Redemption Mountain

by FitzGerald, Gerry

  McCord laughed. “Nice job,” he said sarcastically. “First chance you get, you screw me and go over to the farmer’s team.”

  Charlie laughed, too. “They’re nicer people.”

  McCord threw his cigar into the weeds and turned toward Charlie. “You took quite a chance sending that email, Charlie. Could have been the end of your career.”

  “Had to be done, Dunc. Hundred years is long enough.”

  “Good thing you did, or the merger probably would have blown up, once the SEC got wind of Torkelson’s hanky-panky. And that would have been it for me.”

  McCord stopped walking. “You’re doing okay, Burden, aren’t you? Ellen told me all about your new house. She was real excited.”

  “Yes, Dunc, financially we’re—”

  “That’s not what I meant, Charlie.” McCord studied his friend’s face. “You break your nose again?” He squinted to see better. “You definitely get uglier every time I see you.”

  Charlie shrugged. “Took a high stick in a bar one night. It’s a rough town.”

  McCord scowled. “What’s up with you and Ellen?”

  Charlie guessed that McCord had received some information about Natty and him during the investigation. “Ellen and I are going to split up,” he said. “We’re … moving in different directions. Have been for a long time.”

  McCord nodded. “That’s a huge break for Ellen. You’ve been holding her back for years.” Charlie smiled and nodded in agreement.

  “This have anything to do with the girl,” McCord nodded back toward the school, “and the kid?”

  Charlie gazed over toward the parking lot. “Yeah,” said Charlie, “it’s got a lot to do with them.”

  “Can’t turn back the clock, Charlie. Can’t make up for past mistakes,” he said.

  “I know that, Dunc. Not trying to. It’s not about me.”

  McCord studied Charlie’s face for a moment before he was satisfied. “So, what are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Think we might find some small town somewhere. Maybe Vermont or Wyoming. I was thinking about becoming a carpenter.”

  McCord stared pensively at Charlie for a few seconds, then glanced toward the helicopter. “I have to get going.” He smiled at Charlie. “You’re an idiot, Burden,” he said, shaking his head, “but … Jesus, Charlie, I envy you.” The two friends hugged before McCord turned and darted toward the helicopter. A minute later, it disappeared into the black sky, heading north.

  CHAPTER 33

  The new field was already firm, and if the weather stayed warm through the rest of November, it would need mowing soon. Natty couldn’t help smiling as she recalled the uneven dirt and weed patch that they used to play on.

  It wasn’t lined, and the new goals wouldn’t arrive until next spring, but the Bones didn’t need them to practice for their opening game of the tournament on Friday. Natty watched her players dribbling balls from one end of the field to the other and back. Out in front, Emma was with the Bones’ new assistant coach, Gabe, the midfielder from Welch. They always seemed to have fun when they were together, which thrilled Natty. It was a wonderful new experience for Emma.

  Natty looked uphill and saw Charlie’s blue Lexus coming toward her. She wandered over to the side of the road as Charlie slowed to a stop. She could see a small suitcase and Charlie’s briefcase in the backseat. He opened his door and faced her over the car. “Looks like this is getting to be our regular way of meeting,” he said.

  Natty smiled. “Probably a good idea to keep a car between us at all times.” She looked down into the car again. “Taking a trip?” she asked.

  “I have to go up to New York for a few days—some meetings to sort the fallout from the hearing. Then we’re going up to Vermont for Thanksgiving.”

  “Coming back?”

  “Sunday night,” said Charlie, watching her closely.

  “Gonna miss the tournament.”

  “I know,” said Charlie wistfully. He looked over at the Bones, who were running. “But my daughter and my son are coming up.…” He hesitated. “And I need to have some time with Ellen.”

  Natty drummed her fingers on the top of the car. “Charlie, you know when I called you after Woody died, well, maybe that wasn’t real fair to you, and if you want to think it over some more…”

  Charlie smiled and shook his head. “No, Nat, I don’t have any doubts.” He tilted his head slightly to look into Natty’s eyes. “How about you?”

  “God, no, Charlie,” she almost whispered. “Best thing ever happened to me. Best thing ever happened to my kids, too. Hell, I’ve been dreamin’ about this my whole life.” She looked away as the excitement drained from her face. “Just that … I ain’t said anything to Buck yet. Hasn’t been a good time for that.”

  “How’s he been?” asked Charlie.

  “He’s been, you know … okay. Different. Since he started working and the day he spent with you cuttin’ the trees, he’s been … better.” She shook her head. “Don’t change a thing.” Natty chewed her bottom lip. “Just makes it, you know, a little harder, that’s all. I’m going to tell him, Charlie,” she said forcefully. “This week, before we go to Charleston on Friday.”

  Charlie watched her for a few seconds. Then he reached into the pocket of his jacket. He brought out a key ring with a small yellow plastic replica of a lantern on it and handed it to her across the car.

  “This is for our company apartment in Bluefield. Nobody’s in it.” Natty took it and looked at the label. “Take the kids there when you get back from Charleston on Sunday night. I’ll meet you there later, when I get back. Do you know where it is?”

  “Sure,” said Natty. “High-class place.”

  “Nothing but the best for you. Oh, and take this, too.” He reached into his other pocket and brought out a thick black cellphone. “Turn it on when you’re in Charleston, in case I have to reach you.” He laughed as Natty studied the phone anxiously. “Just push the green button when you want to do something.”

  “Okay, Charlie,” Natty said, taking a step away from the car. “Better get back to practice. See you Sunday night.”

  “I’ll see you then, Nat. Good luck at the tournament.”

  * * *

  THE PARKING LOTS were filled, so Natty had Geneva Gunnells stop the bus as close as they could get to the soccer complex. The Bones grabbed their equipment and started walking. Natty scowled when she saw that it was ten-thirty. They were supposed to report at least an hour before their eleven o’clock game. That’s all they needed, to be disqualified from the tournament after a three-hour bus ride!

  Natty trotted after her team. Carrying a heavy equipment bag, she was having a tough time keeping up. She ran through a boulevard of tents and concession stands lined up outside the main gate. Their new warm-up suits with the skull and crossbones on the back were attracting a lot of attention. How proud the kids were of those uniforms! All thanks to Charlie.

  Natty swallowed back her anxiety about what she and Charlie were planning, made worse because she had yet to tell Buck. There was just never the right time. And then Buck asking about the tournament, wishing her luck, giving Pie a pat on the back, and encouraging him to “give it everything you got, kid.” Damn. She’d call him from the motel that night.

  At the top of the hill, Natty’s anxiety turned to cold fear. There were several fields, and some of the games were already in progress. She had no idea where her team was supposed to play. Then she saw Gabe wave to her from a tent about fifty yards away. As she approached, he trotted over and took the equipment bag from her shoulder. “Register here, coach,” he said. “We’re on Field Three.”

  Natty registered and got the schedule and rosters of the other teams. There were eight teams in their division: four from West Virginia, two from Ohio, one from Kentucky, and one from Pittsburgh. They’d play one game on Friday, two on Saturday, and, if they got that far, the championship was on Sunday. The Bones could end up playing four games in three days
with just one substitute—Pie. Maybe the Bones had bitten off a little more than they could chew with this tournament.

  As Natty walked across the field, she saw the Bones going through their pregame warm-up under Zack’s direction. At the end of the field, Gabe was kicking balls at Brenda in the goal.

  Two other teams from their division were warming up on the next field. They looked formidable to Natty—bigger and stronger, and a little more organized. One game at a time, she told herself. And try not to get embarrassed in the first game!

  An older man in a black referee outfit strode across the field, followed by a younger man and a woman carrying flags. A man and a woman seated themselves at a table on the sideline and set out some notebooks and a time clock. Natty smiled at the sight of all the officials. This was real soccer!

  Just as the game was about to start, a photographer came to take the team picture. Some players sat on the grass while the second row knelt. Natty stood between Emma and Brenda in the middle of the back row, her arms around their shoulders.

  A few minutes into the game, Natty’s nervousness disappeared. She could tell from a few trips up and down the field that the team from Ohio was no match for the Bones. Their forwards weren’t fast enough, and their fullbacks couldn’t keep up with Emma and Sammy.

  Natty could see the first goal coming, as Paul raced the ball across the midfield with an open field ahead of him. He placed a perfect pass out to Sammy, who faked a run up the sideline, then lofted a long high ball toward the far right corner. Emma streaked past the stunned fullback, tipped the ball to herself, and headed for the goal. She easily dribbled past one defender and spun through two others, with an electrifying move that had the spectators applauding before she calmly brought the ball past the helpless goalie and pushed a slow roller into the left corner of the goal.

  “She makes it look too easy.” The voice next to Natty startled her. She turned and saw a handsome young man in a shiny maroon warm-up suit and baseball cap. Natty smiled.

  He introduced himself as the coach of the Charleston Chargers, who were playing next on Field Three.

  “How’s your team?” asked Natty, recalling that the Charleston team was seeded second.

  “Oh, we’re good,” he said with a smile. “Like your team.”

  “Gonna win the tournament?” asked Natty.

  The coach laughed. “No, not us. Not you, either. No one’s gonna beat Pittsburgh. They’re loaded. It’s an all-star team, put together to win this tournament.” He followed Natty along the sideline. “They could beat most any high school team in the state.”

  “Thanks for the encouragement,” she said with a laugh. Out on the field, Paul ripped a shot that hit the crossbar and caromed twenty yards out to the middle of the field, where Emma took it in midair and sent a sizzling low skidder into the left corner of the goal.

  “Wow,” said the Charleston coach, shaking his head. “She’s incredible.”

  Natty turned around to find the Pie Man, the lone figure on the bench behind her. “Pie, go in for Emma,” she called to him. Pie jumped up from the bench and pulled off his Yankees hat before running over to the scorer’s table.

  “Where are your extras?” asked the coach, looking at Natty’s empty bench.

  Natty laughed. “That’s him,” she said.

  “You know you can take up to three kids from other teams in your league, if you’re short of fifteen players. Didn’t your league commissioner tell you that? Four games in three days is a lot for these kids. You gotta have subs.” As if on cue, the referee blew his whistle and waved Pie and four new players for the Ohio team onto the field.

  “Too late now,” said Natty, as she turned to see Gabe on the sideline giving Emma a high-five. “Hey,” she said, grabbing the coach’s arm. “I got one right here,” she said, pointing to Gabe. “How do I get him on the roster?”

  “Maybe they’d allow it, if you could get written permission from your league commissioner. If you get it faxed up here, they’d probably let him play. ’Course, I’ll protest it when you play us.” He nudged Natty and laughed. “Just kidding, coach,” he said.

  Natty looked up and smiled. She liked this handsome young man. “Thanks a lot. I’ll look into it.”

  “Okay, listen, I’m going over to the tent to check on getting your other player on the team. See what I can do.”

  “Jeez, thanks,” said Natty. They shook hands, and the coach disappeared into the milling crowd. Natty stole a peek at the end of the field as he reappeared, walking the end line behind the goal.

  With the score 5–0 in the second half, Natty put Emma and Sammy back on defense and had Pie and the Steele brothers play the forward line. She couldn’t tell the kids to stop playing, but if she left Emma and Sammy up front and the Ohio team got any more demoralized, the score would rise to double digits quickly.

  “That’s a mistake, trying to hold down the score,” said the now-familiar voice next to her. “They use goal differential to determine the losers’ bracket on Saturday.” She turned to see the coach of the Charleston team holding a piece of paper in his hand.

  Natty smiled up at him. “I’ll remember that when we play your team.” They both laughed.

  “Here,” he said, handing Natty the paper. “Have your league commissioner fill in your player’s information, sign it, and fax it to the number at the top. Do it tonight and they’ll let him play tomorrow.”

  “Hey, thanks, this is—”

  “Gotta go find my team, coach,” he said, backing away. “Good luck tomorrow.”

  “You, too, coach.”

  * * *

  AFTER DINNER AT McDonald’s, Natty and the Bones went back to the motel and she collected all the shirts and socks in a laundry bag. The shorts wouldn’t need washing until Saturday night, if they weren’t on their way home by then. Natty sat on the edge of the bed, an equipment bag at her feet, counting out the bills in the envelope marked breakfast—Saturday.

  She’d already used some of it at McDonald’s, and she needed a few dollars for the coin-operated laundry. She tucked the bills into the front pocket of her jeans, then transferred Charlie’s cellphone to the pocket of her jacket. “Be back in about an hour,” she called out to Geneva, who was reading on the bed. Emma and Brenda were sprawled on the floor, watching television.

  She checked the boys’ rooms to make sure nobody was killing anyone, hefted the laundry bag over her shoulder, and walked around to the side of the motel, where the laundry was. It had started to drizzle, and rain was forecast for the rest of the weekend. Natty stuffed everything into two washers and sat down on a bench near the dryers. She took out the phone but it was too noisy with all the machines going, and several women sat nearby, reading magazines. Natty needed privacy for this phone call.

  She decided to sit in the bus. She didn’t want to have to yell into the phone when she told Buck that she and the kids were leaving. After she talked to Buck, she’d call Sally to check on Cat and to see if she could track down Kyle Loftus in the morning. Heart racing, she punched in the numbers.

  He picked up on the first ring, surprising her. “Buck,” she whispered. “Buck, it’s me, Nat.”

  “Oh. Hey, Nat. What’s happenin’ up there? How’s the tournament?”

  “It’s good. We won our first game. Six, nothin’. Wasn’t too good a team.”

  “See what I told ya? You’ll be kickin’ ass all weekend,” Buck said enthusiastically. “Ain’t no one gonna beat the Bones. Right?”

  “I don’t know. There’s a team from Pittsburgh is supposed to be unbeatable.”

  “Hey, fuck that, huh, Nat? Them iron heads from Pittsburgh ain’t never played against Emma Lowe and the Willard boys.” He chuckled. “And they sure ain’t played against the Pie Man before.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. “Yeah, that’s right, Buck,” she managed.

  “There you go,” said Buck. “Can’t beat ’em ’less you know you can beat ’em.”

  “How come you’re hom
e on a Friday night? Roadhouse burn down?”

  “Nah, just tired from workin’ all day.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I got Cat here. Me and Cat are watchin’ a tape.”

  “You and Cat,” said Natty.

  “Watchin’ Home Alone. Stupid movie, but the kid knows every word of it,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s unbelievable.”

  “It’s her favorite movie,” Natty said softly. “She’s seen it a hundred times.” Natty bit her lower lip and squeezed her eyes tightly closed for several seconds.

  “Nat? You there?”

  “I’m here, Buck,” she said, drawing in a deep breath. “Hey, Buck, listen, I need you to do something real important.” She explained the situation with Gabe and dictated the information for Kyle Loftus to approve.

  “I’ll go into Welch tonight and drag that asshole out of bed. Don’t worry, I’ll get your kid on the team.”

  Natty looked at her watch. “Why don’t you just stay with Cat,” she said. “Watch your movie. Be better you go over in the morning, anyway.”

  “Okay. Probably right.”

  “Thanks, Buck.” There was a long pause between them. “Okay, Buck,” Natty said finally, “I gotta go now. Say g’night to Cat for me.”

  “I will, Nat. Good luck up there.”

  Natty turned off the phone and sat in the darkness for several minutes. She stared at the rain running down the window and then laughed out loud, wiping the tears from her eyes as she pictured Buck sitting on the couch next to Cat, watching Home Alone.

  * * *

  ON SATURDAY MORNING, the Bones beat the team from Kentucky, 5–0, with slightly more effort than it took to win their first game. The Kentucky team had lost to Pittsburgh on Friday, 12–0. The rain had stopped for the morning games, but it was sprinkling steadily as Natty made her way toward Field One. The Bones were already on the field, warming up again. Natty pulled her Spider-Man hat down tightly against the breeze and started to jog. Then she heard a voice.

  “Hey there, Miz Oakes, that you?” said a voice behind her. Natty turned to see the tournament director. He pulled a piece of paper from under his poncho. “Got your permit here to use the Miller kid, Gabe Miller. We added him to your roster.” Natty took the paper, unfolded it quickly, and saw Kyle Loftus’s signature at the bottom. Her face lit up with excitement, but the director had already headed for the shelter of the tent.