“I don’t mean to embarrass you, Charlie,” Natty said.
“No, no,” said Charlie. “It isn’t—”
“But, you’ve been real special to Pie. God, that boy loves you—”
Should he tell her that he loved her small delicate face, and her beautiful eyes, and her smile, and tell her how badly he wanted to put his palm against her cheek at that moment, and touch her soft lips?
“—and there ain’t no man ever been as kind to me as you have, letting me have your car for that week, helping us with Redemption Mountain, and now getting the library fixed, and…” She shrugged. “Just talking to me like you do.”
And how much he enjoys listening to her voice, and how his heart beats faster whenever he sees her—and that he longed to run his hands around her small waist?
“’Course, I never met anyone from New York before, so I’m thinking maybe it’s all professional courtesy, ’cause probably that’s why you’re down here, to be nice to people and—”
Should he warn her that he was just two steps away from pulling her against him and never letting her go?
“But then, like that day you came back from New York, and I watched you down on the soccer field with Pie, giving him that nice hug. And I saw the way you looked up the hill at me; it seemed like, you know, maybe you were thinkin’ about … and then that night we sat in front of the store and talked about Redemption Mountain.” Natty’s voice grew soft. “And you said my name.”
Charlie smiled, trying to mask his own nervousness. “Natty, since that morning in the store…” He hesitated, to collect his thoughts, then started again. “Since that morning I first met you, I’ve been thinking about you every minute of every day.”
“What?” she blurted.
Charlie laughed. “I said—”
“No, I’m sorry, Charlie,” Natty said. “I heard you. I just … I guess I wasn’t ready to hear you say that.” Natty turned away from him. “Damn, Charlie,” she whispered, “nobody’s ever said something like that to me.” Natty folded her arms together in front of her and started moving around in small circles. Her shoulders were hunched up as if she were getting cold.
Charlie’s heart was beating crazily. He hadn’t said anything affectionate to a woman other than Ellen since he was in college. “Listen, Natty, I … I, uh … in twenty-six years of marriage I never even thought about another woman, until I met you.” Natty turned slightly toward him, listening. “And now I hardly think about anything else,” he added. Natty shut her eyes tightly as if she were in pain.
“Are you all right?” Charlie asked. She nodded, with her eyes still closed. “I love my wife, Nat,” Charlie went on. “She’s a wonderful woman. But we’ve had some problems the last few years, and I don’t know how they’re going to work out.
“We’ve changed a lot, Ellen and I. Since the kids grew up. You know, you invest so much of yourself in your children, then all of a sudden they’re gone.” Charlie paused. “Things changed for both of us. Your career changes. It’s why I came down here—to get away from what my job had turned into. To get away from … a lot of things. And to do something constructive. I needed to build something, to be an engineer again.” Charlie rocked on the balls of his feet. “I’m not sure what all that means, except that I’m not as certain about things as I used to be. I’m still married, though, and I’ve never done anything I couldn’t talk to my wife about.”
“Oooh, Charlie,” Natty groaned, bending over.
“Natty, what’s the matter?” he asked, as she expelled a violent stream of orange-colored vomit, scoring a direct hit on one of Charlie’s new Asics running shoes. He hopped back quickly, but the damage was done. Natty stayed bent over with her hands on her knees, spitting out the residue of her Special K and orange juice breakfast.
Charlie ignored the mess and leaned over to see Natty’s face. “Natty, you okay? What happened?” He resisted the impulse to put his hand on her back and felt helpless as she remained bent over. After a few moments, she raised a hand to him, indicating that she was all right. She wiped her mouth with the bottom of her jersey, then slowly straightened up.
Natty looked at Charlie and smiled weakly. “So, I guess you won’t be trying to kiss me this morning,” she said. They both laughed.
“Oh, shit, Charlie,” Natty said. “Look at your shoe. What a mess. I’m sorry, Charlie.”
“It’s okay, really. You sure you’re all right?”
“I’m okay,” she said. “C’mon, let’s go,” she added, motioning toward the path down to the running trail. “I’m going to be late for work.”
After a few yards on the trail, Natty looked at her watch again and started a slow jog. She could feel Charlie’s eyes on her back, and for the first time she felt self-conscious. Before, they’d just been friends, but now that had all changed. Goddammit! What was wrong with her? Taking him up to the boulder and telling him all that stuff. How much more trouble did she need in life? Then, the first time a man says something nice to her, she pukes on his foot! Natty shook her head in disgust and ran a little harder.
When the trail entered the woods, Natty slowed, then walked a few yards to catch her breath. She came to a stop and waited for Charlie, who had fallen behind. Natty thought about what Charlie had said up in the trees. She’d asked him a very personal question, and he’d given her an answer—a beautiful, honest answer that scared her to death, an answer that she would replay in her mind for the rest of her life. It wasn’t fair to Charlie to throw up on his shoe and run off without answering the same question. If she could.
Charlie slowed to a walk as he reached the edge of the woods and saw Natty waiting for him. “You okay?” Charlie asked. The sound of his voice was amplified by the acoustics of the woods.
“I’m fine,” said Natty sheepishly, looking down at Charlie’s fouled shoe. “Sorry about your sneaker.” Charlie just smiled. After a moment of silence, Natty spoke again. “Got sick ’cause I got scared. Hearing you say the words—that was different from, you know, sitting on the rock thinking foolish girl things. All of a sudden it wasn’t pretend anymore.” She had a pained look on her face. “For as long as I can remember, the only man I ever thought about was Buck.” Almost to herself, she added, “And Buck’s the only man ever showed any interest in me. Then you come down here, and next thing you know, you’re telling me that … you know, what you said up there.”
“Ah, I was making all that up,” Charlie said.
Natty smiled back at him. “Yeah, thanks,” she said. After a few moments, Natty began again. “Listen, Charlie, I need to … I want you to understand what—”
“Natty, you don’t need to explain anything,” Charlie interrupted. “We can just leave it like it is for now, and—”
“No. It’s important to me for you to understand this.”
Charlie sat on the edge of an old stump that had been cut about two feet from the ground.
“Charlie, what I said up there, about marrying Buck and everything working out all right, that ain’t exactly true. Actually, it’s pretty much all bullshit. Fact is, it’s been a pretty sorry twelve years, except for the kids. But living with Buck—that ain’t been easy.” Natty stared at her hands and debated how much Charlie Burden needed or even wanted to hear.
Should she tell him about the maddening silence, the surliness? Or how Buck ignored her and the kids most of the time? About the mean, drunken nights, and, the slaps, and the beating two years ago—the day the helicopters came—when she first saw Charlie Burden and Duncan McCord? Or about the time Buck moved in with the woman from Northfork right after Cat was born? Charlie would have a tough time understanding all that. That was between her and Buck.
So were the tears. Buck’s tears, which nobody else ever saw. When he’d bury his head against her breast and let go of the anguish of one more failure, one more disappointment that had defined his adult life after so much unbridled success in his youth. Only Natty shared those moments with him. Charlie Burden didn’t
need to hear any of that stuff. She didn’t want him to pity her or Buck.
Charlie watched as she seemed to struggle with a difficult thought. “I’m not ready to give up on Buck just yet,” she said. “I been working at this for twelve years now, trying to make a home, make a marriage.” She looked at Charlie with an embarrassed smile. “Trying to get Buck to love me, love his kids. Thing is, Buck’s had one bad time after another. Mostly his own fault, but not all of it.” Natty paused for a moment before adding, “I was part of it, too. Part of his bad breaks.”
Charlie started to protest but decided to remain silent.
“The college-football thing, well, that was the start of it. Then he comes home and, next thing you know, he knocks up this dumb little hillbilly girl and finds himself getting married when he don’t want to and, not too long after that, having a baby he don’t want. Then, to top it off, it’s a baby with a funny-lookin’ head.” Natty stared down at the ground and moved a rock around absentmindedly with her toe. “Buck was just twenty years old then. Still a kid himself. Wasn’t fair to him. Wasn’t the way it should’ve been.”
Natty shook her head as she recalled the missteps in her husband’s attempts to make a living in a terminally depressed economy. She told Charlie about the ill-fated hunting lodge; the worm farm that ended with thousands of dollars’ worth of dead worms; Buck’s brief, misguided career selling insurance for the Loftus Agency, before being fired by the insufferable Kyle Loftus; and then the expensive foray into long-haul trucking, which would continue to drain their finances many years into the future. She omitted the dozen or so short-term jobs, some that ended badly due to Buck’s drinking or volatile personality.
“So, what I’m trying to say here, Charlie, is that I understand what you were saying up there about not knowing how things are going to work out.” Then she added, more tentatively, “How your marriage is going to work out. ’Cause I don’t know, either. But right now I can’t give up on Buck, ’cause I’ve been loving him for too long, and I know there’s still a chance for us to be a family, you know—like you and your wife had. I know Buck, and I know there’s a good man in him, and a good father, if … if he can just get a break and get some of his self-respect back.”
She started walking down the path. Charlie got up and fell in next to her. At the break in the bushes at the top of Oakes Hollow, they both stopped.
“Charlie,” said Natty, “thanks for what you said up there. That felt real nice.”
Charlie just nodded to her and smiled. It seemed like everything had already been said. He turned to start his run again and then stopped and looked back toward Natty. “Hey, does Buck have any experience cutting wood? Big trees, commercial work.”
Natty nodded. “Sure, he has. He’s done plenty of wood cutting. Most of it illegal, for the timber pirates, you know. But he’s cut down plenty of big trees.”
“Okay,” said Charlie. “We just hired a contractor to cut the right of way through to the power-grid connection. Several miles through really rugged terrain. About a three- or four-month job. They’re going to hire about thirty men next week. I’ll give them Buck’s name so he won’t have to wait on line. It’s good pay. I know, ’cause they’re really screwing us on the contract,” he added with a laugh. “Buck will have to join the union, though. But he’ll get some benefits. I’ll let you know what he has to do.”
“Okay—great,” said Natty excitedly, as Charlie turned and began to jog. Natty watched him go. “Thank you, Charlie,” she said to herself. “Again.”
CHAPTER 19
Charlie spent most of the day at his desk revising the request for variance they would present to the planning board that evening. Late in the afternoon, the Pie Man burst through the door.
“Hello, Charlie,” Pie said.
Charlie found it impossible not to laugh when Pie made his entrance. The boy was irrepressible, always capable of lifting Charlie’s spirits regardless of the mood he was in. They exchanged high-fives.
“Hey, Pie Man,” Charlie said. “What’s going on?” He reached out and pushed the boy’s Yankees cap down over his eyes.
“Charlie, we win another thoccer game yethterday!”
“That’s great, Pie,” said Charlie. “Score any goals?”
“Pie Man not thcore any goal, but Emma thcored four or five. Lot of goalth, I forget,” the boy said, holding up a hand with his fingers spread out.
“I’m glad you came, Pie Man,” said Charlie, getting up. “Got a surprise for you.” Charlie showed Pie the computer on which he’d installed a math tutorial, as well as a few games. Over the screen, the words The Pie Man were printed on transparent tape. “C’mon, sit down,” Charlie said, as he turned on the computer. “This is yours.”
“Look, my name ith on the computer,” the boy said reverently, running his fingertips across his name. He attacked the math program enthusiastically, rocking back and forth on his stool as he repeated to himself in a kind of low chant, “I will be an engineer, jutht like Charlie.” After twenty minutes on the computer, Pie got bored and ran off again.
Pie’s visit reminded Charlie that he would see Natty that night. He hadn’t seen her since their eventful run. Thinking of Natty reminded him of Buck and the phone call he had to make. He thumbed through the Rolodex until he found the contractor who’d won the bid to cut through the forest. Charlie had met Pat Garvey several times in the course of the negotiation. He reached him on his cellphone in his truck. After some small talk, Charlie got to the point. “Pat, I need a favor.”
“Sure, Charlie,” said Garvey, ever mindful of future business the big mule could steer his way.
“I got an experienced tree cutter who could use a job,” said Charlie.
“You know, Charlie, since we got the contract, woodcutters have been breaking down the door. I’m about filled up.”
“You can always use one more, Pat,” said Charlie. “It’d be a personal favor to me.”
“For you, Charlie, I could probably put one more on—but he’s got to be good, ’cause that’s serious work. Real rugged terrain, and I don’t want nobody getting killed. Who’s your guy?”
“Name’s Buck Oakes. Lives in Red Bone.” There was no reply. Charlie could hear the sound of Garvey’s truck motoring down the road. “Supposed to have some woodcutting experience. Strong guy, too.”
Finally, Garvey’s voice came back over the phone. “Yeah, Buck’s cut some wood,” he said, sounding less than enthusiastic. “Listen, Charlie—”
“Pat,” Charlie interrupted. “I know Buck’s got some problems. I’m trying to give him a break. If he causes any problems, fire him, no questions asked. I’ll take care of the union.”
“Okay, Charlie. We’ll give it a try, but Buck’s a hothead and a boozer. What’s your connection with him, anyway?”
“He’s my landlady’s brother. Trying to do her a favor.”
“Okay, Charlie.” Garvey paused a few seconds before speaking again. “You know, Buck beat the shit out of his wife a couple years ago. Came home drunk as a skunk one night and beat the daylights out of her. She was in the hospital for a while.”
Charlie had to take a deep breath. He thought he might drop the phone. Why hadn’t she said anything, in all that talk about Buck? Why was she still living with him?
“Poor kid’s face was black and blue for months.”
Oh, Christ! Those scars over her eye and her mouth, and she sat there talking about how much she loves him.…
“Nice girl, too. Took care of my grandma few years back.”
Charlie fought back his anger as he thought about Natty getting pummeled by the ignorant brute who’d glared at him from the white pickup. “Yeah, I heard about all that,” Charlie lied softly.
“All right, Charlie,” Garvey said, resigned. “I’ll get in touch with Buck and give him the good news. Hope it works out, ’cause Buck’s a good woodcutter. Be the best-paying job he’s had in a long time, I’ll guarantee you that.”
“And, P
at, when you call him, don’t mention anything about me. Okay?”
“Sure, if that’s how you want it.”
Charlie felt sick and angry. He decided to call it a day and go for a run to clear his head before the planning-board meeting.
* * *
THE RED BONE high school was a cavernous old building, constructed of huge blocks of red and brown stone and wide-plank flooring. It had been built in the 1920s, at a time when the population around Red Bone could generate three hundred high-school-age children to fill it. The gymnasium, where the planning-board meetings were held, was in the middle section of the building, accessible via a long, dimly lit hallway.
Charlie, Summers, Yarbrough, and his PR man strode noisily into the empty gym. They were a half hour early. Over dinner, the group had run through their presentation and now wanted to set up their exhibits. A representative from the governor’s office, a state senator, and the director of the West Virginia Economic Development Commission would be joining them to testify in support of the petition.
At seven-fifty, the gym was still empty. Charlie wondered if their presentation would be made to a sea of empty chairs. Then, as if a bus had pulled up outside, the locals began to arrive in groups of three and four and five, and the gym filled. Charlie recognized a few of them: Mabel Willard and Ada Lowe, along with a couple who Charlie figured were Emma Lowe’s parents. Eve came in with Sally and her family and sat in the middle of the gym, among a group of out-of-work miners.
As he watched the citizens file quietly and orderly into the rows of chairs in front of him, a sinking feeling came over Charlie. The gym looked as if it could be anywhere, but this group of people was definitely not from Westchester County. In Mamaroneck, a meeting such as this would quickly develop into a chat fest of smiling, handsomely dressed couples shaking hands and waving across the room.
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