeoutinthis.Nosoundcomesfrominsidethehouse,ornothingCalcanhearthroughthewind.
Afterawhilehisheadstartstocomebacktogetheragain,atleastenoughtofumbleforsomethinglikeaplan.HehasbettersensethantogonearSheilaReddy,butnothingonearthisgoingtokeephimawayfromDonie.
Hecan’tdoanythinguntilhelearnswhatTreyneeds,though,andfiguresouthowtogetitforher.HeconsidersslippingthekidabigdoseofBenadrylandhaulingherintothecarwhenshegetsdrowsy.Evenleavingasidetheproblematicaspectsofshowingupatahospitalwithadruggedbeat-upteenagegirl,he’suneasyaboutacourseofactionthat,amongitsmanyotherlesspredictableconsequences,wouldlikelylandthekidinfostercare.Maybeshe’dbebetteroffthere;hecan’ttell.Backwhenitwashisjob,hewouldhavehandedheroverwithoutasecondthoughtandletthesystemdoitsthing.
Lenacomesoutsidedryingherhandsonherjeans,closesthedoorbehindherandsitsdownonthestepnexttoCal.
“Shegonnamakearunforitwhileyou’reouthere?”Calasks.
“Idoubtit.She’sexhausted.Noreasonwhyshewould,anyway.Itoldhershedoesn’tneedadoctor.”
“Doesshe?”
Lenashrugs.“There’snoemergency,asfarasIcantell.Herstomach’snotsoreorswollen,andshe’sgotnobruisesthere—shesaysshecurledupinaball—sonoreasontothinkshe’sbleedinginternally.I’dsayshe’sgotacrackedrib,butthere’snothingadoctorcoulddoaboutthat.Thehandseemslikeit’sbruised,notbroken,butshe’llhavetowaitandseehowitgoesoverthenextcoupleofdays.There’splentymorecutsandbruisesonherbackandherlegs,butthey’renotserious.”
“Right,”Calsays.TheimageofTreycurledupfeelslikeit’sbrandinghim.“Yeah.Well.Thereyougo.Youthinkthelipneedsstitches?”
“Itcoulddowiththem,allright,soitdoesn’tleavetoobadofascar.Itoldherthatandshesaidnostitches,shedoesn’tgiveashiteaboutscars.SoIhadherrinseitoutwithsaltwater,andIputononeofyourSteri-Strips.GaveheroneofyourNurofenforthepain.Betterthannothing.”
“Thanks,”Calsays.“Iappreciatethis.”
Lenanods.“Sheoughtagetseen,justincase.Butshe’lllivewithout.”
“Thenshe’llhavetolivewithout.She’djustdoherselfmoredamage,fightingalltheway.”
“Ifshegetsworseduringthenight,she’llneedtogo.Likeitornot.”
“Yeah.”
Lenapullsherhandsupintohersweatersleevestokeepthemwarm.Shesays,“Areyougoingtokeepherhereforthenight?”
EvenifSheilanoticesTreyisgonebeforemorning,she’shardlylikelytocallthecops.“Yeah,”Calsays.“CouldIaskyoutositwithher?”Itcomesoutabrupt,buthecan’twaittogetmoving.“IgotsomewhereIneedtobe.Ifshegetsworse,callmeandI’llcomeback.”
“Shewasaskingforyou.”
“TellherI’llbebackinthemorning.Andtellherdon’tworry,I’mnotgoingforadoctor.”
“Shehardlyknowsme.It’syoushewants.”
Calsays,“I’mnotgonnaspendthenightalonewithalittlegirl.”
Lenatiltsherheadbackagainstthedoorframetoinspecthimupanddown.Shedoesn’tlookparticularlyimpressedwithwhatshesees.“Fairenough,”shesays.“I’llstayifyoudo.”
It’sachallenge,anditleavesCalstymied.“WhatamIgonnadoforherhere?”hesays.
“SameasIam.GivehermoreNurofen,oracleantowelifherlipopensup.It’snotlikesheneedsbrainsurgery.Whatareyougoingtodoforheranywhereelse?”
“Itoldyou,”Calsays.Hewisheshehadcalledsomeoneelse,anyoneelse—notthatthereisanyone,unlesshefeltlikegettingonFacebookandmessagingCaroline.“Igotsomewheretobe.”
“Notsomewheresmart.”
“Maybenot.Butstill.”
“Ifyouleave,”Lenainformshim,“I’mleavingaswell.Thisisyourmess,notmine.I’mnotsittinghereallnightwaitingforyourproblemstocomefindme.”
Shedoesn’tlookonebitnervoustoCal,butneitherdoesshelooklikesheplansonbackingdown.“Theseproblemsaren’tgonnacomelookingforanyone,”hesays.“Nottonight,anyway.”
“Imaginehowyou’llfeelifyouabandonapoorwidowwomanandaninjuredchildtogetbetupbyhooligans.”
“I’vegotagunIcanleaveyou.”
“Congratulations.Sodoplentyofotherpeopleroundhere.”
Morethananythingelse,shelooksamusedatCal’spredicament.Herunshishandsoverhisface.“Look,”hesays.“Iknowit’salottoask.Youcouldtakehertoyourplace,if—”
“Youthinkshe’llgo?”
Calrubshisfaceharder.“Mymind’snotworkingtoogoodrightnow,”hesays.“AreyouseriousaboutleavingifIdo?”
“Iam,yeah.Idon’tmindgivingyouahandwhereyouactuallyneedit,butI’mnotgoingtobelefthandlingtherealbusinesswhileyouchaseoffonsomenonsenseyou’vegotintoyourhead.”Shegrinsathim.“ItoldyouIwasacoldbitch.”
Calbelievesher.“OK,”hesays,likehehasachoice.“Youwin.”There’snowayintheworldhecanleaveTreyinthishousealonetonight.“I’veonlygotonebed,andthekid’sgettingthat,butyoucanhavethearmchair.”
“Well,wouldyoulookatthat,”Lenasays,standingup.“Chivalryisn’tdead.”Sheholdsthedooropenandushershiminsidewithasweepofherarm,inexchange.
Withtheshockandthepainebbing,fatiguehashitTreylikeakickfromahorse.Herheadhasfallenbackinthearmchair,thehandholdingtheicepackhasdroppedintoherlap,andhergoodeyelidisdrooping.“Comeon,”Calsays.“Let’sgetyoutobedbeforeyoufallasleeprightthere.”
Thekidcatchesherbreathandrubsathergoodeye.Therearegougesonherhandwherethebeltbucklecaughther.“’MIstayinghere?”
“Yep,fortonight.You’regonnahavemybed.MeandMissLena,we’llberightouthere.”Trey’slip,alltidiedupandheldtogetherbytheSteri-Strip,hasareassuringlyprofessionallook.Lenadidagoodjob.“Nowcomeon.I’mnotgonnacarryyou;I’dthrowmybackout.”
“Youcoulddowiththeexercise,”Treytellshim.HerlopsidedshadowofagrinprettyneartakesCaltopieces.
“Ungratefullittleso-and-so,”hesays.“WatchyourmannersorI’llmakeyousleepinthebathtub.Nowmoveit.”
Hersoreplacesarestiffening.Hehastohalfscoopheroutofthearmchair,setheronherfeetandsteerherintothebedroom.Themovementmakeshergrimace,butshedoesn’tcomplain.Lenapicksuptheduvetandthesleepingbagandfollowsthem.
“Hereyougo,”Calsays,switchingthelighton.“Thelapofluxury.I’mgonnaletMissLenagetyousettled.Youneedanythinginthenight,oranythingbothersyou,youjustcallus.”
Treycrumplesontothemattressinanungainlypileofelbowsandfeet.LenatossesthebedclothesbesideherandmovestoundoTrey’sshoelaces.ToCalthescenelookslawlessandincomprehensible,stainedmattressonscuffedfloorboards,harshglarefromthebarebulb,tangleofcheapbedclothes,thewomankneelingatthefeetofthebruisedandbloodychild.Hefeelslikeheshouldatleastbeabletoofferthekidsomethinggentle,afeatherbedwitharuffle,asoft-shadedbedsidelampandapictureofkittensonthewall.
Heswitchesontheoilheater.“Well,”hesays.Hethinks,fleetinglyandridiculously,ofputtingthetoysheeponTrey’spillow.“Goodnight.Sleeptight.”ShewatcheshimoverLena’sshoulder,withheroneopeneyebeyondanyexpression,asheshutsthedoor.
Thebloodieddishtowelsarescatteredaroundthearmchair.Calcollectsthemandthrowstheminhisnewwashingmachine.Hedoesn’tturniton,incaseitswhirringdisturbsthekid.Heswitchesontheelectrickettleandsetsouttwomugs—whatheneedsisashotofwhiskey,buthemightyethavetodrivetonight,andhe’slearnedenoughtoknowthataroundhereteaisanappropriateresponsetoanysituationatanytimeofdayornight.Bloodhasdriedinthelinesofhisknuckles;hewasheshishandsatthekitchensink.
Lenacomesoutofthebedroomandclosesthedoorquietlybehindher.“How’sshedoing?”Calasks.
“AsleepbeforeIgottheduvetonher.”
“Well,that’sgood,”Calsays.“Youwantsometea?”
“Goon.”
Lenasettlesherselfinthearmchair,testingitout,andkicksoffhershoes.Thekettleboils,andCalpoursandbringsamugovertoher.“Idon’thavemilk.ThisOK?”
“Yousavage.”Shetakesthemugandblowsonit.Shelooksateaseinthearmchair,asifitwereherown.It’sanample,lopsidedcreationinapeculiarpurplishgreenthatmighthavebeenfashionableforaminutealongtimeago,ormightjusthavestartedoutadifferentshade;it’ssurprisinglycomfortable,butCalneverenvisionedinvitinganyonetosleepinit.Hehasthatsenseofbeingweightlessagain,offhisfeetandbornealongwithnothingtograbholdof.
Thefirehasburnedlow;heputsmorewoodonit.“ShesayanythingtoyouthatIoughtaknow?”heasks.
“Shesaidnothingaboutanything,exceptwhatItoldyou.ButIdidn’task.”
“Thanks.”
“Nopoint.You’retheoneshetrusts.”Lenasipshertea.“She’sbeencomingherealot.”
“Yeah,”Calsays,takinghismugtothetable.Hecan’timaginethatLenaisaimingtolecturehimontheunseemlinessoflettingTreyReddyhangaround,andsureenough,sheonlynods.“Areyougonnagetanyhassleforhelpingmeout?”
Sheshrugs.“Idoubtit.Youmight,but,dependingwhatyoudonext.Areyougoingtobringherhomeinthemorning?”
“Youknowanywhereelseshecango?”
HefeelsLenatakeintheimplication.Sheconsidersandshakesherhead.
“Aunt?Uncle?Grandparents?”
“Mostofherrelationsareemigratedordeadoruseless,dependingonwhichsideyoumean.Sheila’sgotcousinsovertheothersideoftown,buttheywouldn’twanttogetmixedupinthis.”
“Icanseetheirpoint,”Calsays.
“Sheiladoesthebestshecan,”Lenasays.“YouandImightnotthinkit’sgreat,butwehaven’tspenttwenty-fiveyearsonthewrongsideofJohnnyReddyandArdnakelty.Sheila’shadallthefancynotionswornrightoutofher.Allshewantsistokeepthechildrenshe’sgotleftaliveandoutofjail.”
Calhasnoideawhattosaytothis.Hecan’ttellwhetherhe’sangryatLena,orwhetherhisangeratSheilaandwhoevergottoherissohighthatit’sspillingoverontoher.
Lenasays,“She’sgotusedtodoingwhateverneedstobedone.Rightorwrong.Shehasn’thadmuchchoice.”
“Maybe,”Calsays.Hedoesn’tfindthatreassuring.IfSheilafeltherbestoronlyoptiontonightwastobeatthelivingshitoutofTrey,shemightfeelthatwayagainsometime.“ImightseeifIcangetafewthingsdonebeforeIsendthekidbackthere.”
Lenaglancesupfromhertea.“Likewhat?”
“ThestuffIshouldabeendoingtonight.”
“Manbusiness,”Lenasays,mock-awed.“Tooseriousforalady’sdelicateears.”
“Justbusiness.”
Thefirewoodpopsandshootsasprayofsparksupwards.Lenastretchesoutatoetonudgethescreenmoresnuglyintoplace.
“Ican’tstopyoudoingsomethingstupid,”shesays.“ButI’mhopingifyouhavetoleaveittillmorning,youmightthinkbetterofit.”
IttakesCalaminuteortwotofigureoutwhythiscommentstartleshimsomuch.HewasassumingthatthereasonLenamadehimstickaround—apartfromnotwantinghisbusinessdumpedinherlap,whichisfairenough—wasbecausethekidwantedhimthere.Instead,shesoundslikeheraimwastopreventCalfromgettinghisasskicked,orsomethingsimilar.Calfindsthisunexpectedlymoving.Marthasputconsiderableeffortintothesamegoal,butit’sdifferentcomingfromawoman.It’sbeenawhilesinceawomangavethatmuchofadamnaboutCaleitherway.
“Well,Iappreciatethat,”hesays.“I’llkeepitinmind.”
Lenamakesawrypfftnoise,whichleavesCalslightlychagrinedeventhoughheagreesthatit’swarranted.“I’mgoingasleep,”shesays,leaningtoputhermugonthetable.“Willweturnoutthelight?”
Calswitchesitoff,leavingonlythefirelight.Hegoesintothesparebedroomandbringsouthisheavywinterduvet—hehasn’tgotaroundtobuyingacoverforit,butitisatleastclean.“Iapologizeforthis,”hesays.“I’dliketobeabetterhost,butthisisallI’vegot.”
“I’vesleptinworse,”Lenasays,takingoutherponytailandsnappingthehairbandaroundherwrist.“IwishI’dbroughtmytoothbrush,isall.”Shecurlssidewaysinthechairandtuckstheduvetaroundherself.
“Sorry,”Calsays,gettingbothhiscoatsfromtheirhook.“Can’thelpyouthere.”
“I’llgodowntoMartLavinandaskifhehasaspare,willI?”
Calissooff-kilterthathespinsaroundhorrified.Whenheseeshergrin,he’sstartledintoacrackoflaughterloudenoughthatheclapsahandoverhismouth,glancingatthebedroomdoor.
“You’dmakeArdnakelty’sday,”hesays.
“Iwould,allright.It’dalmostbeworthit,onlyNoreen’dpatherselfonthebacksohardshe’ddoherselfaninjury.”
“SowouldMart.”
“Jesus.Isheonthistoo?”
“Ohyeah.He’salreadydecidedthatMalachyDwyer’sgonnacaterthebachelorparty.”
“Ahwell,feckthetoothbrush,so,”Lenasays.“Wecan’tletthosetwothinkthey’rerighteverytime.’Twouldn’tbegoodforthem.”
Calarrangeshimselfinfrontofthefireplaceandwrapsbothcoatsaroundhim.Byfirelighttheroomisallwarmgoldflickersandpulsesofshadow.Itmakesthesituationbloomwithaseductive,ephemeralintimacy,likethey’rethelastpeopleleftawakeatahouseparty,caughtupinaconversationthatwon’tcounttomorrowmorning.
“Idon’tknowthatwe’vegotmuchchoice,”hesays.“Unlessyouleavebeforedawn,someone’sgonnaseeyourcar.”
Lenathinksthatover.“Mightn’tbeabadidea,”shesays.“Givepeoplesomethingtotalkabout,keeptheirmindsawayfromtheotherthing.”Shenodsatthebedroomdoor.
“Areyougonnagethassle,though?”
“What,forbeingaloosewoman,like?”Shegrinsagain.“Nah.Theaul’ones’lltalk,butIdon’tmindthem.It’snottheeighties;it’snotliketheycanthrowmeinaMagdalenlaundry.They’llgetoverit.”
“How’boutme?IsNoreengonnashowupwithashotgunifIdon’tmarryyouafterthis?”
“God,no.She’llblamemeforlettingyouslipthroughmyfingers.You’regrand.TheladsinSeánóg’smightevenbuyyouapint,tocongratulateyou.”
“Win-win,”Calsays.Hestretchesoutonhisback,withhishandsbehindhishead,andwisheshe’dthoughttobringhisextraclothesoutofhisbedroom.He’snotplanningtosleepifhecanhelpit,incaseofthevarioussituationsthatmightarise,butafteranightonthisfloorhe’sgoingtobewalkinglikeMart.
“Tellmesomething,”Lenasays.Thefirelightmovesacrosshereyes.“Whyaren’tyougoingtotakethatpup?”
“Because,”Calsays,“I’dwanttoguaranteethatI’dtakecareofitright,andnoharmwouldcometoit.Anditdoesn’tseemlikeIcandothat.”
Lena’seyebrowsgoup.“Huh,”shesays.“HereIthoughtyoujustdidn’twantanythingtyingyoudown.”
“Nope,”Calsays.Hewatchesthefire.“SeemslikeI’malwayslookingforsomethingtoholdmedown.Itjustneverworksoutthatway.”
Lenanods.Wind,wearyingtohalfheartedgusts,rufflesthefire.It’sburninglowagain,theheartofitdarkeningtoadeeporangeglow.
Fromthebedroomcomesathrashingofbedclothesandahoarse,inarticulatecry.BythetimeCal’smindworksoutthatahomicidalintruderisunlikely,he’satthebedroomdoor.
HestopsandlooksoveratLena.“You’reupalready,”shesays.“I’llgonexttime.”Thensheturnshershouldertohim,settlingherselfmorecomfortablyinthechair,andpullstheduvetuptoherchin.
Calstandsthere,atthedoor.Anotherstrangledcrycomesfromthebedroom.Lenadoesn’tmove.
Afteramomentheopensthebedroomdoor.Treyisuponherelbow,headturningwildly,whimperingthroughgrittedteeth.
“Hey,”Calsays.“It’sOK.”
Thekidjumpsandwhipsroundtostareathim.Ittakesherafewsecondstoseehim.
“Youhadabaddream,isall.It’sgonenow.”
Treyletsoutalongshakybreathandliesback,wincingasherribcatches.“Yeah,”shesays.“Justdreaming.”
“That’sright,”Calsays.“Anythinghurt?Youneedmorepainkillers?”
“Nah.”
“OK.Sleeptight.”
Whenheturnstogo,shemovesinthebedandmakesasmallroughsound.Heturnsbackandseeshergoodeyelookingathim,shininginthelightcomingthroughthedoor.
“What?”
Thekiddoesn’tanswer.
“Youwantmetostickaroundawhile?”
Shenods.
“OK,”Calsays.“Icandothat.”Heeaseshimselfdownontothefloorandsettleshisbackagainstthewall.
Treyrustlesherselfaroundsoshecankeepthateyeonhim.“What’reyougonnado?”sheasks,afteraminute.
“Hush,”Calsays.“We’llfigureitoutinthemorning.”
Hecanseehersearchingforthenextquestion.Toquiether,hestartstosing,solowit’shalfahum,hopingLenawon’thearthroughthewind.Thesongthatcomesoutis“BigRockCandyMountain,”sameasheusedtosingforAlyssawhenshewaslittleandcouldn’tsleep.GraduallyTreyrelaxes.Herbreathingslowsanddeepens,andtheshineofthateyefadesamongtheshadows.
Calkeepsonsinging.HeusedtofixupthewordsalittlebitforAlyssa,changethecigarettetreestocandy-canetreesandthelakeofwhiskeytooneofsoda.Theredoesn’tseemtobemuchpointindoingthatforTrey,buthedoesitanyway.
EIGHTEEN
Thewindblowsitselfout,anddawncomestothewindowcoldandstillinacleargold-green.Calhasbeendozingoffandon,inbetweenwatchingthefirediedownandcheckingonTreybythelightofhisphone.Asfarashecantell,sheneverbudgedonceallnight,evenwhenhegotcloseenoughtomakesureshewasstillbreathing.
InthefirstlightLenatakesshape,curledupinthearmchairwithherfaceburiedinherelbow,herhairapalescribble.Outside,thesmallbirdsarestartingtotossoutscrapsofmorningconversation,andtherooksarebitchingatthemtoshutup.Calissoreateverypointwherehisbonespressedintothefloor,andalotofpointsinbetween
Hegetsup,asquietlyashecan,andheadstothesinktofillthekettle.He’slight-headedwithtiredness,butnotinafuzzyway;thechillandthedawngiveeverythingaspellbound,airylucidity.Inhisgardentherabbitsarechasingeachotherincirclesthroughthedew-wetgrass.
Lenastirsinthearmchairandsitsup,archingherbackandscrunchingupherface.Shelooksbaffled.“Morning,”Calsays.
“Ah,Jaysus,”Lenasays,shieldinghereyes.“Ifyou’replanningonhavingguestsontheregular,youneedcurtains.”
“I’dneedalotmore’nthat,”Calsays,keepinghisvoicedown.“Howyoufeeling?”
“Toooldforthiscarry-on,ishowI’mfeeling.Howaboutyou?”
“LikeIgothitbyatruck.Rememberbackwhenwe’dcrashonpeople’sfloorsjustforkicks?”
“Ido,yeah,butIwasanawfuleejitbackthen.I’dratherbeoldandhavesense.”Shestretches,hugelyandwithappreciation.“IsTreystillasleep?”
“Yeah.Ifigurethelongershesleeps,thebetter.CanImakeyousomebreakfast?”Calfindshimselfhopingshesaysyes.Lenamaynotbethemostaccommodatingpersonintheworld,butshealtersthebalanceofthehouseinawayhelikes.“Igottoastwithbaconandeggs,ortoastwithoutbaconandeggs.”
Lenagrins.“Ah,no.I’dbetterhead.I’vetogetreadyforwork,andI’vetofeedthedogsfirst,letthemout.Nellie’llbegoingmental.ShelosestheheadifI’moutpastbedtime;bynowshe’sprobablyethalfthefurniture.”Sheunfurlsherselffromthechairandstartsfoldingtheduvet.“WillIcallbyhereonmywayintowork?BringTreyhome?”
“I’mnotsure,”Calsays.Hethinksaboutwhatkindofscaryitwouldtake,tomakeamotherdothattoherkid.Forasecond,beforehecanturnhismindaway,hewonderswhatitwouldhavetakentomakehimorDonnadothattoAlyssa.“I’drathergetthingsclearedupalittlebitfirst.”
Lenatossesthefoldedduvetoverthebackofthearmchair.“Herewasmehopingbymorningyou’dhavegotsense,”shesays.
“I’mnotgonnadoanythingstupid.”
Lena’sglancesaysthisisamatterofopinion,butshedoesn’tcomment.Shepullsherhairbandoffherwristandtwistsherhairbackintoitsponytail.“SoI’mnotbringingherhome.”
“Maybelater.OKifIseehowthedaygoes,giveyouacallinawhile?”
“Awayyougo.Havefun.”
“IfIneededyoutostayhereonemorenight,”Calsays,“wouldyouconsiderit?I’drunintotownandbuyanairmattress,soyouwouldn’tbebackonthatchair.”
Lenastartleshimbyburstingoutlaughing.“You,”shesays,shakingherhead,“you’resometulip,d’youknowthat?Andyourtimingisshite.Comebacktomelater,oncetheachesandpainswearoff,andwe’llsee.”Shepullsonhershoesandherjacketandheadsforthedoor.
Calwaitstillhehearshercardriveaway.Thenhetakesawalkaroundhisgarden.Hecan’tfindanysignofintruders,butthenhewouldn’teitherway.Theevidenceofthenight’swindiseverywhere.Leavesarescatteredlavishlyacrossthegrassandbankedhighagainstwallsandhedges,andthetreeshavearaw,defiantbareness.Underhiswindows,theearthhasbeenscouredsmooth.
Hegoesbackindoorsandstartscookingbreakfast.ThesmelloffryingbaconbringsTreyoutofthebedroom,barefootandcrumpled.Herfatliphasgonedownsome,buttheeyeisevenmorespectacularindaylight,andthere’sanuglybruiseonhercheekbonethatCaldidn’tnoticebefore.Herhoodieandherjeansarecrustedwithpatchesandsmearsofdriedblood.Callooksatherandhasnoideawhattodoabouther.Thethoughtofsendingheroutofthishousemakeshimwanttobarricadeeverythingandspendhistimewithhisgunpointingoutawindow,incasesomeonecomesforher.
“Howyoudoing?”heasks.
“Shite.Hurtseverywhere.”
“Well,Itookthatforgranted,”Calsays.Thefactthatshe’swalkingandtalkingfillshimupwithareliefthatmakesithardtobreathe.“Imeantapartfromthat.YousleepOK?”
“Yeah.”
“Youhungry?”
Thekidlookslikeshewantstosayno,butthesmellistoomuchforher.“Yeah.Starving.”
“Breakfast’llbereadyinaminute.Sitdownthere.”
Treysits,yawningandflinchingastheyawnstretchesherlip.ShewatchesCalwhileheturnsthebaconandbuttersthetoast.Thewayshe’ssitting,withhershouldershighandtoomuchweightonherfeet,remindshimofthewaysheusedtostandwhenshefirststartedcomingaround:readytorun.
“Youwantanotherpainkiller?”heasks.
“Nah.”
“Nah?Anythinghurtworsethanlastnight?”
“Nah.I’mgrand.”
Withherfacemessedup,Calfindsitevenharderthanusualtotellwhat’sgoingoninherhead.“Hereyougo,”hesays,bringingtheplatestothetable.“Cutitupsmall,anddon’tletittouchthatlip.Thesalt’llsting.”
Treyignoresthatandattacksthefood,stillkeepingawaryeyeonCal.Herhandisbetter;sheholdstheforkclumsily,tryingnottobendherfingers,butshe’susingit.
“MissLenajustleftafewminutesback,”Calsays.“She’sgotwork.Shemightbebacklater,depending.”
Treysaysbrusquely,“SorryIcamehere.Iwasn’tthinkingstraight.”
“No,”Calsays.“Don’tbesorry.Youdidright.”
“Nah.Youtoldmenottobecomingaroundanymore.”
AllofCal’srelationships,whichseemedperfectlystraightforwardandharmoniouslastnight,appeartohavegotthemselvesoutofjointwhilehewasn’tlooking.NevermindBrendanReddy:therealmysterytowhichCalwouldloveananswerishow,whiledoingeverythingrightasfarashecantell,hesomehowmanagestofuckeverythingup.
“Well,”hesays.“Thiswasanemergency.That’sdifferent.Youcalleditright.”
“I’llgoafterthis.”
“Nohurry.Beforeyougoanywhere,weneedtodecidewhatyouwantmetodo.”
Treylooksblank.
“Aboutlastnight.Youwantmetocallthepolice?OrCPS—childprotectiveservices,whateveryoucallit?”
“No!”
“CPSisn’ttheboogeyman,kid.They’llfindyousomewheresafetostayforawhile.Maybegetyourmamasomehelp.”
“Shedoesn’tneedhelp.”
Thekidisglaring,holdingherknifelikeshe’sallreadytostabCalwithit.“Kid,”hesaysgently.“Whatshedidtoyouwasn’tOK.”
“Sheneverdonethatbefore.Sheonlydoneitthistime’causetheymadeher.”
“Sowhatiftheymakeheragain?”
“Theywon’t.”
“’Causewhat?Youlearnedyourlesson,nowyou’regonnabehaveyourself?”
“Noneayourbusiness,”Treysays,withadefiantglance.
“I’maskingyou,kid.Ineedtofigureoutwhattodohere.”
“Youdon’tneedtodoanything.Ifyoucallchildservices,I’lltell’emyoudonethis.”
Shemeansit,too.“OK,”Calsays.Seeingthisamountoffightoutofhermakeshisspinegoweakwithrelief.Hegotupthismorningafraidtoseeherincasehefoundhersmashedinside,agirl-huskthatstaredrightthroughhim,thathadtobesteeredstumblingfromplacetoplaceandsatwithabiteinhermouthtillshewasremindedtochewandswallow.“Nochildservices.”
Treyeyeballshimforanotherminute.Apparentlyshebelieveshim,becauseshegoesbacktoherfood.Shesays,“Iknowthatwasallbullshit,whatyoutoldme.AboutBrengoingtoScotland.So’sI’dfuckoffandleaveyoualone.”
Calgivesup.Whateverhewastryingtodothere,ithasn’tworked.“Yeah,”hesays.“Doniegavemesweetfuck-all.OnlyIwasbullshittingyouabouttheleave-me-alonepart,too.Truthis,Igotnoproblemwithyoucomingaround.Ienjoyyourcompany.”
Treylooksupatthat.Shesays,“Idon’twantyourfuckingmoney.”
“Iknowthat,kid.Ineverthoughtyoudid.”
Shegoesstill,rearranginghermindaroundthat.ThelooseninginherfacehooksCalrightunderthebreastbone.“Sohowcomeyousaidallthatshite?”shedemands.
“ForChrist’ssake,kid.Youthinknoonenoticedwhatthetwoofuswereupto?Igotwarnedtobackoff.Thisrighthere”—hepointshisforkatTrey’sface—“thisisexactlywhatIwastryingtoavoid.”
Treygivesanimpatienthitchofhershoulders.“It’snobigdeal.I’llbegrand.”
“Thistime,youwill.Becausetheygotyourmamatodoit,andsheonlywentasfarasshethoughtwouldsatisfythem.Nexttime,they’llgoafteryouthemselves.Orafteryourmama.Oryourlittlebrotherandsisters.Orme.Theseareseriousguys,doingseriousbusiness.Theydon’tfuckaround.Theydidn’tkillyoubecausetheydon’twanttheattentionadeadkidwouldget,buttheywilliftheyhaveto.”
Thekidblinksfastatthat.Shegoesbacktoshovelingfoodintoherface,headdown.
“JesusChrist,kid,”Calsays,suddenlyrightontheedgeofblowingup.“Whatthefuckisitgonnataketomakeyouknockitoff?”
Treysays,“WhenIknow.Fordefinite.Notsomebullshitthatsomeonemadeuptogetridofme.”
“Yeah?That’sallyouwant?Justtoknowforcertain?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah,itdoesn’tworklikethat.IfyoufindoutforcertainthatBrendanskippedtown,you’regonnawanttofindoutwhy,andthenyou’regonnawanttotrackhimdown.Ifyoufindoutforcertainthatsomeoneranhimoff,you’regonnawanttogetbackatthem.There’salwaysgonnabejustonemorethinglefttodo.Yougottaknowwhentostop.”
“Idoknow.When—”
“No.Whentostopisnow,kid.Lookatyou.Iftheyhavetocomeafteryouagain,whataretheygonnado?Whentostopisnow.”
Trey’sfaceturnsuptohimlikeshe’sdrowning.Shesays,“Iwantastopnow.I’mtiredtofuckin’deathofthis.Atthestart,whenIfirstcamehere,itwaslikeyousaid:I’dakeptgoingforever.NowIjustwantitgone.Iwantaneverthinkabouthimagain.IwantagobacktodoingmyownthingsthatIusedtadobefore.ButwhateverhappenedtoBrendan,hedeservesforsomeonetoknow.Justoneperson,even,toknow.”
Calwasn’tsure,untilthismoment,whethersheunderstoodthesizeofthechancethatBrendanisdead.Theysitthere,listeningtoitsettleintothecrevicesoftheroom.
“ThenI’llstop,”Treysays.“WhenIknow.”
“Well,”Calsays,“thereyougo.Youwereaskingabouthavingacode.There’sthebeginningofit.”Helooksatthatbeat-up,half-comprehendingfaceandfeelshisthroatthickenforallthethingsthekidisjuststartingon,alltheriversshe’llhavetostruggleacrossthatshehasn’tevenglimpsedonthehorizon.“Finishyourbreakfast,”hesays.“Beforeitgetscold.”
Treydoesn’tbudge.“Soareyougonnahelpme?Ornot?”
“Truthfully,”Calsays,“Idon’tknowyet.FirstIneedtotrackdownthepeoplewhocamecallingonyourmamayesterday,andhaveatalkwiththem.OnceI’vedonethat,Ishouldeitherknowwhathappenedtoyourbrother,oratleastknowwhetherwecankeeplookingwithoutgettingourselveskilled.”
“Whatifwecan’t?”
“Idon’tknow.We’renotthereyet.”
Treydoesn’tlooklikethatsatisfiesher,butshegoesbacktoscrapingupeggyolkwithhertoast.“Tellmesomething,”Calsays.“YouthinkitwasDoniewhogotyourmamatodothis?”
Treysnorts.“Nah.She’dtellhimtofuckhimself.”
“Yeah,meneither.ButtheseguyscamecallingtwodaysafteryoutalkedtoDonie.That’snotacoincidence.”
“YousaidifItalkedtoDonie,youwereoutathis.”
“Yeah,well,”Calsays.“Thingschange.How’dyougetholdofhim?”
“Hismamgoestohalf-ninemassintowneveryday,”Treyexplains,withhermouthfull.“ShegetsaliftwithHolyMike.IwaitedinthehedgebyMike’slanetillIsawhiscargooff,andthenIwentacrossFrancieGannon’sfieldstoDonie’sbackdoor.”
“Youseeanyoneonyourwayinorout?”
“Nah.Someonecould’veseenme,but.Fromawindow.NothingIcoulddoaboutthat,onlygofast.”
“Listen,”Calsays.Hegetsupandtakestheplatesovertothesink.“Igottagooutforalittlewhile.Notlong.YougonnabeOKherebyyourself?”
“Yeah.Course.”
Thekiddoesn’tsoundentirelyhappyabouttheidea.“Nooneknowsyou’rehere,”Calsays,“soyoudon’tneedtoworry.ButI’mgonnalockthedoorsjustincase.IfanyonecomescallingwhileI’mgone,don’tanswer,don’tlookoutthewindow.Justsittighttilltheygoaway.Yougotit?”
“YougoingtotalktoDonieagain?”
“Yeah.Yougonnagetbored?Youwantabookorsomething?”
Treyshakesherhead.
“Youcouldtakeabathifyouwant.Washlastnightoffyou.”
Thekidnods.Calfiguresshewon’tdoit.Shedoesn’tlooklikeshecouldmanageanythingthatcomplicated.Justgettingupforbreakfasthastiredherout;allofasuddenherfacehasakindofexhaustionthat’sunnaturalonakid,aslackdrooptoheronegoodeyelidanddeepgroovesfromnosetomouth.Shelooks,forthefirsttime,alittlebitlikehermama.
“Youjustrest,”hesays.“Eatwhateveryouwantoutofthekitchen.I’llbebacksoon.”
CalheadsforDonie’sbythesamerouteTreytook,downthebackroadsandacrossFrancieGannon’sfields.Thewindhasrippedbranchesofftreesandthrownthem,scragglyandsplintered,intotheroads;thelonggoldautumnlightlaidoverthemgivesthemthelookofadeliberate,sinisterharvest.Calheavesthebiggeronesintoditchesonhisway.Heknowshemustbetired,buthecan’tfeelit.Thewalkandthecrispairareshakingtheachesoutofhismuscles,andhestillhasthatlight-headedclaritybuoyinghimon.TheonlythinginhismindisDonie.
Thefarmersmusthavefinishedtheirmorningroundsandgoneinforbreakfast;CalencountersnooneexceptabunchofFrancie’ssheep,whofreezeinmid-chewtofixhimwithindecipherablestaresashepasses,andkeepgazingafterhimforadisconcertinglylongtime.HestillgetsoverDonie’sbackwallquickerthananyonecouldreasonablyexpectofaguyhisageandsize,justincasetheneighborslookoutawindoworFranciedecidestoinvestigatewhat’sparalyzedhissheep.
Donie’sgardenisadecrepitpatchofovergrowngrass,withwind-scatteredplasticpatiofurniturethatlookslikeitcamefromasupermarketgiveaway.Throughthewindow,thekitchenlooksempty.CaljimmiesthebackdoorwithaloyaltycardfromhisfavoriteChicagodeli,pushesitopenniceandslowly,andstepsinside.
Nothingmoves.Thekitchenisold,beat-upandferociouslyclean,withanexhaustedshinecomingofftheoilclothandthelinoleum.Aslowdripfallsfromthetap.
Calmovesquietlythroughthekitchenanddownthehall.Thehouseisdimandsmellspowerfullyofflowerycleaneranddamp.Ithastoomuchfurniture,mostofitdumpyvarnishedpineturningatawdryorangewithage,andtoomuchwallpaperwithtoomuchpattern.Ontheliving-roommantelpiece,adullredlightflickersinthechestofafey-lookingJesuswhopointsatitwithonefingerandsimpersreproachfullyatCal.
Calkeepstoonesideofthestaircaseandputshisweightdowngradually,butthestepsstillcreakunderhim.Hestopsandlistensformovement.Theonlysoundisafaint,dedicatedsnoringcomingfromoneofthebedrooms.
Donie’sroomhasnothingincommonwiththerestofthehouse,exceptthepinefurniture.Mostofthesurfacesareoccupiedbydirtyclothesandvideo-gamecases.OnewallistakenupbyaTVthesizeofapicturewindow;anotheronehasahigh-endsoundsystemwhosespeakersbulgeineverycornerlikeroided-upbiceps.Theairispracticallysolidwiththeinterleavedsmellsofsweat,cigarettesmoke,beerfartsandcrustedsheets.AttheheartofthisaccretionisDonie,spread-eagledfacedownonthebed,wearinganundershirtandMinion-patternedbriefs.
Calcrossestheroominthreestrides,getsakneeonthesmallofDonie’sback,grabshisfatneckandshoveshisfaceintothepillow.HekeepshimtheretillDonie’sbuckinggetsanextraedgeofdesperation,andthenhaulshisheadupforonelonggasp.Thenhedoesitagain,andthenagain.
Doniecomesupthethirdtimesquealingforbreath.Calputsmoreweightonhisspine,letsgoofhisneckandtwistsonearmhighbehindhisback.Doniehastheconsistencyofawetsuitfullofpudding.
“Youdumbshit,”hesaysintoDonie’sear.“Youfuckedup.”
Doniewheezesandwrithes,andfinallymanagestoratchethisheadaroundandgetalookatCal.Thefirstthingacrosshisfaceisrelief.Thisisn’twhatCalisaimingfor.FearisoneofthefewthingsthatwillspinDonie’shamsterwheel.Ifhe’smorescaredofsomeoneelsethanheisofCal,that’saproblem.Luckily,Calisintherightmoodforfixingit.
“BrendanReddy,”hesays.“Starttalking.”
“Don’tknowwhatyou’re—”
Calpullsopenthedrawerofthebedsidetable,shovesDonie’sfingersinandslamsitshut.WhenDoniehowls,Calplungeshisfaceintothepillowagain.
Hewaitstillhe’ssureDonie’sdonehowlingbeforeheeaseshisgripsothelittleshitcanturnhishead.“YouknowwhatIwantforChristmas?”hesays,intoDonie’sface.Doniepantsandwhines.“Iwantyoumopestoquitbeingsofuckingpredictable.I’mfeduptothebackteethof‘Uhhh,dunnowhatyou’retalkingabout,neverheardoftheguy.’YouknowexactlywhatI’mtalkingabout.Iknowyouknow.YouknowIknowyouknow.Butstill,Donie,stillyougottacomeoutwiththatshit.SometimesIfeellike,Ihearthatshitonemoretime,I’mnotgonnabeabletocontrolmyself.”
HeletsgoofDonie,getsoffthebedandupendsachairtodumpabunchofnastytracksuitsontothefloor.“Sorrytolaymypersonaltroublesonyou,”hesayspleasantly,pullingthechairovertothebedside.“ButeverynowandagainitseemslikethingsbuildupjustalittlebithigherthanIcanbeexpectedtoputupwith.”
Donieheaveshimselfuptoasittingposition,holdinghisfingersandblowingthroughhisteeth.Aglobofpalehairybellypopsoutbetweenhisundershirtandhisbriefs.TheeyebrowgashfromhisencounterwithMart’shurlingstickisonlyhalfhealed.Donieishavingatoughcoupleofweeks,beating-wise.
“Lookinggood,son,”Calsays.
“Myfuckinghand,”Doniesays,outraged.
“Shakeitoff.You’vegotsometalkingtodo.”
“Youfuckingbrokeit.”
“Ouch,”Calsays,leaningintoinspectDonie’sfingers,whicharepurpleandswelling,scoredwithdeepredgrooves.Themiddleoneisbentataninterestingangle.“Ibetifsomeonestampedonthat,it’dhurtlikeallhell.”
“Whatthefuckdoyouwant,man?”
“JesusChrist,son,youmissthedaytheytaughtEnglishinschool?BrendanReddy.”
Donieconsidersgoingbackintoknow-nothingmode,assessesCalandthinksbetterofit.Hedoesn’tlookscared,exactly,buthelooksalittlemorealivethanusual,whichforhiskindisthesamething.“Whoevenareyou,man?Youinbusiness?Oracop?What?”
“Likewesaidbefore:I’mjustaguywhoneedsahobby.I’mnotgonnapassthisconversationontoanyone,ifthat’swhatyou’reworriedabout.Unlessyoupissmeoff.”
Donierunshistonguearoundtheinsideofhislip,wherethepillowmasheditintohisteeth,andexaminesCalwiththoseflatpaleeyes.“Youwantmetoconvinceyousomemore?”Calasks.“Wegotatleastanhour.Icanberealconvincinginanhour.”
“Whyd’youwantaknowaboutBrendan?”
“Lemmegetyoustarted,”Calsays.“BrendanwassettingupasamethcookforyourbuddiesfromDublin.Takeitfromthere.”
“LittleprickthoughthewasoutaBreakingBad,”Doniesays.“‘Allyehaveistheshake-n-bakeshite,Icanmakeyethepurestuff…’Fuckin’tosser.”Calwatcheshiseyesincasehehasaweaponstashedsomewhere,buthisfocusisonhisfingers.Heexaminesthematvariousangles,experimentswithflexingthemandgrimaces.
“Youweren’tafan,huh?”
“Itoldthemallalong.Uselesslittleprick,thinkshe’sthedog’sbollox.He’llletyoudown.”
“Theyshouldalistenedtoyou,”Calagrees.“Wouldamadeallourlivesalotsimpler.”
Doniegoesforthelitteredbedsidetable.Calshoveshimbackwardsontothebed.“Nope,”hesays.
“Ineedasmoke,man.”
“Youcanwait.Idon’twannabreathethatshit;thisroomstinksbadenoughalready.YoudoanythingusefulfortheseDublinboys,ortheyjustkeepyouaroundfordecoration?”
Doniepickshimselfup,carefullykeepinghissorehanduninvolved.“Theyneedme.Youcan’trunthegamewithoutlocallads.”
“AndI’msuretheyappreciateyouthewayyoudeserve.YouhaveanythingtodowithBrendan?”
“Hadtahelpthelittleprickclearouttheaul’housewherehewassettingup.Gethimwhatheneeded.”Doniebareshistoo-smallteethlikehewantstobite.“Sendingmeoutwithashoppinglist,likeafuckin’servant.”
“Likewhat?”
“Sudafed.Batteries.Propanetanks.Generator.Yessir,nosir,threebagsfullsir.”
“Anhydrous?”
“Nah.Littlepricksaidhe’ddothathimself,I’donlyfuckitup.”Doniesniggers.“Hewastheonethatfuckeditup.”
“How?”
Donieshrugs.“HowwouldIknow?Tooktoomuch,maybe.AnyhowP.J.FallonspotteditandcalledtheGuards.Littleprickmustatalkedhimintosendingthemhomeagain,but—”
“How’dhedothat?”
“P.J.’ssoftinthehead.Anything’ddoit.”Donieputsonanunpleasantwhine:“‘Mypooraul’mammy,ifIgetsentdownshe’llbeallalone…’OnlythelittleprickmustaletsliptoP.J.wherehe’dputtheanhydrous.”
“Whichwaswhere?Hislab?”
“‘Lab,’”Doniesays,andsniggers.“Aul’tipofahouseupthemountains.Littlepricksworenooneelseknewaboutit.P.J.andafewofhismateswentinandcleareditout.Notjusttheanhydrous.Generator,batteries,anythingworthanything.Five,sixhundredquid’sworth,easy.”
Caldoesn’tneedtoaskwhoP.J.’smatesincluded.Mart,thatknow-it-allfuck:hereallydidknowitall,ormostofitanyway.AllthetimeCalwasbabblingonaboutbigcats,andallthetimehewaswanderingaroundaskinginnocentquestionsaboutwiring,Martknewexactlywhoeachofthemwaslookingfor,andwhy
“TheDublinguysfindout?”heasks.
Doniegrins.“Ah,yeah.”
“How?”
“Idunno,man.Maybetheyhadalookoutontheplace,checkforthemselveswasitreallyassafeasthelittlepricksaid.”Donie’sgrinwidens.Heseemssurprisinglyateasewiththisconversation,nowthathe’sgotaccustomedtotheideaofit.CalhasmetpeoplelikeDoniebefore:peoplewhobarelyregisteredevenpainorfear,letaloneanythingelse,liketheiremotionsnevergrewinright.Noneofthemimprovedanyone’slifeinanyway.“Littleprickwasshittinghimself.I’dsayhe’dbeenhopingtokeepitontheQTthathe’dbeensnared.Tryandgetholdofthecashtoreplaceallthegearbeforetheyfoundout.”
“What’dtheydo?”
“Hadmesetupameeting.Themandhim.”
“Where?”
“Thataul’house.”
“Todowhat?”
“Givehimafewslaps,probably.Forbeingathickcuntanddrawingattention.Onlythelittleprickdidn’tshow.Hedonearunner.”
Donie’seyeiswanderingtothepackofcigarettesonthebedsidetableagain.Calsnapshisfingersinhisface.“Focus,Donie.Thatalltheywouldadonetohim?Afewslaps?”
“Longashepaiditback,yeah.Theywantedhimtodotheworkforthem.”
“Heknowthat?”
Donieshrugs.“Fuckin’eejitdidn’tknowhisarsefromhiselbow.Hewasinoverhishead,knowwhatImean?Youwantaworkwiththeselads,youhavetabesmart.Notfuckin’chemistryshite.Streetsmart.”
“Wereyouatthemeeting?”
“Nah.Otherstufftodo.”
Meaninghewasn’tinvited,andmeaninghedoesn’tknowwhetherornottheDublinboysweretellinghimthetruthaboutBrendannotshowingup.Brendanwasanoptimisticguy;hecouldhavegonebouncingoutthedoorfiguringhewasabouttoputeverythinghappilybackontrack,andonlyfoundoutdifferentwhenitwastoolate.Calsays,“DidtheDublinboysaskyouwherehecould’vegone?”
“HowwouldIknow?Iwasn’thisfuckin’babysitter.”
“Theygoafterhim?Catchhim?”
Donieshakeshishead.“I’mnotthick,man.Ididn’task.”
“Comeon,Donie.Howpissedoffwerethey?”
“Whatd’youfuckin’think?”
“Right.Youfigurethey’djustletBrendanrideoffintothesunset?”
“Don’twantaknow.AllIknowistheytoldmetoputthefrightenersonthoseaul’fellas.Makesuretheyknewtokeeptheirmouthsshut,stayoutofourbusinessfromnowon.”
“Thesheep,”Calsays.
Doniegrinsagain,aninvoluntarygrinlikeaspasm.
“Well,thatmustabeenrewarding,”Calsays.“Finally,somethingthatmadethemostofyourGod-giventalents.”
“Justgettingthejobdone,man.”
CallooksatDonie,sittingontheedgeofhisbedwithhispudgybarekneeswideapart,pokingathisbrokenfinger,sneakingtheoddspeculativeglanceatCal.Donieiskeepingsomethingback.
Hedidn’tlikeBrendanonebit,whichisunderstandable.DoniehadbeendoingthedonkeyworkforthisgangforGodknowshowlong,andallofasuddenBrendancameridingin,justanuppitykidtalkingbig,andDoniewasstuckbeinghiserrandboy.Hewantedthelittlesmartassgone,andCalgetsthedistinctfeelingthathetookstepstomakethathappen.MaybehetoldBrendanthatthatmeetingwouldinvolvealotmorethanafewslaps,scaredtheshitoutofhim,nudgedhimintoskippingtown.OrmaybehejustaccompaniedBrendanalongtheway,andpickedalonelystretchofmountainside.
CalconsidersgettingthefullstoryoutofDonie,whoisnowremovingflufffromhisbellybutton.Hedecidesagainstit,onthegroundsthatrightatthismomenthedoesn’tactuallygiveashitwhathappenedtoBrendanReddy.HeneedsasmuchofthisstoryasittakestofindoutwhomadeSheilabeatTrey,andwhy.Therestofitcanwait.
“Andonceyougotthejobdone,”hesays,“everythingwentbacktonormal.”
“Yeah.Untilyoucamestickingyournosein.Iwantafuckingsmoke,man.”
“Speakingofpeoplestickingtheirnosesin,”Calsays.“TreyReddy.”
Donie’sliplifts.“Whatabouther?”
“Shecametoseeyoutheotherday,askingaboutBrendan.Andthensomeonebeatherupprettybad.”
ThatmakesDoniesnigger.“Noharmdonethere.Thebitchwasuglytobeginwith.”
CalpuncheshiminthestomachsofastDonieneverseesitcoming.Hedoublesupandcollapsessidewaysontothebed,wheezingandthenretching.
Calwaits.Hedoesn’twanttohavetohitDonieagain;everytimehetouchestheguy,he’snotsurehe’llbeabletostop.“Startover,”hesays,whenDonieeventuallydragshimselfbackuptositting,wipingatrickleofspitoffhischin.“Getitrightthistime.TreyReddy.”
“Nevertouchedher.”
“Iknowyoudidn’t,moron.Youtoldsomeoneshe’dbeenhere.YourDublinbuddies?”
“Nah,man.Neversaidawordtoanyone.”
Calpullsbackhisfistagain.Doniescootshisassbackwardsonthebed,yelpingasheforgetsandputsweightonhishand.“Nahnahnah,hangon.Isaidfuckingnothing.Truth,man.WhywouldI?Idon’tgiveashiteabouther.Itoldhertofuckoff,forgotthewholething.Endof.SweartoGod.”
Calrecognizesthespecificsenseofinjurythatpoursfromachronicliarwho,foronce,isbeingaccusedofsomethinghegenuinelydidn’tdo.“OK,”hesays.“Anyoneseeherhere?”
“Idunno,man.Iwasn’tlooking.”
“TheDublinboysgotanyoneelseworkingforthemroundhere?”
“NotinArdnakelty.Coupleupintown,oneoverinLisnacarragh,oneinKnockfarraney.”
ExceptDoniemightnotknow,speciallynotiftheDublinboyssuspecthimofcausingtroublearoundBrendan.Iftheyhavesomeonekeepinganeyeonhim,hedefinitelywouldn’tknow.CalwisheshehadwaitedtillnighttimeandfoundawaytocatchDonieoutside,insteadofgoingoffhalf-cocked,butit’stoolatenow.
TherearetwophonesonDonie’sbedsidetable,inamongtheashtraysandtheweedbaggieandthesouringmugsandthesnackwrappers:agreatbigshinydickswingofaniPhone,andashittylittleMyFirstDumbphone.Calpicksuptheburnerandgoesintothecontactslist,whichhashalfadozennames.HeholdsupthescreentoDonie.“Who’stheboss?”
Donieeyeshim.Calsays,“OrIcanjustphoneallofthem,andtellthemwhereIgottheirnumbers.”
“Austin’stheboss.Oftheladswhocomedownhere,anyway.”
CalcopiesAustin’snumber,andtherest,intohisownphone,keepingoneeyeonDonieincasehedecidestogetsmart.“Yeah?Austindueintownanytimesoon?”
“There’snot,like,aschedule,man.Theyringmewhentheyneedme.”
“What’sAustinlike?”
“Youdon’twantafuckwithhim,”Doniesays.“I’mtellingyounow.”
“Idon’twanttofuckwithanyone,son,”Calsays,tossingthephonebackontothebedsidetable,whereitlandsinanashtraywithadispiritedpuffofgraypowder.“Butsometimeslifejustturnsoutthatway.”HegetsupandduststheresidueofDonie’schairoffhispants.Hefeelslikeheneedsadecontaminationshower.“Youcangobacktosleepnow.”
“I’mgonnakillyou,”Donieinformshim.
Theflateyessayhe’lldoit,ifhedoesn’tfuckitup.“Noyou’renot,youmoron,”Calsays.“Youdothat,you’llhaveadozendetectivescrawlingalloverthistownland,interviewingtheshitoutofeveryoneabouteverypieceofmoperythatgoesonintheseparts.WhatdoyouthinkyourDublinbuddies’lldotoyouifyoubringthatshitstormdownontheirheads?”
Doniemaybedumbasabagofhairinmostways,buthehasanexpert’sgraspoftheintricatewaysoftrouble.HegivesCalastareofpurevicioushatred,thekindthatonlycomesfromsomeonewho’snothreat.
“Seeyouround,”Calsays.Heheadsforthedoor,kickingaketchup-crustedplateoutofhisway.“Andcleanthisplaceup,forChrist’ssake.Youmakeyourmamalivewiththis?Changeyourfuckingsheets.”
OnhiswayoutCalhashimselfanicelongwanderaroundthelanebehindFrancieGannon’sfields,takingadeepinterestinthevergesandcheckingtoseeifanyoneiswatchingDonie’splace.Hehasastoryabouthislostsunglassesreadytogoifanyonecomesalongasking,buttheonlypersonheseesisFrancieGannon,whowavescheerfullytohimandcallssomethingunintelligible,onhiswaysomewherewithabucketthatlooksheavy.Calwavesbackandkeepslooking,noturgentlyenoughtomakeFranciecomehelphimout.
Whenhereachestheconclusionthattheplaceisclear,rightnowanyway,hewalkshomeinastateofmountingirritation,morewithhimselfthanwithanyoneelse.Hereckonedallalong,afterall,thattherewasmoregoingonunderneathMart’squirky-yokelshtick;hejustneverputthingstogether,whichforsomeoneinhislineofworkisanunpardonablelevelofdumb.CalsupposesheshouldbegratefulforMart’sprotectiveherding,evenifMartwasmainlymotivatedbythedesiretopreventCalfrombringingdownmoretroubleonthetownland,buthe’snotfondofbeingmadetofeellikeafool.
Themorninghasturnedlavishlybeautiful.Theautumnsungivesthegreensofthefieldsanimpossible,mythicradianceandtransformsthebackroadsintolight-muddledpathswhereagoblinwithariddle,oraprettymaidenwithabasket,couldbewaitingaroundeverygorse-and-bramblebend.Calisinnomoodtoappreciateanyofit.Hefeelslikethisspecificbeautyiscentraltotheillusionthatlulledhimintostupidity,turnedhimintothepeasantgazingslack-jawedathishandfulofgoldcoinstilltheymeltintodeadleavesinfrontofhiseyes.Ifallthishadhappenedinsomedepressingsuburbanclotoftracthomesandruler-measuredlawns,hewouldhavekepthiswitsabouthim.
HeneedstotalktoAustin.Austinsoundslikeafunguy.Ifhe’sthebossman,though,evenjustregionally,there’sbetterthanafifty-fiftyshotthathe’sthecalculatingsubspeciesofpsycho,ratherthantherabidkind.Inthissituation,unlikemany,Calconsidersthataplus.IfhecanconvinceAustinthatTreyisnothreat,thenAustinislikelytoabandonhissilencingcampaignasanunnecessaryrisk,ratherthankeepingitupjustforentertainment.There’sevenanoutsidechanceCalcanpersuadehimtogiveTreysomelevelofanswerinexchangeforguaranteedpeaceandquiet.InordertogaugeAustinwellenoughtowranglehim,though,Calneedstodothisface-to-face.He’sgoingtohavetophoneAustinandsetupameeting,pickhisstrategyontheflydependingonwhathefinds,andhopehismeetinggoesbetterthanBrendan’sdid.
Thehouseandthegardenlookthesameastheydidwhenheleft,andtherooksarehappilydoingtheirthing,makingconversationandcombingthegrassforbugs,undisturbed.Calunlocksthefrontdoorasquietlyashecan,figuringthekidwilllikelybeasleepagain,andpeeksintothebedroom.Thebedisempty.
Calspinsround,hisheadbloomingwithfullyfledgedabductionscenarios.Whenheseesthebathroomdoorshut,heswitchestopicturingthekidcollapsedonthefloor,bleedingintoherguts.Hecan’tbelievehedidn’thaulhertoahospitallastnight.
“Kid,”hesays,outsidethebathroom,ascalmlyashecan.“YouOK?”
Afterabadsecond,Treypullsthedooropen.“Youwerefuckin’ages,”shesnaps.
She’selectricwithnerves.SoisCal.“IwastalkingtoDonie.Didyouwantmetodothatornot?”
“What’dhesay?”
TheflareofterrorinhereyesdisintegratesCal’sirritation.“OK,”hesays.“DoniesaysyourbrotherdidgetmixedupwiththedrugboysfromDublin.Notselling,youwererightaboutthat,buthewasgonnabemakingmethforthem.Onlyhefuckedup,lostabunchoftheirsupplies.Hewasplanningtomeetupwiththemandmakeitright,andthat’sthelastDonieheardofhim.”
He’snotsureifsomeorallofthisisgoingtobemorethanTreycantake,buthe’sdonehidingstufftoprotecther:lookhowwellthatworkedoutlasttime.Thekidhasaright,paidforandbrandedontoher,totrueanswers.
Sheabsorbsitwithanintentnessthatstillsherjittering.“ThatwhatDonieactuallysaid?Nobullshitthistime?”
“Nobullshit.AndI’mprettysurehewasn’tbullshittingme,either.Notsurehetoldmeeverysinglething,butIreckonwhathedidtellmewastrue.”
“Didjahurthim?”
“Yeah.Nottoobadly.”
“Youshouldabatteredthefucker,”Treysays.“Shouldadancedonhisfuckinghead.”
“Iknow,”Calsaysgently.“Iwould’velovedto.ButI’mafteranswers,nottrouble.”
“Youhavetatalktothem,theladsfromDublin.Didjatalktothem?”
“Kid,”Calsays.“Slowdown.I’mgonna.ButIneedtoworkoutthebestwaytogoaboutit,soneitherofuswindsupwithabulletinourheads.”
Treythinksthatover,bitingoffskinfromaroundherthumbnail,wincingwhenshecatchesherlip.Intheendshesays,“DidjaseeMartLavin?”
“No.Why?”
“Hecamelookingforyou.”
“Huh,”Calsays,mentallykickinghimself.OfcourseMartwouldhaveclockedLena’scarandheadedstraightdownhere,truffle-huntingforgossip,thesecondhegotachance.“Heseeyou?”
“Nah.Isawhimcoming,hidinthejacks.Hewentallroundthehouse,whenyoudidn’tanswerthedoor.Iheardhim.Checkinginthewindows.Sawhisshadow.”
Thekidisstartingtotwitchwithadrenalineagainatthememory.“Well,”Calsayspeacefully,“goodthingmybathroom’sgotthatsheetoverthewindow.”Hetakesoffhiscoatandhangsitonitshookbehindthedoor,movingniceandslowly.“YouknowwhyIputthatuptobeginwith?’Causeofyou.Beforeweevermet.Iknewsomeonewaswatchingme,soInailedthatsheetuptheretogivemealittlebitofprivacywhereitcounts.Andnowit’scominginusefultoyou.Funnyhowthingsturnout,huh?”
Treygivesaone-shoulderedshrug,butherjitteringhassloweddown.“IknowwhatMartwanted,anyway,”Calsays,“andit’sgotnothingtodowithyou.HesawMissLena’scarhere,andhewantstoknowifmeandherarehookingup.”
ThelookonTrey’sfacemakeshimgrin.“Areyou?”
“Nope.There’smore’nenoughgoingonwithoutaddingthatinontop.Youwantanything?Asnack,maybe?”
“Iwantaseethis.”Thekidpointsatherface.“Yougotamirror?”
Calsays,“Itlooksalotworse’nitis,rightnow.Theswelling’llgodowninadayortwo.”
“Iknow.Iwantaseeit.”
Calfindshisbeard-trimmingmirrorinacupboardandhandsittoher.Treysitsatthetablewithitandspendsalongtimethere,turningherheadthiswayandthat.
“Wecanstillseeifadoctorcanfixupthatlip,”Calsays.“Soitwon’tleaveascar.We’lltellthemyoufelloffyourbike.”
“Nah.Idon’tgiveashiteaboutscars.”
“Iknow.Youmightsomeday,though.”
ThekidmakesCalhappybygivinghimafull-boremoronstare.“I’dratherlooklike‘don’tfuckwithme’thanlookpretty.”
“Ithinkyougotthatcovered,”Calsays.“Youneedtogetoutinthevillage.Beforethosebruisesgodown.”
Trey’sheadcomesupsharplyfromthemirror.“I’mnotgoingdownthere.”
“Yeahyouare.Whoevertoldyourmamatodothis,weneedthemtoknowthatshedidit,anddiditright.That’swhyshewentforyourface:sothey’dknow.Youneedtogetseenbysomeonewho’llpassiton.”
“Likewho?”
“Well,ifIknewthat,”Calsays.“JustgointoNoreen’s.Buybreadorsomething.Giveheragoodlookatyourface,walklikeyouhurtallover.She’llmakesurewordgetsaround.”
“I’vegotnomoney.”
“I’llgiveyousome.Youcanbringthebreadbackheretome.”
“Idohurtallover.Ican’twalkthatfar.”
Thekid’sshouldershaveamutinousset.Everythinginherisduginagainstthethoughtofwavingherfamily’sdirtylaundryinNoreen’sface.“Kid,”Calsays.“Youwantthemcomingbacktomakesure?”
AfterasecondTreypushesthemirroraway.“Right,”shesays.“OK.Just,canIgotomorrow?”
ThedownswirloffatiguedraggingathervoicemakesCalfeellikeaheel.Justbecausethekid’sstillgotfightinher,hefooledhimselfintobelievingshewasmorewholethanshecouldpossiblyberightnow.“Yeah,”hesays.“Sure.Tomorrow’llworkfine.Todayyoujustrestup.”
Treysays,“CanIstayhere?”
“Sure,”Calsays.He’sbeenturningoverwaystosuggestthesamethinghimself.DoniewouldhavetobeadumbassofepicproportionstogowhiningtoAustinabouttheirconversation,butCallearnedalongtimeagonevertounderestimatethespectacularnaturalwonderthatispeople’sstupidity.AndontheoffchancethatAustindoeshavesomeonewatchingDonie,andtheyspottedCal,theyknoweverywordofthatconversationbynow.HethinksoftheAustinvariantshe’sknown,andofthethingsthey’lldotoTreyiftheyfeeltheneedtocomeback.Untilhehasthesituationundersomekindofcontrol,thekidisstayingput.
Treyyawns,suddenlyandhugely,notbotheringtocoverhermouth.“’Mwrecked,”shesays,puzzled.
“That’s’causeyou’rehurt,”Calexplains.“Yourbody’susingatonofenergyonhealing.Justgimmetwominutes,andwe’llgetyoubacktobed.”
Hefetcheshishammerandtacks,achairandadropsheet,andtakesthemovertothebedroomwindow.Treyfollowshimandcollapsesonthebedlikesomeonecutherstrings.
“IgotbeatuponetimewhenIwasaboutyourage,”Calsays.Heclimbsonthechairandstartstackingupthesheetoverthewindow.
“Wasityourmamthatdoneit?”
“Nope,”Calsays.“Mymamahadthesoftestheartintown.Shecouldn’tswatamosquito.”
“Yourdad?”
“Nah.Hedidn’thaveameanboneinhisbodyeither.Mydad,whenheshowedup,he’dbringmelittletoycarsandcandy,flowersformymama,showmecardtricks,stickaroundacoupleofweeksandthentakeoffagain.No,thiswasacoupleofguysfromschool.Idon’tevenrememberwhatitwasabout.Theygotmeprettygood,though.Twocrackedribs,andmyfacelookedlikearottenpumpkin.”
“Worse’nmine?”
“Aboutthesame.Morebruises,lessblood.WhatIremembermost,though,ishowtiredIwasafterwards.Formostofaweek,all’sIcoulddowaslieonthecouchandwatchTV,andeatwhatevermygrammabroughtme.Gettinghurttiresyourightout.”
Treyworksthisoverinherhead.“Didjagetthemback?”sheasks.“Theladsthatbetyouup?”
“Yep,”Calsays.“Ittookawhile,’causeIhadtowaittillIgrewasbigasthem,butIgotthereintheend.”Hestepsoffthechairandgivesthedropsheetatug.Itstaysinplace.“There,”hesays.“Nowyouwon’thavetoworryabouthidinginthebathroomifanyonecomesround.Youjustgetalltherestyouneed.”
Thekidletsoutanotheryawn,knucklinghergoodeye,andstartswindingherselfupinthebedclothes.“Sleeptight,”Calsays,andclosesthedoorbehindhim.
Shesleepsforfourhours.Calstripswallpaperinthesecondbedroom,ataslow,steadyrhythm,soasnottomakeanysuddennoises.Dustmoteswhirlandflareinthesunlightslantingthroughthewindowpane.Outamongtheharvestedfields,sheepcallbackandforth,andaflockoftardygeesesetsupafarawayclamor.Noonecomeslookingforanyone.
NINETEEN
HungerfinallyrousesTrey,andCalmakesthembothpeanutbuttersandwichesandthenlocksTreyinagainsohecanheadintotown.EvenifDoniecalledAustinstraightaway,thisishardlygoingtobehighenoughonAustin’sprioritylisttomakehimleapintoaction,butCalstillwantstobebackhomebydark.Ashebacksoutofhisdriveway,thehouse,lowandstolidamidhisovergrownfieldsandthebrownsmudgeofmountainsonthehorizon,looksveryfarawayfromanythingelse.
Onthedrive,hephonesLena.“Hey,”hesays.“How’rethedogsdoing?”
“Grand.Nelliedestroyedoneofmyshoestopunishme,butitwasanoldone.”Inthebackground,men’svoicesarecallingbackandforth.She’satwork.“How’sTrey?”
“OK.Stillkindashaky,butbetter.How’boutyou?Didtheachesandpainswearoffyet?”
“Youmean,”Lenasays,“haveIblockeditoutenoughthatI’dbeonfordoingitalloveragain.”
“Well,”Calsays,“thattoo.Thekidwantstostayonemorenightatmyplace.Wouldyouhelpmeoutagain?IfIgetthatmattress?”
AfteramomentLenamakesasoundthatcouldbelaughterorexasperation,orboth.“Youshould’vejusttakenthepup,”shesays.“Itwould’vebeenlesshassle.”
“It’sjustonemorenight.”Calisprettysurethisistrue.Thisisn’tsomethinghecanletlieforanylengthoftime.“YoucouldbringNellie,ifyouwant.Keeptherestofyourshoesoutofdanger.”Hedoesn’tmentionthepartwhereabeagle’salertearsmightcomeinhandy,buthe’sprettysureLenacatchesitanyway.
Themen’svoicesgetsmaller;Lenaismovingawayfromthem.Shesays,“Onemorenight.Ifyougetthatairmattress.”
“Headingtherenow,”Calsays.“Thankyou.Ifeveryouneedafavor,youknowwheretocome.”
“Nexttimeoneofthepupsgetstherunsalloverthefloor,I’mringingyou.”
“I’llbethere.CanIinviteyoutojoinusfordinner?”
“No,I’llmakemyownandcallovertoyouafter.Aroundeight,say.Canthetwoofyeprotectyourselvestillthen?”
“We’lldoourbest,”Calsays.“WhileI’mpushingmyluck,couldyoudomeonemorefavor?CanyoucallSheilaReddyandtellherTrey’sOK?”
There’sasilence.
“Sheoughtaknow,”Calsays.He’snotfeelingparticularlywarmtowardsSheila,butitwouldn’tberighttoleaveherwonderingifTreyishelplessordyingsomewhereonthemountainside.“Justtellherthekid’ssafe,isall.”
“Ah,yeah,right.AndwhensheaskswhereTreyis,IjustsayI’venoclue,isit?OrIsay,‘Haha,nottelling,’andhanguponher?”
“Justtellher,Idon’tknow,tellherthekiddoesn’twanttotalktoherrightnow,butshe’llbehometomorrow.Somethinglikethat.”Intoanothersilencethathasadistinctairofraisedeyebrows,hesays:“I’ddoitmyself,exceptSheilamightgetupsetifshefindsoutthekid’sstayingatmyhouse.Idon’twanthercallingthepoliceonme.Orbangingonmydoor.”
“Butit’sgrandifshedoesthatonme,yeah?”
“Shewon’tcallthecopsonyou.Ifshecomestoyourplace,youcanshowheryoudon’thavethekid.Andifshecomesaftereight,youwon’tbethereanyway.”
AfteraminuteLenasays,“I’dbehappierifIcouldfigureouthowIendedupinthemiddleofthis.”
“Yeah,”Calsays.“Metoo.Thekid’sgotagift.”
“I’vetogo,”Lenasays.“Seeyoulater.”Andshehangsup.CalthinksofthearrayofsoundeffectsDonnawouldhavecomeupwithtoconveytheiceberg-tipofherfeelingsaboutthissituation.Heactuallythinksaboutphoningherandtellingherthewholestory,justforthepleasureofhearingthemonemoretime,buthedoubtsshewouldappreciatethisthewayheintendsit.
Townhasaweekdaybriskness,oldwomensteamingalongwithwheeledshoppingbags,youngonesjugglingstrollersandshoppingandphones,oldguyshavingstick-wavingconversationsoncorners.Calhassometroubletrackingdownaninflatablemattress,buteventuallytheguyinthehardwarestoredisappearsintohisbackroomforalongtimeandcomesbackwithtwoofthem,bothcoatedindustandstickycobwebs.Caltakesthemboth.Evenifhewelcomedtheprospectofanightinhisarmchair,alonemattressmightgiveLenatheimpressionthathehasexpectations.
Inashophungwithanimpressivevarietyofresignedpolyester-basedclothingthatexplainsSheila’ssweater,hefindsawirebinofpolyester-basedbedding,anextraduvetandacoupleofpillows,aswellasasetofpajamas,abluehoodieandapairofjeansthatlooktobearoundTrey’ssize.Heloadsuphissupermarketcartwithsteak,potatoes,vegetables,milk,eggs,themostnourishingstuffhecanfind.Whilehe’satit,hepicksupapacketofMart’scookies.HeneedsanexcusetogooverandletMartribhimaboutLena,beforeMartgetsimpatientenoughtotrycallingroundagain.
Eveningworksitswayinearlier,thesedays.BythetimeCalleavestown,thelightislowering,throwinggreatswathesofshadowacrossthefields.Heheadsforhomefasterthanheshould,ontheseroads.
He’sstillfiguringouthowtoapproachAustin.Backonthejob,hewouldhavebeengoinginequippedwithanelaboraterangeofsticksandcarrotsineveryshape,sizeandspecification.Hewatchestheslimlowmoonhanginginalavenderskyandthefieldsdeepeningwithduskastheyflowpasthiswindows,andfeelsthewideimmensityofhisempty-handednessalloveragain.
Austinisn’tgoingtotalktoanex-cop,he’snotgoingtotakekindlytoabusinessrival,andhe’snotgoingtogivearandomcivilianthetimeofday.Calfigureshisbestbetistogoinasaguywhousedtobeinthelife,retiredbeforehisluckcouldrunout,andmovedfarfromhomesohewouldn’tgetsuckedbackinortrackeddown:toughenoughtokeepTreyincheckandtomeritsomerespect,notactiveenoughtobeathreat.
Herealizesthathe’sthinkinglikeadetectiveagain,butnotthekindofdetectiveheeverwas.Thisisundercoverthinking.Calneverlikedundercoverwork,ortheguyswhodidit.Theymovedinanatmosphereoffunhouse-mirrorfluidity,andhadanimble,flyweighteasewithit,thatmadehimedgydowntohisbones.He’sstartingtofeelthattheywouldfitinaroundthesepartsalotbetterthanhedoes.
Bythetimeheparksinhisdriveway,hishouseistwolightedrectanglesandarooflineagainstindigoskyandfirststars.Calgetsoutofhistruckandgoesaroundtothebacktogetouttheairmattresses.Whenheregisterstherushoffeetinlonggrass,hehasjusttimetospinroundandseethedarkshapesinnear-darknesschargingtowardshim,justtimetograbatthespotwherehisGlockshouldbe,beforesomethingroughanddustycomesdownoverhisheadandhe’syankedbackwardsoffhisfeetandslammeddownflat.
Thefallwindshim.Heheavesforbreath,uselessly,likeafishmouthingatair.Thensomethinghardsmashesdownonhiscollarbone.Hehearsthedullclunkofitstrikingboneandfeelshimselfsplinter.Heheavesforbreathagain,painshearsthroughhiscollarboneandthistimehemanagesalungfulofdustandgrit,mixedwithbarelyenoughair
Hetwistssideways,wheezing,hismouthcloggedwithroughfabric,andflailsoutblind.Hegrabsanankleandyankswithallhismight,andfeelsthethudinthegroundasthemangoesdown.Akickinthebackmakeshimletgo.Thehardthingcracksintohiskneecap,thepainwhipshisbreathawayagain,andasmallclearpartofhismindrealizesthatthere’smorethanoneofthemandthatheisfucked.
Aman’svoicesays,intohisface,“Youmindyourownbusiness.D’youhearme?”
Calpunchesout,connectsandhearsthemangrunt.Beforehecangethiskneesunderhim,thehardthingslamsintohisnoseanditexplodes,painbloomingdazzlinglybrightallthroughhishead.Hebreathesblood,gagsonit,retchesitupingreathelplesshacks.ThentheairsplitsopenwithagreatroarandCalthinksthey’vehithimagain,thinksthisisit,andtheneverythingstops.
Inthesilenceahardclearvoice,somewayaway,shoutsout,“Don’tfuckin’move!”
IttakesCalamomenttomakesenseofthesound,throughtheinsistentsingingfogofbloodandstars,andanothertoidentifyitasTrey’svoice.Inthethirdmoment,herealizesthatTreyjustshotofftheHenry.
Treyshouts,“Where’sBrendan?”
Nothingmoves.Calscrabblesattheclothcoveringhishead,buthisfingersareuselesswithshaking.Aman’svoiceshouts,verynearby,“Putthatdown,youlittlescut!”
TheHenryroarsagain.There’sarawyellofpainfrombehindCal’shead,thenarisinggibberofvoices.
“Whatthehell—”
“JesusChrist—”
“Itoldyedon’tmove!”
“I’mfuckin’shot,shefuckin’shotme—”
“Where’smybrotherorI’llkillthefuckin’lotofye!”
SomehowCalmanagestogetagriponthebagandpullitoffhishead.Theworldtiltsandseethesandhecanseeonlyonethingclearly:alighthousebeamofgoldspreadingacrossthegrass,andatitsapex,silhouettedinthebrightrectangleofthedoorway,Treyaimingtherifle.Treyhascomeoutofthathouselikeaflamethrower,fueledtothebrimwithalifetime’sworthofrage,allreadytoburneverythingformilestotheground.
“Kid!”Calyells,andhearsitechooutovertheshockeddarkfields.“Stop!It’sme!”Heclawshimselftohisfeet,swayingandlumbering,onelegdragging,snufflingandspittingblood.“Don’tshootme!”
“Getoutamyfuckin’way!”Treyshoutsback.Heraccenthasturnedrougherandwilder,straightdownfromthemountainsonasaw-toothedwind,buthervoiceisclearandintent.
BehindCalsomeonepantsthroughgrittedteeth,“Myfuckin’arm,”andsomeoneelsesnaps,low,“Shutup.”Thenthere’sutterstillness,asfarashecanhearthroughthepoundingandbubblinginhishead.ThemenwatchingTrey’severymoveknowbetter,now,thantotakeherlightly.
Calspreadshisarmswideandlurchesinfrontofthem.“Kid,”heshouts.“No.”Heknowstherearewordshe’susedtotalkgunsoutofpeople’shandsbefore,promises,soothingthings.They’reallgone.
“GetoutamywayorI’llshootyoutoo!”
AllaroundCalthingsarerockingandrippling,buthersilhouetteinthedoorwayissteadyasamonument;theheavyrifleathershoulderdoesn’tevenshake.Ifthesemenrefuseher,oriftheylietoher,ormaybeeveniftheytellherthetruth,she’llblowthemalltokingdomcome.
“Kid,”heshouts.Hisvoicecomesoutfrayedbydustandblood.“Kid.Sendthemaway.”
“Where’sBrendan?”
“Please,kid,”Calshouts.Hisvoicecracksopen.“Please.Justsendthemaway.I’mbeggingyou.”
Therearethreebreaths’worthofpure,coldnighttimesilence.ThentheHenrygoesoffagain.Therooksexplodefromtheirtreeinavastblackfireworkofwingsandpanic.Cal’sheadgoesbackandheroarslikeananimalupatthenightsky.
Whenhegaspsforair,paralyzedbetweenlungingfortherifleandlurchingaroundtoseethedamage,hehearsTrey’svoiceshout,“Nowgettafuck!”
“We’regoing!”amanshoutsback,behindhim.
IttakesanothersecondforCal’sjoltedbraintocatchup.Treyaimedhigh,intothetreetops.
“Gettafuckoffathisland!”
“I’mbleeding,Godalmighty,look—”
“Comeon,comeon,comeon—”
Roughpanting,jumbledvoicesthatCalcan’tmakeintosense,feethurryingthroughgrass.Whenheturnstogetalookatthemen,hiskneegivesoutandhecollapses,graduallyandungracefully,intoasittingposition.Themenarealreadyvanishingintothedark,threeswiftblackshapeshuddledtogetherwiththeirheadsduckeddownlow.
Calsitswhereheisandpresseshiscoatsleevetohisstreamingnose.Treystaysinthedoorway,withtherifletohershoulder.Therookswhirl,screamingabuse,andthengraduallycalmdownandsettlebackintotheirtreetobitchincomfort.
Whenthemuffledvoiceshavefadedupthelane,TreylowersthegunandcomeslopingdownthebeamoflighttoCal.Hetakeshissleeveoffhisnoselongenoughtosay,“Thesafety.Putthesafetyon.”
“Idid,”Treysays.Shehunkersdowntopeerathiminthedarkness.“Howbadareyou?”
“I’lllive,”Calsays.Hestartstryingtoreorganizehislimbsintosomearrangementthatwilllethimstandup.“Weneedtogetinside.Beforetheycomeback.”
“Theywon’tcomeback,”Treysayswithsatisfaction.“Igotonefellagoodo.”
“OK,”Calsays.Hecan’tarticulatethefactthat,iftheydocomeback,they’llcomewithgunsoftheirown.Hemanagestogettohisfeetandstandsthere,wobblinggentlyandtryingtoworkoutwhetherhiskneewillcarryhim.
“Here,”Treysays.Sheloopsherfreearmacrosshisback,takinghisweightononeskinnyshoulder.“Comeon.”
“No,”Calsays.He’sthinkingofherinjuries,whichatthemomenthecan’tpictureexactlybutwhichherecallsashorrifying.Treyignoreshimandstartstowardsthehouse,andCalfindshimselfmovingwithher.Theyshambleacrossthegrass,weavinginandoutofthelight,proppingeachotheruplikeapairofdrunks.Bothofthemarepanting.Calcanfeeleveryinchofthedarknessspreadoutaroundthem,andeveryinchoftheirbodiesthatwouldmakeaperfecttarget.Hetriestolimpfaster.
Bythetimeheslamsthedoorbehindthemanddouble-locksit,everymuscleinhisbodyisjuddering.Thesuddenbrightnesssmasheshimrightintheeyes.“Getmeatowel,”hesays,droppingintoachairatthetable.“Andthatmirror.”
TreyleavestheHenryonthecounterandbringshimboth,andthenabowlofwaterandhisfirst-aidkit,andstandstherehoveringwhilehepressesthetoweltohisnose.“Howbadareyou?”sheasksagain.
ThetautnessinhervoicereachesCal.Hetakesalongbreathandtriestosteadyhimself.“’Boutthesameasyouweretheothernight,”hesays,throughthetowel.“Prettybangedup,butI’vetakenworse.”
Thekidhoversforanotherminute,watchinghimandfingeringherlip.Thensheheadsabruptlytothefreezerandstartsrummaging.WhileCalwaitsforthebleedingtostop,hepullsuphispantslegandchecksouthisknee.It’spurpleandinflating,withadarkerpurplelinescoredrightacrossit,butaftersomeexperimentinghe’sprettysureit’snotbroken.Hiscollarboneisatleastcracked:itshootsoutpainwheneverhemoveshisshoulder.Whenheprobesverycarefullyalongit,though,thelineisstraight.Itshouldn’tneedsetting,whichisgood.Calwouldmuchprefernottoexplainanyofthistoadoctor.
Treydumpstwoplasticbagsoficecubesonthetableinfrontofhim.“Whatelse?”sheasks.
“I’mgonnaneedasling,”Calsays.“Thatsheetoverthebathroomwindow,that’slongenoughthatwecancutoffastripatthebottom.Scissorsinthatdrawerthere.”
Treygoesintothebathroomandcomesbackwithalengthofcloth,whichshefashionsintoadirtybutserviceablesling.OncetheyhaveCal’scoateasedoffhimandtheslingfixedon,shepullsherselfuptositonthecountertop,whereshecankeepaneyeoutthekitchenwindow.
Cal’snosehasstoppedbleeding.Hetestsit,tryingnottoletthekidseehimflinchingateachtouch.It’sswollentotwiceitssize,butthelineofitfeelsmuchthesameasiteverdid.Hisshakinghasebbedenoughthathecancleanuphisface,giveortake,withacornerofthetoweldippedinthebowlofwater.Inthemirror,helooksjustabouthowheexpected:hisnoseistheshapeofatomatoandhehastwoblackeyescoming,althoughhisarenowherenearasimpressiveasthekid’s.
Treyiswatchinghim.“Lookatus,”Calsays.Hisvoicesoundsjustasmuffledandblurredasitdidthroughthetowel.“Pairofbeat-upstraymutts.”
Treynods.Calcan’ttellhowmuchthishasshakenher.Herfacestillhasthehard,intentfocusthatheheardinhervoiceacrosstheyardandthegun.Itseemswrongonachild.Calfeelslikeheoughttodosomethingaboutit,butrightthismomenthecan’tworkoutwhat.
Heleansbackinthechair,settlesoneicepackonhiskneeandtheotheroneonhisnose,andconcentratesonslowinghisbodyandhismindsotheycanworkright.Hegoesbackoverpreviousbeatingshe’staken,inordertoputthisoneintoperspective.Therewerekidsinschool,afewtimes.TherewastheidiotwhocameafterhimwithapieceofpipeoutsideapartyCalandDonnawereatintheirwilddays,becausehethoughtCalhadlookedfunnyathisgirlfriend—Calstillhasadentinhisthighwheretheendofthatpipedugin.Thatguywasaimingtokillhim,andsowastheguyjackeduponsomethingorotherwhochargedoutofabackalleywhenCalwasonpatrolandwouldn’tquittillCalbrokehisarm.Andyet,somehow,hereCalstillis,sittinghalfwayacrosstheworldinabackcornerofIreland,withyetanotherbloodynose.Hefindsthisstrangelycomforting.
“Wehadabeat-upstraymuttonetime,”Treysays,fromthecounter.“MeandBrendanandmydad,weweregoingtothevillage,andwefoundhimontheroad.Allscrapedupandbleeding,andabadleg.Mydadsaidhewasdying.Hewasgonnadrownhimsohewouldn’tsuffer.ButBrendan,yeah?Hewantedtofixthedogup,andintheendmydadsaidhecouldtry.Wehadthatdogsixmoreyears.Healwayshadalimp,buthewasgrand.HeusedtasleeponBren’sbed.Hediedofbeingold,intheend.”
Calhasneverheardhertalkthismuch,especiallyfornoapparentpurpose.Atfirsthethinksit’stensioncomingoutasbabble,butthenhelooksatherlookingathim,andrealizeswhatshe’sdoing.She’susingwhatshe’slearnedfromhim:talkingaboutwhatevercomesintoherhead,inordertosoothehimdown.
“Howoldwereyou?”heasks.
“Five.BrensaidIcouldnamehim.IsaidPatch,’causehehadlikeablackeyepatch.NowI’dthinkofsomethingbetter,butIwasonlylittle.”
“Youeverfindoutwherehecamefrom?”
“Nah.Notfromroundhere,orwe’daknownabouthim.Someonedumpedhimoutofacaronthemainroad,probably,andhecrawledfromthere.Hewasn’toneofthemfancydogs.Justanaul’black-and-whitemutt.”
“Bestkind,”Calsays.“Yourbrotherdidgood.”Hetestsouthisknee,whichisworkingOK,nowthattheinitialshockhaswornoffit.“Tellyousomething,I’mfeelingbetter’nIexpectedtorightnow.”
Thisisprettymuchtrue.He’sthrobbinginvariousplacesandfeelsmildlynauseatedfromswallowingblood,butoverall,hecouldhaveendedupalotworseoff.Hewouldhavedone,ifTreyandtheHenryhadn’tinterrupted.
“Thanks,kid,”hesays.“Forsavingmyass.”
Treynods.ShereachesforCal’sbreadandsticksacoupleofslicesinthetoaster.“Youfiguretheywouldakiltyou?”
“Whoknows,”Calsays.“I’mfinewithnotfindingout.”Hedoesn’twanttotakeanythingawayfromthekid,buthedoubtshewouldhavewoundupdead,unlesssomeonescrewedup.Heknowsthedifference;thisbeatingwasn’tintendedtokill.JustlikehesaidtoDonie,theDublinboysdon’twanttheattentionthatadeadYankwoulddraw.Whattheywantedwastogettheirmessageacross.
NowthatTrey’sgoneandshotoneofthem,thatmightchange.Itdependsonhowlevel-headedthisAustinguyis,howpersuasiveCalcanbe,andhowstrongaholdAustinhasonhiscrew.Calisinnoframeofmindtomakethatphonecalltonight,butitneedstohappentomorrowmorning,assoonasAustincanreasonablybeexpectedtobeawake.
Treyisalternatingbetweenwatchingthewindow,watchinghertoastandwatchingCal.“Yougotthatgunloadedupprettyquick,”Calsays.
“Ihaditready.Eversinceyouleft.”
“How’dyougetitoutofthesafe?”
“Sawthecombinationwhenyouopeneditthattime.”
Calfeelsheoughttolectureheraboutnottouchinggunsunlessshehasbothpermissionandalicense,butinthecircumstancesthatwouldseemunappreciative.“Right,”hesays.“How’dyouknowyouwouldn’thitme?”
Thekidlookslikethequestionissodumbitbarelydeservesananswer.“Youwereontheground.Iaimedhigherup.”
“Right,”Calsaysagain.Thethoughtofhergettingoneofthosemenintheheadgiveshimanextrafillipofnausea.“Wellthen.”
Trey’stoastpops.Sheleansovertogetthecheddaroutofthefridgeandaknifefromitsdrawer.“Youwantsome?”
“Notrightnow.Thanks.”
Treypacksslicesofcheesebetweenthetoast,notbotheringwithaplate,andpullsoffachunksoshecanbypasshersplitlip.Shesays,“Howcomeyoudidn’tletmemakethemtalk?”
Caltakestheicepackoffhisnose.“Kid.Youhadagunonthem.You’dalreadyshotoneofthem.Whatdidyouthinkthey’dsay?‘Uh,yeah,it’sourdoingthatyourbrother’sgone,sorry’boutthat’?Nah.Theywouldaswornblindtheyhadnoideawhathappenedtohim,whethertheydidornot.Andthenyouwouldahadtopickbetweenshootingthemalldeadandlettingthemgohome.Nomatterwhat,youwouldn’thavegotyouranswer.Ifigureditwasalotsmartertoskipstraighttosendingthemhome.”
Thekidthinksthatover,eatinghunksofsandwichcarefullyandswingingonefoot.Thetautfocushasfadedoutofher.Hereyeisbloominginluridnewshades,butsheseemsrevivedandenergized,backinherbodyandhermind.Tonightdidhergood.
Shesays,“Iwantedtoshootthem.”
“Iknow.Butyoudidn’t.That’sagoodthing.”
Treylooksabouthalfconvinced.“Igottheonefella,anyway.”
“Yeah.Ithinkyougothiminthearm.Hewasmovingfine,whentheyleft.He’llbeOK.”
“Hewon’tgotothecops.”
“Nah,”Calsays.“Thehospitalmightcallthem,ifhehastogothere.Buthe’llsayhehadanaccidentcleaninghisgun,somethinglikethat.Theywon’tbelievehim,buttherewon’tbealottheycandoaboutit.”
Treynods.Shesays,“TheysoundlikeDubstoyou?”
“Dunno.Iwasn’tpayingmuchattentiontothat.”
“Soundedlocaltome.”
“Probably,”Calsays.Austinwouldn’thavehadthetime,orlikelytheinclination,tosendguysdownfromDublin.Thiswouldhavebeenajobforafewlocalfootsoldiers.“Yourecognizeanyof’em?”
Treyshakesherhead.
“Youseewhattheyhitmewith?”
“Lookedlikehurls.Couldn’tseeforsure,but.”Sheglancesupfromhersandwich.“Wehavetabegettingclose,right?Ortheywouldn’tbothercomingafterus.”
“Maybe,”Calsays.“Maybenot.Couldbethey’rejustfedupofthehassle.OrpissedoffwithmeforbeatingupDonie.”
“Butmaybe.”
“Yeah,”Calsays,onlypartlybecausesheneedsthat,tomakeallthisworthit.“Wecouldbe.”
AfteramomentTreysays,“Areyouraging?”
“Idon’thavetimeforthatrightnow.Ineedtogetthingsstraightenedout.”
Treythinksthatoverandripsoffanotherpieceofhersandwich.Calcanfeelherwantingtosaysomething,buthecan’thelpherwiththat.Herummagesthroughthefirst-aidkittillhefindshisibuprofen,andswallowsaheftydosedry.
Treysays,“It’smyfaulttheydonethattoyou.”
“Kid,”Calsays.“I’mnotblamingyou.”
“Iknow.Itis,but.”
“Youdidn’tbeatmeup.”
“Itwasmethatgotyouintothis.”
Callooksatherandfindshimselfflooredbyboththevastimportanceandthevastimpossibilityofsayingtherightthing,atamomentwhenhecanbarelypiecetogetherathought.HewishesLenawerethere,untilherealizesthatshewouldbenohelpatall.HewishesDonnawerethere.
“All’syoucandoisyourbest,”hesays.“Sometimesitdoesn’tworkoutthewayyouintenditto.Youjustgottakeepdoingitanyway.”
Treystartstoasksomething,butthenherheadsnapsaround.“Hey,”shesayssharply,inthesameinstantthatheadlightssweepacrossthekitchenwindow.
Calpullshimselftostanding,bracinghimselfonthetable.Hiskneestillhurts,buthe’ssteadieronhisfeet.“Gointhebedroom,”hesays.“Anythinghappens,getoutthewindowandrunlikehell.”
“I’mnotgoingto—”
“Yeahyouare.Go.”
Afteramomentshegoes,slammingherfeetdownhardtomakeherviewsclear.CalpicksuptheHenryandgoestothedoor.Whenthecar’slightsgooffandhehearstheenginecutout,hethrowsthedoorwideandstandsinthedoorway,leavinghimselfclearinthelight.Hewantswhoeveritistoseetherifle.Hecouldn’taimitevenifhewantedto,buthe’shopingthesightofitwillbeenough.
It’sLena,gettingoutofhercarwithNellieboundingaheadofher,andliftingahandtoCalinthedoor-beamoflightdownthegrass.Whatwithonethingandanother,theirplansslippedCal’smind.HerecognizesherjustintimetoavoidmakingafoolofhimselfbyshoutingtheLordonlyknowswhat.Insteadheremembers,afteramoment,toraiseahandinreturn.
Asshegetsclose,Lena’seyebrowsshootup.“WhattheholyJaysus,”shesays
Calhadforgottenwhathelookslike.“Igotbeatup,”hesays.Itoccurstohimthathe’sholdingarifle.Hestepsbackinsideandlaysitdownonthecounter.
“Igotthatpart,yeah,”Lenasays,followinghim.“Didjashootanyonewiththatyoke?”
“Nocasualties,”Calsays.“FarasIknow.”
Lenatakeshischininherhandandturnshisfacefromsidetoside.Herhandiswarm,rough-skinnedandmatter-of-fact,likeshe’sexaminingahurtanimal.“Areyougoingtothedoctor?”
“Nope,”Calsays.“Norealharmdone.It’llheal.”
“I’veheardthatsomewherebefore,”Lenasays,givinghisfaceonemorelookandreleasingit.“Thepairofyeareamatchmadeinheaven,d’youknowthat?”
TreyhasemergedfromthebedroomandsquatteddowntomakefriendswithNellie,whoisjoyouslywrigglingandlicking.“How’sthewarwounds?”Lenaasksher
“Grand,”Treysays.“What’shername?”
“That’sNellie.Ifyougiveherabittafood,you’llhaveafriendforlife.”Treyheadsforthefridgeandstartsrummaging.
“Yououghtagohome,”Calsays.“Theymightcomeback.”
Lenastartsunloadingthevariouspocketsofherbigwaxjacket.“Youneverknowyourluck.Iftheydo,Imightdoabetterjobofdealingwiththemthanyetwohave.”Thejacketcontainsanimpressivequantityofstuff:asmallcartonofmilk,ahairbrush,apaperbackbook,twocansofdogfood,aclip-onbooklight,andatoothbrush,whichshewavesatCal.“Now.Icamepreparedthistime.”
CalfeelsthatLenaisn’ttakinginthefullweightofthesituation,butifhisfaceandTrey’shaven’tbroughtithometoher,hecan’tcomeupwithanythingthatwould.“Iboughtacoupleofairmattresses,”hesays.“They’reinthecar.I’dappreciateitifyou’dkeepaneyeoutwhileIgofetchthem.”
OneofLena’seyebrowsarchesupwards.“Youwantmetocoveryou,isit?Withthatyoke?”Shenodsattherifle.
“Youknowhowtouseit?”
“ForJaysus’sake,man,”Lenasays,amused,“I’mnotgoingtocrouchunderthewindowplayingsniperswhileyougotwentymeterstoyourcar.You’regoingnowhere,anyway:withthatarm,youcan’tcarryanything.I’llgo.Where’syourkeys?”
Caldoesn’tlikethatideaonebit,buthecan’tgetroundthefactthatshehasapoint.Heworkshisgoodarmaroundtofishhiskeysoutofhispantspocket.“Lockituponceyou’redone,”hesays,althoughhe’snotsurewhatthiswillachieve.
“Andyoucan’tcoverme,either,”Lenapointsout,catchingthekeys.“Thatyokeneedstwogoodarms.”
“I’lldoit,”Treysays,fromwhereshe’ssittingonthefloorfeedinghamslicestoNellie.
“Noyouwon’t,”Calsays.HefindshimselfgettingirritatedwithLena.Hewasstartingtofeelthathehadagriponthesituation,untilsheshowedup,andnowthewholethingseemstohaveslippedoutofhishandsandgotitselfstrandedsomewherebetweendangerousandridiculous.“You’llquitdistractingthatdog,iswhatyou’lldo,soitcangoalongwithMissLena.Putthathamaway.”
“Nowthere’sastrokeofgenius,”Lenasaysapprovingly.“Nothinglikeabeagletofightoffagangofdesperatecriminals.Shehasn’thadhersupper;I’dsayshecouldeatatleastthreeof’em,dependinghowmuchmeattheyhaveonthem.Weretheybigones?”
“Ifyou’regettingthosemattresses,”Calsays,“nowwouldbeagoodtime.There’ssomegroceriesinthere,whileyou’reatit.”
“Sure,anyone’dbeanarkyfucker,afterthedayyou’vehad,”Lenatellshimconsolingly,andsheheadsouttothecar.Calfollowshertothedoortowatchafterher,regardlessofwhatshethinksaboutthatandofwhetherhecouldactuallybeanyhelpifsheneededit.Trey,afterabriefpausetoassessmatters,goesrightbacktofeedingNellie
Bythetimethey—LenaandTrey,mainly—haveunloadedthegroceries,fedthedog,inflatedthemattresses,setoutoneoneachsideofthefireplaceandmadeupthebeds,TreyisyawningandCalisfightingit.Allhisgoodintentionswithsteakandgreenbeanshavegoneoutthewindow.Trey’scheesesandwichwillhavetogetherthroughthenight.
“Bedtime,”hetellsher.Hethrowshertheclotheshegotintown.“Here.Pajamas,andstufffortomorrow.”
Treyholdsuptheclothesliketheyhavecooties,herchingoesoutandshestartstosaysomethingthatCalknowsisgoingtobeaboutcharity.“Don’tgivemeanyshit,”hesays.“Yourclothesstinkofblood.Bytomorrowthey’regonnabeattractingflies.Throw’emouthereonceyou’vechanged,andI’llwash’em.”
AfteramomentTreyrollshereyestoheaven,headsintothebedroomandbangsthedoorbehindher.“You’vegotyourselfateenager,”Lenasays,amused.
“She’shadalongcoupleofdays,”Calsays.“She’snotatherbest.”
“Neitherareyou.Youlookaboutreadyforbedyourself.”
“Icouldsleep,”Calsays.“Ifit’snottooearlyforyou.”
“I’llreadforawhile.”Lenafindsherbookandhercliplightamidthestuffonthetable,kicksoffhershoesandmakesherselfcomfortableononeofthemattresses—shehas,sensibly,comewearingasoft-lookinggraysweatshirtandsweatpants,meaningshehasnoneedtochange.Nellieischeckingoutthenewspace,snufflingintocornersandunderthesofa;Lenasnapsherfingers,andNellielollopsoverandcurlsupatherfeet.Lenapropsherselfuponherpillowandgetstoreading.Calisn’tinthemoodforsleepoverchitchateither,buthe’sirritatedthatshemadethepointbeforehedid.
Treyopensthebedroomdoor,wearingthepajamas,andskidsherdirtysweatshirtandjeansacrossthefloor.Calrealizesthatthepajamasareboy-typestuffwithsomekindofracecaronthefront.HestillhastroublethinkingofTreyasanactualgirl.
“Youwantmetositwithyouawhile?”heasks.
Forasecondshelookslikeshemight,butthensheshrugs.“Nah.I’mgrand.Night.”Assheheadsbackintothebedroomshethrowshimalopsidedgrinoverhershoulder.“Callmeifyouneedyourarsesaving,”shetellshim.
“Smartass,”Calsaystotheclosingdoor.“Getoutahere.”
“Lookslikesheoughtabetheonetellingyouabedtimestory,tonight,”Lenasays,glancingupoverherbook.
“Thisisn’tajoke,”Calsays.Lena’scomfysweatsuitisannoyinghimalloveragain.Hehasnointentionofaskingforherhelpgettingchanged,whichmeanshe’sgoingtohavetosleepinhisblood-coveredclothes.
“Seemstomeyou’retheonethathasn’tbeentakingitseriouslyenough,”Lenapointsout.“Areyoudonedoingstupidthingsyet?”
“I’dlovetobe,”Calsays.He’sbeentryingtoworkouttheleastpainfulwaytobendoverforTrey’sclothes.Hegivesuponthewholedamnthingandheadsforhismattress.“Ijustcan’tseeanywayaroundthem.”Lenaflicksoneeyebrowandgoesbacktoherbook.
Calisalmostdizzywithfatigue.HeturnshisbacktoLenaandkeepshiseyesopenbypokinghissorekneetillLena’slightclicksoff,leavingthehousedark,andtillhehearsherbreathingslowdown.Then,asquietlyashecan,hedisentangleshimselffromthebedding,getsupandinchesthearmchairovertothewindow.Nellieopensoneeyeathim,buthewhispers,“Gooddog,”andshethumpshertailonceandgoesbacktosleep.HelaystheHenryalongthewindowsillandsitsinfrontofit,lookingoutatthenight.
There’sathree-quartermoon,arustler’smoon,highoverthetreeline.Underitslightthefieldsareblurredandunearthly,likeamistyoucouldloseyourselfin,anendlesssweepofitcrisscrossedbythesharpblacktanglesofhedgesandwalls.Onlysmallthingsmove,flickersamongthegrassandacrossthestars,intentontheirownbusiness
Calthinksoftheboyswhohavelefttheirlivesoutthereonthatland:thethreedrunkboyswhosecarsoaredofftheroadandspunamongthestarsupbeyondGorteen,theboyacrosstheriverwiththenooseinhishands;maybe,orprobably,BrendanReddy.Hewonders,withoutnecessarilybelievinginghosts,whethertheirghostswander.Itcomestohimthateveniftheydo,evenifheweretotakeuphiscoatnowandgowalkingthebackroadsandthemountainsides,hewouldn’tmeetthem.TheirlivesandtheirdeathsgrewoutofalandthatCalisn’tmadefromandhasn’tsownorharvested,andthey’vesoakedbackintothatland.Hecouldwalkrightthroughthoseghostsandneverfeeltheirurgentprickle.HewondersifTreyevermeetsthem,onherlongwalkshomewardsunderthedimmingsky.
“Gogetsomesleep,”Lena’svoicesaysquietly,fromhercorner.“I’llwatch.”
“I’mfinehere,”Calsays.“Can’tgetcomfortableonthatthing.Thanks,though.”
“Youneedsleep,afterthedaythat’sinit.”HehearsaruffleofmovementandagrumblefromNellie,andLena’sshaperisesupoffthemattressandpadsacrossthefloortohim.“Now,”shesays,layingahandonhisgoodshoulder.“Goon.”
Calstaysput.Theylookoutthewindow,sidebyside.“It’sbeautiful,”hesays.
“It’ssmall,”Lenasays.“Awfulsmall.”
Calwondersifthingswouldhavebeenanydifferentforallthosedeadboysiftheyhadhad,stretchingoutbeyondtheirdoorsteps,oneofthosedays-longemptyhighwayshewasdreamingofafewdaysback:somethingelsetosingintheirearsatnight,insteadofthedrinkandthenoose.Probablynot,formostofthem.He’sknownplentyofboyswhohadthehighwayhandyandstillpickedaneedleorabullet.ButhewondersaboutBrendanReddy.
“That’swhatIcamelookingfor,”hesays.“Asmallplace.Asmalltowninasmallcountry.Itseemedlikethatwouldbeeasiertomakesenseof.GuessImight’vehadthatwrong.”
Lenaletsoutasmall,wrypuffofbreath.Herhandisstillonhisshoulder.Calwonderswhatwouldhappenifheweretolayhishandoverhers,standupoutofthechairandtakeherinhisarms.Notthathecoulddoitevenifhewassurehewantedto,givenhisvariousinjuries,butstill:hewonderswhethershewouldliedownwithhim,andwhether,ifshedid,hewouldwakeupinthemorningknowing,forbetterorforworse,thathewashereforgood.
“Gotobed,”Lenasays.Shegiveshisshoulderagentleshoveoutofthechair
ThistimeCalmoveswithit.“Wakemeupifanythinghappens,”hesays.“Evenifitseemslikenothing.”
“Iwill,yeah.Andjustsoyouknow,ofcourseIcanusearifle.Soyou’reinsafehands.”
“That’sgood,”Calsays.Hedragshisachingselfovertothemattressandisasleepbeforehecanpulluptheduvet.
Afewtimesduringthenighthehalf-wakes,fromaburstofpainasheturnsorajerkofadrenalineoutofnowhere.Everytime,Lenaissittingstillinthearmchair,herhandsrestingontheHenrylaidacrossherlap,herprofileupturnedasshewatchesthesky.
TWENTY
Calsleepslate,andwouldsleeplaterexceptthatLenawakeshim.Hisfirstmovementripsagrowlofpainoutofhim,butgraduallyhismusclesloosenenoughthathecansitup,wincinginhalfadozendifferentways.“Jesus,”hesays,slowlygettingahandleonthings.
“Breakfast,”Lenasays.“Ifiguredyouwouldn’tsmellit,withthatnose.”
“Youweresnoring,”Treyinformshim,fromthetable.
“Anythinghappen?”Calasks.Hehurtsinalltheplacesheexpectedandthensome,butatleasthisvoicesoundsalittlebitclearer.“Anyonecome?”
“Notapeep,”Lenasays.“Isawnothing,heardnothing,Nelliedidn’teventwitch,Ididn’thavetoshootasinglebandit.Comehaveyourbreakfast.Andyousnoretoo,”sheadds,toTrey,whogivesheraskepticalstare.
ThetableisloadedwithwhatlookslikeeverypieceofcrockeryCalowns,allofitfulloffoodanddrink:bacon,eggs,atoweroftoast.Treyisalreadystuffingherface.It’sbeensolongsinceanyonemadeCalbreakfastthathefindsthismoretouchingthanLenaprobablyintendedittobe.“Ionlydidit’causeIdidn’tknowifyou’dmakeadecentjobofit,”shesays,laughingatthelookonhisface.“ForallIknow,youcan’tcookforshite.”
“Hecancookrabbit,”Treytellsher,throughamouthful.“Andfish.’Sonlygorgeous.”
“Idon’teatrabbitforbreakfast,”Lenainformsher.ThetwoofthemappeartohaveestablishedsomekindofunderstandingwhileCalwasasleep.“Orfisheither.AndIdon’tknowyourstandards.I’drathertrustmyown.”
“I’llproveittoyousometime,”Calsays,“ifyou’dlike.Asathank-you.Whenthingssettledownalittlebit.”
“Youdothat,”saysLena,whoclearlydoesn’tcarefortheoddsofthingssettlingdowninherlifetime,oratanyrateinCal’s.“Eatthismeanwhile,beforeitgoescoldonyou.”
Thebreakfastisgood.Calfindshimselfcravingrichsaltythings,andLenahasalavishhandwiththem;she’sfriedeverypieceofbaconhehad,andthetoastisbutteredtillitdrips.It’sraining,notheavilybutsteadily,inlongmeanderingsheets;outinthefields,thecowshavebankedthemselvestogetherunderaflatgrayskyandarekeepingtheirheadstothegrass.Thedayhasastrange,unshakablewartimecalm,asifthehouseisbesiegedsothoroughlythatthere’snopointthinkingaboutituntiltheyseewhathappensnext.
“Didyoutalktohermama?”Calasks,whenTreyisinthebathroom.
“Idid,”Lenasays,givinghimadryglance.“She’srelievedenoughthatshedidn’tasktoomanyquestions.Allthesame,but,Treyneedstogohomesoonenough.Sheila’sgotplentyonherplatewithoutworryingaboutthisoneaswell.”
“Shecan’tleaveheretillIgetthingsundercontrol,”Calsays.“She’sgoneandpissedoffsomebadpeople.”
“Andwhenareyouplanningongettingthingsundercontrol?”Lenainquirespolitely.“Justoutacuriosity,like.”
“I’mworkingonit.I’maimingforsometimetoday.”OnegoodphoneconversationshouldgetAustintoreininhisboystilltheycanmeetupandarrangematterstoeveryone’ssatisfaction.Caltriestothinkhowmuchcashhehasinthebank,justincase.
“That’llbelovely,”Lenasays.“Letmeknowifyouneedalifttothehospital.”
“CouldIaskyoutostickaroundawhile?”Calasks,ignoringthat.“Ineedtogooutforalittlebit,andIdon’twanttoleavethekidalone.”
Lenagiveshimalongunimpressedlook.“I’vetogoseetotheotherdogs,”shesays.“ThenIcancomebackforabit.I’vetobeinworkatone,though.”
“That’llgivemeplentyoftime,”Calsays.“Thanks.Iappreciateit.”Hefeelslikethisisthemainthinghe’ssaidtoherduringtheiracquaintance.
LenaleavesNelliebehindtohangoutwithTrey,whoissmittenwiththatdogtothepointofsprawlingonthefloorwithher,ignoringeverythingelse.Thekidseemsfullyrecovered,mentallyifnotphysically—althoughCalisn’tabouttotrustthis—andshedoesn’tappeartofindanythingremarkableaboutthecurrentarrangement.Asfarasshe’sconcerned,apparently,thethreeofthemcouldkeepongoinglikethisfortherestoftheirlives.
Cal,withlargeamountsofcaution,timeandswearing,managestochangeintocleanclothes.Whenhecomesoutofhisbedroom,TreyisusingtheleftoverbacontotryandteachNellietorollover.Calwouldn’tbetmoneyontheoutcomeeitherway:Nelliedoesn’tstrikehimasthesmartestdogaround,butTreyhasplentyofpersistence,andNellieishappytohumorheraslongastheattentionandthebaconholdout.
“Yournoselooksbetter,”Treysays.
“Feelsbetter,too,”Calsays.“Sortof.”
Treymovesthebaconinacircle,whichjustmakesNelliebounceandsnapatit.Shesays,“AreyougonnagiveuponlookingforBren?”
Caldoesn’twanttoletherknowthat,afterlastnight,walkingawayisn’tanoptionanymore.Austinandhisboysaren’tgoingtowalkawayfromthefactthatsheshotoneofthem.“Nope,”hesays.“Idon’ttakewelltopeopletryingtopushmearound.”
Heexpectsthekidtocomeathimwithavolleyofquestionsabouthisinvestigativeplans,butthatseemstobeallsheneedsfromhim.ShenodsandgoesbacktowavingthebaconatNellie.
“Ireckonyou’dhavebetterlucktryingtotrainoneoftherabbitsoutathefreezer,”Calsays.Hermatter-of-facttrustmoveshimsomuchthathehastoswallow.Thismorninghefeelslikehe’smadeofmarshmallow.“Leavethatpoordumbdogaloneandcomedothedishes.Ican’tmanageitwiththisarm.”
WhenLenagetsback,it’salmosteleven.Martmostlytakesabreakaroundthattime,foracupoftea.Calfindsthecookiesheboughtyesterdayandheadsforthedoor,beforeMartcantakeanotiontocomecalling.Marthadtohearthoserifleshots,butwithanyluckhecouldn’ttellwheretheycamefrom.Calwantstomakeitclearthattheyhadnothingtodowithhim.
“Takeabath,”hetellsTrey,onhiswayout.“Ileftyouatowelinthebathroom.Theredone.”
TreylooksupfromNellie.“Whereyougoing?”sheaskssharply.
“Gotstufftodo,”Calsays.Lena,whohasjoinedTreyonthefloortowatchherpatchyprogress,doesn’treact.“I’llbebackinhalfanhourorthereabouts.Youbetterbewashedbythen.”
“Orwhat?”Treyinquireswithinterest.
“Orelse,”Calsays.Trey,unimpressed,rollshereyesandgoesbacktothedog.
Cal’skneehassettleddownenoughthathecanwalkthatfar,althoughhehasalimpthatfeelssettolasthimawhile.Assoonashe’sfarenoughuptheroadtobeoutofsightofhiswindows,hesheltersagainstahedgefromtheworstoftherain,changeshisphonesettingstohidehisnumber,andcallsAustin,whohefeelscanreasonablybeexpectedtobeawakeatthishour.ThecallringsouttoasnootyvoicemailwomanwhosoundsdisappointedinCal.Hehangsupwithoutleavingamessage.
Mart’shouse,hunkereddownamongthefields,looksgrayanddesertedthroughitsveilofrain,butMartandKojakanswerthedoor.“Hey,”Calsays,holdingoutthecookies.“Wenttotownyesterday.”
“Well,holyGod,”Martsays,lookinghimupanddown.“Lookwhatthecatdraggedin.What’veyoubeendoingwithyourselfatall,SunnyJim?Haveyoubeenfightingbanditos?”
“Felloffmyroof,”Calsaysruefully.Kojakissniffingathimcautiously,taildown;thecleanclotheshaven’tstrippedawaythereekofbloodandadrenaline.“Climbeduptheretochecktheslates,afterthatwindwegot,butI’mnotaslimberasIusedtobe.Lostmyfootingandwentflatonmyface.”
“G’wanoutathat.YoufelloffaLenaDunne,”Marttellshim,cackling.“Wasitworthit?”
“Aw,man,gimmeabreak,”Calsays,rubbingthebackofhisneckandgrinningsheepishly.“MeandLena,we’rebuddies.Nothinggoingonthere.”
“Well,whatevernothingis,it’sbeengoingontwonightsrunning.D’youthinkI’velosttheuseofmyeyes,youngfella?Ortheuseofmywits?”
“Weweretalking.Isall.Itgotlate.I’vegotoneofthose,whatdoyoucallthem,forguests,theairmattresses—”
Martisgigglingsohardhehastoholdhimselfuponthedoorframe.“Talking,isit?Ididabitoftalkingtowomenmyself,backintheday.I’lltellyouthismuch,Inevermadethemsleeponanairmattressallontheirownio.”Heheadsintothekitchen,wavingCalafterhimwiththecookiepacket.“Comeinoutathatandhaveacupoftea,andyoucangivemeallthedetails.”
“Shemakesameanbacon-and-eggbreakfast.That’sallthedetailsIgot.”
“Doesn’tsoundlikeyedidthatmuchtalking,”Martsays,switchingonthekettleandrootingaroundformugsandtheDalekteapot.Kojakflopsdownonhisruginfrontofthefireplace,keepingonewaryeyeonCal.“Wasitherbrothersdonethatonyou?”
“Uh-oh,”Calsays.“She’sgotbrothers?”
“Oh,begod,shedoes.Threebigapesthat’dripyourheadoffassoonaslookatyou.”
“Well,shit,”Calsays,“Imighthavetoskiptownafterall.Sorry’boutyourtwentybucks.”
Martsnickersandrelents.“Don’tworryyourheadaboutthoselads.TheyknowbetterthantogetbetweenLenaandanythingshewants.”HethrowsageneroushandfulofteabagsintotheDalek.“Tellmethisandtellmenomore:issheawildone?”
“You’dhavetoaskher,”Calsaysprimly.
“Comehere,”Martsays,histangleofeyebrowsshootingupasanewideastrikeshim,“isthatwhathappenedtoyou?DidLenagiveyouafewskelps?I’dsayshe’dhaveafineaul’righthookonher.Doesshehaveoneofthemfetishes?”
“No!Jesus,Mart.Ijustfellofftheroof.”
“Giveusaproperlook,”Martsays.HeleansinandpeersatCal’snosefromvariousangles.“I’dsaythat’sbroken.”
“Yeah,metoo.It’sstraight,though,orasstraightasiteverwas.It’llheal.”
“It’dbetter.Youdon’twantaloseyourgoodlooks,speciallynotnow.What’sthestoryonthearm?Didjabreakthattoo?”
“Nah.IthinkIcrackedmycollarbone.Gavemykneeaprettygoodwhack,too.”
“Sure,itcould’vebeenworse,”Martsaysphilosophically.“IknowafellaupnearBallymotethatfelloffhisroof,theexactsameasyourself,anddidn’thebreakhisneck.He’sinawheelchairtothisday.Hismissushastowipehisarseforhim.Youwerelucky.Didjagotothedoctor?”
“Nah,”Calsays.“Nothingtheycoulddoexcepttellmetotakeiteasyforawhile,andIcandothatmyselfforfree.”
“OrLenacandoitforyou,”Martsays,thegrincreepingbackontohisface.“Shewon’tbehappyifyou’reoutofcommission.Betterrestupandmindyourself,soyoucangetbackinthesaddle.”
“Jeez,Mart,”Calsays,bitingbackagrinandgettingveryinterestedinhistoepokingatachairleg.“Comeon.”Underthechairisatowelstiffwithdriedblood.
Whenhelooksup,helooksintoMart’seyes.HeseesMartthinkaboutsayinghehadanosebleed,andthenthinkaboutsayinganamelessstrangerstaggeredinwithamysteriouswound.Intheendhesaysnothingatall.
“Well,”Calsays,afteralongwhile.“Don’tIfeelliketheidiot.”
“Ah,no,”Martreassureshimcharitably.Hestoopstopickupthetowel,bracinghimselfonthechair-backandgrunting,andstumpsunhurriedlyacrossthekitchentoputitinthewashingmachine.“Noneedforthat.Sure,howwouldyouknowthelieoftheland,andyouastranger?”HeclosesthewashingmachinedoorandlooksupatCal.“Butyouknownow.”
Calsays,“Yougonnatellmewhathappened?”
“Leaveitbe,”Martsays,gentlyandfirmly,inavoiceCalhasusedahundredtimestotellsuspectsthatthey’vecometotheend,totheplacewherethere’snochoiceleft,nojourneyandnostruggle.“Gohometothechildandtellhertoleaveitbe.That’sallyouneedtodo.”
Calsays,“Shewantstoknowwhereherbrotheris.”
“Thentellherhe’sdeadandburied.Ortellherhedonearunner,ifyou’drather.Whatever’llmakeherleaveit.”
“Itriedthat.Shewantstoknowforsure.That’sherline.Shewon’tbudgeoffit.”
Martsighs.Hepoursdetergentintothewashing-machinedrawerandsetsitgoing
“Ifyoudon’tgiveherthat,”Calsays,“she’sgonnakeeponcomingtillyouhavetokillher.She’sthirteenyearsold.”
“HolyGod,”Martsaysdisapprovingly,glancingoverhisshoulder,“you’veanawfuldarkmindonyoualtogether.Noone’sgotanyintentionofkillinganyone.”
“WhataboutBrendan?”
“Nooneintendedtokillhim,either.Wouldyoueversitdownthere,SunnyJim,you’regivingmethefidgets.”
Calsitsatthekitchentable.Thehouseischillyandsmellsofdamp.Thewashingmachinepulsesinaslow,rhythmictrudge.Raintricklessteadilydownthewindowpane.
Thekettlehasboiled.MartpourswaterintotheDalekandswirlstheteabagswithaspoon.Hebringsoverthemugsandtheteapot,thenthemilkandsugar,andthenlowershimselfintoachair,jointbyjoint,andpoursthetea.
“BrendanReddywasheadedthatwayanyway,”hesays,“asfastashecouldrun.Ifithadn’tbeenusthatdoneit,itwouldabeensomeoneelse.”
“P.J.noticedhisanhydrousgettingswiped,”Calsays.“Right?”ThewalktoMart’shasraisedaviciousthrobbinginhisknee.Hefeelsaweightofdullangerthatthisshouldhavelandedathisfeettoday,ofalldays,whenhe’sinnoconditiontohandleitwithskill.
Martshakeshishead.Heshiftsonehip,painfully,andpullshistobaccooutofhispantspocket.“Ah,God,no.P.J.’saninnocent,sure.He’snotunfortunateornothing,buthe’sgotnosuspicioninhim.Thatclassofcarry-onwouldn’tevenoccurtohim.I’dsaythat’swhyBrendanchosehisfarmtobeginwith.”Hespreadsoutacigarettepaperonthetableandstartscarefullysprinklingtobaccoalongit.“No:P.J.wastold.”
Calsays,“Donie.”Apparentlyhe’sbeeneveryone’sfoolaroundhere,eventhatfoolDonie’s.Heshouldhaveseenitstraightaway,backinthefugofbodysmellsandsmokeinDonie’sroom.HeknowshowtheDublinboysfoundoutthatBrendanhadbeensnared,too.Donieunderstandsthewaysoftroublewellenoughtosowplentyofithimself,whenhewantsto.
“Itwas.DonieandBrendannevergoton,evenwhentheywerelittlelads;I’dsayheleapedatthechancetodoBrendanabadturn.Onlythefeckin’eejitwentandtoldP.J.,insteadofcomingtome,thewayhewouldadoneifhehadthebrainsofanass.AndwhatdidP.J.doonlycallintheGuards.”
“What’swrongwiththat?”Calasks,givingMartsomethingtoarguewith.“That’swhatI’dadone.”
“I’venothingagainsttheGuards,”Martsays,“intheirplace,butIdidn’tseewhatthey’dcontributetothissituation.We’denoughofamessonourhandsalready,withoutthemtraipsingabouttheplaceaskingquestionsandarrestingallroundthem.”Herollsthepaperintoastingycigarette,squintingcarefullytokeepiteven.“Luckyenough,theytooktheirtimearriving.EnoughtimethatP.J.cameuptotellmethenews,andIwasabletomakehimseesense.MyselfandP.J.senttheGuardsoffabouttheirbusiness,andIranganothercouplalads—ladsthatlivealone,thatwouldn’thavetoexplainthemselvestoanyone—togetbackP.J.’sanhydrousmeanwhile.”HecocksaneyebrowatCalovertherollie,ashelickstheedge.“Youknowtheplace,sure.”
“Yep,”Calsays.HewonderswhowaswatchinghimandTreyonthatmountainpath.
“TheyfoundabigloadaSudafed,aswell,andabigloadabatteries.Nosurprisethere.Theytookallthatawaywiththem,too,forgoodmeasure.Ifyouhaveacoldthiswinter,SunnyJim,orifyouralarmclockgivesuponyou,youjustletmeknowandI’llsortyouout.”
Callearnedalongtimebacktoknowwhenthere’snothingheneedstosay.Hewarmshishandsonhismug,drinkshisteaandlistens.
“Mindyou,”Martsays,pointingwithhisrollie,“Iwasn’ttakingDonie’swordforanything.Forallweknew,herobbedthatanhydroushimself,thenhisdealwentarsewaysandhethoughthe’dtaketheopportunitytodropBrendaninabittashite.ButIknowaladwhoseplacelooksoutovertheroadtothataul’cottage;hekeptaneyeout.Andsureenough,notlongaftertheGuardscamecalling,didn’tBrendanReddygorushingupthatroadinaterriblehurryaltogether.Sothenweknewforcertain.”
Heclickshislighterandtakesaleisurely,pleasurabledragonthecigarette,turninghisheadtoblowthesmokeawayfromCal.“Brendanlaidlowforafewdaysafterthat,”hesays.“Consideringhisoptions,I’dsay.Butwehadaneyeonhim.Sure,hecouldn’tstayindoorsforever;hispalsfromDublinwereboundtowantawordwithhim.Myselfandtheladshadnoproblemwiththat,butwewantedtogetourwordinfirst,soyoungBrendan’dknowwherehestood.Weweretryingtodohimafavor;wedidn’twanthimmakinganyfoolishcommitmentstotheDublinboyos.Nexttimeheheadeduptothatcottage,weweretheretomeethim.”
CalthinksofhowTreysaidBrendanwentbouncingoutthedoor,chirpyasacricket,onhiswaytogiveAustinthecashtoreplacewhatMart’sboyshadannexed,getallhisplanspatchedupandbackontrack.Hesays,“Hewasn’texpectingthat.”
“Thathewasn’t,”Martsays,momentarilydivertedfromhisstorytoconsiderthispoint.“Thefaceonhim:likehe’dwalkedintoaroomfullahippopotamuses.Aladassharpasthat,you’dthinkhewouldaseenitcoming,wouldyounot?Butthen,you’dthinkhe’dbeastepaheadofathicklikeDonie,too.Ifhe’dbeenalittlelesssharpwhenitcametotheaul’chemistryandalittlesharperwhenitcametohumanbeings,he’dbealivetoday.”
Calfindshimselfwithnofeelingsandnothoughts.He’smovedintoaplacethatheknowswellfromthejob:acirclewhereeventheairdoesn’tmove,nothingexistsbutthestoryhe’shearingandthepersontellingit,andhehimselfhasdissolvedawaytonothingbutwatchingandlisteningandreadiness.Evenhisachesandpainsseemlikedistantthings.
“Wewereintendingtoexplainthesituationtohim,wasall,”Martsays.HenodsatCal’sbeat-upface.“Youknowthewayyourself,sure.Justabittaclarification.Onlythisladdidn’twantanythingclarified.Idon’tliketospeakillofthedead,buthewasacheekylittlefecker,d’youknowthat?Tellinguswedidn’tknowwhatweweredealingwith,ifwehadanybrainswe’dfuckoffbacktoourfarmsandnotbestickingournosesintothingswedidn’tunderstand.Iknowthatfellawasdraggedup,notbroughtup,butmymammywould’veworeoutherwoodenspoononmeifIevertalkedthatwaytomenoldenoughtobemygrandfather.”Hereachesforanoldjamjarthat’sbecomeanashtrayandunscrewsthelidtotapash.“Wewenttoputmannersonhim,butdidn’thegetrambunctiousandtrytofightback,andmattersgotaweebitoutahand.Thebloodwasupallround,like.Theladlandedafewpunches,someonelosthistemperandcaughthimagreatclattertothejaw,andhewentflyingoverbackwardsandhithisheadontheedgeofoneofhisownpropanetanks.”
Marttakesalongdragonhisrollieandtiltshisheadbacktoblowthesmokeattheceiling.“Ithoughtatfirsthewasonlyknockedout,”hesays.“WhenIlookedcloser,but,Iknewhewasbad.Idon’tknowwhatdoneit,wasitthepunchorthefall,butwhateverwayithappened,hisheadwastwistedroundandhiseyeswererollingup.Hemadeabitofasnoringnoiseandhedoneafewtwitchesofhislegs,andthenhewasgone.Quickasthat.”
Inthewindowbehindhishead,thefieldsareagreensosoftanddeepyoucouldsinkintothem.Windblowsawhisperofrainagainsttheglass.Thewashingmachinetrudgeson.
“Iseenamandiequickoncebefore,”Martsays,“whenIwasfifteen.Thehaybalerwasn’tclearingright,andhewenttoseewhatwaswrong,onlyheleftthepowerrunning.Hishandgotcaughtandthebalerpulledhimin.BythetimeIgotitturnedoff,hisarmandhisheadweregone.Itshreddedhimlikeyou’dshredabittawetkitchenroll.”
Hewatcheshissmoketrickleandspreadthroughtheairofthekitchen.“Mygranddadwasafterdyingthemonthbeforethat,ofastroke.Thattookhimfourdays.Lifeseemslikeabigthingwhenittakesfourdaysforallofittoleaveaman.Whenit’sgoneinafewseconds,itlooksawfulsmallallofasudden.Wedon’tliketofaceuptothat,buttheanimalsknowit.They’venonotionsabouttheirdying.It’salittlething,only;you’dgetitdoneinnotime.Allittakesisonenipfromafox.Orahaybaler,orapropanetank.”
Calsays,“What’dyoudowiththebody?”
Mart’seyebrowstwitchup.“Sure,wedidn’tgetthechancetodomuchofanythingwithitatall;notthen,anyway.’Twasabitofanaction-packeddayallround.Beforewe’dproperlygotthehangofwhatwasafterhappening,wegotthecallfromtheladonthelookout,tosaythattheDublinboyoswereontheirway.Weputyourmanonanaul’bedsheetthatwasinthebackroomandcarriedhimupthehillsidebehindthecottage,asfarintothetreesaswe’dtimefor.Whenweheardtheircar—bigbullofablackHummer,theyhad,Idon’tknowhowtheygotitroundthebendsinthemroads—welaidhimdownamongthebushesandcroucheddownnexttohim.”
HeglancesatCal,throughthetwistsofsmoke.“Ithoughtofleavinghiminthehouseforthemtofind.Amessage,like.ButintheheelofthehuntIdecidedagainstit.Nopointintellingthemmorethantheyneededtoknow,sure.They’dgetthegistofthingsanyway,onceheturnedupgone.”
“What’dtheydo?”Calasks.
Martgrins.“Theyweren’tpleasedwiththesituationatall,atall.Theywentandhadalookinthecottage,andthentheycameoutandlookedaroundtheyard,andthentheywentbackinanddiditalloveragain.Fourofthem,therewas,andnotaoneofthemcouldstaystillforabloodysecond;theywerehoppingaboutlikethey’dfleas.Andthelanguageoutofthem,holyGod.Wewerecloseenoughtohearthem—’twasagrandspringday,notabreathofwind.I’mnoprude,butitnearlymeltedtheearsrightoffame.”
Hisgrinwidens.“D’youknowwhatelsetheydid?TheyrangBrendan.Halfadozentimes.Iknewtheywould,soIwasaftertakingthephoneoutahispocket,butIcouldn’tunlockittoturndownthevolume.Wetriedusingthelad’sfingerprint,buthe’dputacodeonit.SowillItellyouwhatwedidwiththatphone?IhadBobbysithisgreatfatarseonit.That’dmuffleanything.Thefaceonhimwhenitvibrated,tryingnottoleapupoffit.Redasabigaul’beetroot.Therestofusnearburstwithtryingnottolaugh.”
Hestubsouthisrollieinthelidofthejamjar.“Intheendtheygaveuponhim,”hesays,“andofftheywentbackdownthemountain.D’youknowwhatoneofthemwasdoing,onhiswaytotheirlovelyshinyHummer?Hewaswhingingandwhiningoutofhimabouthisgoodshoesgettingallmucky.Likeawomanonherwaytoafancyball.”
Calisprettysurethateverywordistrue.There’snoreasonitshouldn’tbe—it’snotlikehecandoanythingwithanyofit—exceptforMart’shabitofkeepingpeopleinthedarkonprinciple.ItseemstoCalthatthey’vemovedoutontheothersideofthat.
Hesays,“Where’sBrendannow?”
“He’sstillupthemountains.Buried,now,notjustleftthere;thechilddoesn’tneedtoworrythattherewascrowsandratsathim,ornothinglikethat.Wesaidafewprayersoverhimandall.”
Martreachesforhispacketofcookiesandopensit,carefully,soasnottocrumbleanyedges.“Andthatwastheendofthat,”hesays.
“ExceptforDonieandhismessingaroundwiththesheep,”Calsays.
Martblowsoutascornfulpuffofair.“Idon’tcountthat,sure.Idon’tcountthatfeckin’eejitonprinciple.”HeoffersthepackettoCal.“Goon,getoneofthoseintoyou.Youdeserveit.You’reacutehoor,aren’tyou?Hereyouwerefeelinglikeaneejityourself,butyou’ditallfiguredoutalready,sure.Youonlyhadtheonebitwrong.There’snoshameinthat.”
Calsays,“DoniefiguredP.J.hadtobeinvolved,sinceitwashisanhydrous.How’dhefindoutyouandBobbyandFranciewereonboardtoo?”
Martselectsacookie,takinghistimeoverthedecision.“I’dsayDoniehadaneyeonthingshimself.HemustacaughtaglimpseofthefourofussomewherealongthewayandgonerunningtotheDublinlads—thatfella’dmakeagreatdoubleagent,ifonlyhehadabraininhishead.Andthemfineboyostoldhimtosendusaweemessagetostayoutoftheirbusiness.”HesmilesatCal.“Wegotthemessage,anyway.Evenifwedidn’ttakeitthewaytheyexpected.”
Calasks,“DoesBobbystillthinkitwasaliens?”
“Ah,God,Bobby,”Martsaysindulgently,dippinghiscookieinhistea.“He’sonlydelightedtohavealiensathissheep.Iwouldn’truinitforhim.Icouldn’t,anyhow;evenifIhadavideoofDonieworkingaway,hestillwouldn’tbelieveme.Sure,itdoesn’tmatterwhatBobbythinks.DonieknewI’dgetthemessage,aftertwosheeporthree.Buthedidn’tthinkI’dfindoutitwashimthatsentit.HethoughtI’dtakeforgranteditwasthebigboldDublinlads,orsomeonetheysentdownfromtownmaybe,andI’dbethatpetrifiedofthemIwouldn’tdareliftafinger.Heknowsbetternow.”
“Seemstome,”Calsays,“ifyouboyswantedtoraisethetonearoundtheseparts,theoneyououghtahavegottenridofwasDonie.”
“There’sDonieseverywhere,”Martsays.“They’ddoyourheadin,thelittlefuckers,buttheymakenodifferenceinthelongrun.They’retenapenny,sotheyare;ifyougetridofone,anotherone’llonlypopupinhisplace.BrendanReddywasanothermatterentirely.There’snotalotofthoseabout.Andwhathewasdoingwouldamadeadifferencetothistownland,allright.”
“You’vealreadygotdrugsroundhere,”Calsays.“Plentyof’em.It’snotlikeBrendanwasbringing’emintotheGardenofEden.”
“Weloseenoughofouryoungmen,”Martsays.ItseemstoCalthatheshouldsoundlikehe’sdefendinghisactions,buthedoesn’t.Hiseyesacrossthetablearesteadyandhisvoiceiscalmandfinal,underlaidbythequietpatterofrainallaround.“Thewaytheworld’safterchanging,it’snotmaderightforthem,anymore.WhenIwasayounglad,weknewwhatwecouldwantandhowtogetit,andweknewwe’dhavesomethingtoshowforitattheendoftheday.Acrop,oraflock,orahouse,orafamily.There’sgreatstrengthinthat.Nowthere’stoomanythingsyou’retoldtowant,there’snowaytogetthemall,andonceyou’redonetrying,whathaveyougottoshowforitattheend?You’vemadeabunchaphonecallssellingelectricityplans,maybe,orhadabunchameetingsaboutnothing;you’vegotyourholeoffasomebittafluffyoumetontheinternet,gotyourselfsomelikesontheaul’YouTube.Nothingyoucanputyourhandson.Thewomendobegrandanyway;they’readaptable.Buttheyoungmendon’tknowwhattobedoingwiththemselvesatall.There’safewofthem,likeFergalO’Connorwhoyoumetthere,thatkeeptheirfeetonthegroundregardless.Therestarehangingthemselves,orthey’regettingdrunkanddrivingintoditches,orthey’reoverdosingontheaul’heroin,orthey’repackingtheirbags.Idon’twanttoseethisplaceawasteland,everyfarmlookingthewayyoursdidbeforeyoucamealong:fallingtowrackandruin,waitingforsomeYanktotakeafancytoitandmakeitintohishobby.”
Kojak,smellingthecookies,shamblesoverandstandsbyMart’schair,waiting.Martholdsouttheremainsofthecookieforhimtosnapup.Hesays,“Iwasn’tgoingtostandbyandwatchuslosemoreofouryoungmentoBrendanReddyandhisnotions.”
“YoulostBrendan,”Calpointsout.
“I’monlyaftertellingyouthatwasn’tintentional,”Martsays,putout.“Besides,ifwe’dlefthimatit,we’dalostalotmorethanone,onewayoranother.Youcan’tmakeanomeletwithoutbreakingeggs,isn’tthatwhattheysay?”
Calsays,“IsthatwhatyouwerethinkingwhenyouwenttotalktoSheilaReddy,theothernight?”Hetriestokeephisvoiceeven,buthecanheartherumbleofdangerrisingup.
Martignoresit.Hesays,“Itneededdoing.That’sallIwasthinking.That’salltherewastothink.”
HegivesKojakaslapontheflanktosendhimbacktothefireside.“Andthat’swhatyouwerethinkingwhenyougaveDoniethefewskelps,sure.Youweren’tthinking,‘Ah,sure,whatharm?’Youwerethinkingthateverynowandthenthere’sathingthatneedsdoingandthere’snotalotanymancandotochangethat,sothere’snopointinfussingandfoostering;youmightaswellgoaheadandgetitdone.Andthepityofitis,youwereright.”
“NotsureI’dputitthatway,”Calsays.
Martlaughs.“That’swhatTheresaReddywasthinkinglastnight,anyway,whensheshotoffthatrifle.Youweren’traisinganyobjectionsthen.”
“Whicheveroneoftheguysgothit,”Calsays.“How’shedoing?”
“He’llbegrand.Hebledlikeastuckpig,butthere’snorealharmdone.”MarttakesanothercookieandgrinsatCal.“Willyoulookatalltheactionwe’vehadaroundhere,thelastwhile?Idon’twantyougettingitinyourheadthatthetownland’salwaysthisexciting.You’llbefiercedisappointedwhenthebiggestthrillofthenextyearissomeone’sewedroppingquadruplets.”
Calsays,“Wereyoutherelastnight?Atmyplace?”
Martlaughs,hisfacecreasingup.“Ah,God,no.Me?Withmyjoints,I’mnotablefortheaul’roola-boolaanymore.”
Orelsehedidn’twanttoriskCalrecognizinghim.“You’remoreofanideasman,”Calsays.
“Iwishyouwell,SunnyJim,”Martsays.“Ialwayshave.Nowdrinkupyourtea,gohomeandtellthechildasmuchofthatstoryasyoulike,andtellherit’sdonenow.”
“It’snotaboutthestory,”Calsays.“All’ssheneedstoknowisthathe’sdead,andthatitwasafightthatwentwrong;shedoesn’tneedtoknowwhodidit.Butshe’sgonnawantproof.”
“Shecan’thaveeverythingshewants.Sheoughtaknowthatbyherage.”
“I’mnottalkingaboutthekindofproofthatcouldgetanyoneinanyshit.Butshe’shadtoomanypeoplefeedingherbullshit.Shecan’tstopunlessshegetssomethingsolid.”
“Whatkindofsomethingdidyouhaveinmind?”
“Brendanhadawatchonhim.Usedtobehisgranddaddy’s.”
MartdipshiscookieandwatchesCal.Hesays,“He’sbeendeadsixmonths.”
“I’mnotaskingyoutogetitforme.Youtellmewheretolook,I’llgetitmyself.”
“Seenworseonthejob,hah?”
Calsays,“I’vegotnothingtodowithanyjob.”
“Notanymore,maybe.Butoldhabitsdiehard.”
“Nomaybeaboutit.AndIcameheretogetawayfromoldhabits.”
“You’renotmakingaverygoodjobofit,SunnyJim,”Martpointsout.“Nooffensemeant.”
“BrendanReddyisn’tmyproblem,”Calsays.Eventhoughheunderstandsthatinmanywaysit’sthetruth,thewordsdon’tcomeouteasily.Itfrightenshimthathecan’ttellwhetherhe’sdoingtherightthingorthewrongone.“I’mnotgonnadoanythingabouthim.IwishI’dneverheardofhim.I’mjusttryingtogetakidsomepeaceofmind,soshecanputthisdownandmoveon.”
Martthinksthisover,savoringhiscookie.Hesays,“Andyouthinkshe’lldothat?”
“Yeah.She’snotoutforrevenge,orjustice.Allshewantsistoleaveit.”
“Maybeshedoesnow.Whataboutafewyearsdowntheline?”
“Thekid’sgotherowncode,”Calsays.“Ifshegivesherwordtoletthislie,Ibelieveshe’llsticktoit.”
MartsucksthelastsoggycrumboffhisfingerandwatchesCal.Hiseyesmighthavebeenblueonce,butthecolorhasfadedoutofthemandtheyhaveawateryrim.Itgiveshimadreamy,almostwistfullook.Hesays,“Youknowwhat’llhappen,now,ifanythingcomesoutofthis.”
“Yeah,”Calsays.“Ido.”
“Andyou’rewillingtoriskit.”
“Yeah.”
“Well,holyGod,”Martsays,“we’llhavetogetyouinonthecardgame,becauseyou’resomegambler.You’vemorefaithinthatchildthanIwould,oranyoneelseroundherewould.Butthen,maybeyouknowherbetter.”
Hepushesbackhischairandreachesforthemugs.“I’lltellyouwhatwe’lldo,now.You’reinnofitstatetobeclamberingupmountains;sure,you’dcollapseonmehalfway,andI’mnotcarryingyouback.You’dsquashmeflat.Yougohomeandtalktothechild.Testthewaters.Haveagoodaul’thinkaboutit.Afterthat,ifyou’restillupfortherisk,yougetafewdays’rest,getyourselfinfightingform,andthencomebacktome.Andwe’llgooutdigging.”
HesmilesatCaloverhisshoulder,asheputsthemugsinthesink.“Goon,now,”hesays,thewayhe’dsayittoKojak.“Andgetsomerest.Ifyoudon’tgetbackupandrunningsoon,Lenamightgetimpatientandfindherselfanotherfella.”
WhileCalwasout,whichhefeelslikehehasbeenforaverylongtime,TreygaveupontrainingNellie.SheandLenahavebrokenoutthepaintinggearandareworkingonthefront-roomskirtingboards.TheiPodisplayingtheDixieChicks,Lenaishummingalong,Treyissprawledonherstomachonthefloortogetacornerperfect,andNelliehastakenoverthearmchair.Calwantstoturnaroundandwalkstraightoutagain,takinghisknowledgewithhim.
Treyglancesoverhershoulder.“Checkthis,”shesays.Shesitsupandspreadsherarms.Lenamusthavesomehowconvincedhertotakethatbath;she’snoticeablycleanerthanshewaswhenCalleft,andshe’swearingthenewclotheshebroughtherfromtown.
“Lookingsnazzy,”Calsays.Theclothesareasizetoobig.Theymakeherlooksolittleithurts.“Tillyougetpaintalloveryourself.”
“Shewasrestless,”Lenasays.“Shewantedtobedoingsomething.Ifiguredyouwouldn’tmind.”
“Icanjustaboutlivewithit,”Calsays.“Thereasonthosearen’tdoneyetis’causeIwasn’tlookingforwardtogettingdownonthefloorlikethat.”
“Youknowwhatweoughtado,”Treysays.
“What’sthat?”Calsays.
“Thatwall.”Shepointsatthefireplacewall.“Intheeveningsitgoesgold,like,fromthesuncominginthroughthatwindow.Looksgood.Weoughtapaintitthatcolor.”
Calisstartledbysomethingrisingupinsidehischestthatmightbealaughorasob.Martwasrightagain:hereheis,withawomanbringingideasintohishouse.“Soundsgoodtome,”hesays.“I’llgetinafewpaintsamples,wecanpicktheonethatmatchesbest.”
Treynods.SomethinginCal’svoicehascaughther;shegiveshimalonglook.Thenshepicksupherpaintbrushandgoesbacktotheskirtingboard.
Lenalooksatthetwoofthem.“Right,so,”shesays.“I’llbeoff.”
“Couldyoumaybehangaroundalittlelonger?”Calasks.
Sheshakesherhead.“I’vethingstodo.”
Calwaitswhilesheputsonherbigjacketandpacksheraccoutrementsawayinitspockets,andsnapsherfingersforNellie.Hewalksthemout.“Thanks,”hesays,onthestep.“Couldyougivethekidaridehome,lateron?”
Lenanods.“Yougotthingsundercontrol,”shesays,notreallyaskingaquestion.
“Yeah,”Calsays.“Idid.Orcloseenough.”
“Right,”Lenasays.“Goodluck.”ShetouchesCal’sarmforasecond,insomethingbetweenapatandashake.Thensheheadsoffthroughtheraintowardshercar,withNellielollopingalongbesideher.ItcomestoCalthat,whileshedoesn’tknowanythingforsureanddoesn’twantto,she’shadaprettyfairideaallalong.
Heclosesthedoorbehindthem,turnsofftheDixieChicksandgoestoTrey.Hiskneestillhurtsenoughthathehasahardtimefindingapositionhecantakeuponthefloor;heeventuallysettlesforsittingwithhislegstretchedoutatanawkwardangle.Treykeepsonpainting,buthecanfeelherstretchedtautasawire,waiting.
Hesays,“Italkedtosomepeople,whileIwasout.”
“Yeah,”Treysays.Shedoesn’tlookup.
“I’msorrytotellyouthis,kid.Igotsomesadnewsforyou.”
Afteramomentshesays,likeherthroatistight,“Yeah.”
“Yourbrotherdied,kid.Thesamedayyoulastsawhim.Hemetupwithsomepeople,theygotinafight.Yourbrothertookapunch,andhefelloverandhithishead.Noonemeantforhimtodie.Thingsjustwentbadthatday.”
Treykeepsonpainting.HerheadisdownandCalcan’tseeherface,buthecanhearthehardhissofherbreathing.
Shesays,“Whowasit?”
“Idon’tknowwhothrewthepunch,”Calsays.“Yousaidallyouneedistoknowforsurewhathappened,soyoucanleaveit.Didthatchange?”
Treysays,“Didhediequick?”
“Yeah.Thepunchknockedhimout,andhediedjustaminutelater.Hedidn’tsuffer.Heneverevenknewwhatwashappening.”
“D’youswear?”
“Yeah.Iswear.”
Trey’sbrushscrubsbackandforthoverthesamepatchofskirtingboard.Inalittlebitshesays,“Itmightnotbetrue.”
“I’mgonnagetyouproof,”Calsays.“Inafewdays’time.Iknowyouneedthat.Butit’strue,kid.I’msorry.”
Treykeepsupthepaintingforanothersecond.Thenshelaysdownthebrush,leansbackagainstthewallandstartstocry.Atfirstshecrieslikeagrownadult,sittingtherewithherheadback,herjawandeyestight,tearstricklingdownthesidesofherfaceinsilence.Thensomethingbreaksandshesobslikeachild,withherarmacrossherkneesandherfaceburiedinherelbow,cryingherheartout.
EverycellinCal’sbodywantstograbhisrifle,headbackuptoMart’splaceandmarchthatbastardallthewaytotownandintothepolicestation.Heknowsitwouldn’tbetheslightestbitofuse,buthestillwantstodoit,withsuchferociousurgencythathehastostophismusclesfrompropellinghimontohisfeetandrightoutthedoor.
Insteadhegetsupandfetchesarollofpapertowels.HeputsitdownbyTreyandsitsagainstthewallnexttoherwhileshecries.Herarmcrookedoverherfacemakeshimthinkofabrokenwing.Afterawhilehelayshishandonthebackofherneck.
IntheendTreyrunsoutofcrying,fornow.“Sorry,”shesays,wipingherfaceonhersleeve.She’sredandblotchy,withhergoodeyeswollenalmostassmallasherblackoneandhernoseswollenalmostasbigasCal’s.
“Noneed,”Calsays.Hehandshertherollofpapertowels.
Treyblowshernoseloudly.Shesays,“Justseemslikethereoughtabesomewaytofixit.”
Hervoicewavers,andforasecondCalthinksshemightbreakdownagain.“Iknow,”hesays.“I’veneverquitecometotermswiththatmyself.”
Theysitthere,listeningtotherain.Treycatchestheoccasionallongshudderingbreath.
“DoIstillhavetagointoNoreen’stoday?”sheasks,afterawhile.“I’mnothavinganyofthemnosyfuckersseeingmelikethis.”
“No,”Calsays.“That’stakencareof.Thoseguyswon’tbebotheringanyofusanymore.”
ThatgetsTrey’sattention.“Youbeat’emup?”
“IlooklikeIcouldbeatanyoneuprightnow?”
Thekidmanagesawaterygrin.
“Nah,”Calsays.“Justtalkedto’em.Butit’sOK.”
Treyrefoldsherwadofpapertoweltofindacleanpatchandblowshernoseagain.Calcanseehertakingin,piecebypiece,thewaysthingshavechanged.
“Thatmeansyoucangohomenow,”hesays.“Ienjoyhavingyouaround,butIthinkit’stimeyouwenthome.”
Treynods.“I’llgo.Later,just.Inawhile.”
“Fairenough,”Calsays.“Ican’tdriveyou,butMissLenawill,onceshe’sfinishedwork.Youwantmeorhertocomeinwithyou?Helpyouexplainthingstoyourmama?”
Treyshakesherhead.“I’mnotgonnasayittoheryet.Nottillyougetthatproof.”Sheglancesupfromherwadofpapertowel.“Yousaidafewdays.”
“Giveortake,”Calsays.“Butthere’sonecondition.Yougottagivemeyourwordofhonorthatyouwon’ttrytodoanythingaboutthis.Ever.Justputitdownandgobacktonormal,likeyousaid.Putyourmindintogoingtoschool,hookingbackupwithyourfriends.Maybemakingitthroughafewdayswithoutpissingoffyourteachers.Canyoudothat?”
Treytakesadeep,shakybreath.“Yeah,”shesays.“Ican.”She’sstillslumpedagainstthewall;herhands,holdingthepapertowel,lieinherlaplikeshedoesn’thavetheenergytomovethem.Shelookslikealongcrueltensionisleachingoutofher,notchbynotch,leavingherwholebodyslacktothepointofhelplessness.
“Notjustfornow.Fortherestofyourlife.”
“Iknow.”
“Youswear.Wordofhonor.”
Treylooksathim.Shesays,“Iswear.”
Calsays,“’CauseI’mtakingaprettybigchancehere.”
“Itookachanceonyoulastnight,”Treypointsout.“WhenIletthemladsgo.”
“Iguessyoudid,”Calsays.Hehasthatshakyfeelingupunderhisbreastboneagain.Hecan’twaitforittobetomorrow,ornextweek,orwheneverhe’llhavegothisstrengthbackenoughtoreacttothingslikehisnormalself.“OK.Givemeaweek.Saytwo,tobeonthesafeside.Thencomeback.”
Treytakesanotherlongbreath.Shesays,“Whatdowedonow?”
Theideaofaworldwithnoquestinithasleftherlost.“YouknowwhatIwanttodotoday,”Calsays,“isgofishing.That’saboutallI’vegotinme.Youthinkusbeat-upstraymuttscanmakeitthatfar?”
Treymakessandwiches.Callendsheranextrasweaterandhispaddedwintercoat,inwhichshelooksridiculous.Shehelpshimgetintohisjacket.Thentheywalk,takingitslowly,downtotheriverbank.Theyspendtheafternoonsittingthere,withoutsayingasinglewordthatdoesn’trelatetofish.WhentheyhaveenoughperchtofeedCal,Trey’sfamily,andLena,theypackupandgohome.
Theysplitupthefish,andCalfindsaplasticbagtoholdTrey’soldclothesandherpajamas.Lena,onherwaybackfromwork,stopsbytopickTreyup.Shestaysinthecar,butwhenCalcomesouttohersherollsdownherwindowtolookathim.“Givemeabellwhenyou’rethroughdoingstupidthings,”shesays.
Calnods.TreygetsintothecarandLenarollsupherwindow,andCalwatchesthemdriveoff,withthedarknessgatheringabovethehedgesandtheheadlightbeamsglitteringonthefallingrain.
TWENTY-ONE
Therainholdssteady,dayandnight,formorethanaweek.Calmostlystaysindoors,lettinghisbodyheal.Hiscollarboneappearstobeonlybruisedorcrackedorsomethingalongthoselines,ratherthanbrokenoutright;bytheendoftheweekhecanusethatarmforsmallstuffwithouttoomuchpain,aslongashedoesn’ttrytoraiseitaboveshoulderheight.Hisknee,ontheotherhand,isbangedupworsethanhethought.Theswellingtakesitstimegoingdown.Calstrapsitupwithbandagesandicesitregularly,whichhelpssome.
Theenforcedidlenessandthemistyraingivethatweekadreamy,suspendedfeel.AtfirstCalfindsitstrangelyeaseful.Forthefirsttimehecanremember,hedoesn’thavetheoptionofdoinganything,whetherhewantstoornot.Allhecandoissitbyhiswindowsandlookout.Hegetsaccustomedtoseeingthemountainssoftandblurrywithrain,likehecouldkeepwalkingtowardsthemforeverandtheywouldjustkeepshiftingfartheraway.Tractorstrudgebackandforthacrossthefields,andthecowsandsheepgrazesteadily;there’snowaytotellwhethertheraindoesn’tbotherthem,orwhethertheyjustendure.Thewindhastakenthelastoftheleaves;therooks’oaktreeisbare,exposingthebigstragglytwig-ballsoftheirnestsinthecrookofeverybranch.Inthenexttreeover,there’salonenesttomarkwhere,sometimealongtheway,somebirdinfringedontheirmysteriouslawsandgottaughtalesson.
Theshakyfeelinglingersonforacoupleofdays,risinguptopierceCalatrandomthingslikeadeadwreninhisbackyardoranighttimesquealinthehedges.Afewgoodnights’restgetsridofit.ItcameoutofCal’sbody,mainly,nothismind.Thebeatingdidn’tshockhisminddeeply.Menfightsometimes;it’sinthenaturalcourseofthings.WhatwasdonetoTreyisadifferentthing,andhardertoleavebehind.
Heknowsthathisdutyistotakewhathe’slearnedtoOfficerDennis.Therearesomanyreasonswhyhewon’tbedoingthis,allofthemsoinextricablytangledtogether,thatCalhasnoideawhichoneisthecentraloneandwhicharejustunderbrush.Thelongerhe’sstuckindoorsandidle,themorethisquestionpricklesathim.Hestartstowishhecouldspendhisdayswalking,butheneedstoresthisknee,soitcanhealforthejourneyupthemountainside.HewishesLenaorTreywouldpayhimavisit,butheknowsthatwouldbeabadidea;rightnoweverythingneedstobelefttosettle.HealmostwisheshehadboughthimselfaTV.
Oncehiskneecanhandleit,helimpsdownthroughtheraintoNoreen’sandexplains,overherfullrangeofhigh-pitchedhorrifiednoises,abouthisfallofftheroof.Whileshe’slistinghomeremediesandpeoplewhodiedbyfallingoffthings,FergalO’Connorcomesinforagiantbagofpotatoesandagiantbottleofsomefruitcordial.WhenCalnodstohim,heduckshisheadawkwardlyandcomesupwithabashfulhalfgrin,andthenpaysforhisstuffandleavesfast,beforeCalcanstartaskinghimquestionsagain.
CalhasthoughtaboutFergal,overthepastfewdays.Ofallthepeoplehetalkedto,sweetdumbloyalFergalistheonewhocouldhavesethimontherighttrack.Brendanmayhavelackedsenseinplentyofways,buthehadenoughofittotalktoFergal,ratherthanEugene,whenhegottheurgetoshowoffhisplans.FergalknewwhatBrendanwassettingup—maybenotindetail,butheknewthegistofthings.HeknewBrendanhadbeencaughtoutandwasrunningscared,andheknewthatifBrendanwasn’tscaredofthelocalguysaswellastheboysfromDublin,heshouldbe.Theonlypartthathasn’toccurredtoFergalisthatthingscouldhavegonebad.InFergal’smind,natureiswhatturnsrogue;peoplearereliable,oratleastreliablythemselves.AndBrendan,whoalwayswasskittish,gotspookedatthethoughtofabeatingandtookoffsomewhere,andhe’llcomebackwhenthingssettledown.
Calisn’tgoingtotellhimdifferent.He’llcometoitinhisowntime,orhewon’t,orhedoesn’twantto.Fergalneedstomakehisowntermswithhishomeplace.
He’snotgoingtotellCaroline,either.Shedoeswanttoknow,butevenifhecoulddoitwithoutrisk,Carolinecan’tbehisresponsibility.She’llhavetomakeherowntermstoo.Calwouldliketoatleasttellherthatitwasanaccident,justsothosetermsaren’tharsherthanneedbe.Ifshecomesaskingsomeday,hemightfindaway.
Ifhe’saround.Theotherthinghe’sthoughtabout,stuckinhishousewatchingthesilhouettesofmountainsthatholdadeadboyfoldedawaysomewhereamongtheirdreamycurves,isputtinghisplaceonthemarketandgettingonaplanebacktoChicago,orSeattlemaybe.Inafewmoredayshe’llhavedonewhatTreyneedsfromhim;there’llbenoresponsibilitieslefttoholdhimhere.Hecouldbepackedandgoneinlessthananhour.
Hepaysforhisgroceries,andNoreentalkshimoutthedoor,promisingtosendLenauptohimwithcabbagepoulticesandthenumberofagoodroofer.Calhasnowayofknowingwhethershebelievesawordhesaid,butheunderstandsthat,asfarasshe’sconcerned,that’sbesidethepoint.
Finallytherainclears.Cal,whothedaybeforewouldhaveswornhewasgoingtostartchewingthewoodworkifhecouldn’tgetoutandgetthisjobdone,decidesitwouldbeonlysensibletoletsomeoftherainwaterdrainoutofthemountainsidebeforehegoesdiggingaroundinit.Hestayshomethatday,andthenthenext,tobeonthesafeside
He’snotshyingfromBrendan.Hedoesn’twelcometheprospect,butwhateverconditionthebodyisin,he’sseenworse.Heknowswhatheneedstodothere,andhe’sreadytodoit.Thepartthatoffershimnosuchclarityisthepartafterthat.
Anyminutenow,though,Treyisgoingtocomelookingforherproof.CalhasseennothingofhersinceLenatookherhome.Hedoesn’tlikethethoughtofherupthereonthemountainsidewithnoonebutSheilatokeepaneyeonhowshe’sdoing,buthedidtellhertogivehimtwoweeks,andhefiguresit’sprobablyagoodthingthatshe’sdoingit:sheneedsthistimetotakeinallthat’shappened,andtoreadyherselfforwhatcomesnext.Buthealsofiguresthataroundaboutnow,withthetwoweekstickingawayandherfacehopefullyhealedupenoughthatshedoesn’tflinchfromshowingherself,she’sgoingtogetrestless
It’saThursday,butlatethatnightCalsitsoutonhisstepandcallsAlyssaanyway.Hefeelsdumbdoingit,buthe’splanningtospendthenextdayheadingmilesupadesertedmountainsidewithamanwho’salreadyhelpedkillonepersonandgottenawaywithit,andwhomightreasonablyconsiderCaltobeanunacceptablerisk.Itwouldbena?vetoignorethesituation’spotential,andCalfeelshe’sbeenplentyna?veenoughalready.
Shepicksupfast.“Hey.IseverythingOK?”
“Allgood,”Calsays.“Justfeltlikecheckingin.How’reyoudoing?”
“Good.Benhadasecondinterviewforthisreallygreatjob,sofingerscrossed.”Hervoicehasgotfartheraway,andCalcanhearrunningwaterandclinkingnoises.She’sputhimonspeakerphonewhileshegoesbacktoloadingthedishwasher.“What’veyoubeenupto?”
“Nothingmuch.It’sbeenrainingallweek,butit’sclearedup,soI’mplanningongoingforawalkupthemountainstomorrow.WithmyneighborMart.”
Alyssasayssomethingmuffledbyherhandoverthephone,presumablytoBen.“Oh,wow,”shesays,backtoCal.“Soundsbeautiful.”
“Yeah,itis.I’llsendyouphotos.”
“Yeah,do.It’sbeenraininghere,too.Someoneatworksaiditmightsnow,butIthinkshemadethatup.”
Caldragsahanddownhisfacehardenoughtohurthisbruises.HeremembershowheusedtoputAlyssa’swholelittlebabyfootinhismouth,andshewouldlaughtillshegaveherselfhiccups.Abovehisgarden,theskyisamessofhighsharpstars.
“Youknowwhat,”hesayssuddenly.“I’verunintosomethingyoumightbeabletohelpmewith.Yougotaminute?”
Thenoisesstop.“Sure,”Alyssasays.“What’sup?”
“There’saneighborkidwho’sbeencomingroundtomyplacetolearnsomecarpentry.Shejustfoundoutherbigbrotherdied,andshedoesn’thavewhatyou’dcallagoodsupportsystem:herdaddy’srunoff,andhermamahasn’tgotmuchtooffer.Iwanttohelphergetthroughthiswithoutgoingofftherails,butIdon’tknowthebestwaytodoit.Ifigureyoumighthavesomeideas.”
“OK,”Alyssasays.There’sanoteinhervoicelikeshe’srollinguphersleevestogetdowntowork.“Howoldisshe?”
“Thirteen.”
“Howdidherbrotherdie?”
“Gotinafightandhithishead.Hewasnineteen.Theywereprettyclose.”
“Allright,”Alyssasays.“Sothemainthingistoletherknowthatwhatevershe’sfeelingisnormal,butdirectherawayfromanyactionthat’sdestructiveorself-destructive.Soforexample,it’snaturalforhertobeangryatherself,herbrother,thepersonhewasfightingwith,herparentsfornotprotectinghim,whoever—makesuresheknowsthat’sfineandshedoesn’tneedtofeelguiltyaboutit.Butifshe’slashingoutatotherkids,say,sheneedstoknowshecan’tdothat.Helpherfindanotheroutletfortheanger.Maybegetherintomartialarts,ordrama.Orrunning.Hey,youcouldgorunningwithher.”
ThemischievousgrininhervoicemakesCalgrinback,rightacrosshalftheworld.“Hey,”hesays,mock-offended.“Icouldrun.IfIwantedto.”
“Sodoit.Worstcase,you’llgivehersomethingtolaughat,andshecouldprobablyusethat.She’llbelookingforwaystofeelliketheworldcanstillbenormal.Laughingisgood.”
AllherconfidenceandcompetenceblowCalcleanaway.Hisbabygirlis,somehow,agrownadultwhoknowshowtogetshitdoneanddonewell;whoknowsthings,andhasskills,thathedoesn’t.Herehewasfrettingaboutherlikeamamahen,listeningeveryminuteforhertofalltopieces,andallthewhileshewasjusttiredoutfromthehardworkit’stakentogrowintothis.Helistenstohertalkaboutregressivebehaviorsandmodelinghealthyemotionalexpression,andpictureshersittingateasenexttosomeAmericanequivalentofTrey,deftlyandcalmlytransformingallthesewordsintosolidaction.Itseemstohimthathecan’thavefuckeduptoobadly,ifAlyssaturnedoutlikethis.
“Allofthatsoundsprettygreat,”hesays,whenshefinishesup.
“Well,I’vehadpractice.Anawfullotofthekidsatwork,they’velostsomeone,onewayoranother.”
“They’reluckytohaveyouaround.”
Alyssalaughsherbigwonderfullaugh.“Yeah,mostlytheythinksotoo.Notalways.Isanyofthatgoingtobeuseful?”
“Ohyeah.I’mgonnakeepeverybitofitinmind.Exceptmaybetherunning.”
“Icanputitinanemail,ifyouwant.Andifanythingspecificcomesup,likeifshestartsengaginginriskybehaviorsorwhatever,letmeknowandI’llgiveyouwhateverstrategiesI’vegot.”
“That’dbegreat.Thanks,kiddo.Imeanit.”
“Anytime.You’llbefine.Betterthanfine.RememberwhenPufflegothitbythecar?YoudroveusallthewayouttothatforestbecauseIwantedtoburyherthere.Andyoucarvedheragravestoneandeverything.”
“Iremember,”Calsays.HewisheshecouldcallDonnaandtellherthathethinkshemightgetwhatshewastalkingabout,atleastsomeofthetime.
“ThatwasexactlywhatIneeded.You’llbefine.Just,Dad…”
“Yeah?”
“Yourneighborgirl,shereallyneedsconsistencyrightnow.Like,thelastthingsheneedsissomeoneelsedisappearingonher.So,Imean,ifyouwereplanningoncominghomeanytimesoon…probablyyoushouldpointhertosomeoneelseshecantalkto,instead.Maybeanotherneighboryoutrust,or—”
“Yeah,”Calsays.“Iknow.”Healmostasksherwhethershewantshimtocomeback.Hestopshimselfintime;itwouldn’tberighttoputthatonher.
“Yeah,Ifiguredyoudid.Justchecking.”Inthebackground,Ben’svoicesayssomething.“Dad,I’vegottogo,we’remeetingpeoplefordinner—”
“Goahead,”Calsays.“SayhitoBenfromme.AndtellyourmamaIsentmybest.Idon’twanttohassleher,butI’dlikehertoknowthatI’mwishingherwell.”
“Willdo.Talksoon.”
“Hey,”Calsays,beforeshecanhangup.“Ipickedupthislittletoysheepintown.Itremindedmeofallthosetoysyouusedtohavewhenyouwerelittle,theraccoonandall.CanIsendittoyou?Ordon’tyouwantfluffytoysanymore,nowthatyou’reallgrownup?”
“Iwouldtotallyloveatoysheep,”Alyssasays.Hecanhearhersmiling.“He’llgetalonggreatwiththeraccoon.Night.”
“Night,sweetpea.Youhaveagooddinner.Don’tgettobedtoolate.”
“Dad,”shesays,laughing,andshe’sgone.Calsitsonthestepforanotherwhile,drinkinghisbeerandwatchingthestars,waitingforthemorning.
Theweatherholds;themorningcomesinwithharshwintersunshineslidinglowacrossthefieldsandinatCal’swindow.Theairofthehousehasanew,icyedgethattheheatersonlypartlydispel.Caleatsbreakfast,re-strapshiskneeandputsonmostoftheclothesheowns.WhenitcomestimeforMart’steabreak,heheadsupthatway.
Thelandhasleftitsluringautumnselfbehindandputonanew,aloofbeauty.Thegreensandgoldshavethinnedtowatercolor;theskyisonescouredsweepofpaleblue,andthemountainsaresoclearitseemslikeCalcanseeeachdistantclumpofbrowningheather,sharpanddistinct.Thevergesarestillsoftfromtherain,withpuddlesintheruts.Cal’sbreathsmokesandspreads.Hetakesthewalkslowly,sparinghisknee.Heknowshe’swalkingintoahardday,inahardplace.
KojakisrootingaroundacornerofMart’sgarden,diggingforsomethingtoointerestingtobeleft.Martcomestothedoor.“Longtimenosee,bucko,”hesays,smilingupatCal.“Iwasstartingtowondershouldwesendinasearchpartytoseewereyoustillwithus.Butyou’relookinginfinefettlealtogether.”
“DoingOK,”Calsays.“Wellenoughtogooutdigging,nowthattherain’sstopped.”
Mart,peeringatCal’sfacefromvariousangles,ignoresthat.“I’dsaythatnoseisjustaboutbacktoitsformerglory,”hesays.“Lenamustbepleased,isshe?Orissheafterditchingyou?Ihaven’tseenhercararoundourway.”
“Guessshe’sbeenbusy,”Calsays.“Wouldyoubefreetotakemeforthatwalk?”
ThemischieffallsawayfromMart’sface.Hesays,“Didjatalktothechild?”
“Yeah.She’snotgonnadoanything.”
“You’resure.”
“Yeah,”Calsays.“I’msure.”
“Yourcall,SunnyJim,”Martsays.“Ihopeyou’reright.”HewhistlesforKojak.KojakcomesboundinghappilyovertoexchangepleasantrieswithCal,butMartmotionshimintothehouse.“Wedon’twanthimalongforthis.Waitthereamoment,now;I’llbebacktoyou.”
Heshutsthedoorbehindhim.CalwatchesaflockofstarlingsbillowlikeagenieagainsttheskyuntilMartcomesback,wearinghiswaxjacketandathickknittedbeanieinastartlingshadeofneonyellow.ForaninstantCalhastheurgetomakesomecrackaboutit,callhimDJCookieCrumbleorsomesuch,beforeheremembersthey’renolongeronthoseterms.Itcatcheshimwithatwistofloneliness.HelikedMart.
Martiscarryinghiscrookandastraight-edgedspade.“That’sforyou,”hesays,holdingoutthespadetoCal.“Willyoubeabletouseit,withthatcollarbone?”
“I’llfiguresomethingout,”Calsays.Hebalancesthespadeoverhisgoodshoulder.
“Howaboutthatknee?It’salongaul’walk,andhalfofit’snotonroads.Ifthatkneeletsyoudownonthemountainside,there’snothingI’llbeabletodoforyou.”
“CallinP.J.andFrancie.Theycancarrymedown.”
“Ihaven’tbroughtthemuptospeedonthisweeexpedition,”Martsays.“Theywouldn’tapprove.Theydon’tknowyouaswellasIdo,sure.Youcan’tholditagainstthem.”
“Myknee’sfine,”Calsays.“Let’sgo.”
Thewalkisalongone.TheystartupthesamemountainroadthatCaltooktotheReddyplace,buthalfamileupMartpointshiscrookatasidetrail,toonarrowforthemtowalkabreast,itsentrancealmosthiddenbyscrubbytreesandlonggrass.“Youwouldn’thavespottedthis,now,”hesays,smilingatCal.“Thismountain’sfullatricks,soitis.”
“Youknow’em,”Calsays.“Yougoahead.”Hedoesn’twantMartathisback
Thetrailrunsoverrisesandbetweenboulders,amongthornyflaresofyellowgorseandstretchesofleggyheatherwhosepurplebellsarefadingtobrownpaper.“Allthishere,”Martsays,stirringaclumpofheatherwithhiscrookashepasses,“that’slingheather.You’dgetthefinesthoneyintheworldfromthat.AfellacalledPeadarRuadhthatliveduphere,heusedtakeepbees,whenIwasachild.Mygranny’dsendusupforajarofhishoney.Shedidswearbyitfortheaul’kidneytroubles.Aspoonfulofthatmorningandevening,andyou’dberightasraininnotime.”
Caldoesn’tanswer.He’sbeenkeepinganeyeoutforanyonefollowingthem—apartfromanythingelse,hewouldn’tputitpastTreytohavebeenwatchinghimagain—butnothingmoves,anywherearoundthem.Thewetearthofthetrailgivesundertheirfeet.Martwhistlestohimself,alowlonesometunewithastrangecadencetoit.Sometimeshesingsalineortwo,inIrish.Inthatlanguagehisvoicetakesonadifferenttone,ahusky,absentcrooning.
“That’sasongaboutamanwhogoestothefairandsellshiscow,”heinformsCal,overhisshoulder,“forfivepoundsinsilverandayellowguineaofgold.Andhesays,‘IfIdrinkallthesilverandsquanderthegold,whyshouldanymancare,whenit’snothingtohim?’”
Hesingsagain.Thetrailslopesupwards.Ontheflatgrasslandbelow,thefieldsspreadoutshornandpaleinthesharpsunlight,dividedbywallsthatliealongreasonsthatwereforgottencenturiesago.
“Hesays,‘IfIgotothewoodspickingberriesornuts,takingapplesoffbranchesorherdingthecows,andIlieunderatreetotakemyease,whyshouldanymancare,whenit’snothingtohim?’”
Caltakesouthisphone,turnsonthecameraandholdsituptotheview.“Turnthatoff,”Martsays,breakingoffthesonginmid-line.
“ItoldmydaughterIwasgoingwalkingupthemountains,”Calsays.“Sheaskedforpictures.Shelikesthelookofthesceneryaroundhere.”
Martsays,“Tellheryouforgotyourphone.”
Hestandsonthetrail,leaningonhiscrook,lookingatCalandwaiting.AfteraminuteCalturnsthephoneoffandputsitbackinhispocket.Martnodsandturnsbacktowalking.Inalittlebithestartshissongagain.
Fernyplants,likenothingCal’sseeninthegrasslands,reachfromthevergestobrushathisboots.Mart’scrookmakesasmall,rhythmiccrunchingonthepath,underscoringthesong.“Themansays,”hetellsCal,“‘PeoplesayI’mauselesswaster,withnogoodsorfineclothes,nocattleorwealth.IfI’mhappyenoughtoliveinashack,whyshouldanymancare,whenit’snothingtohim?’”
Hestrikesoffthetrailandclambersthroughagapinacrumbling,lichenedstonewall.Calfollows.Theycrossapatchoflandthatlookslikeitwascleared,alongtimeago,beforebeingabandonedfortuftsoftallfinegrasstoreclaim.Inonecornerarethetumbledownremainsofastonecottage,mucholderthanBrendan’s.Martdoesn’tturnhisheadtolookatit.Awispofwindshiverstheseed-headsonthegrass.
Astheyclimbhigherthecoldsharpens,slicingthroughCal’slayersandpressingitsedgeintohisskin.Calknowstheirrouteiscirclingandmeandering,doublingbackonitself,butonegorsebushorpatchofmoorgrasslookstoomuchlikethenextforhimtobesureexactlyhow.Heglancesregularlyatthesunandtheview,tryingtokeephisbearings,butheknowshecouldspendayearlookingandneverfindhiswayhereagain.HecatchesMart’swryeyeonhim.
Withouthisphone,Calcan’tbesurehowlongthey’vebeenwalking;morethananhour,maybeanhourandahalf.Thesunishigh.Hethinksofthefourmentrudgingtheirslowsteadywayupthesetrails,thebodyinitssheetswayingbetweenthem.
Marttakesthemthroughathickstandofspruce,downintoadip,andoutontoanothersingle-filetrailwheretheridgespreadsoutintoaplateauoneitherside.Glintsofwatershowamongthepeatandheather.
“Stayonthispath,now,”headvisesCal.“Everyyearthere’sasheeportwothatstepsintooneofthembogsandcan’tgetoutagain.Andtwenty-fiveorthirtyyearbacktherewasafellathatusedtacomedownfromGalwaycity—madasabagofcats,sohewas.He’dwalkupanddownthemountainbarefooteveryGoodFriday,sayingtherosaryalltheway.HesaidtheBlessedVirginhadtoldhimthatsomeyearorother,ifhekeptatit,she’dappeartohimalongtheway.Maybeshedidandshepickedabadspotforit,Icouldn’ttellyou,butoneyearhedidn’tcomeback.Themenwentlookingandfoundhimdeadinabittabog.Onlyeightfootfromthepath,withhisarmstillstretchedouttowardsthedryground.”
ThespadeisbitingintoCal’sshoulder,andhiskneethrobsateverystep.HewondersifMartisplanningtowalkhimincirclestillitgivesout,andthenleavehimtofindhisownwayhome.Thesunhasstartedtoslidedownthesky.
“There,”Martsays,stopping.Hepointshiscrookataspotinthebog,abouttwentyfeetoffthepath.
“Yousure?”Calasks.
“Iam,ofcourse.WouldIbringyouallthewayuphereifIwasn’tsure?”
Allaroundthemtheplateauliesflatandwide.Longgrassandheatherbend,autumn-bleached.Smallshadowsdriftacrossthem,fromwispsofcloud.
Calsays,“Looksalotlikeaboutadozenotherplaceswe’vepassed.”
“Toyou,maybe.IfyouwantBrendanReddy,that’swhereyou’llfindhim.”
“Andhiswatchisonhim.”
“Wetooknothingoffhim.Ifhehadhiswatchonthatday,thenit’sonhimnow.”
Theystandsidebyside,lookingatthebog.Patchesofwatershinehereandtherewithreflectedblue.“Youtoldmenottogooffthepath,”Calsays.“IfIgointhere,what’stostopmefromendingupliketherosaryguy?”
“Thatshamwasacitylad,”Martsays.“Eitherhecouldn’ttelldrybogfromwet,orhethoughttheBlessedVirginwouldhaulhisarseoutait.Iwascuttingturfonthismountainbeforeyouwerebornorthoughtof,andI’mtellingyouthere’sgoodsolidbogfromheretothatspot.Howd’youthinkwegottheladintherewithoutdrowningourselves?”
Calcanseeexactlyhowthiswillread,ifhe’smisjudgedMart.AdumbassYank,outplayingback-to-natureincountryhedidn’tunderstand,putafootwrong.MaybeAlyssawillrememberthathewassupposedtogowalkingwithhisneighbor;butthen,halfadozenmenwillhavespentthewholeoftodayhangingoutwithMart.
“Ifyouwanttoturnaroundandgohome,”Martsays,“I’llchalkthisuptoanicebittaexercise.”
“Iwasnevermuchofabelieverinexerciseforitsownsake,”Calsays.“Toolazyforthat.IfI’vecomeallthewayuphere,theremightaswellbeapointtoit.”Heshiftsthespadetoalesspainfulpositiononhisshoulderandstepsoffthepath.HehearsMartfollowingbehindhim,buthedoesn’tturnround
Theboggivesandreboundsunderhisfeet,ashisweightreverberatesthroughthelayersdeepbelow,butitholdshim.“Stepleft,”Martsays.“Nowstraight.”Faroutinfrontofthem,asmallbirdrisesinalarmandvanishesintothesky,itshighzippingcallcomingdowntothemfaintlythroughallthatcoldspace.
“There,”Martsays.
InfrontofCal’sfeet,aman-sizedrectangleofthebogisrough-edgedandlumpy,againstthesmoothsweepofgrassallaround.
“He’snotasdeepasheshouldbe,”Martsays.“But,sure,thegovernment’sbannedcuttingturfonthisbittamountain.He’llbeleftinpeace,onceyou’redonewithhim.”
Calburrowstheedgeofthespadeintothepeat,attheroughlinewhereit’sbeendisturbed,andsinksitwithhisgoodfoot.Thebladegoesinsmoothly;thepeatfeelsthickandclayeyunderit.“Cutinaroundtheedgesfirst,”Martsays.“Thenyoucanliftoutthesod.”
Caljabsthespadedownagainandagaintillhe’smadearectangle,thenleversitupanddropsittooneside.Itcomesouteasily,neat-edged.Inthegashhe’sleft,thepeatisdarkandsmooth.Adeeprichsmellcomesuptohim,bringingbackthescentofchimneysmokeashewalkstothepuboncoldevenings.
“Likeyouwereborntoit,”Martsays.Hepullsouthistobaccopacketandstartsrollinghimselfacigarette.
Ittakesalongtime.Calcan’tusehisinjuredarmwithanyforce;allitcandoissteadythespadeashedrivesitdown.Withinafewminuteshisgoodarmisaching.Martrootsthebaseofhiscrookinthebogandrestshisfreeforearmonitsheadwhilehesmokes.
Theheapofcutturfgrows,andtheholewidensanddeepens.SweatturnscoldonCal’sfaceandneck.Heleansonthespadetocatchhisbreath,andforonedizzyingsecondhefeelsthefulltornadoforceofthestrangenessofit,thatheshouldfindhimselfonthismountainsidehalftheworldfromhome,diggingforadeadboy.
Atfirsthethinksthereddishtuftsproutingwherethebladehasbeenismossorroots.Ittakeshimasecondtorealizethatthepeathasdarkened,thatthesmellcomingfromtheholehasthickenedintosomethingrancid,andtounderstandthatwhathe’sseeingishair.
Helaysdownthespade.Inhiscoatpockethehasapairoflatexglovesthatheboughtforworkingonthehouse.Heputsthemon,kneelsdownattheedgeoftheholeandleansintoworkwithhishands.
Brendan’sfacerisesoutofthebogscrapbyscrap.Whateverstrangealchemytheboghasworkedonhim,helookslikenodeadbodyCalhaseverseen.He’sallthere,fleshandskinintact,lasheslyingonhischeekslikehe’ssleeping.Afteralmostsevenmonths,hestillhasenoughofhimselfleftthatCalwouldhaverecognizedthesmilingboyintheFacebookshot.Buthisskinisastrangeleatheryreddish-brown,andtheweightofthebogontopofhimhasbeguntomisshapehimlikesoftwax,slidinghisfacesideways,squashinghisfeaturesoutoftrue.Itgiveshimanintent,secretivefrown,asifhe’sconcentratingonsomethingonlyhecansee.Trey,frowningunconsciouslyoverhersandpapering,comestoCal’smind.
Thelineofhisjawisuneven.Calputshisfingerstoitandprobes.Thefleshfeelsthickenedandcondensedandthebonehasadreadfulrubberygive,butCalcanstillfindthebreakwherethepunchhithome.GentlyhepullsdownBrendan’sbottomlip.Twoofhisteethonthatsidearebroken.
CalclearsaspacearoundBrendan’sheadtillhecanseethebackofit.Heworksslowlyandwithcare;hedoesn’tknowhowtightlythebodyisholdingtogether,whatpartsofitmightcomeawayunderhishandsifhe’srough.Eventhroughthegloves,hecanfeelthetextureofthehairbetweenhisfingers,aroughtanglelikeanetworkoffinerootsspreading.Atthebaseoftheskull,agreatdentisnothingbutgive,shardsshifting.WhenCalpartsthehair,hecanstillseethedeepjaggedgapeofthecut.
“Yousee,now,”Martsays,behindhim.“JustlikeItoldyou.”
Caldoesn’tanswerhim.HestartstoscoopawaythepeatthatcoversBrendan’storso.
“Whatwouldyouhavedoneifitwasn’t?”
GraduallyBrendan’sjacketsurfaces,ablackbomberwithanorangepatchstillboldonthesleeve,unzippedtoshowahoodiethatmighthavebeengraybeforethebogdyeditrust-red.Brendanislyingtilted,halfonhisbackandhalfonhisside,hisheadtwistedatanunnaturalangle.Thesunliesruthlesslybrightonhim.
Hisarmhasfallenacrosshischest.Calworkshiswayalongitsline,deeperintotheground.Thepeatclosetothebodyhasadifferentfeel,wetter.Thatripe,clottedsmellfillsupCal’snose.
“He’snotalone,”Martsays.“Mydaddofoundamaninthisbog,whenhewasayounglad,ahundredyearsagomaybe.HesaidthemanmustabeentheresincebeforeSaintPatrickranoffthesnakes.Flatasapancake,sohewas,andstickstwistedallaroundhisneck.Mydaddocoveredhimbackupandneversaidawordtothepoliceoranyone.Heletthemanlieinpeace.”
CaltakesBrendan’shandfromthebog.He’safraiditmightripawayfromthebodywhenheliftsit,butitholds.Ithasthesamered-brownstainastheface,anditfoldsandwaversasifit’salmostboneless.ThebogistransmutingBrendanintosomethingnew.
Thewristbendslikeatwigunderitsownweight.It’stheoneCalneeds:whenhemovesbackthewater-heavylayersofsleeves,thewatchisthere.Thestrapisleatherandhasfusedtotheskin.Calunbucklesitandstartstopeelitawayasdelicatelyashecan,butthefleshslidesandbreaksapartintosomethingunthinkable,aslimywhitishmass.
Cal’smindmovesoutsidehim.Hisglovedhandslooklikethingsthatbelongtosomeoneelseastheybusythemselveswiththewatch,carefullydetachingitandwipingawaysoddenpeatandworsethingsonthegrass,asbesttheycan.Henoticesveryclearlythatthegrassupherehasaharshertexturethanthegrassinthefieldsbelow,andthattheshinsofhispantsaresoakedfromkneeling.
Thewatchisanoldone,withheftanddignitytoit:agold-rimmedcreamface,withslimgoldticksfornumbersandslimgoldhands.Theboghastoughenedtheleather,butithasn’tchangedthegold;thatstillhasitspale,sereneluster.Therearelettersinscribedontheback:BPB,inworn,curlylettering;underthat,freshandupright,BJR
CalcleanshisglovesonthegrassandgetsaZiplocbagoutofhispocket.Hewouldlikenottotakeanyscrapofthebogawaywithhim,butforallhiscleaning,littleshredsanddabblessmeartheinsideofthebag.Heputsitawayinhispocket.
HelooksdownatBrendanandcan’timaginehowtolaythosesodsbackoverhim.Itgoesagainsteveryinstincthehas,rightdowntohismusclesandbones.Hishandswanttokeepworking,clearawaythepeatandlaytheboybaretothecoldsunlight.Histhroatisfullupwiththewordstosayintothephonetosetthatpowerfulfamiliarmachineinmotion,camerasclickingandevidencebagsopeningandquestionsfiring,untileverytruthhasbeenspokenoutloudandeveryonehasbeenplacedwheretheybelong.
He’sprettysurehecoulddrophisphonewithoutMartnoticing.GPStrackingwouldleadthemcloseenough.
Calfeelsthatweightlessnessagain,theboglosingitssolidityunderhiskneesasgravityletsgoofhim.Whenhelooksup,Martiswatchinghim;steady-eyed,headcockedalittletooneside;waiting.
CallooksbackandfindshimselfnotgivingmuchofashitaboutMart.HecanmakeMarttakehimbackdownthismountain,ifheneedsto.HecanprotecthimselfandTreytillhecangetherplacedincare;shewouldfightlikeabobcatandhatehisgutsforevermore,butshe’dbesafe.Andinnotimeflathewouldbetoofarawayforher,oranyoneelse,toputabrickthroughhiswindow.
WhatcomesintohismindisAlyssa,hervoiceclosetohisear,earnestaswhenshewasalittlekidexplainingsomestuffedanimal’sproblemstohim.Yourneighborgirl,shereallyneedsconsistencyrightnow.Like,thelastthingsheneedsissomeoneelsedisappearingonher.
Calcan’ttellforthelifeofhimwhat’stherightthingtodo,orevenwhetherthereisone,butheknowswhatcomesclosest.HebendsdownandtucksBrendanbackintotheearth.Hewouldliketolayhimoutproperly,butevenifhewassurehecouldmanagethatwithoutcausingmoredamage,heknowswhyMartandtherestdidn’tdoittobeginwith—ifsomerogueturf-cuttershouldhappentocomeacrosstheboy,itneedstolooklikehewoundupherebyaccident.Soonenough,thebogwillhavemeltedhisbonestillnoonecanreadhisinjuriesonthem.
InsteadheplacesBrendan’sarmcarefullybackacrosshischestandstraightensthecollarofhisjacket.HescoopsuptheturfhescrapedawayandpacksitaroundthecontoursofBrendan’sbodyandhead,coveringhisfaceasgentlyashecan,untilpiecebypieceit’svanishedbackintothebog.Thenhetakesupthespadeagainandlaysthecutchunksofturfovertheboy.Ittakesawhile;hisgoodarmhasstartedtoshakefromthestrain.Hesavesthegrassysodsforlast.Henudgesthemintoplaceandpressesthemdown,sothattheedgesmatchupcleanlyandthegrasscangrowtoblurthescars.
“Sayaprayeroverhim,”Martsays.“Sinceyou’reafterdisturbinghim.”
Calstandsup—ittakeshimafewsecondstogethisbackstraight.Hecan’trememberanyprayers.HetriestothinkwhatTreywouldwantsaidordoneasherbrotherislaiddown,buthehasnoidea.Allhecanthinkoftodo,withwhatbreathhe’sgotleft,issingthesamesonghedidathisgrandpa’sfuneral.
IamapoorwayfaringstrangerTravelingthroughthisworldaloneButthere’snosickness,toilordangerInthatbrightworldtowhichIgo.I’mgoingtheretoseemylovedonesI’mgoingthere,nomoretoroamI’monlygoingoverJordanI’monlygoingoverhome.
Hisvoiceevaporatesquicklyintothevastcoldsky.“That’lldo,”Martsays.Hepullshisbeaniedownmorefirmlyoverhisearsanduprootshiscrookfromthebog.“Comeon,now.Idon’twanttobeupherewhenitgetsdark.”
Hetakesthemdownthemountainbyadifferentroute,onethatleadsthemthroughplantationafterplantationoftallsprucetrees,anddownslopessteepenoughthatCalsometimesfindshimselfbreakingintoahalfjogthatjarssavagelyinhisknee.Theypassfragmentsofoldstone-wallfieldboundaries,andsheep’shoofprintsinmuddypatches,buttheydon’tseeanotherlivingcreatureanywhereontheway.ThedayhasdisorientedCalenoughthathefindshimselfwonderingifMarthassomehowwarnedeveryoneandeverythinginthetownlandtostayhiddentoday,orifheandMarthavewanderedintosometime-freezoneandthey’llcomeoutintoaworldthat’smovedonahundredyearswithoutthem.HecanseehowBobbywoundupgoingalittlealien-crazy,ifhespenttoomuchtimeonthismountain.
“So,SunnyJim,”Martsays,breakingalongsilence.Hehasn’tbeensinging.“Yougotwhatyouwereafter.”
“Yeah,”Calsays.HewonderswhetherMartisexpectinghimtosaythankyou.
“Thechildcanshowthattohermammy,ifshelikes,andtellherwhereitcamefrom.Nooneelse.”
Calsays,“’CauseSheila’llmakedamnsurethekidkeepshermouthshut.”
“Sheila’sasmartwoman,”Martsays.Thesunbetweenthesprucebranchesstreakshisfacewithbrightnessandshadows.Itblursawaythewrinklesandmakeshimlookyoungerandstronger,atease.“It’safeckin’shamesheevertookupwiththateejitJohnnyReddy.Therewasadozenfellasthatwouldajumpedatthechancetogetinthere,butwouldshelooktwiceatthem?Wouldshefuck.Sheilacouldahadagoodhouseandafarmandallherchilderinuniversity.Andlookathernow.”
“Youtellherwhathappened?”Calasks.
“Shealreadyknewtheyoungfellawasn’tcomingback.Therewasnothingelsesheneededtoknow.Whatyousawupthere,woulditdoanygood,herhavingthatinherhead?”
“I’mgonnagouptoSheilaReddy,”Calsays,“onceIgettheuseofthisarmback.Giveherahandfixingthatroof.”
“Ah,now,”Martsays,withaflinchandagrimace.“Notoneofyourfinestinspirationsthere,SunnyJim,ifyoudon’tmindmesaying.”
“Youthink?”
“Youdon’twanttomakeawomanlikeLenajealous.Nextthingyouknow,there’safull-onfeudbreakingoutallroundyou,andI’dsayyou’vecausedenoughtroublearoundhereforawhile,amn’tIright?Besides”—hegrinsatCal—“who’stosaySheila’dwantyou?Yourreputationformendingroofsisn’tthegreatest,now.”
Calsaysnothing.Hisarmiscrampingfromcarryingthespade.
“D’youknow,though,”Martsays,struckbysomething,“you’reafterputtinganideaintomyhead.SheilaReddycoulddowithabittalookingafter,allright.Afewbobhereandthere,maybe,orafewsodsofturf,orsomeonetomendthatroofforher.I’llhaveachatwiththeladsandseewhatwecansortout.”HesmilesatCal.“Wouldyoulookatthat,now.You’reafterdoingsomegoodaroundhere,afterall.Idon’tknowwhyIneverthoughtofitbefore.”
Calsays,“’Causeshemightafiguredoutwhyyouweredoingit.Nowthatsheknowsyouweremixedupinthis,itcan’tdoanyharm,andit’llhelpkeepherquiet.Onewayoranother.”
“Letmetellyousomething,SunnyJim,”Martsaysreprovingly.“You’veaterriblehabitofthinkingtheworstofpeople.D’youknowwhatthatis?That’sthatjobofyours.It’safterwarpingyourmind.Thatattitude’snousetoyounow.Ifyou’donlyrelaxaweebit,lookonthebrightside,you’dgetthegoodoutoftheaul’retirement.Getyourselfoneofthemappsthatteachyoutothinkpositive.”
“Speakingofthinkingtheworst,”Calsays,“thekidisgonnakeepcomingroundtomyplace.Idon’texpectthetownlandtogiveeitherofusanyshitaboutit.”
“I’llhaveaword,”Martsayssuperbly,holdingbackbranchesforCalastheycomeoutofthesprucesontoatrail.“Sure,you’lldothechildgood.Womenwhohaven’thadadacentmanaroundwhilethey’regrowingup,theyendupmarryingwasters.AndthelastthingthistownlandneedsiswhateveryougetwhenyoucrossaReddywithaMcGrath.”
“I’dputhiminthatbogfirst,”Calsays,beforehecanstophimself.
Martburstsoutlaughing.It’sabig,free,happysoundthatspreadsout,almostshockingly,acrossthehillside.“Ibelieveyou,”hesays.“You’dbestraightbackuptherewiththatspade,onthedouble.Jaysus,man,it’samadworldwelivein,hah?You’dneverknowwhereit’dtakeyou.”
“Noshit,”Calsays.“Anyway,Ithoughtyouthoughtthekidwasgay.”
“Well,willyoulookatthat,”Martsays,grinning.“We’rebackonconversationalterms.I’monlydelighted.Andthechildcanmarryawasterwhethershe’sgayornot,can’tshe?That’swhatwevotedfor:thegayscanmakefoolsofthemselves,sameastherestofus,andnoonecanstopthem.”
Calsays,“Thatkid’snofool.”
“Weallare,whenwe’reyoung.TheIndiansdohaveitright:it’stheparentsthatoughtaarrangethemarriages.They’dmakeabetterjobofitthanabunchayoungpeoplethat’sonlythinkingwiththeirwildbits.”
“Andyou’dhavebeenmarriedofftosomeskinnygirlwho’dwantapoodleandachandelier,”Calpointsout.
“Iwouldnot,”Martsayswithanairofvictory.“Mydaddyandmammyneveragreedonanythingintheirlives;there’snochancethey’dhaveagreedonawomanforme.I’dbewhereIamnow,freeandsingle,andwithouttheconsequencesofSheilaReddy’sfoolishnesstodealwith.”
“You’djustfindsomethingelsetogetmixedupin,”Calsays.“You’dgetbored.”
“Imight,allright,”Martacknowledges.“Howaboutyourself?”HesquintsatCal,evaluating.“I’dsayyourmammywouldhavefoundyouanicecheerfulyoungonewithagoodsteadyjob.Anurse,maybe,orateacher;noeejitforyou.We’renotlookingatanyElleMacpherson—shewouldn’twantyouhavingthehassleofthat—butprettyenough.Agirlthatwasupforafewlaughs,butnononsenseabouther;nowildstreak.Andyourdaddywouldn’thavegivenashiteonewayoranother.AmIrightoramIright?”
Calcan’thelpahalfsmile.“Prettymuch,”hesays.
“Andyoumightbebetteroff.Youwouldn’tbehalfwayupamountainwithabanjaxedknee,anyway.”
“Whoknows,”Calsays.“Likeyousay,it’samadworld.”HerealizesthatMartisleaninghardonhiscrook.Hisstepsarejerkierandmorelopsidedthantheywereonthewayup,orevenatthestartofthewaydown,andthelinesofhisfacehavetightenedupwithpain.Hisjointshavepaidforthejourney.
Thepathgraduallylevelsoff.Theheatherandmoorgrassgivewaytotanglesofweedspushinginfromtheverges.Birdsbegintochirpandrattle.
“Thereyougo,”Martsays,stoppingwherethepathleadsbetweenhedgesintoapavedroad.“D’youknowwhereyouare?”
“Notaclue,”Calsays.
Martlaughs.“Headdownthatwayabouthalfamile,”hesays,pointingwithhiscrook,“andyou’llcometotheboreenthatgoesroundthebackofFrancieGannon’sland.Don’tworryifyouseeFrancie;hewon’tgotellingtalesonyouthistime.Justblowhimakissandhe’llbehappy.”
“You’renotheadinghome?”
“Ah,God,no.I’mofftoSeánóg’sforapintortwoorthree.I’veearnedit.”
Calnods.Hecoulduseadrinkhimself,butneitherofthemhasanydesirefortheother’scompanyrightnow.“Youdidtherightthing,takingmeupthere,”hesays.
“We’llfindout,sure,”Martsays.“GiveLenaanextrasqueezeforme.”Heliftshiscrookinasaluteandhobblesoff,withthelowwintersunlightlayinghisshadowalongwaydowntheroadbehindhim.
Thehouseiscold.Inspiteofallhislayersandalltheexercise,Calischilledtothemarrow;themountainhasburroweddeepinsidehim.Heshowerstillhishotwaterrunsout,buthecanstillfeelthecoldspreadingoutwardsfromhisbones,anditseemstohimthathe’sstillsoakedinsideandoutwiththerichsmellofpeattaintedwithdeath.
Thateveninghestaysindoorsandleavesthelightsoff.Hedoesn’twantTreytocomecalling.Hismindhasn’tcomeallthewaybackinsidehisbodyyet;hedoesn’twanthertoseehimuntiltodayhashadtimetowearoffhimalittle.Heputseverythinghewaswearinginthewashingmachineandsitsinhisarmchair,lookingoutthewindowasthefieldsdimtowardsafrostybluetwilightandthemountainslosetheirdetailtobecomeonedarksweepatrest.HethinksaboutBrendanandTreysomewherewithinthatunchangingoutline,Brendanwiththebogslowlyworkingitswillonhim,Treywiththesweetairhealingherwounds.Hethinksabouthowthingswillgrowwherehisownbloodsoakedintothesoiloutside,andabouthishandsintheearthtoday,whatheharvestedandwhathesowed.
Treycomesthenextday.Calisdoinghisironingonthetablewhensheknocks.Justfromthattighttap,hecanfeelwhatit’stakenforhertostayawaythislong.Mostlyshethumpsthatdoorlikethewholepointistoenjoythenoise.
“Comein,”hecalls,unpluggingtheiron.
Treyclosesthedoorcarefullybehindherandholdsoutaloafoffruitcake.Shelooksawholelotbetter.There’sstillabigscabrunningdownfromherlip,buttheblackeyehasclearedtoafaintyellowishshadow,andshe’snotmovingliketheribcatchesher.Shelookslikeshemighthavegrownanotherhalfinch
“Thanks,”Calsays.“How’reyoudoing?”
“Grand.Yournoselooksbetter.”
“Gettingthere.”Calputsthecakeonthecounterandtakesthewatchfromadrawer.“Igotyouwhatyouneed.”
HeholdsthewatchouttoTrey.It’sclean;heputitinboilingwaterforawhileandthenleftittodryoutontheheaterovernight.Heknowsthatprobablyfuckeditupbeyondrepair,eveniftheboghadn’tmanagedthatalready,butitneededdoing.
Treyturnsthewatchoverandlooksattheinscriptionontheback.Therearelittlemarksonherhands,pinkandshiny,wherethescabshavefallenaway.
“That’syourbrother’swatch,”Calsays.“Right?”
Treynods.She’sbreathinglikeittakesaneffort.Herskinnychestrisesandfalls.
Calwaits,incasethere’ssomethingshewantstosayorask,butshejuststandsthere,lookingatthewatch.“Icleanedit,”hesays.“It’snotworking,butI’llfindagoodwatch-repairstoresomewhereandseeiftheycangetitrunningforyou.Ifyouwanttowearit,though,yougottamakesuretotellpeopleBrendanleftitbehind.”
Treynods.Calisn’tsurehowmuchofthatsheheard.
“Youcantellyourmamatherealstory,”hesays.NomatterwhatSheila’sdone,shedeservesthatmuch.“Nooneelse.”
Shenodsagain.Sherubsthebackofthewatchwithherthumb,likeifsherubshardenoughtheinscriptionmighthavemercyanddisappear.
“Whoevergaveyouthis,”shesays.“Theycouldstillhavebeenbullshittingyou.Aboutwhathappened.”
“Isawhisbody,kid,”Calsaysgently.“TheinjurieswereconsistentwiththestatementIwasgiven.”
HehearsthehissofTreycatchingabreath.“YousoundlikeaGuard,”shesays.
“Iknow.”
“Isthatwhereyougotthis?Offhisbody?”
“Yeah,”Calsays.Hehasnoideawhatheoughttodoifsheasksaboutthebody.
Shedoesn’t.Insteadshesays,“Whereishe?”
“He’sburiedupinthemountains,”Calsays.“Icouldn’tfindtheplaceagainifItriedallyear.Butit’sagoodplace.Peaceful.Ineversawagraveyardthatwasmorepeaceful.”
Treystandstherelookingdownatthewatchinherhands.Thensheturnsaroundandwalksoutthedoor.
Calwatchesherthroughthewindowsasshegoesaroundbehindthehouseanddownthegarden.Sheclimbsoverthegateintohisbackfieldandkeepswalking.Hewatchestillheseeshersitdownattheedgeofhiswoods,withherbackagainstatree.Herparkablendsinwiththeunderbrush;theonlywayhecanpickheroutisbytheredflashofherhoodie.
HefindshisphoneandtextsLena.Anychanceyoustillhaveapuplookingforahome?Thekidcoulddowithadog.She’dtakegoodcareofit.
There’sapauseofafewminutesbeforeLenagetsbacktohim.Twoofthemaresorted.Treycantakeherpickoftherest.
Caltextsher,Couldmeandhercomeoversometimeandseethem?IfthatruntisstillfreeIshouldgettoknowhimbetterbeforeItakehimhome.
Thistimehisphonebuzzesstraightaway.He’snoruntnow.He’seatingmeoutofhouseandhome.Ihopeyou’rearichman.Cometomorrowafternoon.I’llbehomeby3.
CalgivesTreyhalfanhouroutbythewoods.Thenhestartsbringinghisdeskequipmentouttothebackgarden,piecebypiece:thedropsheet,thedesk,histoolkit,woodfiller,scrapwoodandbrushesandthreelittlecansofwoodstainthathepickedupintown.Hebringsoutthecake,too:whenhewasakid,shoulderingtheweightofheavyemotionsalwayslefthimhungry.It’sanotherbeautifulwintryday,withwispybrushstrokesofcloudinathinbluesky.Theafternoonsunlieslightlyonthefields.
Heupendsthedeskandtakesagoodlookatthebrokenside.It’snotinasbadshapeashethought.Hefiguredhewaslookingatdisassemblingthewholethingandreplacingthesidepanel,butwhileafewpiecesofthesplinteredwoodarebeyondrepair,plentyofitcanbeslottedbackintoplaceandglued.Thegapsshouldbesmallenoughforwoodfiller.Carefully,kneelingonthedropsheet,hestartspickingawaytheunsalvageableshards.Hecleansthedustofftheotherswithapaintbrushandthenstartspaintingglueontothem,onebyone,anddelicatelyeasingthembackwheretheybelong.Hekeepshisshoulderturnedtothewoods.
He’sclampingalongshardintoplacewhenhehearstheswishoffeetinthegrass.“Checkthisout,”hesays,withoutlookingup.“Seemstomeit’sworkingOK.”
“Thoughtweweregoingtotakeitapartandputinanewside,”Treysays.Hervoicecomesoutrougharoundtheedges.
“Doesn’tlooklikewe’llneedto,”Calsays.“Wecanfindsomethingelsetotakeapart,ifyouwant.Icoulduseanotherchair.”
Treysquatstotakeacloserlookatthedesk.She’sstashedthewatchawayinsomepocket.Ormaybeshe’sthrownitawaysomewhereinthewoods,orburiedit,butCaldoesn’tthinkso.“Looksgood,”shesays.
“Here,”Calsays.Hepointsatthecansofwoodstain.“Youtrytheseoutonsomescrapwood,seewhichone’sthebestmatch.Youmighthavetodosomemixingtogetitright.”
“Needaplateorsomething,”Treysays.“Formixing.”
“Getthatoldtinone.”
Treylopesofftothehouseandcomesbackwiththeplateandamugofwater.Shearrangesherselfcross-leggedonthedropsheet,laysoutherequipmentaroundherandsetstowork.
Intheirtreetherooksarepeaceful,tossingscrapsofconversationbackandforth,occasionallysoaringacrosstoaneighboringnesttopayavisit.Oneskinnyyoungoneishangingupsidedownfromabranchtoseewhattheworldlookslikethatway.Treymixesstaincolorsontheplate,paintsaneatsquareofeachmixtureontoastraypieceoftwo-by-fourandlabelsitinpencil,insomecodeofherown.Calcoaxessplintersofwoodintoplaceandclampsthemthere.Afterawhileheopensthecake,andtheybreakoffachunkeachandsitonthegrasstoeatit,listeningtotherooksexchangeviewsandwatchingtheshadowsofcloudsdriftacrossthemountainsides.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
IowehugethankstoDarleyAnderson,themostmagnificentagentIcanimagine,andeveryoneattheagency,especiallyRosanna,Georgia,Mary,Kristina,andRebeka;myamazingeditors,AndreaSchulzandKatyLoftus,whointhemiddleofapandemicsomehowfoundthetime,focus,andpatiencetomakethisbooksomuchbetter;thewonderfulBenPetrone,NidhiPugalia,andeveryoneatVikingUS;theextremelyskillfulandextremelysoundOliviaMead,AnnaRidley,GeorgiaTaylor,EllieHudson,andeveryoneatVikingUK;SusanneHalbleibandeveryoneatFischerVerlage;SteveFisherofAPA;JessicaRyan,forbeingmyNorthCarolinadictionary(anymistakesaremine);BairbreNíChaoimh,forfillinginthegapsinmyrustyIrish(ditto);FearghasóCochláin,formakingsureIkillpeopleoffaccurately;CiaraConsidine,ClareFerraro,andSueFletcher,whosetallthisinmotion;KristinaJohansen,AlexFrench,SusanCollins,NoniStapleton,PaulandAnnaNugent,OonaghMontague,andKarenGillece,fortheusualpricelesscombinationoflaughs,talks,support,creativity,andalltheotheressentials;DavidRyan,clinicallyproventocuregout,improvebroadbandspeed,reducehangovers,andeliminateaphids;mymother,ElenaLombardi;myfather,DavidFrench;and,asalways,thefinestmanIknowandtheoneI’dpicktobestuckinlockdownwithanyday,myhusband,AnthonyBreatnach.
ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
TanaFrenchistheauthorofsevenpreviousbooks,includingIntheWoods,TheLikeness,andTheWitchElm.Hernovelshavesoldoverthreemillioncopiesandwonnumerousawards,includingtheEdgar,Anthony,Macavity,andBarryawards,theLosAngelesTimesBookPrizeforBestMystery/Thriller,andtheIrishBookAwardforCrimeFiction.ShelivesinDublinwithherfamily.
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