Redemption Mountain

by FitzGerald, Gerry

  “It’s all right, Pie Man. You’re with me.” But the boy lingered behind, preferring to stay within sight of the open gate and his bike.

  “I wait out here, Charlie. I wait here.”

  “Okay, I’m just going to see if he’s inside,” Charlie answered, as he walked toward the main door. Then he heard a deep voice from around the end of the building.

  “Hey, you, kid! What the fuck are you doin’ on my property? Get over here!”

  The boy sidled nervously away from the voice, looking around the side of the building as if trying to spot Charlie.

  “Hey, kid, you deaf or wha—” The security guard stopped abruptly when Charlie came into view. The guard was tall and powerful-looking, with a full gray mustache and the look of an ex-military man or state trooper. He wore a dark-blue shirt with ONTAMEX SECURITY on the right breast and the name HICKS emblazoned on the left pocket.

  “The kid’s with me; he’s okay,” said Charlie.

  “Yeah, and who the hell are you, and why are you and Charlie Brown here trespassing on my property?”

  Charlie offered his hand. “Hi, I’m Charlie Burden. I’m the—”

  “How’d you assholes get in here?” Hicks continued, ignoring Charlie’s hand.

  Charlie felt his patience drain away. He could sense the boy’s nervousness as he tried to edge away from the two men. The kid didn’t deserve to be frightened over this. Charlie gritted his teeth. “All right, Hicks, that’s enough! If you want to keep your job beyond the next thirty seconds, you’ll shut up and listen.”

  The security guard’s face softened as it came to him: the expensive car with New York plates, the name Burden … the new guy! Hugo Paxton’s replacement.

  “I’m Charlie Burden, and I’m in charge of this site. You may be getting paid by OntAmex, but you now work for me, and your first day on the job isn’t going well. If you were doing your job, you’d know how we got in. So when I come to work on Monday morning, you’d better be able to show me, and you’d better have it taken care of.”

  Charlie moved away from the now-docile Hicks toward the boy, who stood wide-eyed at how his new friend had spoken to the guard. Charlie put his hand on the back of the boy’s neck and started walking him toward the gate.

  “Hey, Mr. Burden, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you. All I saw was that kid there, and…” Hicks’s tone showed real concern over the prospect of losing his overpaid job.

  Charlie turned back. “Mr. Hicks, this is my good friend the Pie Man, and anytime he wants to come on the grounds to see me, he’s welcome. Okay?”

  “Yessir, Mr. Burden. I’ll see you on Monday morning, and we’ll start fresh.”

  Charlie didn’t bother to answer. He was tired and hot, the sun was getting lower, and he still needed to get to Bluefield. A cold shower and eight hours of sleep was what he needed.

  The boy picked up his bicycle and stood with his legs straddling the front wheel as he straightened the loose handlebars.

  “Should have your daddy put a wrench on that and tighten it up, Pie Man,” Charlie said, as he unlocked the Lexus. The boy didn’t respond. He seemed a little subdued. When he looked up at Charlie, he squinted with one eye closed and turned his head at an angle to avoid looking directly into the sun over Charlie’s shoulder.

  “Charlie, am I really your good friend, like you tell that man?”

  Charlie grinned at the expression on the boy’s face. He stepped forward and turned the boy’s cap around so the bill shielded his eyes from the sun.

  “Pie Man, you’re the best friend I have in West Virginia.”

  The boy looked away, as if he was embarrassed. Then he turned back to Charlie as he jumped onto his bicycle seat. He had on his scrunched-up happy face, with the smile so tight it closed his eyes and pushed the little pink tip of his tongue out even farther. He rode his bike a few yards down the entry road, then circled around slowly and came back toward Charlie.

  “Thank you for thowing me where the turbines will go.”

  “You’re welcome, Pie Man. Thanks for showing me how to sneak in.”

  As the boy started to ride off, Charlie called after him. “Hey, Pie Man.” The boy stopped and turned back to Charlie. “How old are you?”

  The boy held up ten fingers. “I am twelve,” he said, concentrating on his fingers. Charlie had to laugh at the expression on the boy’s face as he pedaled off toward the logging road that ran through the woods to South County Road. Twice he turned back to see if Charlie was still watching, and he waved. He still had the strange, happy look on his face. Charlie tried to recall the last time he spoke to a twelve-year-old. Had it really been that long? It was fun being with a child again. And there was something about this boy with Down syndrome that was very likable. Charlie wondered if he’d see him again.

  * * *

  ON THE WAY out to the OntAmex site, Charlie had passed through the center of Red Bone—an old-time Main Street with a few side streets and a half dozen or so old dark-stone buildings of three and four stories. He remembered a place called Barney’s, which looked like a general store with a restaurant on one side. It was in a four-story building on a corner at the center of town. He’d stop there on the way back to get directions to Bluefield and a cup of coffee to go.

  Charlie drove leisurely east on South County Road toward Old Red Bone, taking in the sights. He went past a boarded-up motel with a heavy growth of weeds pushing through long-neglected cracks in the parking area. Several other abandoned buildings could’ve once been small manufacturing companies or warehouses. A two-story red-brick building with hundreds of small windows, mostly broken, had probably been a school at one time. There was very little along the road that seemed to be functioning. Nothing new had been built on South County Road for many years.

  From a long way off, Charlie could see the old buildings of Red Bone etched against the mountain by the light of the sun setting in the west behind him. He drove up the long, steep hill to Main Street, pulled around the corner, and stopped in front of Barney’s General Store. The lights were out on the store side on the left, but he could see a woman sweeping the floor in the restaurant. Probably closing up and too late for coffee. But Charlie still needed directions.

  The restaurant could have served as a set for a fifties movie. Wooden booths with individual jukeboxes ran along the front windows. The counter snaked out and back in the typical space-saving U-shaped pattern. Overhead, large ceiling fans turned slowly, and fluorescent lights kept the restaurant bright as day.

  The woman looked up from sweeping as Charlie entered. She looked to be in her late fifties, with short gray hair and a fleshy face. She had a tired, end-of-the-day look about her.

  “Let me guess,” she said, leaning on her broom. “White-water guy, down here for the rafting on the New River. You missed your exit, got lost, and now you need directions up to Fayette County, right?” She smiled at Charlie, enjoying her game.

  “You got part of it right. I do need directions. I’m looking for the best way to get to Bluefield.” Charlie took a few steps into the restaurant. It reminded him of the New Haven diners of his youth.

  “Was that all you wanted when you come in here, directions?” she asked. “Or were you looking to eat? ’Cause I can’t turn on the grill again, but I got some cold stuff, if you’re hungry.”

  “No, that’s okay. I was looking for a cup of coffee to go, but that’s all right.”

  The woman leaned her broom against one of the booths and went behind the counter. “You sit down a minute, then, and I’ll make you coffee.” Charlie protested, but she waved him to a stool. While the coffee brewed, she told him how to get to Bluefield. When he asked about the condo development, she drew a little map for him. “You must be a power-plant guy. A lot of them live over there in Bluefield.”

  “That’s right. I’m here to work on the OntAmex project.”

  “Well, then, welcome to West Virginia. I’m Eve Brewster,” she said, holding out her hand. “This town reall
y needed that project. Been good for my business, I’ll tell you.”

  Charlie shook her hand over the countertop. “I’m Charlie Burden, Eve, and I’m very happy to meet you. But, I do wish you hadn’t made coffee just for me.”

  Eve Brewster looked at him with a wry smile. “So, you’re the new big mule from New York.”

  Charlie laughed. “The big what?”

  “The big mule. The boss. It’s an old coal-mining expression.”

  “Word travels fast.”

  “Your man Summers—young guy with the white sports car? He was in tossing your name around the other day. Said you were on your way down.”

  “I’m surprised anyone would care,” said Charlie.

  “The big mule at the power plant is pretty important stuff around here. You’re kind of a celebrity. Like poor Mr. Paxton was, rest his soul.”

  “You knew Hugo?”

  “He was about my best customer. Man could eat cheese omelets like he just got out of a Japanese prison camp. Good tipper, too.” Eve poured coffee into a tall Styrofoam cup. “He’d stop in on his way out some evenings, and buy his beer or liquor. And cigarettes.” Eve Brewster let out a hearty laugh. “Goddamn if it don’t sound like I killed that man single-handed.”

  Charlie laughed. “It must’ve been the omelets.”

  Eve looked out the window as a car pulled around the corner. Charlie glanced over his shoulder long enough to see a red Honda. “Mr. Burden, you feel free to sit there and enjoy your coffee. I’m going to have to open the store for my sister-in-law here,” Eve said, as she moved toward the front door.

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll be going.” Charlie stood up and reached for his wallet. But Eve had gone out of the restaurant as the bell over the front door tinkled, and a new voice filled the vestibule.

  “Hey, Evey. Can you open the store for a minute, please? I’m runnin’ late, and I got to bring the boys their medicine.”

  “Yes, Natty. I know, it’s Friday, and you’re in a hurry, like always.” The lights went on in the store. “Everything okay in the hollow? Hey, I’m sorry about your friend Birdie.”

  “Thanks, Eve. It was a shame, but, even so, you and I should go like Birdie Merkely did when our time comes.”

  Charlie had nothing smaller than a twenty, but he couldn’t leave without paying for the coffee. And he wanted to say goodbye to Eve and thank her. He sipped his coffee and wandered over to the bulletin board just inside the door of the restaurant. It held a few business cards, several ads, and some notices of upcoming church events.

  One caught Charlie’s eye. It was headlined NEW YORK TRIP and described a bus trip to New York in November to see the sights and Les Misérables. The trip included two nights at the Milford Plaza. The total cost was $321, which seemed pretty reasonable. Anyone interested should call Ada Lowe at the Baptist Church Social Club.

  “Gimme a pint of Jack, carton of Marlboros, and a six-pack of Bud tall boys.” Charlie couldn’t help overhearing Eve’s sister-in-law. She had a slow, gentle voice with a hint of a Southern accent. “And a can of Red Man for Woody.”

  “Damn, still chawin’ at his age. Surprised that man can still spit,” Eve replied.

  “Not a pretty sight. Gets a lot of it on him, but he enjoys his chew, and he ain’t got much else to enjoy these days.” Natty glanced out the front window and remembered that there was another car parked next to hers—an expensive car that surely didn’t belong to anyone in Red Bone. “Eve, you got a customer over there?”

  Eve told her sister-in-law about the handsome new boss of the power plant. With a twinkle in her eye, she offered to take her over and introduce her. Natty absentmindedly felt for the faded green bandanna that she’d used to tie back her hair.

  “No, I can’t now, I’ve got to get across the street and take care of the boys,” she said.

  Charlie could hear Eve ringing up her sister-in-law’s purchase. He was about to wander over to the store, when he noticed one more item on the bulletin board. A handwritten three-by-five card read: Alva Paine’s apartment for rent. Clean, furnished, spacious, porch with spectacular view of sunsets. 4th flr. Barney’s Bldg., no elevator. Utilities included. Cable and phone extra. See Eve.

  “Damn, Eve, thirty-two bucks for cigarettes! Every time I come in here they cost more,” Natty said. She counted her money out onto the counter while Eve bagged her purchase.

  “Generics are cheaper,” Eve replied.

  “You know Mr. Jacks; got to be Marlboros.” Natty curled one arm around the bag and started toward the vestibule. “Anyway, I’m stealing these pork rinds here,” she said, flashing a wide grin. Eve shrugged resignedly. As Natty turned her head back toward the front door, she almost ran into Charlie Burden.

  “Oh, excuse me,” she said, looking up at the tall stranger. She immediately recognized Duncan McCord’s handsome friend. For two years, she’d held the picture in her mind of the two sophisticated men at the OntAmex picnic and then her embarrassing and exhilarating moment with McCord. She looked as if she wanted to say something else, but she couldn’t speak.

  “Save a lot of money if you just quit.” Charlie tried to sound friendly, but his comment sounded like a lecture.

  “Thanks a lot. That’s a great idea,” Natty said, as she moved around him. He’d only gotten a quick glimpse of the woman’s face, partially hidden by a shock of sandy-blond hair, but he was surprised by her angelic beauty and blue eyes. For some reason, he hadn’t expected Eve Brewster’s sister-in-law to be attractive. He wished he hadn’t made the comment about the cigarettes. He tried to amend the situation before she got to the front door.

  “Sorry,” he said to her back. “I know it’s not easy. I used to smoke. I quit when I turned forty.”

  Natty stopped at the door and readjusted her package. “Yeah, well, I quit when I was in high school. About the time I got pregnant, the first time. So I guess we both quit a long time ago.” Her voice was slow with a soft, easy drawl, but her irritation was clear. She went out the door and crossed the street.

  Charlie watched her through the front window of the store as she entered a large dark-stone three-story building. Above the wide entryway was a black sign, its lettering almost completely faded away, which read: POCAHONTAS HOTEL.

  So, I guess we both quit a long time ago. Nice dig. “I think I insulted your sister-in-law,” he said to Eve, with a sheepish look.

  “She’ll get over it,” Eve replied with a laugh. “Nothing bothers that girl for too long.”

  “Does anybody buy anything but booze and cigarettes in here?” Charlie joked.

  Eve laughed again. “Nat takes care of a couple old colored gentlemen, got a room cross the way. Friday afternoon, she stops in for their medicine, she calls it, before going up.” Eve looked out the window. “Nice men. Old coal miners. The two been together for years and years. Ain’t got much time left, so Nat does what she can. Ends up paying some outta her own pocket, which she can’t afford to do, but she won’t say nothin’, won’t ask…” Eve’s voice trailed off as she turned back to Charlie.

  “Here, I didn’t pay you for the coffee yet. That was very nice of—”

  Eve cut him off as he pulled out his wallet. “No need for that. It’s my treat, Mr. Burden. Besides, I already put the restaurant cash away.” Charlie protested, but Eve waved him off.

  “I’ll be back in tomorrow to look for some waterproof boots. Then I’ll pay you for the coffee, too,” said Charlie.

  “I’ll just overcharge you for the boots, like we do to everybody from New York,” Eve said with a wink. “Good night, Mr. Burden.”

  “Good night, Eve. Thank you.”

  * * *

  INSIDE THE FRONT door of the former Pocahontas Hotel, Natty Oakes slumped against the door frame and peeked through a once-frosted window back across the street. She watched as Eve turned off the lights in the store. Natty closed her eyes and grimaced as she replayed her embarrassing encounter. Damn! What was she thinking about? Copping an attitude with
the new power-plant boss! The only person around who could give Buck a decent job finally. Maybe even save their marriage. He was just trying to be friendly. And that crack about getting pregnant—jeez, what a dope! She shrugged resignedly and started up the stairs to the third floor. Today, she’d probably have a little glass of Jack Daniel’s with the boys before she left.

  * * *

  EVE BREWSTER’S DIRECTIONS to Bluefield and the condo development were easy to follow. Fifty-five minutes after leaving Red Bone, Charlie found the turnoff to what was unmistakably the entrance to an upscale community. It felt suddenly familiar. He could’ve been in New York or Connecticut or New Jersey, where similar cookie-cutter buildings had been punched in the seventies to house the young professionals not yet ready to give up the carefree life for a heavy mortgage in the suburbs. The look and feel of the place surprised Charlie after his afternoon in Red Bone.

  When he found his building, Charlie pulled in next to a new white Corvette convertible with California plates, which he knew would belong to Terry Summers. From the trunk of the Lexus, he took out a tennis duffel bag that held most of his casual clothes and his shaving kit, then locked up the car. A few units down, a group of men and women, all in their early thirties, relaxed on a second-floor deck, drinking red wine.

  Inside, Charlie dropped his bag on the leather couch in the living room and tossed his keys on the credenza in the hall. Along one wall of the living room was an expansive entertainment center with a wide-screen television. The place was sumptuous and comfortable. Somewhere outside, an air-conditioning unit hummed. He went into the kitchen and pressed the red blinking button on the answering machine. There was a message from Terry Summers, telling him he’d stop by at nine on Saturday morning and drive Charlie in to take a look at the plant.

  Charlie took a slow tour of the apartment, but he had known what he was going to do, even before he came through the front door. He didn’t want to be in West Virginia, but if he had to be here, he wanted to experience the real McDowell County, to experience Red Bone.