Alex picked her feet up from the cold porch and tucked them beneath the quilt. “To me, it smells like nobody can hurt us here.”
I wanted to tell her that wasn’t something I’d ever experienced. That, the smell of total security was one I wouldn’t ever recognize. I lied. “They can’t. Not here.”
“I believe you.”
Chirps from early morning birds out in the wide, rocky fields trickled into our conversation. Unlike Dolly Sods on the green mountain above, which were mainly spruce and aspen, this land’s forest was a mixture of many trees. White pine, hemlock, white oak, maple, laurel, and rhododendron filled the gaps between pasture and hay fields. Stone walls, perhaps built by the first set of hands ever to work this land, mingled with wooden split-rail fences built by my grandpap and his sons long ago. I pointed out old barns and springs to Alex, places that shook memories loose. Here, reminiscences were more plentiful than field stone, more abundant than the blackberry blossoms that fell over the walls in waves come summer. A sure sign of an upcoming bad winter, my dad used to say.
For a while I thought she’d drifted off while I was talking. So I shut up. After a few minutes, Alex said, “You talked to your mom lately?”
“No. It’s been ten years. Why?” I tried not to sound too overly emotional. Alex sat up and tried to say something, but I stopped her.
“Why would you ask that?” I got off the swing and walked to the edge of the porch. She sank into the swing and tried to hide beneath the quilt. “Janie and her talked all the time. I just assumed—”
“About what? Where is she?”
“I don’t know. Sorry. I thought…”
I held up my hand. “It’s fine. If she wanted to talk she would’ve found me. I need to grow up and get over it.”
Off to the west a puff of dust rose above the trees. I heard the crunch of tires on gravel. No matter who it was, it was somebody I didn’t want to see. “Alex, just wait up here for a second.”
My feet got wet from all the dew on the long grass. I walked to the edge of the driveway, stuck my hands in my pockets and waited. When I saw my pap’s old pickup coming up the hill I relaxed a little.
My Uncle Jamie drove, and they had a big load of firewood. My pap’s old revival tent hung over the tailgate. When they slowed to a stop I could see that my pap had a hard time hiding his surprise. I said, “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble for me.” Guilt made me want to run back into the house.
Jamie said, “Well, hello there, stranger. You’re just in time to help us unload firewood. Why don’t you follow us on over?”
“You didn’t bring breakfast, did you?” I yawned.
He didn’t hear me. Instead, he put the truck in gear and crept toward the center of the field. I waved Alex over to join me.
She took off the hat and patted down her hair as she tip-toed through the grass. I said, “It’s all good in the hood,” and she smiled.
“Just take your time,” my pap yelled and he got out of the cab and stretched. “Wood ain’t going to jump out of the truck itself.”
We walked from the house Jamie and my dad built when my parents got married, toward the one Jamie and my dad built when Jamie got married many years earlier. They both had large porches with pillars that tapered to stone bases, and large eaves with gable trusses. In a way, the houses were like a testament to the relationship between my dad and his big brother. Jamie had maintained his, built a sunroom and a greenhouse for his wife. My dad’s had cardboard over the busted kitchen window and needed a new roof. And no reason to be maintained. In a way, our house, in the condition it was in, reminded me that my dad had been an honest worker at one time—a mine supervisor, in fact. He didn’t really become a drunk until the doctors found the spot on his lung. By then my mom was already gone. He must’ve figured there wasn’t much worth staying sober for.
Champ, my grandfather’s old collie dog, meandered over to Alex and me, then led us back over to his truck. He was too old and too tired to chase the farm cats that came across the field from the big barn. My pap nodded toward Alex, then took off his ball cap, revealing a full head of hair that was still more slate than gray. He waited a long moment, coughed, then finally said, “Well, well.”
He smiled at Alex. “At least you had good reason to stay away.”
Jamie grabbed my hand and shook it until it was nearly numb. “I’ll be damned. When Rachael called I almost didn’t believe it, but here you are.” The soft rasp of his voice reminded me so much of my dad’s, even though they looked nothing alike. Wire-rimmed glasses and an oxford shirt gave him the stereotypical academic look. His bristly mustache was almost completely gray.
“Alex, I’d like you to meet my pap, John Henry Collins, carpenter, farmer. Not a bad guy, once you get to know him.” I laughed even though the familiarity I’d assumed wasn’t totally appropriate.
He held her hand like it was an apple blossom. She gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. He kissed her back.
My pap said, “Henry left some out, but I can fill you in later.”
“What did I leave out?” I said. “Drunkard. Nuisance—”
“Oh, stop it, Dad,” Jamie said.
“And I’d like you to meet my Uncle Jamie. Ben’s dad. You remember Ben from the funeral, right?”
Jamie gave her a business-like handshake and a nod. It was only at times like these I realized how shy he was.
“Where’s Ben?” I asked.
“He’ll be up. Had to run to Parsons.” His soft voice unspooled slowly, like an old ballad sung around a campfire. He sang his well-annunciated words, rather than just spoke them.
“Parsons?” I asked. “What the hell’s he doing in Parsons?” Jamie said, “We’ll talk later.”
My pap let him finish, and said, “Went to pick up your old man. That’s what he’s doing in Parsons. You see,” he turned to Alex, “men in this family have real bad allergies.” I knew what was coming, and got real mad. Even Jamie seemed to wince.
Before my pap could finish his joke I cut him off. “Allergic to whiskey. You ever hear that joke? It’s an old one. He’s going to say every time my old man drinks it he breaks out in handcuffs. Apparently, shit like that’s still funny up here.”
“C’mon, Henry,” my pap said, clasping my shoulder and shaking it a few times. “It ain’t like that. Just having a little fun.”
“Whatever. I’d like you guys to meet Alex. Ramsey.” I said her last name to hide my own fears that they’d discover her relationship to the Lewises.
My pap, still gripping my shoulder, said, “So, you leave without saying ‘dog’ and now here you are again like you never left. What do we have to do to keep you coming and going like this?” Pap released me and started pulling wood out of the back of the truck. “Would’ve done a pig if we had known you were coming.”
“You got the tent though, huh?” I said.
My pap said, “We’re having some family over. A big to-do for the holiday, so don’t get it in your head it’s all for you. Can I expect to see you there tonight?”
“Is that an invitation?”
“Henry! Of course we’ll be there. Should we bring anything?” Alex said. She’d been half-listening, half playing with a trio of kittens that wandered out from the weeds at the edge of the field.
“No, sugar. Just be there. And bring him.” My pap tilted his head toward me. “So where’ve you been?”
“Maybe later,” I said. “After I’ve had a drink or two.”
Alex, in an attempt to feel like she was contributing, said, “You should tell them about Ohiopyle. About Darren and Billy?”
I tried to cut her off, but my tongue wasn’t fast enough. “No. Not now.”
“Billy Lewis?” Pap said. “Odelia’s kid? Tell me that son of a bitch has been sniffing around.”
“No,” Jamie said. “You’re a bit addled. I believe Odelia’s their aunt. She just raised those boys up as her own.” Jamie had said ‘I believe,’ but I knew that he knew exact
ly who she was. He just did that to cover up for my pap’s forgetfulness.
“Odelia can’t help being ugly, but she could just stay home. Don’t get involved with them,” Pap said. “Things have been quiet. After twenty years of bickering and pettiness…”
“What do you mean? Like, until recently they hadn’t been?”
“Well,” Pap went on, “Jamie caught one of them poaching black bear down the lane at the end of March. Son of a bitch had a buddy in Natural Resources who knew where they were denning. Curtis Lewis, I think it was. A cousin. He made a killing selling the gall bladders on the black market. How the hell should I know? Took a lot of bear this spring, though. I’ll tell you that. God put the good stuff where the lazy people can’t have any, I guess.”
He paused to put in a chew. The smell was a good smell, reminding me of bailing hay with my dad. My old man always had a pouch of Levi Garrett on him. My pap offered the pouch to Jamie with a laugh. Jamie pulled a peppermint from his shirt pocket. His way of resisting temptation for so many years. Then Pap waved it my way. My mouth watered with anticipation, but I’d given that up.
“Anyway, I told Lewis I wouldn’t call the state if he compensated me and that son of a bitch put up one hell of a fuss. He said that lot wasn’t mine anyway, then went into some bullshit story about old deeds. So the next week their lawyer called. He said he found an agreement that negated my deed.”
The old man spit into the fire ring. “Charlie Lewis is a Blow George and a pen hooker Johnny Bull, nothing more. After a few weeks in Parsons we got it lawyered out. It was a surveyor’s error. The surveyor my grandfather hired was off his datum by a few yards. Threw the whole property line off by a hair in my favor. Charlie was nosing around trying to get something that didn’t belong to him, but he got his fingers burnt and I ended up with another thirty acres.” Pap didn’t hide his smug smile.
“And that was that?” I said, thinking I’d knocked a hornet’s nest out of the rafters all by myself.
“There was mischief. Their young ones threw stones at the house. I filled one of them with rock salt. Then just after Easter that Tasso girl came here with Darren demanding something she said belonged to her. That was the end.”
“Lucinda? Eddie Tasso’s daughter? You sure?”
“What the hell does that mean? Yes I’m sure,” he said, indignantly.
I said, “Well, I had to rip apart the Jenkinsburg Bridge to keep them from filling us with buckshot.”
After a few seconds Jamie said, “Odelia thinks it’s going to turn up maybe?” “Oh, stop it, Jamie,” Pap said. “That’s your mother talking.”
“What’ll turn up?” I asked.
“Nothing to worry about.” My pap stared into the distant ridges. His eyes studied the miles. “Superstition. Family history.”
When neither Jamie nor my pap said anything, I quietly told them about Darren and about last night at Sirianni’s.
My pap said, “That boy’s wild enough to shoot at. Seventy years this shit’s been going on. Seventy years. That old woman sure poisoned those kids against us. Four generations of Johnny Bull Lewises and nothing but poison. Mary ruined Charlie and his brothers and Odelia, and Odelia went and ruined those boys. All for something I ain’t seen since…” He shut himself up real fast. “I was stupider than sled tracks to think it was finally over.”
I jumped into the back of the truck and started tossing logs over the side. “I’m sorry if I—”
Jamie said, “Hell, Henry. I can understand it if you can’t follow. It ain’t your fault. You got caught in the middle of something that’s been going on since Mason Collins got on that god-damned boat. Us Iron-horse Irish never stood a chance. There isn’t a family on this side of the Blackwater who hasn’t heard about Mary Lewis’s obsession. You’d be surprised at the tales some of them old-timers spin. Some of them are pretty near nasty. Nasty enough not to be surprised by anything they do.”
Pap said, “Charlie and the whole lot of them feel we owe them something. They’ve been spreading blame around since my grandpap moved up here from Lewisburg. They said he stole something belonged to them.”
“Like what?” I said, coughing on sawdust.
“Nothing. That family’s nothing but trouble,” Jamie said.
My pap added, “Stay away from them. Most of them have moved to Parsons or Elkins. A few are up in Garrett County. The rat likes to be close to his hole, you know.”
“I don’t want you to think I—”
“Just stay away from him. It’ll blow over.” The way Pap said it told me it was final.
Jamie took a bundle of kindling from me and said, “I have to run to Elkins to pick up a few instruments. Want to ride down with me, Dad?”
“Sure, I’ll ride down with you. Out of Jameson and I’m thirsty. Need to grab a pint of panther’s breath. Alex, it was a pleasure meeting you. Tonight you can tell me about yourself and what it is you do.” He stepped close for a hug from Alex.
“I look forward to it.” She released him, then gave the old man a smile that nearly melted him.
“Henry, it was good seeing you. Ben will be pleased to hear you’re back,” Jamie said, slapping my back a few times. “Your timing is perfect. You meet Preston yet?”
I shook my head. Didn’t know who he was talking about.
We watched Pap get into Jamie’s truck. It took a while. Maybe he had gotten older and I just didn’t want to see it. As they backed out of the driveway we walked over to the house.
Alex stopped me from going through the front door. “This Lewis thing. I feel like I caused some kind of trouble.”
I stood in the doorway with her and looked south over the valley for a second. “You heard them, Alex. It’s not your fault.”
I pulled her into the house with me and shut the door. I set my hat on the old newel post, worn smooth by four pairs of hands that’d never hold each other again. She sat on a bench next to the front door. A pair of my boots sat on the floor beneath the bench. Next to a pair of my dad’s work boots. I sat on the stairs, facing her. “There’ll always be ghosts in here.”
She stood, then led me up the stairs. I listened to the familiar creaks, remembering which steps I had to skip if I came home past curfew. We returned to my old room and lay down in the bed together and just looked at each other for a while. For a second I thought we might kiss and my heart sped up. My mouth got dry when I thought I might tell her how much I missed her and how sorry I was for leaving her. But she just smiled, rolled over and fell asleep.
After a few long hours of sleeping and not sleeping, I slipped out of bed and snuck out of the room to look for something. I left the bedroom door ajar. The sight of a closed door bothered me. Except for the door to Jane’s room. I left it shut. I certainly didn’t have any business there. It’d sat untouched since the day she left. Not that there was anything in it anyway. Not a picture. Not a thread of clothing. No old toys. No pillows or bedding. No curtains over the windows. No yearbooks or old cassette tapes. It was never used for storage. It never housed overnight guests. It was just four walls and a window and the memory of an argument I’d never forget as long as I lived.
Jane’s words were some of the most hurtful ever uttered in this corner of the Mountain State. She blamed my dad for whatever happened to my mother. She said that it was his fault we never got to see her again. She said he deserved all the loneliness he’d get. I should’ve intervened.
I backed away from the door. Like the room was on fire. I kept on going down the hall.
My dad’s room sat in a half-square of glass, windows overseeing a view that stretched from Cabin Mountain to Davis. The large, wrought-iron bed sat alone in the dark. One by one I opened the wood shutters that my dad and Jamie built. One by one I opened the old, stiff windows and let in a breeze that took that dust back to the earth from which it came. The breeze, at times a wind, blew through the room unimpeded. I breathed deep the scent of random blossoms mixing with the smell of stained oak and maple.
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br /> On the floor of the closet I found a box of photo albums and other stuff, which I placed on the floor next to the bed. Not what I was looking for, but worth keeping out for all the things I found in it. Things like baby shoes. Programs from my high school baseball games—I pitched two no-hitters my senior year. A bunch of VHS tapes in an old shoebox. The stickers were labeled ‘Jane’s birthday 1995,’ ‘Little League,’ ‘Clifftop 1999.’ Audio tapes of my performances with Jamie and Katy at fairs and Heritage Weeks filled another.
I set aside the tape from Clifftop. I wanted Alex to see it. There were other things: projects that we’d done in school, a Thanksgiving turkey made out of my tiny paw print and feathers, pine needles glued to construction paper for a Christmas tree. A long set of rattlesnake beads my dad collected on the train tracks in Rowlesburg. I slid those into my pocket.
Below a stack of blankets I found another box, a wooden one that I’d never seen before. I carried it back with the rest of my loot. The lid came off with a huff of cedar and old photographs revealing sights that were brand new to my eyes. There were baby pictures and childhood photos of my mom. There were love letters that my dad had written her. Her rosary beads were in there, too. She was just starting to show in their prom picture, but the cut of her dress hid it pretty well. I recognized my grandparents and their parents in more than a few. There were photos of Rachael and Jamie holding my dad, a toddler barely able to stand.
In that box was a family history, my history, and all I wanted to do was forget about all of it. In that box was the story of where I came from and who I was. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t erase the proof before my eyes. In those old photos was the image of a mother and a family I never really knew.
All I had were memories—and fading ones, at that. I laughed when I saw my dad in his football uniform with my mother, the cheerleader, smiling by his side. The back of the photo said ‘Homecoming 1989.’ They were in love even that far back. I nearly crumpled when I saw their wedding pictures. College acceptance letters that neither of them could use because they had me to take care of. Prayer cards from my pap’s little girl’s funeral. On this mountain the LORD of hosts will provide for all his peoples. On this mountain he will destroy the veil that veils all peoples, the web that is woven over all nations; he will quell death forever.
Hellbender (Murder Ballads and Whiskey Book 2) Page 10
