Return to Crutcher Mountain (Cedar Hollow Series Book 2)

by Clayton, Melinda

  Michael laughed. “It was great, actually. I haven’t played board games in years. And it was so quiet! I slept like a baby. Corinne is fantastic, isn’t she?”

  “She is,” I agreed. “She’s the closest thing to family I’ve got, she and John.”

  “That would be tough, I think.” Michael squeezed my hand briefly before letting it go. “As you know, my parents are in Oklahoma. I don’t see them often, but it’s nice to know they’re there. I suppose I take it for granted. And of course there’s my sister and her children. I don’t think I could have made it through that year without them.” I knew he meant the year he’d lost his wife and son.

  We sat across from each other and I realized this had been planned, Michael meeting me alone. Never before had I pulled into Corinne’s driveway without her bustling down the steps to meet me. I didn’t know the reason for it, so I waited.

  “I was at work when I got the call,” he said. This surprised me. Michael had never spoken in detail about his loss. “Angela had just picked Noah up at preschool. They were on I-10, headed home. There wasn’t anything special about that day. Once they got home Angela would have gotten Noah a snack. She might have read him a story, and then they would have settled down together for a quick nap. A ‘refresher’ Angela used to call it. She would have called to ask what I wanted for dinner. I would have promised to be home on time, but I wouldn’t have made it, because I never did. I meant to, but I never did.”

  “Michael,” I started, but he held up his hand to stop me.

  “It’s okay. I’m not blaming myself, if that’s what you’re thinking. What I’m trying to say is that we had our routines, you know? We knew each other so well. I knew she’d forget to pick up Noah’s milk at the corner grocery, and she knew I’d be home late. These weren’t bad things. I mean, sure we’d gripe about it the way people do, but it’s what we did. There was comfort in that fact. Does that make sense?”

  I thought I understood. We take comfort from the familiar. I remembered one of my training classes when I was preparing to volunteer at the Lodge. That particular block was on behavior management. It wasn’t required, but I took it anyway because it sounded interesting, and as it turned out, it was. We discussed applied behavior analysis and the ways in which behaviors are shaped.

  One thing the instructor said had stayed with me. “People crave predictability. Some children will actually engage in challenging behaviors in order to receive the expected reprimand.” It’s reassuring, the instructor explained. It’s predictable. I thought that sort of explained what Michael meant.

  “You knew she’d forget to pick up the milk, and she knew you’d be annoyed. It’s a part of what defined the life you created together. It’s comforting to know someone so well you can predict their behaviors, even if the behaviors are annoying.”

  “Exactly!” Michael squeezed my hand again. “You’re very wise.”

  I shook my head. “No wisdom here. I’ve just been therapized enough over the years to know the lingo.”

  Michael cocked his head, a quizzical expression flitting across his face before he plunged ahead. “She knew I’d never make it home on time, and I knew she’d roll her eyes when I showed up late. That’s what I’m trying to explain about that day. There was nothing special about it, but everything was special about it because it’s who we were.

  “I loved all those little mundane pieces that made up our lives. And then it was gone. Some random truck driver decided to run a double route, amped himself up on speed, and wiped out my family, just like that.”

  He stopped, silent, rubbing at an imaginary spot on the grain of the picnic table. I reached out and placed my hand over his. “I’m so sorry, Michael. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like for you.”

  He withdrew his hand, patting mine before sitting up and rubbing his jaw. “And I can’t explain it, what it was like. It sounds crazy, but I don’t even remember much of that first year. Thank God for my friends and family. Even now....Jessie, that’s why I’m telling you all this. I want you to know that I understand.”

  “What do you mean?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear his answer.

  “Yesterday, when we argued, I told you that it was obvious you’d been through some sort of trauma. I told you I’m willing to help as long as you want to move forward, but you know what, Jessie? I was a presumptuous ass. I haven’t moved forward enough myself to help anyone else with the process. I’m not the same man I was before the wreck, not even close.”

  “You’re a good man, Michael.” I wanted to help him, but I had no idea what to do.

  “Thank you, Jessie, I appreciate that. But after our conversation yesterday, I realized a couple of things about myself. The first thing I realized is that I hate being alone. I loved sharing my life with my little family. I loved the reality we created together. I’ve spent the last couple of years wanting more than anything to recreate that feeling. I’m lost without it.”

  “Go on,” I prodded. I had a sinking feeling, fairly certain where the conversation was going.

  Michael hesitated, clearly struggling to find the right words. “Since yesterday I’ve done a lot of thinking. I admire you, you know. Instead of diving into things, you hold yourself back. Something bad happened to you and you feel damaged. Because of that, you don’t feel you can contribute to a relationship. Here I’ve been thinking if I could just recreate my family, I’d be whole again, but you’ve got it right. A relationship won’t work if you aren’t already whole when you enter into it.”

  I felt my cheeks burn at the truth of what he’d said. He knew more about me than I gave him credit for. That surprised me, but it shouldn’t have. I remembered Therapist Number One telling me that depression is inherently narcissistic. I’d gotten angry at the time. I hated myself; how could I possibly be narcissistic?

  “Because,” she’d explained, “when you spend so much time wrapped up in your own misery, you don’t notice anyone else.” Maybe she’d been right after all. The thought shamed me. I hugged myself, suddenly chilly in the cool breeze.

  Michael removed his jacket, handing it to me over the table. “It’s a good thing, a healthy thing, holding off on a relationship until you’re complete on your own. I think that’s something I need to do, too. I still have some work to do. Jessie, I’m sorry for the pressure I’ve put on you. You were right.”

  “Where does this leave us, Michael?” I was suddenly terrified that he was saying goodbye for good. I’d pushed him away enough to deserve it, but my heart ached at the thought. I didn’t want him to leave me; I just wanted him to not try to force me to do something I felt incapable of doing.

  He must have sensed my thoughts because he reached across the table for my hand again. “You’ve said you want our status to remain undefined, but I’m suggesting a different definition than the one I’ve been pushing for. Let’s take a couple of steps back and concentrate on our friendship. I’ll remove my things from your condo when we get back—no more overnights—and we’ll start at square one, a clearly defined friendship with no pressure. I don’t think half-in and half-out has worked for either of us. It makes me expect too much and it makes you feel pressured. So let’s focus on friendship. How does that sound?”

  It sounded good. It sounded perfect, actually. Michael’s friendship without the pressure. I liked the open-endedness of that; it gave me room to breathe. I smiled at him, and the relief must have shown on my face.

  Just then, as if they’d known it was the perfect time—or, more likely, as if they’d been spying on us—Corinne and John made a loud show of rounding the house, arms laden with the makings of a picnic lunch.

  Chapter 23: Robby

  Hi. Well it’s me Robby and I just had a stupid meeting with my stupid caseworker. Mrs. Jamison at church says we should not say stupid. She calls it the “s” word but it is not the real “s” word. I know that because Ernie says the real “s” word and it is s-h-i-t. I don’t say that word but I know how to spell it b
ecause Ernie wrote it on the back of the bus seat with a black magic marker. Ernie is a big bully on the bus and he makes fun of me but I don’t care because he is stupid. Ha! I said it again.

  Mrs. Cortes has not found a place for me to go yet. She said for now she’ll have to pick me up tomorrow and take me back to the family that has too many kids already but I can’t live there for long. She said she’ll keep looking for a family that I can stay with until my mom is ready to come home. I hate all this stupid moving around. I wish I could just live here at the Lodge forever. The people are nice and there are lots of things to do and I have friends here and nobody is a big stupid bully like big stupid Ernie on the big stupid school bus. Ha! I said a lot of stupids! Ha ha!

  Mrs. Cortes took me back to the Lodge in time for lunch and then she went to see Dr. Wright. She said she had to check in with Dr. Wright but I know she went there to talk about me because that is what Grownups do. They tell you something stupid (ha!) but then they go and talk about you with other Grownups and try to Come Up With A Plan. I hope they Come Up With A Plan soon because I have to leave here tomorrow.

  Stacey was glad to see me when I got back and so was Joseph and so was Anthony. Marcus looked glad to see me too but Marcus looks glad to see everybody. That is one good thing about Marcus. He always makes you happy because he always looks glad to see you.

  Then Mr. Paul and Ms. Janice took us out to the horses and it was so cool! I love it here and I don’t see why I can’t live here instead of going to some stupid Foster Home where I can’t even stay. That’s just stupid.

  Chapter 24

  Over lunch we decided to visit with Kay, down at Peggy’s diner. “Kay knows everythin’ goin’ on in this town,” Corinne remarked as we helped clean up the kitchen. “And the Sheriff is there every day, too, round about two o’clock. That’s the place to find him, if you’re lookin’. He stops in for a cup of coffee before the end of his shift.”

  We agreed to walk, John, Michael and I, partly to exercise off the ham and cheese we’d had for lunch, partly because it was such a beautiful fall day.

  “I believe I’ll stay here,” Corinne had said. “It’s time for my nap. Jessie, will you be joinin’ us for supper?”

  “I can’t today. I left word for Robby, Raymond’s grandson, that I’d see him this evening, but that reminds me.” I told them about the meeting scheduled with Virgil for Friday afternoon. “I won’t be able to get here until sometime after two, probably more like two-thirty, so you’ll have to have lunch without me.”

  “All right,” Corinne said. “I’m glad you’ve taken an interest in Raymond’s grandbaby. He’s a cutie, ain’t he? Poor little thing. Boys,” she addressed John and Michael, “here’s what we’ll do. We’ll have brunch around eleven and then I’ll fix an early supper for all of us, around three, so I can feed y'all and let you get to the airport in time. Jessie, if you’re goin’ to be later than two-thirty give me a call and let me know. Now let me go get my rest before I get cranky.”

  I hugged Corinne goodbye and we left for town, walking along the side of the gravel road. I was tempted to reach for Michael’s hand; we always held hands as we walked. But I didn’t. I liked the idea of building our friendship; that was a new concept for me and I agreed with it completely. I’d never done that before. Since my divorce, I’d never stuck around long enough to care. It was the right way to go, and after that who knew what could happen? But I missed him, too. Instead of reaching for him I shoved my hands into my back pockets, and that’s when I remembered Robby’s drawing. I pulled it out for a look.

  “What have you got there? Love notes from all the boys?” Michael teased me.

  “I do, actually. From Robby. Nora gave it to me this morning and I forgot about it until now.” I unfolded it, holding tight to the paper in the strong breeze, and held it out for all of us to see. I smiled at the huge yellow-white moon, resembling nothing so much as a big round slice of Swiss cheese, complete with holes. At the bottom of the page were three figures. I pushed my hair out of my face for a closer look.

  “It’s you, Jessie!” John laughed. “Look at that! It’s your ponytail, and your plaid jacket.” He was right. Robby’s childish scrawl had captured me perfectly. But who was on either side of me, gazing at that huge moon?

  Michael pulled the paper closer, squinting in the bright sun. “He drew your parents. See?”

  On my right was the figure of a woman. Her short hair had been colored gray with crayon. She was dressed in a brightly flowered dress, an apron over the front, sneakers on her feet. The laces had been drawn in careful detail, neatly x-ing up the front and tied with a huge bow. Underneath, Robby had written the word Mom.

  On my left, the tall figure of a man. His hair was also gray. Robby had colored the upper portion of his body red, as if he wore a red shirt or jacket. His bottom half was colored light brown. In the man’s hand was what appeared to be a claw hammer, the claws disproportionately long. Underneath that figure, Robby had written the word Dad. At the very bottom of the picture, in all capital letters, Robby had written the words YUR FAMLEY. What was this?

  “It’s the Huffmans,” I said.

  “The Huffmans,” John repeated. “You mean the groundskeeper and his wife? The ones with your toothbrush?”

  I felt a chill. I had always had a feeling of discomfort around them, and now this. “It’s them, John. I know you think I’m crazy, but that’s them. That’s exactly what they look like, down to the sneakers and the red jacket.” I felt my voice rising, and I was comforted when Michael placed a hand on my shoulder.

  “Robby knows my mother passed away. We talked about it, about how Billy May and his grandfather were such good friends. Why would he draw this? Why would he draw them as my parents?”

  “Jessie, think about what you just said.” John pulled me over to sit on the bench outside Peggy’s Diner. “Billy May passed away, and Billy May was like a mother to you, but your birth mother may very well still be alive.”

  Michael sat on my other side. “John, are you thinking Robby knows something about the Huffmans that he’s trying to tell Jessie? Do you think it’s possible...?”

  Michael didn’t finish his question, but he didn’t have to. I pictured Mrs. Huffman in my mind’s eye. Fatigued, early sixties, short gray hair, trim build. Was it possible? Aside from the constant weariness, she looked nothing like the bleached blonde woman I remembered from my childhood, but so many years had passed. I couldn’t fathom it; I didn’t even want to consider it.

  If it was her, what did she want from me? Money? I’d gladly give it all if it would keep her away from me. I wanted nothing to do with her, the woman who had left me to Roy. Surely she had known what he would do to me. She had to have known.

  “I think it’s possible, but I think we need to take a collective breath and calm down for a minute.” John rubbed the back of my neck. “First of all, how would Robby know something like that?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. I have no idea. Maybe Raymond knew something?” I felt dizzy. “This is all too much.”

  Michael stood, pulling me to my feet. “Let’s go inside. We’ll get you something to drink and sort through this thing.” I leaned against him gratefully as he led me through the door.

  “Jessie! And John! Y'all come on over here and say hello!” I looked towards the voice and saw Darryl Lane and his son, Dennis, having a late lunch, accompanied by Eugene Cooper, another old friend of Billy May’s. Eugene stood, grasping a walker for support. That was new. He hadn’t needed the assistance of a walker the last time I’d seen him, at Billy May’s funeral. That day he’d managed to climb all the way to the top of the bell tower unassisted.

  Glad for the distraction, I followed John and Michael to their table. “Mr. Cooper, it’s so good to see you. What in the world happened?” I pointed to his knee, which was enveloped by a cumbersome looking brace.

  “Aw, I fell. Just getting’ old, I reckon. Twisted it, is all. I’ll be good as new in no time.
” He let go of the walker to give me a hug. “How’ve you been, little girl? I heard you was back in town. Got a little jealous when you stopped in to see Darryl but didn’t come to see me.”

  “Now, Mr. Cooper, you know I love you both equally.” I returned the hug, alarmed at the boniness of him.

  “Pull up a chair and join us.” Dennis stood to shake Michael’s hand, reminding me of my manners.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “This is Michael Bell, a friend of mine from L.A. Michael, these men are what pass for my family around here. Mr. Eugene Cooper, Mr. Darryl Lane, and his son, Dennis.”

  “A man friend, eh? We’ll it’s about time. You ain’t gettin’ any younger, you know.” Darryl winked at Michael and to my embarrassment, I felt myself blush.

  “I’m glad we ran into you, Jessie.” Dennis helped Mr. Cooper back into the chair and set his walker aside. “Wanted to let you know that Virgil Young has been running his mouth off all over town.”

  “So I’ve heard.” I waved at Kay, behind the counter. “He showed up at the Lodge this morning, demanding more money. Nora insists he’s been paid, but he doesn’t seem to think it’s enough. He said he’d come back with his lawyer Friday afternoon to go over the books.”

  Darryl set his cup into the saucer, sloshing coffee over the side. “He ain’t always been so mouthy. Trouble is, his wife took sick. Word is she got the cancer. He’s stretched thin for money. Took on a fulltime job down at the garage, is what I hear, fixin’ cars. But you know he’s gettin’ old for that kind of work. It’s hard on the body, especially fulltime at his age. Don’t see him in here no more. Reckon he’s too busy.”

  Eugene nodded. “He wasn’t never a particularly nice man, but he wasn’t a mean one, neither. There was a lot worse.” He peered at me from under bushy brows. “He was just one you knew you didn’t want to get on the wrong side of. Reckon his wife takin’ ill has brought out the worst in him.”