Pavement Ends: The Exodus

by Kurt Gepner

  DEDICATION

  To my many friends and family who endured my plodding, prodding and poking through the writing process.

  I thank you.

  Especially to Anne, I give my deepest gratitude. Her words were my impetus and her help was invaluable.

  PART ONE

  People Are People

  CHAPTER ONE

  The screen door banged shut, but was hardly audible over the tempest of surging rain that tore at the shingled rooftops along Jasmine Street. Evie sidled up to her husband who was glumly poised at the railing of their front porch, absently tugging at his dark beard. He watched mutely from beneath the sheltering eaves as the unseasonable, violent storm carelessly scattered the tender leaves of his prized cherry tree across his manicured lawn. Slipping an arm around his waist, Evie looked up at him with creamy jade eyes. He spared her a boyish smile despite the troubles that furrowed his brow. She leaned into him as he rested his arm across her shoulder and she sipped from her glass of crisp Chardonnay.

  "Hank, do you think they’ll make it all right?" Evie asked. A sketch of worry was mapped across her high forehead. Both Hank and Evie were anxious, but for different reasons.

  "Oh, sure," Hank nodded slowly, pulled from his own broodings by her query. "They have a printed map," he uncurled one finger after the next as he recited the list. "Our verbal instructions and a GPS navigator… and, besides all that, our daughter might remember how to get home, even after being gone for a few years." With a glint in his eye, he concluded by saying, "I don’t think they’ll have any problem finding the place."

  Evie pulled her arm from around his waist and elbowed him hard, albeit teasingly, in the gut. "You know exactly what I mean! I’ve never seen it rain like this. There are accident reports all over the place. Maybe we should have had them wait ‘til June."

  "What?! So they could pay another month of rent that they already can’t afford?" Hank asked. "Another month, or even a week, wouldn’t have made a difference," he assured his wife. "This wasn't predictable, and could have happened any time. The Weather Channel says that storms are going to get worse as the climate changes."

  "How long is it going to last?" she asked, deeply concerned.

  Hank shrugged. "They don’t know for sure, maybe hundreds of years."

  With eyes wide, Evie exclaimed, "Hundreds of years!? The whole world will flood!"

  He blinked at his wife for a moment, and then laughed. "No. This storm should pass by this evening. But the climate might take hundreds of years to stabilize."

  "Ohhh…" Evie nodded.

  Just as quickly as it appeared, his grin fell and he shook his head, pointing at the scattered leaves on the lawn. "But I am glad this weather isn’t sticking around, because my tree is looking like a skeleton."

  He shrugged again and gave his wife a squeeze. "Besides," Hank said, returning their conversation to her original concern. "You know Norah is not going to let Salvador take any chances with the kids." He kissed her forehead. "They’ll get here when they get here." A great flash of lightning suddenly illuminated the roiling sky and was followed swiftly by a bone-jarring clap of thunder.

  Evie let out a startled shriek and lurched rigidly, slopping some of her wine across her shirt. The picture-frame window rattled in protest of the concussive boom. Fanning her cheek, Evie swallowed and sighed. Her eyes blinked rapidly to quell tears of anxiety. "That was close," she squeaked.

  Eyeing her sloshing drink, Hank asked, "Isn't it a bit early to be uncorking?"

  Lifting her chin defiantly, Evie sipped from her glass. "It's a long standing tradition, among many European countries, to enjoy a glass or two with their lunch." Hank opened his mouth, but Evie covered his lips with a finger. "And before you go harping about there needing to be food for it to be considered lunch, just know that I'll make whatever you like, as soon as the kids get here."

  Another belt of thunder punctuated her words. Hank grinned at her and the tension left her body. If he excelled at anything, it was in his ability to make her relax. He looked like a child at a party. Thunder and lightning were his cake and ice cream.

  Tenaciously, Evie returned to the previous thread of their conversation. "And you should know, Mister Shumway, that I’m not worried about their driving. I’m worried about all of the other idiots on the road," she declared.

  Hank tenderly brushed his fingers along the back of her neck and pointed up the street. Evie’s eyes tracked down his arm and she saw a twenty-six foot U-Haul rumble around the corner. A sun-scabbed baby blue Ford Tempo trailed behind it on a car dolly. "Thank God," she gasped.

  Evie watched her husband trot through the gushing rain, around the front of the truck, and up to the driver’s door. After a brief, gesturing conversation with their son-in-law, he splashed back to the porch. Laughing, he pulled off his glasses and sloughed water from his hairy crown and bearded face.

  "What did you think; you’re a duck or something?" Evie admonished.

  Hank chuckled and said, "We need some towels. Salvador had to rescue somebody along the way and he’s soaked to the bone."

  Evie tsked. "Oh, for the love of God, when is that boy going to stop playing hero?" She didn’t wait for an answer, because she knew it before she asked. Salvador was a firefighter, through and through. His heroics would end only when he was dead. She admired him for that. But, in a way, she was angry with him.

  Her daughter deserved a man who would come home every day, day after day. Her two granddaughters deserved a daddy who would look after them and give them away in marriage. Salvador probably wouldn’t make it that far, because he would risk anything to save a life. On the other hand, she knew that Salvador really loved his wife and kids. That’s why he agreed to move away from the rest of his family in Tucson, after budget cuts had left him unemployed.

  Hank tried to open a compact umbrella against the wind, but finally abandoned his attempt. Instead, he stood stoically by the gate, enduring the torrent, as Salvador lined up the passenger door. When the truck stopped, Hank tugged the door open. Norah, his youngest daughter, was extracting the year old Emily from her car seat while trying to restrain three year old Abigail from squirming past. "Kam-pah! Kam-pah!" she shouted her name for Hank.

  "Abby, just wait!" Norah commanded. Her tone betrayed the fact that they’d just spent three cramped days in a U-Haul. Undaunted by her mother’s decree, Abby slipped her way to the door as Norah lifted Emily to her shoulder. Practically falling from the truck, Abby launched herself into Hank’s embrace. He pulled her up to his hip and planted a big wet kiss on her round cheek.

  "Why, hello, Abby," he said with a grin. "What are you doing here?"

  "We’re going to live with your goddamn parents," Abby answered, cheerfully. Her chocolate brown eyes sparkled with innocent delight, but Hank thought he saw the slightest glimmer of devilment glinting out from behind a dark lock of hair.

  "Abby!" Her mother exclaimed in horror.

  Hank chuckled. "My, my, you’re talking so much better than the last time I saw you," he said while smiling wryly at his daughter and son-in-law, both of whom had the decency to appear mortified.

  "Yes," Abby agreed. "I can say, ‘she sell’ded shellsies in the sea store’."

  "You sure can," Hank said approvingly. "How much did she sell them for?"

  "Twenty-eleven dollars," Abby informed him. Other than excessive blinking, she was completely unphased by the shower that nature had provided.

  While they spoke, Hank proffered his free arm and Norah used it for support to step out of the truck. "Twenty-eleven dollars?" Hank kept the conversation with his granddaughter going. "That seems like an awful lot of money. I don’t think I have that much. Does she sell anything cheaper?"
>
  "Uh-huh," Abby nodded, but offered no suggestion as to what it might be. As they stepped up to the porch, Salvador pulled away to circle the block according to Hank’s instructions. The only way the truck could be unloaded was if it were facing the other direction when it was parked.

  At the same time that Hank and his daughter reached the top step, Evie burst through the screen door and squealed, "Abby!" She tossed aside the fresh towels that she had just fetched and threw her arms wide. Abby stretched for her grandmother with a delighted giggle.

  "How’s my favorite granddaughter?" Evie pulled the little girl from Hank’s arm and hugged her, rocking side to side and planting kisses all over her face. Abby boiled over with hysterical laughter.

  "Mom!" Norah said, exasperation lacing through her tight voice.

  Evie glanced at her daughter, but kept kissing the giggling child. "Let me enjoy the moment," she said between kisses. "I haven’t seen Abby in nearly a year."

  "It’s not that," Norah hissed, her bright jade eyes darting self-consciously at her father. "I have to go to the bathroom!" She hissed through clinched teeth.

  "Ohhh…" Evie said. "Riiight!" She seemed suddenly cognizant of the situation. "Because you’ve just been on the road trip from hell and I’m blocking the door…."

  Evie cleared the way and Hank offered to take Emily. Norah didn’t hesitate to thrust the fussing toddler into his arms and flew into the house. "Hi-hi, Sweetie-pie," Hank said, smiling into the dark chocolate eyes of his youngest granddaughter. The little girl frowned and grunted, trying to push away from the strange man.

  Evie chimed in, "I guess she doesn’t remember being a newborn sleeping on your belly."

  Salvador rumbled up the street. Hank smiled at Evie and sighed. "This is going to be a long day." Evie nodded her agreement. Hank’s eyes darted from the truck to the house to the fussing child in his arms. "Why don’t you take the kids inside? I’ll tell Salvador to grab a shower, so he can warm up. And while everyone’s getting settled, you can make us some of your famous grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for lunch."

  "Sounds like a plan," Evie concurred and took the children inside. Hank looked at the umbrella, and then at his rain soaked shirt and pants. Chuckling to himself, he shook his head and splashed once more into the deluge.

  Salvador pulled alongside the fence and right up to the back of a long, flatbed trailer. When he pulled the key from the ignition, the U-Haul coughed and sputtered its refusal to die. Hank pulled open the driver’s door as Salvador was unlatching Emily’s carrier from its base. "Don’t you worry about those things," Hank said with a jolly smile. "You get in that house and take a nice, hot shower. I’ll bring all this stuff in."

  "You sure?" Salvador asked, looking down at Hank from the driver’s seat.

  "I’m sure not getting dry while I stand here waiting on you," Hank answered with a grin.

  "Okay," Salvador said and climbed out of the cab.

  Hank moved out of his way and said, "There’re some towels on the porch, if you want to dry off. But if I were you, I’d just shoot straight to the bathroom and hop in the shower."

  "I think I will," Salvador said and then hesitated. He thrust his hand toward Hank. "Thanks for letting us stay with you." Salvador’s dark eyes were sincere beneath his heavy, serious brow.

  Hank grabbed the hand and shook it with gusto. "You’ll change your tune before I’m done with you." Salvador’s mouth fell into a frown and his deeply tanned face turned crimson with uncertainty. Hank pointed across the fence at the skeletal structure that was going to be a two-bedroom apartment over a garage. Understanding blossomed in Salvador’s eyes. They’d talked about it on the phone. Salvador was going to help Hank to build their new home.

  The arrangement couldn’t have been better for him. Salvador would earn fair credit toward their rent from his labor. Once it was all done and he moved his family in, he would have time to find a job while they lived on the sweat that he’d invested. After that ran out, their rent would cover his in-law’s second mortgage and insurance. It would be a better place than he had ever lived for hundreds less than he’d ever paid in rent.

  Hank and Evie were happy, because their daughter and grandchildren were home. Norah was happy, because her parents were going to watch the kids in the evening while she went back to college. And Salvador was happy, because he was earning his way, without charity.

  When he realized what Hank meant, Salvador laughed. Hank’s grin grew larger and he said, "I’m glad you’re here. I wouldn’t get this done without you. Now go get cleaned up. Evie’s getting lunch ready." Salvador nodded and jogged up to the house.

  After Hank had gathered the odds and ends from the cab and piled it into Emily’s carrier, he covered it all with a blue jacket that he found on the floorboard. A gym bag accounted for the last of what wasn’t empty soda cans or fast-food bags. He backed down the steps and when he turned around, he was face to face with the massive head of a Rottweiler looking over the side gate. Beside him, the nose of their Akita, Kodie, sniffed for some attention. Hank elbowed the door shut and said, "Hey there, Reggie!"

  Reggie whined pleadingly. Fumbling the bag into his left hand, Hank reached out and scratched the dog’s jowls. Reggie lifted his chin to allow his master better access. Water poured down his muzzle. For a few moments, Hank alternated affection between the two dogs before saying, "I can’t hang out, boys. I’m sorry. Go on, get out of the rain."

  On cue, both dogs dropped from the gate and loped up to the back porch. Indulging himself for a moment, Hank admired his champion Rottweiler. He loved both, but in every way, Reggie was an ambassador for his breed: stout, handsome, disciplined and friendly.

  CHAPTER TWO

  On the porch, Hank shook the jacket and hung it on a hook that protruded from a wrought iron caricature of a rooster. The black silhouette contrasted nicely against the red bricks of the house. Plastic grocery bags and leashes adorned the other hooks; the tools of frequent dog walks.

  Kicking off his worn-out tennis shoes, Hank stepped inside. As he closed the door, Evie hollered from the kitchen. "Don’t you dare sit on my furniture, Mr. Shumway! You head straight for the downstairs bathroom and change clothes."

  Norah sat nursing Emily in the wing-backed chair to the left of the fireplace. It was the chair Evie preferred to occupy. She had dried her coal-black hair and pulled it into a ponytail that left her creamy, pale face unadorned from ear to ear. Hank put his load down next to his daughter. She rolled her eyes at him and he gave her a cheerful wink. "Yes, Dear," he hollered back to his wife, not sparing a deeply patronizing inflection. Then he grabbed Norah with one hand on her high forehead and the other on the nape of her neck and planted a sloppy kiss right on her crown. "Welcome home, Sweetheart," he laughingly greeted her.

  "Ewww! You’re all wet!" she exclaimed. Hank chuckled maliciously and crossed the living room to the dining room and into the kitchen. Evie was facing the stove, which put her back to him. Creeping, cat-like, with fingers curled into sinister claws, Hank sneaked up behind his wife. When he was close enough to smell the fragrance in her hair, he kissed her on the neck, dripping water down her back. She squawked and jammed an elbow into his gut. She was rewarded with a loud "oof" and spun around. "Get out of here! Go change!"

  Hank opened his arms wide. "Give me a hug, first," he said, playfully.

  Menacing him with her spatula, Evie growled, "Go! Now!"

  Hank deflated and trudged out of the kitchen. "Okay," he said, with mock despondence.

  "You’re a wicked little boy Henry Bernard Shumway!" Evie chased him out of the kitchen by smacking his rump with her spatula. "Wicked, I tell you!"

  As he passed his daughter, replete with a Cheshire grin and mischievous glint in his eyes, Hank looked every bit the part of a wicked child.

  Norah shook her head, snickering to herself. "You know, Mom, you only encourage him."

  Evie popped her head over the bar that segregated the kitchen from the dining room.
Speaking in a faux whisper, she cheerful said, "I know." Then, in a conversational volume she added, "As long as I’m stuck with him, I’d rather he be playful than most of the alternatives."

  "Yeah, I guess," Norah concurred with little commitment. "It’s just that you guys have had so many ups and downs over the years, all because he doesn’t take anything seriously."

  Evie frowned. "Listen, Honey, our ups and downs have had nothing to do with his playfulness. That’s one of his better qualities. Just because someone is quick to smile, or has a happy attitude, doesn’t mean they aren’t serious."

  Norah’s brow furrowed. "What’s that supposed…" A piercing alarm shattered their conversation and a strobing light illuminated a thin cloud rolling out of the kitchen.

  "Oh, Hell," Evie snarled and she rushed back to her grilled cheese sandwiches. Emily began to cry, frightened by the sudden shrill of the smoke alarm.

  Salvador burst out of the bathroom and ran down the hall with a towel barely clutched around his waist. In his rush to react, he bumped into Abby. On her way to the floor, the little girl’s forehead cracked against the coffee table. "Abby!" Norah shouted and tried to set her screaming, wriggling toddler into the child carrier. Desperate and frustrated she dumped out the toys and other sundries that Hank had loaded into it from the truck cab.

  A grimace pulled Abby’s reddening face taut and she was utterly silent for a long, agonizing moment. Salvador was horrified to see the pain on his daughter’s face. He knelt to comfort her and his towel nearly fell away. Snatching its corner at the last moment, he managed to preserve his modesty while simultaneous lifting his daughter to his shoulder.

  A slight squeak marked the nadir of Abby’s exhale. As Salvador impotently tried to comfort her, the little girl drew in a deep shuddering breath. "Oh no," Salvador uttered, helplessly. At the moment he laid her cheek to his shoulder, her absolutely commanding wail echoed throughout the household.