“I’m getting help, Jeremiah. Just hang on. Okay?”
“Hurry,” he cried.
“I will, buddy.” Cam ran along the edge of the ridge, figuring she could make it back to the truck faster that way. She ran until her legs screamed. The whole time she thought there was no way she could let anything happen to Jeremiah.
She searched the bed of the truck and behind the seats for some rope. Finding nothing remotely useable but a roll of duct tape, she jumped into the truck and drove along the ridge until she worried she’d disappear down the red and white sides of the crater. She grabbed the duct tape and sprinted the rest of the way back to Jeremiah.
When Cam looked down, she could tell Jeremiah had slid another few feet. “I’m here.”
“I’m tired. I can’t hang on.”
“Just a little longer. I’m almost there.”
Cam grabbed the end of the tape and started winding it around the sturdiest tree she could find. It wasn’t a big tree, but it would have to do. At first the tape slipped off the bark, but when it started sticking to itself, Cam knew it would work. She kept unwinding it, hoping it was as strong as everyone said it was, using it to make the best rope she could.
When she had a good length pulled out, she stuck her hand through the cardboard center of the roll and started down the embankment. She locked her fingers together and held her arms close to her chest, knowing she couldn’t let go for any reason. With every inch of tape that freed from the roll, the cardboard dug into her arm. It cut and slipped and scraped and threatened to slide off.
Please. Please let this work.
By the time she had almost reached Jeremiah, Cam was shaking with exhaustion and the duct tape was losing its stickiness because of the blood and mud and sweat on her arm.
Jeremiah slid another foot down the embankment. Cam reached down and grabbed onto his arm. Just when she thought she couldn’t hang on any longer, she thought about Aunt Jess.
When Cam was young, she’d fallen off her bike and knocked a baby tooth loose. At the dentist office, Aunt Jess held her hand through the entire thing. Cam had never felt safer. Remembering her aunt’s strength, she knew she could do it. She heaved Jeremiah up to her and held him tight against her chest.
Cam dug her feet into the mud and wrapped the tape around Jeremiah’s waist. Just before she could tape him to her, the roll ran out. Cam took several deep breaths. Knowing she had no choice but to make the tape rope work, she started inching them up the embankment.
†
Kenny chased Gary through a section of pine trees. Gary cut sharply to the right and headed to the upper ridge of the mine. Suddenly he stopped and swung around to face Kenny, holding something behind his back. Kenny couldn’t see what it was, but it worried him, so he stopped, too, about fifteen feet away.
“Where’s Jeremiah, Gary?”
Kenny took a step forward; Gary took one backward. Kenny didn’t remember Gary ever saying anything about owning a gun, but he didn’t know for sure.
“Where is he?” Kenny asked.
“He’s okay. I took him fishing.” Gary put his left hand behind his back with the other one. “He already knew how to swim,” he said.
“Tell me where he is.”
“I learned how to swim in a blue hole.”
Kenny’s face grew hot. “Who fucking cares? You told me and Jack that a million times when you brought us out here fishing.”
“You don’t understand,” Gary yelled.
“Where’s Jeremiah? Do you have any idea what this is doing to his mama? Hell, what it could be doing to my babies?” Right away Kenny wished he hadn’t brought that up. He knew Gary knew about the surrogacy, but it still wasn’t any of his business.
“What makes you so special that you have to have kids? What makes you better than other people who can’t have them?”
“That ain’t your business,” Kenny said.
“You think it was worth it to Russ, getting a second mortgage on his house to help you out? And what about Martin—putting his business on the line for you? What a waste.”
Kenny’s hands flexed in and out of fists. He got more and more pissed as he thought about what the stress of all of this must be doing to Macy.
“You are a waste of a human being.” Kenny took two steps forward; Gary took three back. “Where’s Jeremiah?” Kenny demanded.
“Sometimes I can feel the silica from the mines. It’s clogging every vein and every organ in my body. One day I’ll be a pillar of chalk.”
That side of Gary was scaring the crap out of Kenny. He would have rather had the scowling, grumpy Gary he’d been seeing at the shop for so many years. “I’m sorry you’re so screwed up and pissed off, but you ain’t got no right taking it out on little kids. Now, where is he?”
“I’m not taking anything out on anyone. I never meant to hurt that boy. I wasn’t gonna hurt Jeremiah either,” Gary said.
The hair stood up at the back of Kenny’s neck. “You never meant to hurt what boy?”
“Timmy didn’t know how to swim. I was doing him a favor.”
“Timmy Jones? What did you do to Timmy?” Kenny’s stomach churned. “Where’s Jeremiah?” He swore to himself that if he had to ask Gary one more time, he’d kill him.
“I took Timmy swimming at one of the chalk ponds. I knew that hole, knew it’d be okay. But then he wanted to swim here.” Gary nodded toward the pond to his left. “I told him he couldn’t, that there was equipment they’d left sunk at the bottom, and it’d be dangerous. Then as we were leaving, he got too close to the edge up here on the cliff.”
Gary was so involved in telling his story, he didn’t notice Kenny inching closer to him.
“I told Timmy to be careful. I swear I told him to be careful.”
“What happened to Timmy?” Kenny asked, taking another step.
“He fell in. He got stuck between two pieces of rusting metal junk. I tried to unstick him, but I couldn’t.” He started to blubber.
“So you just left him there?”
“There was nothing I could do for him. He hit his head. I couldn’t save him. I liked him. I wanted to help him.”
Gary brought his left hand forward and Kenny held his breath, still not knowing what was behind his back. Gary used his hand to swipe at his dripping nose, and Kenny saw the hand was empty.
“I didn’t hurt that boy. I’d never hurt that boy or any boy. Don’t you see?” Gary asked.
“See what?” Fear for Jeremiah flashed through Kenny.
“I just wanted you kids to like me. I wanted you and Jack and the others to like me. I wanted to be your friend, for you to stop calling me Goofy Gary behind my back. I wanted to be just Gary.” He wiped at his face again. “When I took you and Jack fishing, you liked me. We were friends.”
“We were never friends,” Kenny said, losing patience.
“Me and Timmy were friends, too. And me and Jeremiah. And I’ll be friends with your son, if you have a boy.”
Kenny wanted to puke at that man mentioning his son. “You ain’t going anywhere near my kids. And you’re gonna tell me right now where Jeremiah is.”
“He’s such a beautiful boy. His daddy was a beautiful boy, too. Jack was always good at stuff. Remember when he caught that huge bass?”
Kenny flexed his fingers.
“And Jack had his son the real way.”
That was all Kenny could take. He rushed at Gary with long strides. A few feet from him, Kenny put up his arms, blocking like a football player. He caught Gary across the chest, and they both tumbled to the ground. Whatever Gary had behind his back was knocked away, and it rolled several feet.
Gary’s laugh was loud and distorted, like some B-movie madman. It pissed Kenny off even more.
“Where’s Jeremiah?” He sat on Gary’s chest, his knee pressed hard against Gary’s breastbone. “Tell me right now, or I’ll kill you. I swear, I will fucking kill you.”
Gary stopped laughing. “I didn’t hurt Jeremiah. I’d never hurt him.�
��
“Tell me,” Kenny screamed. When Gary didn’t answer, Kenny raised a fist. “Tell me,” he demanded.
Kenny didn’t wait for an answer. He brought his fist down into Gary’s face, but his hand was muddy and slipped to the right of Gary’s nose. Kenny’s blow glanced off of Gary’s cheek, and then his knuckles slammed into the ground.
Gary bucked and threw Kenny off him. He got up and started toward the rows of pine trees. Kenny got back to his feet and caught up to him in no time. He grabbed the back of Gary’s shirt.
Kenny spun him around until Gary was facing him. Gary teetered on the edge of the mine. Kenny’s next punch caught him on the chin. Kenny hit him again, square on the nose, and blood spurted.
Gary raised his arms to protect himself, stumbled, fell, and clawed at the ground.
Kenny hesitated for a second before trying to grab his arm. When he did reach out, it was too late. Kenny landed on his knees at the edge as Gary cartwheeled down, bouncing off the carved layers of colors, sending clumps of brown and gray and white down with him.
When Gary hit the water, it was like the wind was knocked out of Kenny. For a few seconds, he was catching his breath. Kenny tried to see if Gary would come up. He didn’t. Kenny knew it’d be too late now, even if he could get to Gary. There wasn’t any way Gary would come out of that alive.
Kenny started back the way they’d come, along the edge of the mine. At the place where he’d first tackled Gary, Kenny saw a fishing reel on the ground. He almost laughed. He’d been afraid of a fishing reel?
When Kenny finally made it to the edge of the water, he stared, watching for bubbles or something. He didn’t see anything, nothing but the reflection of white clouds turning gray. He heard a rumbling in the distance and figured he better help Cam find Jeremiah before the sky opened up, before something awful happened.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cellular Waste
The walls of the living room throbbed and threatened to crash in on Macy. She looked around, and it seemed no one else noticed how the pale green paint fed on her growing panic.
All the voices grew louder. Shut up. Oh, God, she knew they meant well—the police, Russ, Eileen, Dori. Even Jack and her mother. But she needed them all to just shut up.
Then there was the voice in her head. The one that had started months earlier and made her doubt every little thing about what she was doing. Selfish, it reminded her.
Macy moved to the far corner of the living room, but still all the noise pierced her eardrums, like in the eleventh grade when Jack talked her into water skiing. She’d taken a spill, and water was forced into her ear. She didn’t know she’d busted her eardrum until later, when her mother put in drops and the alcohol sent searing pain through Macy, not stopping at the ear but shooting into her head and radiating down her neck.
That’s how it felt when cells exploded. And that’s how she felt waiting for news about Jeremiah. Her body vibrated. Every cell was going to explode; there was no way around it.
She looked toward the kitchen. Jack was leaning against her refrigerator. Emma’s photos were on the fridge, directly above him, in their manila envelope. Macy thought about the image Emma had captured down at the river—J-man’s cocked head, Macy’s stiffness. Yes, she remembered. Fear had skewered her when she thought about his curiosity, the same inquisitiveness she tried so hard to foster, to encourage. Before that moment at the river, she had been thrilled at her little man’s need to know. Then she became acutely aware that curiosity is simultaneously a gift and a curse. Just like motherhood.
The noise grew. It would demolish her every cell, not ceasing until she was senseless mush. Without her J-man, she was broken cell membranes, confused nuclei, spewed cytoplasm.
“How many cells need to burst before I’ll be numb?” she asked her mother.
She stared back at Macy and shook her head.
Then Dori was holding Macy’s hand. Sweet, sweet Dori. She’d be a great mother. She wouldn’t mess up like Macy. Maybe she knew. “Dori,” she whispered, avoiding her mother’s accusing stare, “how long until I’m a puddle of nothingness?”
Jack was walking toward Macy, and she wondered if he had the same questions. It’d be just like him to not let on.
Tears burned her face—salt in the open wounds of her shattered cells. She looked at Jack, and the tears flowed harder. In Emma’s poem, her eyes were hematite, now they were liquefying, a black river of lava scorching a path down her cheeks.
As she cried, the look on Jack’s face shifted. He looked bewildered. Yes, that was it. She’d marveled at that same expression when he’d held Jeremiah for the first time. He started talking to her, but she couldn’t hear him clearly. She had to strain just to barely make out what he said. He didn’t want to take Jeremiah from her, he just wanted to be a bigger part of his son’s life.
Macy believed him. She nodded. Moving her head released some of the pressure. So did letting out a low moan.
Tears filled Jack’s eyes, and he quickly rejoined his father in the kitchen.
The voice returned. It’s all about control, it screamed over the volume of the other sounds. You like the power of having someone else’s baby growing inside you.
Macy had to convince the voice that she was only having these babies to help friends; it had nothing to do with power or control. There were no games. There hadn’t been in a long time. The voice could just ask Sharon. She hadn’t tried to do a thing to manipulate Sharon, to try to change her mind about them being together again.
Hot shards coursed through Macy’s swollen belly. The heat was beyond fire, beyond raw flame. Was her body destroying itself, or just the precious lives inside? Was biology telling her not to bring these babies into a world where little boys disappeared and their mamas dissolved?
She hugged her belly. The fire of cellular waste corroded her from the inside out. The acid burn of her becoming a puddle was just too much to bear.
Scream, she told herself. It was the only way, even if the sound of her own roaring would surely kill off whatever cells remained in her head. It had to come out, had to go somewhere. Just scream.
Dori knelt beside Macy and held her hand tightly. She whispered over and over that it’d be okay. Since the scream had released some of the pressure, Dori’s voice no longer threatened to tear Macy’s eardrums.
Where’s the control now? She put her hands over her ears. Where’s the mama bear, the mama killdeer?
Squeezing her eyes shut, she imagined J-man in his Levi’s and T-shirt that morning. She took the image of him and wrapped herself around him; she put him inside of her. J-man and the twins swam in a sea of liquid hematite, safe from the world, safe from harm.
Biology wasn’t telling her anything about these babies, and neither would she allow the voice in her head to. She was a good mother and a good friend. She would not let doubts tell her otherwise.
But then, hot and viscous, the hematite began to seep out. Macy put her hands in her lap, trying to hide it. No, no, no. There had to be enough room for all three of them inside. She had to keep J-man safe. And she did want to bring those babies into this crazy world, where Dori and Kenny and everyone else in their mixed-up families could love them.
Pain ripped through her. Would keeping all three safe kill her? Was she strong enough to accept that?
Dori looked down into Macy’s lap. Macy could tell Dori wanted to say something, but she didn’t. Dori wanted to swallow, but she couldn’t. She just stood there, growing paler and paler.
“It’s okay,” Macy tried to reassure her. “J-man’s safe.” She patted her belly to prove it. “They’re all safe.”
“We need to get you to the hospital,” Dori said.
Macy closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her belly. Hugging J-man and the twins, she felt movement against the soft undersides of her arms. She smiled. Waves of hematite carried through her the rhythm of three priceless heartbeats.
†
Cam held on to Je
remiah until her arms ached, and she realized with a start that they were safe at the top of the embankment. The mud and clay coating them was thick and oddly warm. Insulating. She felt protected, as if by a liquid armor.
Jeremiah pulled at the tape Cam had wrapped around him, and Cam helped him unwind it, tugging against what adhesive had survived the muck.
“You were just like Spider-Man,” Jeremiah said.
Cam looked past the dirty face into his black eyes and saw Macy. If Cam were Spider-Man, she would send Macy a high-frequency arachnid signal to let her know her son was okay. Cam had sworn to Macy months earlier that she was over her feelings for her. She’d lied. She’d had to. She didn’t want Macy to feel self-conscious around her, or worse, to feel sorry for her.
Cam wasn’t an idiot. She knew she didn’t stand a chance with Macy, but she also couldn’t help how she felt about her.
“Uncle Kenny!” Jeremiah ran to Kenny. “Cam saved my life—just like Spider-Man.”
Kenny looked Cam over. “Duct tape?” He laughed. “Damn, girl, I guess you are one of us after all.”
“A living, breathing cliché,” Cam said, and she laughed, too, a sobbing, painful laugh.
Cam yanked the slick, bloody tape from her arm. Clawing at the mud, her hand hit something small and hard. She rubbed it between her thumb and index finger until the shiny black surface was revealed.
“What is it?” Jeremiah asked.
“I don’t know.” She held it up for them to see.
“Shark’s tooth?” Kenny suggested.
“Cool,” Jeremiah sang out.
Cam studied it closer. “Here?”
“I guess this place could have been beachfront property a gazillion years ago,” Kenny said.
“Where’s Gary?” Jeremiah’s voice was small, hesitant.
The question overrode Cam’s own about sharks’ teeth, the alien landscape, and what else Kenny knew about it.
“Gary’s gone.”
Something flashed across Kenny’s face, and Cam wasn’t sure if she wanted it identified or not.
Nesting Page 20
