Redemption Mountain

by FitzGerald, Gerry

  “Don’t worry about it.” Charlie spoke louder. “Tell me what’s happening.”

  Natty tried to give Charlie a shorthand version of the play-by-play. The Pie Man was scrambling frantically for the ball amid a circle of players. Natty saw Buck moving along the sideline, oblivious to the spectators behind him, staying even with Pie and calling out instructions, amplified every few seconds with a hand clap when Pie got his foot on the ball.

  Then Paul kicked it farther up the sideline and Pie ran after it, encouraged by his father cheering him on for the first time in his life. Natty sobbed into the phone and the tears flowed down her cheeks. Thunder boomed overhead, as a Knights defender cleared the ball to midfield with a powerful kick that sent everyone racing in the opposite direction. Natty saw the timekeeper hold up two fingers.

  “Two minutes left, Charlie. Ball’s down in our end. Think we’re probably out of time.” A thunderclap drowned out his response.

  “What, Charlie?” Natty yelled, trying to block her other ear. She saw Buck across the field, staring at her, and they both knew it was obvious who she was talking to.

  Then she heard the crowd roar and saw the ball flying from the Bones’ end of the field, helped along by the swirling wind, headed at the Pittsburgh sweeper. He played it perfectly, bending slightly for a solid, low header that sent the ball in the other direction. But flashing across the ball’s path, Emma took it straight in the chest at full speed. Without breaking stride, she pushed it ahead and raced straight for the sweeper. He moved to his left just as Emma moved to her left, and she was alone in the center of the field, thirty yards from the goaltender. There couldn’t be more than a few seconds left in the game. Natty shouted into the phone. “Emma’s in alone, Charlie! She’s all alone!”

  Five yards behind Emma, four Golden Knights raced after her as fast as they could, but Natty knew no one was going to catch her before she could get her shot off. The goalie was moving out, and the crowd roared over the deafening noise of the rain. A black umbrella flew across the field. “Hit it, Emma!” Natty cried out. “Hit it now!”

  It was an easy goal for Emma, with either foot. She couldn’t miss … from twenty yards, and then fifteen … but she didn’t shoot. “Pull the trigger now, Em! Don’t wait!” Natty yelled into the phone as she jumped up and down, moving out onto the field.

  Then the goalie made his move, rushing out at Emma with the ball just a foot too far in front of her. But the ball wasn’t too far in front of her—it was right where she wanted it. She waited for the instant the goalie started out and committed irrevocably to his slide. Emma took the long stride she’d been saving and tipped the ball to her right as the goalie slid. She regained possession and faced a wide-open net eight yards away.

  Natty raised two arms in triumph, the phone held high in the rain, and watched in agony as Emma waited to shoot and the squad of pursuing Knights overtook her. They slid, tumbled, and dove through the mud to take Emma down, but not before she planted her left foot and, without even looking, swept the ball smoothly with the instep of her right foot on a path toward the left post.

  Natty writhed in agony. “Emma! Emma, what are you doing?!” she screamed.

  But Emma always knew what she was doing on a soccer field, and Natty gasped as she followed the rolling ball. There, at the left end of the goal, all alone, was the Pie Man. She saw Buck, bent over with his hands cupped at his mouth, yelling. And she saw her son ready himself as the ball came toward him in the torn-up grassless dirt. Natty covered her mouth in fear that he’d slip or miss the ball entirely—as he often did—and she held her breath.

  But Pie didn’t miss it. He stepped into it perfectly, as he’d seen Emma and Paul and Zack do all season, and powered the ball into the back of the netting.

  Natty screamed. “Oh, my God, Charlie! Pie got a goal! We won the tournament!” She ran out onto the field but stopped when she saw Buck holding Pie up high, hugging him against his chest with one powerful arm, the other lifted in triumph, spinning them both around in a circle.

  Pie held his arms aloft, his face lit up with the biggest happy face of his life. The joy on her husband’s face reminded Natty of the Buck of her youth, so long ago. She knew she was crying, but it was raining so hard, she wasn’t sure. Buck put Pie down to let him run off and celebrate with his teammates. He stopped a few feet away from Natty and looked at the phone in her hand, then back at her face.

  She rubbed her eyes with her right sleeve and smiled. “Thanks for coming, Buck,” she said.

  “I’m tryin’, Nat.”

  She nodded. “I know you are, Buck. I know that.”

  CHAPTER 34

  When the heat in the bus finally came on, everything started to smell like a wet dog. Some of the kids had changed out of their uniforms into dry clothes, adding their mud-caked uniforms to the mélange of towels and warm-up suits stuffed under the seats and piled in the aisle. Natty just sat in her wet warm-ups. Everything she had was damp, anyway. It was going to be a long, uncomfortable ride back to Red Bone.

  It would have been worse if Buck hadn’t had sixty dollars on him, which Natty borrowed for one last stop at McDonald’s. At least the kids wouldn’t starve. She thought about Buck driving all the way up to Charleston to watch their game. Good thing he came, too—to give her the money to feed the team and to bring Zack home from the hospital, after they put a real cast on his leg. No telling what time they’d be getting home if they’d had to wait for Zack.

  Natty glanced over at Geneva, who was leaning over the steering wheel, trying to see through the pouring rain. “Let me know if you need a break, Neva,” said Natty, knowing that the old woman thought she was the only one who could drive the bus. Geneva was too old to be driving, but she’d driven these roads for over forty years, and she’d get them home again tonight.

  Natty twisted around to look at her team and saw the tournament trophy in its own seat across the aisle. It was mostly plastic—a silver soccer player with a ball at the end of his foot, standing on a round wooden platform held up by four foot-tall round columns. The plaque read 12th Annual Charleston Youth Soccer League Thanksgiving Tournament, First Place, The Bones, Red Bone, West Virginia. Natty thought that maybe there would be a good spot for it in the new library.

  In the seat behind the trophy, Gabe and Emma, their bald heads almost touching, hunched together, talking quietly. Natty wondered what they were talking about. They’d said more to each other this weekend than she and Buck had all year. Behind them, the rest of the team was spread out around the bus, as the kids tried to find comfortable sleeping positions on the hard seats.

  Natty closed her eyes, but she couldn’t avoid thinking about the decision that lay ahead. After all the years up on the boulder, working on the dream that all little hillbilly girls dreamed, it was about to come true. But now she didn’t know if she could go through with it. She was going to take the kids and meet Charlie in Bluefield. But how could she do that now without having told Buck? And now he’d gone all the way to Charleston to watch their game and run up and down the sideline in the pouring rain, yelling out encouragement to Pie—words her son had never heard from his father. And after the game he’d picked up Pie and held him over his head and hugged him for what seemed like the first time. Pie had never been happier in his life.

  Natty chewed on her lip and felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. In the dark bus, no one could see the tears of joy she cried for her son. And for her husband. Before she could resolve her dilemma, Natty surrendered to the exhaustion of the long weekend.

  * * *

  CHARLIE PRESSED THE phone into the seat back in front of him and looked out the small window of the plane. Far ahead, a line of orange spread out in front of the plane. Beneath it, a blanket of dark clouds hid the rugged landscape of West Virginia. Somewhere below, Natty and the Bones were celebrating their victory and the winning goal scored by the Pie Man.

  The flight attendant arrived with a large cup of ice and two small bottles of C
anadian Club. Charlie lowered the tray in front of him and poured both bottles over the ice. He thought about his weekend in Vermont. It was like the old days. A traditional turkey dinner, a fire in the fireplace, the Detroit Lions on TV, and a game of Yahtzee afterward. There hadn’t been enough snow for skiing, so the four of them took a long walk around the golf course, enjoying the crystal-clear air and spectacular views of Sugarbush.

  He’d spent Saturday night alone on the deck with Ellen, while the kids went into Montpelier to the splendid old Capitol Theater for a movie. They bundled up and talked. Charlie filled Ellen in on the hearing in Red Bone and the China project, which he would take over not as an onsite engineer but as deputy superintendent, with complete responsibility for the second dam.

  It would mean three years in China. Charlie told her that he hadn’t decided what he was going to do, that he needed to think about it, although, he had to concede, it was a once-in-a-career opportunity. He left it at that, and Ellen didn’t press him. She smiled in the dim yellow light that filtered onto the deck from the family room, reached over, and took his hand. “Okay, Charlie. You decide what you want to do.”

  Then, when all the talk about the company and China had been said, they sat quietly on the deck. The perfect opportunity had arrived to tell Ellen about Natty. But the words wouldn’t come. They sat for a long time, watching the stars in the black sky over Lincoln Peak.

  Was it cowardice or was it indecision, Charlie asked himself, gazing out at the thick clouds beneath the plane. He had the chance to tell Ellen, yet he let it pass. He even had the feeling that Ellen was waiting for him to deliver the news. But he couldn’t do it.

  Charlie took a large sip of his drink, closed his eyes, and leaned back in his seat. He saw Natty standing in front of the orchestra pit at the Imperial Theatre. He could smell her perfume and see her glistening lips, and he ached for her. He’d never met a woman like Natty, and he wanted to spend every waking moment with her. He hadn’t changed his mind, only delayed the decision for a while. He’d meet her tonight in Bluefield, and they’d go from there.

  The seat belt sign lit up. Charlie finished his drink and watched the curling snakes of water move across the small window at his shoulder. There was nothing but blackness below, down where Natty and the Bones were headed back to Red Bone.

  * * *

  THE BUS LURCHED with a noisy downshift of the gears. Natty struggled to go back to sleep, but after a few seconds a strange sound made her straighten up in her seat. She twisted around to survey the interior of the dark bus, but there was no movement anywhere. Across the aisle, Gabe was asleep with his head on Emma’s shoulder, while she was curled up close to the window.

  The bus swerved, and Natty looked out to see water running across the road. In the yellow beams of the headlights, she could see the white spray of foam where the water, flowing alongside the road, crashed into a boulder or a tree. She got up and squatted next to Geneva. “Pretty bad, Neva, huh?”

  “Road’s okay,” said Geneva. “We’ll be a little higher up soon.” She smiled nervously.

  Natty stood and put a hand on her shoulder. “Okay, Neva. Let me know if you need a break.” But she knew Geneva wouldn’t let her drive. She never did.

  Natty walked toward the back of the bus to inspect her sleeping championship soccer team—her bald soccer team, she realized again with a start. She rolled her eyes as she thought of the reaction the parents would have at the sight of the kids—including the two girls. She stepped gingerly over the piles of wet clothing, gym bags, and empty McDonald’s bags and turned sideways to avoid the feet, elbows, and heads sticking out into the aisle.

  Everyone was still asleep, which was good, because the stink in the back of the bus was wretched. She found Pie stretched out across the second-to-last seat, his head and shoulders on Sammy Willard’s lap. Sammy was asleep against the window, his arm across Pie’s chest. Pie clutched his Yankees cap in both hands, settled comfortably on his stomach. Natty looked at her son and couldn’t help smiling with pride. He had grown so much this season. He’d made some real friends of his teammates and had played an important role in a championship season that he would talk about for years to come.

  Natty returned to the front of the bus and slumped into her seat. With her back propped against the window, she looked over at the tournament trophy again and couldn’t help smiling. The whole team had grown over the season, and that made their victory even more sweet. She thought about how much she’d changed, too. She had met Charlie and gone to New York and become a woman and had felt—for the first time—what it was to be loved by a man. But someone else had changed over the season, too, maybe more than anyone. Natty looked to the rear of the bus and through the back window, to see if Buck’s truck might be following behind them. She wondered how long he’d have to wait at the hospital for Zack.

  As she looked out the window, she realized that they were on Cold Springs Road, not far from the power plant. They were just minutes from the high school and her car, with the hastily packed bags in the trunk and the key to the apartment in Bluefield tucked into the visor. She swallowed back her nervousness.

  Geneva slowed to make the sharp right-hand turn, whining in first gear to climb a short incline. The bus shuddered, and the engine raced at a higher pitch as Geneva tried to accelerate, but they didn’t move. Natty instinctively reached for the pole in front of her as the rear of the bus slid to the right. Geneva gunned the engine, to no avail. She applied the brake, and the bus stood still, angled up the incline. Geneva shifted into reverse, but the rear of the bus began to slide toward the streambed thirty feet below. She tried first gear again, but it was too late. The roadway over the stream was collapsing under the weight of the bus.

  Natty watched in horror as the bus slowly slid toward the stream and started to roll onto its left side. She screamed and stumbled toward the back of the bus when it rolled, losing her grip. She hit the edge of a seat, spun around, and landed hard on the side of the bus, hitting her head just above the window.

  Natty wedged her forearms under her face for protection and held still, waiting for the bus to stop moving. She could feel liquid on her hands and knew that water must be coming in, but it wasn’t cold, it was warm—and slippery. She tried to raise her head, to get up, but excruciating pain shot through her head, and the bus started spinning beneath her, around and around, as if they were in a whirlpool. She rested her face on her arms to wait for the bus to stop spinning.

  Crashing noisily on the boulders that ripped at the sheet metal and cracked the windows, the bus careened down the streambed into the rushing water, until it came to rest on its side, thirty feet below Cold Springs Road. The headlights of the bus remained on, the left one visible a foot beneath the surface of the rushing water. Steam gushed out from under the hood like the last hot breaths of a dying dragon.

  The icy water shocked Natty as it covered her mouth and nose, causing her to choke. She felt a searing pain in her head and another in her ribs, now wedged tightly against the metal edge of a seat. She heard someone groaning. Then she remembered what had happened and where she was. “Oh, my God! Oh, Jesus!” She reached up to find the metal handle on the top of the seat and finally pulled herself erect. The interior of the bus was pitch black, but Natty could hear voices from the rear, where the kids had been sleeping.

  “Gilbert, you fat fuck! You’re standin’ on top of me.”

  “I lost my glasses,” complained Gilbert.

  “Hey, that was pretty cool,” said George Jarrell.

  “Man, it stinks in here,” someone said, making Natty laugh. But the movement brought a stabbing pain, and she reached up to discover blood dripping into her left eye. Cold water swirled over her ankles.

  “Okay, everyone, listen to me,” Natty called out into the darkness. “When I call your name, say here, and let me know if you’re hurt. We’ll start with the defense: Brenda? Jason, Jimmy Hopson?” They were all okay. “Georgie?” Okay. “Midfielders: Paul, Matt, Sa
mmy?” Okay, okay.

  “Think my arm’s broken, coach,” Matt Hatfield groaned painfully, “but I’m okay.”

  “Hardy Steele? Pie?”

  “Okay,” said Hardy, then nothing.

  “Pie Man!” Natty said louder. “Pie, where are you?”

  “I’m okay, Mama,” said Pie in a muffled voice. “But I can’t find my New York Yankees hat!” A loud clank came from the rear of the bus, and a wave of cold air swept in.

  “Hey, I got the back door open,” yelled Sammy. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

  “Sammy, be careful—” Natty was distracted by a loud groan from the front of the bus. “Oh, Jesus, Neva? Neva, are you hurt?” Natty moved forward, edging along the side of the bus.

  She heard Gabe’s voice up front. “I’m up here, Miz Oakes. Think Miz Gunnells could be having a heart attack.”

  Natty saw a figure moving in one of the seats. “That you, Emma?”

  Emma’s voice was soft, as always. “I’m okay, Natty, just twisted around a little. Go help Miz Gunnells.”

  Natty clambered over duffel bags to reach the driver’s seat. Geneva moaned in pain. As Natty stood back to figure out how to get the old woman out of the bus, she noticed something silver behind the seat. It was Geneva’s flashlight. Natty grabbed it and turned it on, shining it toward the rear of the bus just in time to see a bald head disappear through the emergency door. She couldn’t tell who it was but guessed it must’ve been Emma. Sammy was standing outside, helping the others get out.

  Natty turned around and saw that Gabe had pulled Geneva out of the driver’s seat. She was still conscious, but her face was contorted in pain. “Think maybe my hip’s broken,” Geneva whispered, sucking in a painful breath of air. Natty shone the flashlight through the front windshield and saw that the torrent of water seemed to be increasing in volume.

  “We can’t keep her here,” Natty said to Gabe. “Bus might get washed farther downstream.” She turned the light toward the rear of the bus and shook her head. “Never be able to carry her through all that.”