Deception Creek

by Persun, Terry

  “You’re innocent, aren’t you?” Billy said.

  “No. I killed William.”

  “Out of rage,” Billy said.

  “I still did it. I couldn’t stop. I lost control.”

  Heat rose from the street outside and entered the room on a breeze. Jack’s forehead beaded with seat. “The worst thing that happened that day was how I frightened Alice. Her eyes. She didn’t even recognize me.”

  “What happened then?”

  “The police could have guessed what happened, anyone could have guessed, but Charlie Maynard owned half of them back then. If I didn’t say anything, no one would. And Alice—” He sighed.

  “What about her?”

  “Well, if she didn’t want me, then it wasn’t worth living.”

  “Are you kidding?” Billy said.

  “At the time, Billy. At the time. You just don’t know how in love we were. Like they say, love and hate are so close. By the time the trial came up, I had decided that the last thing I could do for her was to keep silent. No one had said anything to that point. It was easy to maintain.”

  “It was your child?” Billy’s voice broke. His heart pounded.

  “The worst thing for me was that she was pregnant with William’s child — although that would be better for her under the circumstances. I accepted the worst scenario, that it was William’s child.”

  “But what if it was yours?”

  “Who would want a murderer for a father? That would have made growing up unbearable. As it was, it was probably hard, but not as bad as it could have been. The memory of a football hero is better than the reality of a murderer.” Jack turned his head back from his gaze out the window and let his eyes peer into Billy’s face as if trying to find traces of himself.

  “I don’t know if you’re right,” Billy told him. His voice quivered. “A rapist isn’t very high on my list as the perfect father, either.”

  “But you didn’t know that. No one did. As for me, I was young. People change. Maybe I’d choose differently now. It doesn’t matter.” Jack turned his head to look out the window again.

  Billy swallowed and tightened his lips. He thought about the possibilities and which he would have chosen, but couldn’t connect to the idea tightly enough to make a solid decision. “You came to the funeral.”

  “I still loved her. I still do. At least the Alice I knew. She changed her love to hate that day, not me. I think mine turned into sadness, to self-pity, but never to hate. I could never hate. Sound funny coming from someone who did what I did? I never hated William, even as I hit him. I was angry, but I didn’t hate him. I was as angry with myself as I was with him. I got there late. I was always late in those days, not now. Not now.”

  Billy stirred, crossed his legs, leaned forward, but Jack didn’t give him the chance to talk.

  “You probably don’t care about how I feel. Either way, you grew up without a father. Either way.”

  “I got a note, you know? She wrote a note to me.”

  “And—”

  “The note said you were lovers. It said that William followed her and raped her. That you got angry, and—” He averted his eyes. “It said she was scared and didn’t know what to do. That’s all.”

  “You went through her things?”

  “Nothing,” Billy said. So, where to next? If you are not my father, then we are two men who work together. We have a connected past, that’s all. And the connections are both dead.” Billy took a deep breath. “If, somehow, after all this, you are my father, what do we do?”

  Jack didn’t move a muscle. “I haven’t even imagined.” He paused, took a deep breath, and blew it out slowly. “I never allowed myself to imagine that I could be your father. I don’t know what we do.” Jack let his gaze drop to the carpet, then up and into Billy’s eyes. “That’s what you suspect, isn’t it?”

  Billy couldn’t speak. His head bobbed. He wanted to run from his own question.

  “What if I’m all that’s left? Your last straw? There’s nothing else to hold onto.” He stood and walked to the window. “I don’t want to be that. Your last resort. I wouldn’t make a very good one. My moorings aren’t that secure.”

  “Think about it,” Billy said.

  “We don’t know, Billy. Neither of us. I had hoped that Alice knew, but I don’t think so now. Either way she chose to look there was sadness, a bad memory. I don’t know if I could bear such pressure as long as she did.”

  “I’ve got to go.”

  “I didn’t mean you,” Jack said. “You’re what saved her all those years. You became her purpose.”

  “So when I moved out, she was through?” He hated the thought that he may have caused her to go over the edge.

  “I didn’t say that.” Jack reached out for him.

  Billy pulled away. “Leave me alone,” he said, even though that was not what he wanted. “You’ll only see Alice in me, or the murder, William’s face.” His emotions moved him to action. He wished he could scream, fly away, disappear.

  Jack’s shoulders slumped and his arms hung loosely at his sides. “I wouldn’t,” he said. Billy walked out and closed the door. He heard the door groan as if Jack had leaned against it.

  Holding back tears, Billy ran from the hotel all the way to his truck. By the time he reached the outskirts of town, he had calmed somewhat. His shoulders tightened around his neck, his jaw clenched, but his tears no longer threatened to pour out and the ringing in his ears had stopped. Finally, he noticed that the back of his shirt was soaked and his neck wet. Sweat also made his pants stick to his legs. The blowing wind had stiffened, but dried his face. The smell of summer rose all around him. Humidity, which hung in the valley, closed in on him. As long as the truck was moving, and air flowed over him, the heat felt bearable. When he stopped, the humidity clasped its hands around him and he began to sweat again, began to breathe heavier.

  When he arrived at Scott’s, he waited in the truck for a moment, listening to the sawing and hammering inside the shop. After a short while, he went into the house and changed into work clothes. Determined not to think about his conversations with Jack or Grandpa Maynard, Billy dove into work with Scott. For the rest of the afternoon and evening, Billy helped Scott with finish work. They took a short break for dinner, then went back to work until late into the evening. By the time they finished, Billy felt tired, but much better. The physical labor had exhausted him in a new way. He showered and fell asleep quickly.

  When Sunday morning arrived, Billy stayed in bed and listened to the birds outside his window. He lay face up, staring at the ceiling. He heard very little rustling down stairs and imagined Scott trying to be quiet.

  He felt totally alone and kept still to savor the feeling. So much had gone on in the past few weeks that he had few feelings at all. Whether people who were actually, physically present, or people so intensely occupying his mind that they had might as well been present, Billy had not been alone. At that moment, listening to hundreds of birds chirping and fluttering around the trees just outside the bedroom window, Billy felt amazingly at peace.

  What had the birds in an uproar was an approaching storm from the northwest. The negative ions in the air contributed to Billy’s feelings of comfort. He heard horses in the field that attached to Scott’s side woods gallop about happily. He imagined early morning risers all over town walking outside just to smell the clean air and feel the wind that announced the coming storm. Tree leaves, oak, maple, butternut, birch, turned up their shiny undersides in early announcement of the rain.

  * * *

  Jack got out of bed, dressed, and took a long walk from the Wyoming Hotel down to Todd’s bakery for coffee and a plain doughnut. Then he walked to the Lamont River, crossed the Center City Bridge, and headed towards the South-Side Ball Field to watch the wind-witches twirl the loose dirt into tiny hurricane-like whirlwinds — something he hadn’t seen in years. He hoped to get caught in the rain while returning to the apartment. To feel it soak through his c
lothes to his skin.

  * * *

  Grandpa Maynard stepped outside. In the fresh morning air, he retraced the steps he and Billy had taken the day before, nothing specific in his thoughts, merely glimpses of a small boy growing up, innocent, wide-eyed and…individual. After a while, his heart opened to the small child, to the young man who, for many years, was his grandson. Even though he had wished for Billy to be his son, the best that had happened was that he did not fit that mold.

  * * *

  Grandma Maynard lay in bed awake, like Billy, only she lay on her side staring out the window at the shiny leaves of a maple tree. Tears dripped down her cheek. She was tired of holding onto the heavy resentment, hate, and judgment that pressed against her heart. She breathed deeply over and over, and with every exhale, relaxed her heart a little more, letting those unwanted feelings empty out of her.

  * * *

  Billy rose from bed and rubbed his eyes. He went to the bathroom mirror and saw only himself. Cocking his head, he searched for Jack, for William, even for traces of Alice. The angles of his own features had grown stronger than hers, his hair curlier, his body tighter. He felt strong. Through facing each of them — first Grandpa Maynard, then Jack — the day before, he realized that he had diluted their effect on him. He saw them through different eyes now. And like a difficult math problem, all he needed was to sleep on it for it to solve itself.

  Billy stared at the mirror until his face took on its own light. He showered and dressed. Downstairs he ate breakfast alone, while Scott worked in the shop. Billy didn’t want to obstruct his feelings; he wanted to hold onto them, reacquaint himself with who he really was. After breakfast, he took a long drive, smiling and singing inside the truck cab. When the rainstorm arrived, he drove to London’s and parked along the side of their store and out of the way of the strong wind and battering raindrops. He ran inside. Vicki stood behind the counter. Her friend unpacked boxes of cereal onto a shelf. Billy motioned for Vicki to join him outside, so she announced that she’d be gone for a little while and ran with him to the truck. Inside the cab, the rain beat softly around them, the sound muffled, the sensation cozy and warm.

  He wanted to tell her how much better he felt, but couldn’t, so they sat quietly together, listening to the rain. When she sighed, he asked if she was all right.

  She shook her head, yes. Then shrugged her shoulders. “I thought you wanted to talk. But you haven’t said anything. You just sit there and smile at me.”

  “I’ve been smiling?”

  “Yes. You don’t know?”

  “I guess I’ve been thinking, well, not really thinking, but feeling. I’m feeling better. And, well, I wanted to share it with you.” He turned toward her and put out his hand for her to take.

  She placed her hand in his and shook it once. They were not sitting close together and she had to reach for his hand.

  “Vicki, I woke up different this morning. It might not last, I don’t know, but this whole thing doesn’t feel so heavy. It doesn’t seem to have the same strangle hold on my throat it once had.” A loud crack of thunder shook the cab. Billy saw Vicki jump and automatically pulled her close to protect her.

  She willingly moved over, leaned into him, and allowed his hand to let go of hers so he could place his arm over her shoulder. “What do you think happened?” she asked.

  “I don’t know for sure. A lot of things. Exhaustion being one of them. I think my head just got tired of worrying about everything.” He thought more deeply about it. “Not everything. I still feel sad about Mom.” Something stirred inside him, different from the feelings he’d been having.

  “I’m here if you need to talk with someone,” she said.

  “I know. But it’s not like that anymore. I just feel sad. Like it is too bad it had to happen the way it did. I feel like a person who has experienced his mother’s suicide, not like someone attached to it, or responsible for it. It feels almost like she died a different death. One I truly could not have stopped.”

  “You couldn’t stop this one, Billy. If that’s how she decided to go, there is nothing you could have done.” Vicki turned her head to look up and into his face. She had to pull away from him a little to see his reaction, to tell if he truly understood what she had said.

  “You’re right. Even if I’d stayed home, she would have done it. And I’ve cried about it. Somehow, it feels over now. I’m just sorry it happened.”

  Vicki hugged him awkwardly.

  Billy held her afterwards, but noticed an uneasiness in her demeanor.

  Vicki asked, “Are we just friends?”

  Billy stirred, reviewed his affections, replayed the amount of physical contact they had had lately. How did he feel? “No.” And the second he said it, his heartbeat picked up.

  “More than friends then?”

  “More,” he said with a tone that belied he didn’t quite know how much more.

  “I’m sure your feelings concerning me have not been your priority. I didn’t mean to come on so strong with the questions. I just wanted to get an idea. I’m not asking for anything definite.”

  “Stop,” he said before she began to ramble out of control. “You don’t have to explain. I should be explaining. I know I’ve given you mixed signals. In a way I’ve taken advantage of you, your kindness. When I needed closeness, you were willing to be there, even if neither of us knew what it might mean, or where it might lead.”

  “You didn’t take advantage. I wanted to be there for you.” She hesitated. “To be honest, I figured all you needed was a friend. I admit my feelings have been stronger than that — you probably knew — but I’ve kept them in check the best I know how. That’s why I asked. I wasn’t searching for a commitment, just the okay to relax a little.”

  “I don’t want to lead you on. I don’t want to be dishonest. I’ve been through a lot and I don’t want to use you for my own personal comfort. But I think I need to think about this for a while. At first—”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, at first I thought you were just too young.”

  “There’s only—”

  “I know. Your mother thinks it’s all right, too.”

  “She told me. In a way she’s encouraged me.” She touched his cheek. “Not that I needed much encouragement.”

  They kissed softly, gently, in a way that meant more than just friends.

  Chapter 14

  Seeing Jack’s face Monday morning shocked Billy at first, made him feel uncomfortable, but he kept silent. Jack continued to be civil, but noticeably lacked the words to go any deeper than that. By Thursday morning though, he and Jack were conversing more as adults, their relative shyness had turned to a mild form of camaraderie due to their close working conditions.

  Harry brought doughnuts for the men that morning. Billy and Jack, along with most of the crew, hung around Harry’s truck. Billy noticed that Harry didn’t have such heavy bags under his eyes that morning. He smiled a lot too. Maybe his life had turned for the better.

  “Jack,” Harry said. “The cross will be ready tomorrow morning, I’m told. You ready for it?”

  “Any time, boss.”

  “You gotta pick one of these wimps to go up with you. With harnesses,” Harry said.

  Several of the men stepped back and said no, jokingly.

  “I can do it. Not that I like it up there, but I can do it,” Hillman said.

  Tim Slater jerked his chin towards Jack and asked, “Aren’t you just a little afraid up there. I see you walking without a harness and just wonder if you’re not scared of dyin’?”

  Jack smiled at Tim. “I like it. Always have. Even as a kid. I look at it as being close to God. I feel exuberant when I’m up there. I think that if I start to fall from up there, God doesn’t have as far to reach down and save my ass as he would if I fell from down lower.”

  “Exuberant?” Tim said.

  “Yep. Exuberant.”

  “I don’t know about God’s hand comin’ down to grab me, but I
believe I’ll be wearin’ a harness just in case he’s lookin’ the other way,” Hillman said.

  “Let me try,” Billy offered.

  Hillman scoffed. “Don’t be stupid, kid. It’s too dangerous.”

  “It’s not just the height,” Harry said. “It’s the incline; it’s the slippery surface, the tight quarters. With two men up there, it becomes more dangerous for both of you. I guess I could hire it out,” he said, “but all the big guns got the guys who are used to heights. They even called people in from out-of-town. Don’t know why I got all the ground-huggers.” Harry shook his head at his own musings and to dismiss Billy’s suggestion. “It’s not a forgiving place up there,” he said.

  Billy’s face flashed with embarrassment because he’d been shot down so quickly by everyone. Other men he noticed were shaking their heads in agreement with Harry’s assessment. Scott grabbed Billy’s shoulder and whispered from behind him, “You don’t want to risk it up there.”

  “Maybe I do,” Billy whispered back.

  Harry must have heard the two of them. He looked at Billy. “Well, you’re not going to. And Hill, thanks for volunteering. Anyone else change their mind, talk with Jack. It’s his life up there, too.

  When the crew disassembled and went back to work, Billy stepped up to pace with Jack.

  Jack turned to look at him. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “Do you?” Billy said.

  “If all you want is a father, don’t do it. If all you want is an answer, don’t do it. Neither is worth risking your life for. Nor risking mine.”

  “We’ll be wearing harnesses. Besides, what if I just want to be closer to God?” Billy said.

  Jack stopped short. He turned to Billy. “Then be closer to God, don’t go closer to him.” Jack nodded approval to his own words. “Be there first.” Jack went on then, leaving Billy standing.

  “You just don’t want to know!” Billy yelled after him. “You don’t want the truth! You’re afraid of the responsibility!”