Fractured Eden

by Steven Gossington

  “Looks good. I think we’re far enough away from Ghost Road.”

  Marley smiled. “I think you got spooked.”

  “Well, thanks for the history lesson about it. At least, now I know what to expect.” Aaron stopped near a few unoccupied picnic tables.

  Moisture from a short rain earlier in the day glistened on the grass and trees. “Look all around us,” Aaron said. “Everything is bright green.”

  Marley nodded. “It’s amazing the way the rain can bring out that intense green. It’s a chance for all the plants to show off.”

  Marley and Aaron spread a red and green tablecloth over a nearby table. She opened the picnic basket and arranged peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, water, and vegetables with dip on the table.

  Aaron stood and turned in a circle with his arms wide. A breeze carried the scent of the pines across his face. A little slice of heaven on earth.

  Marley and Cristal sat at the picnic table and sampled their sandwiches. “C’mon, join us,” Marley said to Aaron. “I brought fresh strawberries, too, from a local strawberry field.”

  “Yummy, an honest-to-goodness alfresco lunch,” Aaron said.

  After several bites into his sandwich, Aaron looked at Marley. “The guy with the ranch behind us: Grant Belkin … He’s an interesting person.”

  “He’s different,” Marley said.

  “Did you know his wife?”

  Marley put her sandwich down. “Not very well.”

  “He told me she died two years ago.”

  Marley was quiet.

  “I thought hairdressers knew everything.”

  Marley chuckled. “Usually you’d be right. I guess some things fly right past me.”

  Aaron and Marley polished off their meals, and even Cristal ate most of her sandwich.

  “Everything’s delicious,” Aaron said.

  “Go ahead, enjoy that last strawberry,” Marley said.

  “You don’t have to twist my arm.”

  “You’ve got a few red stains on your shirt,” Marley said. She stood and wiped his shirt with a moist napkin.

  “Thanks,” Aaron said. “As a memento of my first picnic, I’ll cherish those stains forever.”

  Marley laughed. “You had a deprived childhood. Everyone should picnic now and then.”

  Aaron looked down and shook his head. “I’ve been deprived of many things.”

  Marley played a pretend violin and hummed a song.

  Aaron laughed. “What song are you playing?”

  “ ‘I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry,’ by Hank Williams, Jr.”

  Aaron began to dance with Cristal. They moved in circles and he twirled Cristal under his arm.

  Marley looked up. “I can hear the birds warbling louder now. They’re watching you.”

  Aaron stopped and listened. “The birds must like it when folks picnic around here. They can all fly in and join the party.”

  He bowed to Cristal. “Thanks for the dance.”

  Cristal continued to dance solo as Aaron broke into the moonwalk dance.

  “Mommy, look at him.” Cristal pointed at Aaron sliding backward across the grass, his hands on his hips and a big smile for Marley on his face.

  Marley giggled. “You’ve got some great moves.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  After the dancing, it was time to clean up the picnic table.

  Aaron took a deep breath. “I want to learn how to line dance in a real cowboy dance hall. Can we go some evening, and you can show me how?”

  Marley nodded. “Sure.”

  “How about this Wednesday?” He held his breath.

  Marley sighed. “Okay.”

  Aaron clapped his hands together. “Awesome. I can’t wait. Dinner’s on me, too.”

  Marley walked away and tossed trash in a nearby bin.

  “Since there’s a day for just about everything, I’ll bet we have a National Picnic Day,” Aaron said.

  “That would be a safe bet. There is one, in April.”

  “Yeah, I would’ve guessed sometime in the spring. Let’s picnic again on the next official day, and maybe before then, too? This is a great way to spend an afternoon.”

  Marley turned and carried the picnic basket to the car.

  Maybe I’m coming on too strong. Slow down, Aaron.

  Cristal ran over to a nearby trail. “Come with me,” she said, waving her arms.

  Aaron motioned to Marley. “Let’s go. You’ll have to tell me about any critters we come across.”

  “Okay, follow me,” Marley said. “Now for another lesson. Over 300 species of birds live in the Big Thicket, and many are on the endangered list. Look for orchids. Twenty types of orchids grow in here, along with, get this, more than one thousand species of plants and ferns.”

  Aaron whistled. “I can’t get my head around all that.”

  They walked and skipped along the narrow trail for a while, accompanied by chirping birds and scurrying squirrels. Marley pointed at a bluebird as it flew over them. At one point, Aaron heard rustling in the bushes at the side of the trail. Marley parted branches and peered in. “Look, our nine-banded armadillo.” Aaron bent forward to see and jumped back as the armadillo scurried away.

  Marley laughed. “It won’t hurt you.”

  Cristal ran up to Marley. “Look, Mommy.” She held out her hands cradling a large green frog. “Can I have him? Please?”

  “No, his home is here. Let him down gently.”

  As Marley stood up from crouching, her hair glistened in a breeze. Aaron marveled at the intense colors of fluttering birds and swaying foliage behind her.

  “Why are you smiling?” Marley said.

  Aaron blushed and put his hand to his forehead. “I had this vision of the Garden of Eden. What it might’ve looked like.” He shook his head. “Sorry. I know that’s crazy.”

  “No, it’s not. I get that feeling in here sometimes, too.”

  After about an hour’s time, they returned to their picnic area.

  Aaron wiped his sweaty forehead with his handkerchief. “Okay, nature girl, you’ve convinced me. There’s a huge variety of plants and critters in the Big Thicket.”

  Marley smiled. “We’ve only scratched the surface.”

  During the drive back to town, they sang along to country music and Marley knew the lyrics to most of the songs. Aaron drove with the windows down and the music loud.

  He hadn’t thought about those strange eyes outside his window.

  Aaron drove farther away from his home that evening for dinner and strolled into a dimly lit Italian restaurant. After wolfing down grilled salmon with pasta and vegetables, he complimented the server and left a generous tip. “Now I know where I can get a decent salmon dish.”

  As he walked out, he caught a glimpse of the side profile of a man at a table in one corner of the restaurant. That looks like Dale McCorkindale, the car dealer.

  Aaron watched as the man’s hands flew back and forth in front of him, directed at another man sitting opposite with crossed arms and a grim look on his face.

  Probably just an animated discussion between friends, Aaron thought.

  Back home, Aaron checked computer emails and messages at his desk, and then he sat back, his hands behind his head.

  So, Race Taggett wants me to stay away, and maybe I damn well should.

  He sighed. But Marley and Grant asked me to check on them.

  Aaron shook his head. Race’s eyes … the way they glinted at me. A shudder shot down his back. Kind of reminds me of the chief of staff back at my old hospital.

  ****

  Not far away, Grant Belkin sat at a table in his kitchen. His words echoed throughout the house.

  “Your hair looks whiter today.” He directed the words across the table to an empty chair. “It’s gettin’ longer, too. I like it.”

  He smiled at the chair, and then nodded. ”Yeah, I’m sure it does take quite a while for you to brush all that hair.”

  Grant sipped from
a glass of water. “We have a new doctor in town,” he said. “I need to look after him.”

  He listened for a few seconds.

  “Now, don’t you worry your pretty head. I’ll keep my distance. He won’t know I’m watchin’.”

  Chapter 9

  Aaron had the impression that his neighbor—the owl—hooted during the night.

  I wonder what challenges are in store for me this week, he thought as he opened the clinic door.

  A short while later, he watched from the waiting room as Rocky Donnigan, his alcoholic patient, pedaled a shiny red bicycle into the parking area. Rocky was registered and escorted to a room.

  Aaron winced at the smell of cigarettes as he entered Rocky’s room. I’ll ask Stella to deodorize in here.

  “How’s the infection?” Aaron said.

  “Fine, Doc.” Rocky held up his forearm. “It’s doing real good.”

  Aaron examined the infected area. “Great. Go ahead and finish the antibiotics.”

  “I will.”

  “That’s a nice bike you have.”

  “It’s how I get around, so I take good care of it.”

  Aaron stepped back. “Any more weirdness going on lately?”

  Rocky looked down and squinted his eyes. “Come to think of it, I saw something strange a couple of days ago.”

  “What was that?”

  “There’s a woman that lives down this road. It dead ends at her house.”

  “Wanda Taggett?”

  “That’s her. I saw her buying something, drugs probably, in an alley in town.”

  Aaron’s eyes flew open. “Buying drugs?”

  “Yeah. I know the guy she met up with. He’s a drug dealer, and I’m pretty sure she handed him money.”

  On his way out, Rocky stopped at the door of the room and turned to Aaron. “When your car needs maintenance or has a problem, shoot it over to my shop. I’ll take care of it.”

  “It’s a deal. So you’re good with bikes and cars.”

  “Yes, sir, I am.”

  Just after lunch, Stella motioned to Aaron in the hallway. “This next patient is Buck Bogarty. He’s a troublemaker and he’s always getting into fights. I removed his bandage so you could see his hand wound.”

  Aaron walked into the room and greeted a young man with short black hair and several small scars on his face. He held up a bloody left hand.

  “I got cut,” he said.

  Aaron examined the wound. “How did it happen?”

  “A fight, last night.”

  “So you hit someone in the mouth? Are these teeth cuts?”

  “I guess.”

  “We’ll tend to those wounds and put you on antibiotics to try to prevent infection. Did you report anything to the police?”

  Buck laughed. “Hell, no. Don’t want no cops.”

  “Keep the hand elevated as much as you can, and let me know if you have any problems. My nurse will show you how to take care of your hand at home.”

  Stella cleaned and dressed the wounds, and Buck strutted out of the clinic with his prescription.

  “You said he’s a troublemaker. I guess he grew up around here?” Aaron said to Stella.

  “He did. He had a rough family life, but he did manage to graduate from high school.”

  “A rough family life?”

  “Problems in the marriage. His father left them. Buck still lives with his mother.”

  “He has a wild look about him, like a hungry tiger.”

  “Oh, yeah. Everyone knows Buck Bogarty. If you see a fancy hot rod around town, it’s probably Buck showing off.”

  Aaron closed his clinic an hour early and drove over to Constable Greevy’s office. He could have asked his questions over the phone when he’d called earlier in the day, but he figured he might be more convincing in person.

  As Aaron walked into the office, he detected a faint scent of coffee. In the middle of the room, Keller Greevy sat behind a desk strewn with papers.

  “Have a seat, Doc. What’s on your mind?” Keller said.

  “It’s the Taggetts. I’m worried about those folks.”

  “Well, I know Sid is sickly, and Race is a bit strange. They’ve been that way for a long time.”

  “I looked up some medical records at the hospital. It seems that Wanda was suspected of possible child abuse when Race was young. Recently, she took Sid to the hospital several times and they couldn’t find out what was wrong with him.”

  “Okay, plenty of doctors have tried to help them. Maybe that’s the way it is. Some things can’t be helped, right?”

  “That’s true, but Wanda has been giving Sid some kind of liquid medicine, and yet he’s begging for help.”

  “Begging for help. Now, how would you know that?”

  “Sid told me.”

  “You were in the house?”

  “Yes. And Rocky told me he saw Wanda buying drugs in an alley downtown.”

  “Rocky Donnigan?”

  Aaron nodded.

  Keller threw his hands up. “He’s a drunk. He’s liable to say anything.”

  Keller stood up and took several steps away from his chair.

  He turned to Aaron. “What do you want from me?”

  “Get a search warrant and let’s find out what Wanda is giving him to drink.”

  Keller pointed his finger at Aaron. “You’re way out of line. The state has already looked into their situation. That family has been that way for a long time, and Sid has been checked by doctors. He’s a sick man, and Wanda takes care of him. Let them be.”

  “But—”

  “This meeting’s over,” Keller said.

  Aaron shook his head and stood up.

  Just like Marley said, there’s something very wrong with Sid, and we don’t even have a diagnosis, he thought as he walked out. I’ll have to pursue this in my own way.

  Aaron drove away from Constable Greevy’s office, and after several miles, he pulled into a long curving driveway that led up the hill to the home of Brad Benningham, the oilman. He’d called earlier from his office to ask if he could drop by and discuss Preston’s struggle with addiction.

  Aaron stopped in a porte cochere at the front of the house and stepped out as the front door swung open. V. Brad Benningham stood at the threshold, filling most of the open doorway space, the crown of his head almost touching the top of the door.

  Brad motioned to Aaron. “Come on in.”

  Aaron followed him into the mansion and to a spacious living room with earth-toned furniture. A sparkling crystal chandelier hovered over the room. Brad gestured toward a collection of chairs and couches. “Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?”

  “No, thanks.” Aaron sat in a plush chair. He noticed a faint sweet scent in the room. Apples?

  Brad wore boots, a plaid shirt, and jeans secured by a large silver belt buckle. He stopped near Aaron’s chair. “I’m sorry about the incident in your office. As you can tell, my son has a problem.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s in rehab, in a hospital a few hours from here. We want to avoid recognition.”

  “He’s had a drug problem before?”

  Brad sighed and put his hands in his pockets. “He’s been in rehab twice over the last five years, for alcohol or drugs.”

  Brad turned as a tall redheaded woman walked into the living room. “Myra, this is Dr. Rovsing.”

  She put her hands to her temples. “Oh, my gosh. I’m so sorry you had to see our son that way.”

  “At least he’s in a good place now,” Aaron said.

  Myra sat in a chair near Aaron. She shook her head. “I don’t know if anything will work with Preston. We’ve been down this road before.” She looked at Aaron. “Maybe it’s bad genes?”

  Aaron nodded. “Genetics could be involved.”

  “Or maybe we weren’t good parents.”

  “Now, don’t start with that,” Brad said as he glared at Myra. “When he gets back, he’d better get a job or I’m kicking him out
of here, and I’m not keeping him out of jail anymore.”

  “But he says there aren’t any jobs,” Myra said.

  “He doesn’t try to find one. He doesn’t want to work.”

  She put her face in her hands. “Will this nightmare ever end?”

  Brad left the room. Aaron stood and put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll help in any way I can. This has got to be tough for you.”

  Myra groaned, her head down. “You can’t imagine.”

  Aaron walked toward the front door and stopped when he heard the clunking of boots behind him.

  “Doc, let me buy you a drink,” Brad said. He put his hand on Aaron’s back. “I’ll take you to my favorite bar. How about it?”

  “Sure.”

  Brad led Aaron outside to his truck. “They have great appetizers there, too. We can make a meal of it.”

  In the still night air, an owl hooted in the distance as they shut the truck doors.

  “Sometimes I just need to get away for a drink. Know what I mean?” Brad said.

  Aaron nodded. “Yes, I do.”

  Brad drove away from his home. “Our son is a real problem.”

  “Drug addiction is a problem everywhere. A lot of families suffer.”

  Brad turned up the volume on his truck radio. Along the way, he pointed out businesses and homes of people he knew. He drove for almost twenty minutes to a lounge with a packed parking lot in front.

  As they entered the lounge, two men walked away from a small table in a corner. Brad and Aaron sat down at the table and ordered drinks and sausage-and-tomato flatbread.

  “This drug addiction is tearing Myra and me apart. She thinks I was an absent father and should have been more involved with Preston when he was young.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “I’ve protected Preston,” Brad said. “I’ve kept him out of jail, so far.”

  “Out of jail, for what?”

  “He robbed some houses, to pay for his drugs.”

  Aaron’s stomach tightened. An image of a drugged robber and the bloody bodies of his parents floated into his mind. His head began to swirl.

  “What’s wrong?” Brad said.

  Aaron took several deep breaths and a few sips of water. “It’ll pass.” After a few seconds, he nodded. “I’m all right.”