Redemption Mountain

by FitzGerald, Gerry

  “Fine. A lot better than you are. Just some stitches.”

  Natty watched Charlie for a few moments, then reached into her pocket. “Pie, why don’t you go out in the hall and get a soda from the machine?” She pulled a crumpled dollar bill out and squeezed it into Pie’s hand.

  “Okay, Mama.” He slapped Charlie a high-five before exiting.

  Charlie raised up the bed so he could look directly at Natty. He let out a deep breath at the pain. “I must look like hell.”

  Natty smiled. She leaned in closer to examine the bandages, the professional caregiver unable to resist her natural instincts. She touched his forehead to see if he was running a fever.

  Her hand felt soft and cool, and he longed to touch her fingers, but Natty seemed to realize she had crossed a line. She took her hand away and folded her arms in front of her.

  “I was in this same bed a couple of years ago.” She motioned briefly toward her left eyebrow. Charlie watched her without comment. He waited until Natty met his gaze with a troubled look on her face.

  “Hank says he saw Buck there last night,” she said quietly. “He said that when he drove the car up, he saw Buck run off, along with Kyle Loftus.…” Her voice trailed off. “Charlie, did Buck do this to you?” she whispered. “’Cause if he did, that would—”

  “No, Natty, no.” Charlie tried to shake his head. “Buck saved my life, or at least my pretty face.”

  Natty smiled, but she still looked worried. “Buck didn’t come home ’til real late last night, ’bout three in the morning. And he was pretty drunk. Slept in the living room.” She rocked nervously on the balls of her feet. “Ain’t the first time for that, o’ course, but he’s been pretty good since he started working. Buck loves that job, cuttin’ trees, and he’s been a lot better.”

  “Natty, some things were said last night that may be a problem for you. Buck was about to go after that deputy, Wayne Lester—”

  “Buck’s had it in for Lester for years now, but I was hopin’ he’d let it go. It’s probably why he helped you in the first place, just to have a go at Lester.”

  “Probably. But Lester didn’t want to fight Buck, so he started to talk his way out of it and said some things about us.”

  “Us?”

  “Well, more about me than you, but stuff about us.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  “Told Buck that I’ve been after you since I came here, and how we’ve been together a lot, and how I’m trying to stop the Redemption Mountain project because of, you know, how I feel about you, that kind of thing.” Charlie sounded embarrassed.

  Natty rolled her eyes. “Damn, how does he come up with shit like that?”

  “And Loftus told him I called Pat Garvey about the job.”

  “That ain’t good.” Natty shook her head dejectedly. “Things were going okay. Buck still don’t pay no attention to the kids, but least he was coming home.”

  “Natty, I’m sorry about all this.” He reached out and touched her hand. “But if he does anything to you, you’ve got to get out of there, and you’ve got to call me right away.”

  Natty looked at his fingers on her hand, and recalled the empty feeling she’d had at the soccer game, when she thought about Charlie leaving for good.

  “No, I’ll be okay. He ain’t like that anymore.” Natty scowled and shook her head. “Damn Wayne Lester. What’s he got to go shootin’ his mouth off for?”

  Charlie took his hand away. “That may be my fault,” he said. “When I was in New York last week, we had a meeting about the raid on Redemption Mountain, and I had to do a little tap-dancing around the truth.”

  “So what’d you tell ’em?”

  “I blamed it all on Lester. Said that you two went to high school together and that you were very close.” Natty scrunched up her face. “It gets worse,” he said, wincing. He smiled sheepishly. “I kind of implied that you two were still seeing each other, and that’s why he tipped you off about the raid.”

  “Aw, jeez, Charlie!”

  “I couldn’t think of anything else.”

  After a few moments, Natty smiled, then she giggled. “You really told them that?”

  Charlie nodded. “And there’s something else I need to apologize to you for. At the meeting, I, um, referred to you as a hillbilly,” he said sheepishly.

  Natty laughed and smiled at him. “Charlie, I am a hillbilly, and proud of it, too. I’d never take offense at that, and I won’t ever stop being a hillbilly.” Then she scowled. “I guess Lester must be pretty pissed off.”

  “I’m sure he is. But they know about the call on my cellphone that morning, so he’s probably off the hook.”

  “Then OntAmex knows it was you. Does that mean trouble for you, Charlie?”

  “I don’t think so. They want me to keep the plant on schedule and they plan to take the farm by eminent domain, anyway. Do you know what that means?”

  “Grandpa Bud explained it to me. Says he got some legal papers from the sheriff last week about a hearing or something at the high school. Says he talked to a lawyer but most likely he’ll lose the farm.”

  “Looks that way,” said Charlie with a sigh. He reached out and took her hand. “I’m sorry, Natty, but I don’t know if there’s anything anyone can do to stop it now. I’m going to make one last try, but it’s probably not going to help.” Charlie gently rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.

  “Okay, Charlie,” she whispered. “You did what you could.” Finally she pulled her hand from his and glanced around the curtain to see if there was any sign of Pie. “Got to go,” she said, taking a step backward. Natty felt as if she’d stopped breathing, and her heart pounded in her chest. She came forward quickly, leaned over, and kissed Charlie on the lips, softly, but a telling moment longer than a thank-you kiss. Then she turned and went out through the curtain.

  CHAPTER 25

  Charlie looked up from the drawings spread out on the hood of the Navigator to watch the truck dump a load of stones for the new soccer field. A small bulldozer stood by, ready to spread the load. It was an extravagance, to improve the drainage, but he was going to build a library and athletics complex in Red Bone that the town of Mamaroneck would be proud of.

  This was quite possibly the last project that he’d have control over for some time. He was certain that his career at DD&M was over. The intel about the call was the one good thing to come out of the beating he took at Moody’s Roadhouse. At least he knew where he stood.

  Envisioning the new library reminded him of the books they’d need to fill it. A library wasn’t a library without books. And he was reminded of the phone call to Ellen he’d made earlier in the week, the first phone call to her in which he’d substantially distorted the truth. He’d called about the annual October weekend that they spent at the house in Vermont to enjoy the incredible foliage and one last round of golf at Sugarbush.

  This year Ellen had invited Dave and Linda Marchetti, which was fine with Charlie. Dave and Linda were both golfers and good company if the weather was bad. Two weeks ago Charlie had confirmed his plans to fly up to New York on Thursday night, so they could be on the road early Friday morning.

  Not long ago, he’d have looked forward to a weekend of spectacular scenery and gourmet dining in the Green Mountains, but now it all seemed trite to him. What he really wanted to do this weekend was go to the Bones’ soccer game and spend some time with the Pie Man, and, of course, Natty was never out of his mind. She was, if he had to admit it, the biggest reason he wanted to stay. Their paths hadn’t crossed since the hospital, and though he ached to run with her in the mornings, it was probably too risky for Natty. But he missed her, and he wanted to see her.

  He told Ellen a poor version of the truth. He’d been involved in an altercation in a bar, and had his nose broken by a wild elbow. He’d gone to the hospital for a quick resetting—nothing serious—but he would be uncomfortable flying, and he also wasn’t up for a five-hour drive to Vermont. The silence on her end of the
phone was palpable. She halfheartedly proposed putting off the trip to the following weekend, which Charlie quickly rejected with a fabricated schedule of meetings rather than the real reason—the Michigan–Ohio State game that Saturday and the lobster and beer party he’d planned with Pie. Ellen hung up with a curt “Fine, Charlie. Take care of yourself. Call me next week.”

  It started to rain. Charlie pulled up the hood of his windbreaker and looked at his watch. Six o’clock, time to call it a day. He’d see if Hank wanted to have a beer, play some cribbage on the porch, and have a late dinner down at Eve’s.

  * * *

  THE HONDA’S OLD windshield wipers chattered madly against the sudden downpour. As Natty drove slowly along Cold Springs Road, looking for the turnoff for the power plant, she noticed water flowing over the right edge of the road. In the mountains, building anything always rerouted running water, but she was surprised to see it washing over the sandy shoulder.

  The rain had turned to a sprinkle by the time she reached South County Road. Natty hesitated at the turn, with thoughts of just heading home to spend some time with the kids before falling into bed. It had been a hard week and she was tired. But Woody and Mr. Jacks were expecting her, and Woody needed his legs wrapped. She also needed to check Mr. Jacks’s meds and make sure he’d been eating enough. And they both needed their Friday night glass of Jack Daniel’s. Natty sighed as she took a left and headed toward Old Red Bone. Maybe it’s better to have such a simple life that a can of beer and a shot of Jack Daniel’s is the high point of your week. She laughed as she realized that it would be the high point of her week, too.

  The store was closed, so Natty tracked down Eve in the back of the restaurant and got the key. She would leave the money on the counter and return the key to the inside stairwell when she was finished. Eve told her that Woody and Mr. Jacks had been over for lunch and had eaten a hearty meal of meat loaf and mashed potatoes.

  Natty pulled out a six-pack of Budweisers, a pint of Jack Daniel’s, and a carton of Marlboros. Then she tossed a tin of Red Man chewing tobacco into her bag. After counting the bills in her wallet, Natty sighed, put the carton of cigarettes back, and took down five single packs. Coming out from behind the counter, she grabbed a large bag of pork rinds and stuffed it into the bag.

  “Want some company?” The voice, just a few feet away, almost made her drop the bag. Natty turned to see Charlie leaning against the door frame. He was wearing an old flannel shirt and his running shoes.

  “Charlie, you scared the shit out of me.”

  “Sorry.” He gestured toward the Pocahontas Hotel. “Saw your car coming up the hill. Figured you were on your way over to see your friends across the street. Can I tag along?”

  “Sure,” she said. “Woody and Mr. Jacks’ll get a big kick out of that.” She held out the bag. “Here, you can carry this.”

  Just as Natty was about to lock the door, she stopped. “Forgot something.” She went behind the counter and slid open the glass door to the small selection of cigars that Eve kept on hand. She pulled out two Macanudos in short white sleeves and pushed them into the front pocket of her jeans. She’d pay Eve for them next week.

  There was no sign of life on Main Street as they walked down the wooden steps toward the Pocahontas Hotel. “How’s your nose?” Natty asked.

  “Prettier than ever.” Charlie chuckled. He felt like he was in high school again, carrying a book bag for a girl he had a crush on—the feeling he always had with Natty.

  “Oh! I almost forgot,” she said. “Mabel told me about the New York trip. Jeez, Charlie, you shouldn’ta done that. That’s way too generous of you.”

  “Not my money. It’s OntAmex’s, and they can afford it. You going to be able to make it?”

  Natty started to walk again. “How can I not go? Free trip to New York.” She turned to Charlie. “You going to be there?”

  “If I can, I will. I’d love to show you my favorite running trail.”

  “Sounds great,” said Natty. “Be nice if you could be there.”

  “How’s the team doing?”

  Natty smiled. “Wow, what a season. Only a few games left, and I don’t think anyone’s going to beat us this year. Emma’s really drawing a crowd. We got people comin’ from all over to watch her play, and we’ll probably be invited to the tournament in Charleston. They always ask the best team in our league. That would be a treat for the kids.”

  They reached the entrance of what was once the Pocahontas Hotel. Charlie stopped. He needed to ask Natty a question before they went in. “Did Buck say anything about the fight?” Charlie asked, examining her face in the dim light.

  Natty shrugged. “He asked me about the woodcutting job. Just told him I’d mentioned that he needed work. He’s okay with that.”

  “How ’bout Redemption Mountain?”

  “He asked how come you were against it, and I told him I wasn’t sure you were.” Natty turned toward the door.

  Charlie stopped her. “Did he ask you about us?”

  Natty smiled. “Didn’t say a thing about that.” She shrugged. “Never been worried too much about me.”

  They went into the cavernous lobby. The silence was broken only by a soft scurrying sound behind the counter. “Rat or a cat,” said Natty. “Plenty of both living here.” She led him down a wide hallway toward the back of the building. They passed the cage of an ancient elevator before Natty took a left onto an open staircase dimly illuminated by a bare bulb on one of the upper floors.

  They climbed the stairs to the third floor and walked down a long hallway. The wood flooring sagged in the middle and creaked with each step. Since they’d entered the building, Charlie had thought about the fire hazard the ancient structure posed. He looked for signs of a sprinkler system and found none.

  At Room 310, Natty rapped on the door and gently pushed it open. “Hey, boys,” she announced. “Nurse Ratched here for your weekly lobotomies.” Charlie followed her into a large room filled with the unmistakable odor of men’s bodies and stale tobacco smoke. The room was dimly lit by a small reading lamp on a table next to an iron-framed bed and by a TV set on a stand placed in the center of the room. Wheel of Fortune blared from the TV.

  “Lookee here, Mr. Jacks, we got us some company.” A large black man pushed himself laboriously out of an ancient leather recliner. Beyond him, a small, wiry black man with patches of gray fuzz on his head and wearing thick bifocals was seated at a wooden table, his back against the wall.

  “Boys, this is Charlie Burden,” Natty announced. “Charlie’s the big mule down at the new power plant. For some reason, he was interested in meeting a coupla beat-up old coal miners.” The larger man held out a massive hand. “Charlie, this is my friend Mr. Woodrow Givens.”

  “Wheehee, Charlie,” the man said, taking his hand. He reminded Charlie of an old prizefighter. “You must be somethin’ real special, ’cause Miz Natty knows we only allows the best kinda people to visit us here in the palace.”

  “And this is Kermel Jacks,” Natty added, as the smaller man turned off the TV.

  “I’s pleased to meet you, Mr. Burden,” said Mr. Jacks, holding Charlie’s hand in both of his. He had the deep, raspy voice of a longtime smoker. “It is truly an honor … for us to welcome you to our home.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Jacks,” said Charlie. “I’m glad I finally had the chance to meet you fellows. Natty’s mentioned you many times.”

  Taking the bag from Charlie, Natty placed it on the kitchen table and put the beer in an old Amana refrigerator. “Only had enough for five,” she explained, bringing the cigarettes over to Mr. Jacks.

  “Tha’s okay, Natty, I got enough.” He handed Natty a tattered envelope. She counted out the bills she needed and put the envelope in a drawer. Then she tossed the can of Red Man to Woody.

  “Thank you, Natty, but don’t you think, in honor of our guest, we should have a visit with Mr. Daniel’s?”

  “Later, Woody. You know the rules. Business first. Now take
off them pants.”

  “Wheehee.” Woody grinned at Charlie. “If she don’t sound like a workin’ girl from Cinder Bottom.”

  Natty pulled a wooden chair from the kitchenette and opened her case on the bed. She removed a plastic bottle and two rolled-up bandages, then carefully unwrapped the old bandages from Woody’s legs, which were painfully swollen at the ankles. Rubbing lotion into her hands, she began to massage Woody’s legs, starting with his feet. Her hands were small but strong, and she squeezed his flesh vigorously enough to make Woody wince. After a few minutes of hard work, she stopped, pulled her sweater over her head, and tossed it on the bed.

  Under her sweater, Natty wore a plain gray T-shirt. The short sleeves revealed her thin arms, moist now with sweat and bulging with sinew as she strained to knead some life into the large man’s legs. Breathing deeply, she ignored the hair that had come loose from her ponytail and hung over her face. She looked over and flashed Charlie a dazzling smile that lit up the dark room and made his heart race. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  Natty turned back to work on Woody’s right leg, and Charlie couldn’t take his eyes off her. He thought about her coming to do this every week, caring for these old men, bringing them a bit of comfort in their last days—not as part of her job but as a friend. It was something she wanted, she needed, to do.

  “Why don’t you boys tell Charlie a little about coal mining?” Natty suggested, with a quick smile at Charlie.

  “Coal minin’…” Woody murmured softly. “Now, that’s a life.” The old man looked down at his hands in his lap and nodded. He held his hands up to Charlie and smiled. “This is what a life o’ coal minin’ gets ya.” The fingers on his massive hands were crooked and gnarled. One pinky bent outward at the knuckle, and the thumb of his left hand was missing. He dropped his hands to his lap with a sigh. “Weren’t a bad life, though. Early times was hard, before the union got some changes. Then, when things got better, the Negro miners could only work in the dog holes, where they was still bustin’ stone by hand, skimpin’ on the shorin’, and cheatin’ on the count.”