River Walker

by Cate Culpepper

  “Yes. Rita is Mr. Perez’s daughter.” Elena turned as the door shot open and two small boys tumbled out of the house, each with a big towel slung over his shoulder. Their happy shrieks rattled Grady’s nerves, but then she was often rattled when she saw boys Max’s age.

  “Vámanos, go, get gone!” Rita appeared in the doorway, flapping one hand at the scrambling kids. A hulking man came up beside her, yawning as he pulled on a T-shirt. Rita reached up to grip his chin in her fingers and pulled his head down for a smacking kiss. “I owe you for this,” she told him. “I promise I’ll take them swimming three times next week.”

  “Yes, you will,” the man muttered, but he was smiling and his smile broadened when he saw Elena. “Hey, Elena. Glad you’re here. Glad I’m gone.”

  “Good morning, Tomás.” Elena held the screen door open so the big man could inch past the three women on the front porch. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Come on, hurry. The flies will get in.” Rita flapped them into the house much the same way she had waved her sons out of it, and Grady and Janice followed Elena into the narrow entry.

  A much humbler abode than that of Manuel Herrera, the home Santos Perez shared with his daughter and her family was cramped and dark, but messy with the kind of happy chaos that characterized a home with children. Toys and clothes lay scattered over the furniture and floor, and Grady heard the theme from Thomas the Tank Engine whistling from the television. Rita snapped it off, then straightened and pushed her hair out of her bloodshot eyes.

  “You’ve been up all night?” Elena frowned at her.

  “Tomás spelled me for an hour or two. I’ll catch a nap later.” She smiled at Grady. “And how is our loca professor this morning? The one who absolutely never faints?”

  “I’m good.” Grady liked Rita, a large woman with a generous laugh. She noted her slumped shoulders, the lines beneath her eyes. A sister in sleeplessness. “Thanks for letting us come today.”

  “Rita, this is Janice Hamilton.” Elena touched Janice’s shoulder. “She’s one of Grady’s students. I’ve told them we need to be quiet and calm around your father. He had a difficult night?”

  “No more difficult than the last nine nights.” Rita shrugged. “And in some ways, he’s better. Those herbs you gave me to put in his soup are helping a little, Elena.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “His dreams aren’t as bad.” Rita stifled a yawn. “He still won’t close his eyes at night and he can’t be alone when it’s dark outside, but at least he’s sleeping better in the day.”

  “Are you sure your father’s all right with this interview, Rita?” Grady asked. “Sounds like he’s in rocky shape.”

  “Yeah, he’s fine with it. I asked him again, just now. He trusts Elena.” Rita sighed and gestured for the stairs leading to an upper floor. “Let’s go chat with my daddy.”

  The four of them caused considerable creaking on the worn steps, and Rita gestured to them to climb carefully. Bright light issued from the hallway at the top of the stairs. Rita began talking in a low, soothing voice several yards before she reached the closed bedroom door.

  “Dad, it’s just Rita, bringing friends to visit you. Elena is here. She’s brought the ladies she told you about, from the university.” Rita paused at the door. “Is it all right to open the door?”

  “Yes.” The voice inside was guttural and faint.

  “Okay.” She turned and whispered to them. “Walk slow, don’t move your arms around a lot. You can ask him about what happened, but don’t say her name.” Rita didn’t have to identify “her.” She opened the door and ushered them inside.

  The large bedroom was bathed in light—electric light, as the curtains to the two windows were drawn tightly shut. In addition to the overhead fixture, Grady counted three standing lamps set around the room, blazing brightly, and a table lamp on a stand beside the bed.

  The brightness hit Grady only a second before the smell. The humble haven of Santos Perez stank with the funk of unwashed man and long nights of fear sweat. The two fans set close to the bed did little to dispel the stench. She felt Janice recoil slightly behind her, but she made no sound.

  Grady thought the man sitting up in the double bed had to be Rita’s grandfather. His whiskered face was weathered and creased, his mustache and sparse hair an oily, dirty white. The sheets on his bed had been tucked in recently, the many pillows piled neatly behind his back. He was watching them with glazed eyes.

  “Hello, Señor Perez.” Elena spoke as gently as Rita had. “May I come and sit beside you?”

  “Yes, you can come.” His gaze drifted without interest over Grady and Janice.

  Elena stepped quietly across the large room and sat in the comfortable armchair near the bed. She spoke to Perez in a whisper of Spanish, too softly for those near the door to hear. It went without saying that the communication between the curandera and her patient would be private, not part of the project interview.

  Perez answered most of Elena’s questions with a slow nod. Grady gathered she asked if she could touch him, and he allowed it. She checked his vision, listened to his heart, and smelled his breath without passing out.

  “There lies the meanest man I’ve ever known.” Rita’s low voice drew Grady out of her rapt focus on Elena. Her tone held little rancor. She was watching her father with a mixture of pity and indifference. “He was worse when he was wasted, which was a lot of the time when I was a kid. He’s mellowed out some since my mom died. Which is a good thing, because he has to live with us now.” Rita’s expression grew fierce. “I wouldn’t let him around my boys if he was still throwing kids into walls.”

  Grady felt cold fingers brush her wrist. Janice was looking at her pleadingly, and Grady nodded permission. They were far enough away from Santos Perez for privacy, and Rita seemed to want to talk.

  “Can you tell us what happened to your dad at the river?” Janice asked softly.

  Rita let out a long breath and leaned back against the door. “Tomás had to work that night. So I took my father and the kids to a barbecue at my friend’s house in Picacho. We stayed late. We were driving home, with the boys asleep in the backseat. I took the shortcut, the frontage road by the river.”

  Rita scratched her scalp, scowling. “I didn’t even think. Most people around here have the sense to avoid the river at night right now, but I just turned onto that frontage road like an idiot. And about a mile later, my father just went crazy. Yelling, clawing at the windshield. He kicked open the car door, and I could barely slow down before he jumped out.”

  Rita paused. Grady glanced at Janice to keep her from interrupting with a question, but Janice didn’t need the warning. She waited quietly while Rita gathered her thoughts.

  “He scared the kids to death. They were screaming and crying. But when he took off toward the river, I knew I had to leave them and go after him.” Rita looked back at the shrunken man in the bed. “It was a damn close call. I had to knock him down and lay on top of him to keep him from jumping in. I’m a big girl, but he was bigger then. I almost couldn’t hold him.”

  Grady saw Elena place her hand on Perez’s sunken chest and close her eyes. They began a prayer together, the man’s voice halting and reedy. Grady remembered Elena telling her that certain conditions must be met for Llorona to bring down her prey. Santos Perez had not been alone at the river when he heard the witch-ghost roar. The daughter who had endured his cruelty as a child had saved his life and nursed him with obvious care now.

  “I got him home, and he’s been like this ever since.” Rita rubbed her nose. “I’m sorry about the stink in here. He won’t let me wash him. He’s afraid of water now. He’ll drink juice and the tea Elena brings him, but nothing else.”

  The prayer Elena shared with her patient was lengthy. When it was over, Elena opened the small satchel she carried and drew out several packets of herbs. She still spoke quietly but turned in the armchair to include the women by the door. “You can stir these into any hot
beverage, Señor Perez. I want you to try to get out of bed for a while after you wake up. Just let Rita or Tomás walk you around this room a few times. You must get strength back into your legs.”

  “I will.” His gaze drifted toward the curtained windows, and Grady didn’t believe him. She couldn’t imagine this frail old man leaving the safety of his bed.

  “Grady?” Elena rose slowly from the chair. “Would you like a few minutes?”

  Grady hesitated, and looked at Janice. Everyone had a first test. “Go ahead,” she whispered.

  “Me?” Janice squeaked.

  “You, yes. Just focus on what he needs to tell us. Let him guide the story.”

  “Grady—”

  “You can do this, Janice. I’ll be right beside you if you need help.”

  Janice closed her mouth. She looked uncertainly at Elena but followed Grady closer to the bed. Grady held the armchair and Janice slid into it. Even their gentle approach made Santos Perez tense, his fingers clenching the sheets. Grady stood next to Elena, close enough to hear Janice, but not crowding the bed.

  “Hello, Mr. Perez.” Janice cleared her throat quietly. “Um, my name is Janice Hamilton. And this is Dr. Wrenn, my instructor. Is it okay if we talk for a while?”

  “Yes. It’s okay.” His fingers relaxed in the sheets. “You’re Elena’s friends.”

  “That’s right.” Janice glanced at Grady. “We’re trying to learn more about…what happened to you, the other night.”

  Perez’s breathing changed; not dramatically, but it quickened in his hollow chest. He blinked hard. “She got me away.” He jerked his chin in Rita’s direction. “That one.”

  Janice nodded. “Rita got you away?”

  “Yes, that one.” Perez gazed over Janice’s shoulder at his daughter, who stood silently across the room. “I kicked her mother in the belly, when she was in her womb. I slapped her when she was still in a crib. And still, she got me away. Before the water.”

  Grady studied him dispassionately. There were clumps of thin white strands on the pillows; his hair was falling out. Standing quietly beside her, Elena was watching Perez with more compassion than Grady could conjure at the moment.

  “Rita saved your life, then.” Janice’s body was relaxing into the chair, instinctively taking on the unthreatening posture this fragile man required. Grady sensed his need to talk, to confess, and apparently Janice was attuned to it, too. “She stopped you before you could jump into the river?”

  “That one, Rita, she has four brothers.” His raspy voice lowered. “Only one of them speaks to me now, and only when he wants money. I’m a man without sons.” His red eyes welled with tears that Grady attributed to self-pity. “My sons hate me. They should cut my throat. I drove their mother, my Lucy, to an early grave. She was an angel on this earth, and I made her life a hell.”

  Not selfish tears, then, Grady realized. Remorse. Shame emanated from Santos Perez in waves, like the smell of his unwashed body.

  “What was it like for you, Mr. Perez?” Janice was doing well, using a light hand in keeping her subject focused. “The night you ran for the river?”

  “Like the Virgin Mother herself turned her face from me forever. God save my evil fucking soul.” Perez’s eyes had taken on a dead sheen, the kind of flat stare Grady heard was common in soldiers fresh out of combat. “The witch is the Angel of Death. She came for me. She showed me what I am. I wanted to tear off my skin. Only the river could end my shitty waste of a life. Even now.” Perez punched his chest weakly. “Even now, a bathtub would be my coffin, or just a sink. I’d drown myself just to kill her screams, and my memories.”

  Janice started to speak, but Grady’s light touch on her shoulder quieted her as Perez began to weep. At first his sobs were the weak sputtering of the aged, but then they deepened, seemingly wrenched from subterranean caverns of regret.

  “This’ll go on, for a while.” Rita didn’t sound callous, just pragmatic. “He’ll drop off pretty soon.”

  “It’s best if we keep this talk brief anyway.” Elena rested her hand on the sheets over his leg, and he didn’t flinch from her touch. “Señor Perez looks tired.”

  Grady doubted they could learn much more from this wretch, and it would be a relief to be out of his presence. She nodded at Janice.

  “Mr. Perez, thanks very much for talking to us today.” Janice paused, and her voice was kind. “I’m sorry you’re suffering like this. I hope you’re better soon.”

  Perez didn’t acknowledge her. His bony hands were clenched over his face, and his sobs were becoming reedy and whistling again as he tired.

  Grady left Rita and Elena to help him lie down and adjust his bedding. She ushered Janice out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the house. They didn’t speak until they stood together on the front porch.

  “Grady, I wasn’t expecting to hear that.” Janice looked pensive. “I thought Llorona’s wail chased men into the river, and they died trying to get away from her. He sounded more like he wanted to kill himself, that he thought he deserved to drown. He sounded sorry.”

  “Yeah, he sounded sorry. But in all his sorrow, I never heard him apologize to his daughter.” Grady was tempted to ask Janice for a cigarette. She had never smoked, but she could make an exception. Santos Perez depressed the hell out of her.

  She heard Elena and Rita coming, and she focused on Janice again. “Hey, you did well in there. We’ll break down the interview in class, but I don’t have many notes for you. You’re showing a real nice touch for field work, Janice.”

  “Well. That’s good. Thanks.” Sunlight flooded Janice’s face, but she quickly assumed an aloof and professional expression. “I’m going to go write out my notes, while they’re clear in my head. Thanks, Grady.” She waved at Elena and Rita and hurried down the stone steps to her car.

  “And you simply must get more rest yourself, Rita.” Elena sounded stern as they stepped through the screen door and joined Grady on the porch. “Tomás should help more. You know this may not get any easier.”

  “He’s going to die, isn’t he?” Rita sounded resigned.

  “Mi amiga, that’s possible. I can make him more comfortable, but the witch’s hold on him is still very strong.”

  Rita caught Grady’s look, and she chuckled without humor. “That old man up there is forty-eight years old, Grady. That’s what Llorona did to him. He’s been shrinking, getting smaller and weaker, ever since.” She shook her head. “Maybe hearing the River Walker is something you can’t come back from. Something you shouldn’t come back from. Not if you’re a certain kind of man.”

  Rita’s eyes filled with tears, and Elena lifted her hand and held it. They stood together, listening to the sad piping of birdsong from the tree outside.

  “My mom would want me to forgive him.” Rita’s tone held bitterness for the first time. “She made her life’s work forgiving that man. I think the cancer in her stomach was made up of all the excuses she made for him. She would tell me he’s sorry now and our church tells me I should accept his repentance.” She scrubbed her hand across her eyes. “But I can’t get there yet.”

  “Forgiveness can be very hard.” Elena pressed her hand. “I think your mamá understands better now what growing up was like for you, Rita. The two of you will talk all of this over someday.”

  Rita found a weary smile, and she pulled Elena into a hug. “I don’t know how I’d get through this without you, chica. I hope you’re being careful out there. I don’t want you getting run off any more roads.”

  “I’m careful, I promise.” Elena’s voice was muffled against Rita’s plump shoulder.

  Rita released Elena and turned to Grady. “You be careful, too. And look out for my ballsy little friend here.”

  Grady accepted Rita’s unexpected embrace willingly. “I’ll do my best.”

  Rita straightened and brushed her fingers through her messy hair. “I need to go check on him. He can’t call for me. He’s even scared by his own voice if it’s loud.
”

  “Thanks, Rita.” Grady went to the steps, the morning sun a welcome benediction on her head. “You get some sleep.”

  Elena cupped Rita’s face in her hand. “I’ll call you tonight.” Rita nodded and went back into the house, closing the door with a quiet click.

  Grady and Elena walked together silently, Elena with a faraway look, her hands clasped behind her, Grady grinding her teeth. Elena’s shop was in sight before Grady finally spoke.

  “It’s justice,” Grady said. “What’s happening in that house.”

  Elena didn’t respond.

  “The man kicked his pregnant wife in the stomach, Elena.”

  “Yes, he did. But Llorona doesn’t have the right to impose this kind of mortal justice. Santos Perez should be punished by the laws of Mesilla, and by his God. Maria doesn’t set things right. She murders these men in cold blood. Their widows might see some benevolence in that, but you and I can’t afford to. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. I do.” Grady sighed. “Anyway. Thank you for letting us see Perez.”

  Elena’s smile returned. “Thank you for letting Janice take the lead back there. You’ve taught her well.”

  “Yeah, I was impressed. Janice did fine.”

  “I saw her face when you were talking on the porch. Janice’s eyes as she looked at you were exactly like yours when you talk about your Dr. Lassiter.” Elena glanced both ways, then went up on her toes and kissed Grady’s cheek. “Now vámanos, gringa. I’ll see you tomorrow for your Spanish lesson.”

  Grady slid her hands into the pockets of her jeans and jangled her keys until Elena disappeared behind the door of her shop. She walked to her truck, pondering vengeful witches and mortal justice and the lovely softness of Elena Montalvo’s lips.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Your fall syllabus, Dr. Wrenn. When may I expect it?”

  Grady hadn’t seen Dr. Lassiter appear in her office doorway, and her cold voice startled her from a rather pleasant reverie. She quickly lowered her feet from her desk and sat up.

  “My syllabus? Isn’t it due to you next wee—”