Heaven's Crooked Finger

by Hank Early

  Worst of all, he was still convinced Daddy was ascended somewhere in the mountains.

  Which was why I didn’t stay long. Just a few minutes, enough time to tell him I didn’t hold any grudges. Enough time to tell him I was sorry again for what had happened with Maggie. And Allison. And to update him on Baylee. It was only when I mentioned Baylee that he seemed—if only briefly—to be his old self again.

  It was a moment I’d come to treasure.

  “They shouldn’t be holding you,” I said. “You weren’t involved. I’ve told them over and over again.”

  To this, he just shook his head, his eyes wild with his pain. It hardly mattered to him, I realized, where he was miserable. I understood. Every woman he’d loved had been taken from him. Even his daughter had not really been his.

  Just before leaving, I gave him a hug. I think he might have hugged me back. It was hard to tell.

  62

  What followed was a tenuous peace. Everything should have been right in my world. I spent my days out at Rufus’s place, trading stories, talking philosophy, drinking. My nights were spent at Granny’s, spending time with a woman I loved and another I believed I might love soon.

  When Todd’s knee healed up enough, I gave them five hundred dollars and bus tickets to Florida, the place Millie dreamed of going. Nobody tried to stop them. I would have been the most likely to urge them to stay, but I had memories of a girl who’d stayed too long. If only Maggie and I had left before it all went bad. My life would have been so different. She’d still be alive.

  A few more days passed. Mary and I fell into a rhythm. We made love at night and then sat outside and looked at the stars, Goose napping nearly silent at our feet. We talked about everything and nothing at all. There seemed to be no future or past. There were only these moments. And I wanted them to last forever.

  I almost let the thing go that had been gnawing at me.

  It took Granny’s death to shake me free from the dreamlike state. It was only then that I made myself reconsider the puzzle of my father’s life and death, but it wasn’t until her funeral when the last piece fell into place.

  * * *

  In the backdrop of those days, mostly hidden beneath the layers of goodwill and intimacy Mary and I shared, were the inconsistencies of the whole ordeal. Nothing really made sense. Why had the map been inside Aida’s grave? Why had the sermon—the same one McCauley had tattooed on his hand—been so clear if I wasn’t supposed to hear it? What did the names mean on the back of the map? And most troubling of all—if my father hadn’t instructed McCauley to contact me, who had?

  All these questions seemed to come raining back down on me full force when I went by after a Thursday afternoon of drinking with Rufus and found Granny dead.

  Seeing her stiff, frail body did something to me. Something inside me got wrenched around, and I realized life was too short to pretend, even if pretending took the all too pleasurable form of lazing around with Mary Hawkins. I needed answers. Even if I didn’t like where they might take me.

  In the days leading up to her funeral, I flailed around, not getting much accomplished. I pulled out the map I’d found in Aida’s grave, reading the back so many times, I had memorized it:

  Lester

  Earl

  Earl

  Lester

  Lester

  Earl

  After Earl, follow the light.

  I tried all kinds of theories—he was leaving me some mathematical equation based on the differences in our ages, he was trying to tell me I had to get Lester’s help to find him, and on and on—but each one fell flat under scrutiny.

  Eventually, I let it go long enough to attend Granny’s funeral.

  The day was sticky with humidity, and everyone in attendance was sweating through their formal clothes. Mary had arranged for Granny to be buried down in Riley, and a dozen or so people stood around her open casket, paying final respects before they lowered her into the ground.

  When it was my turn to stand over her, I was surprised to feel a sense of déjà vu overtake me. Had I done this already? It wasn’t possible. A person could only die once. Yet the feeling was strong enough to make me step back and try the approach again. No change. I was sure I’d seen her lying in this coffin before.

  That was when it hit me. The dream I’d had that night in the shack with Todd and Millie. I’d seen her in the coffin, but only briefly, right? Because then she’d changed. Then it was my father in the coffin, and then Lester, and then finally McCauley. I remembered the polished shoes and seeing Lester’s reflection in them but not even realizing it wasn’t my own at first because . . .

  All the Marcuses favor.

  Mary had said that once, and it was true. We all favored. That was when I remembered something else. The sermon, one of Daddy’s last, had been right after his brother’s death. If he were ever going to fake his own death . . .

  I felt lightheaded with sudden understanding. I stepped away from the casket and sat down hard in a folding chair.

  Mary came over and draped an arm over my shoulder. “Are you all right?” she whispered.

  “No,” I said, “but I think I will be soon.”

  * * *

  Rufus and I walked out to the graveyard beside the old Holy Flame with two shovels.

  I stood over Uncle Otis’s grave and stabbed the still soft ground with the shovel. It had been a wet summer, and the digging was easy enough.

  With both of us working, we hit the coffin within an hour.

  “They already put a new guy in as sheriff,” Rufus said.

  “How do you know all the news in these mountains before I do?” I asked.

  “Blind men have to pay close attention. We ain’t spoiled like the rest of the world.”

  “Having eyes means you’re spoiled?”

  “Among other things.”

  I nodded and tapped the wood with my shovel. “You know this new sheriff?”

  “Nope. But I do know one thing about him.”

  “What’s that?”

  “He never went to the Holy Flame.”

  “Well,” I said, bending to open the casket, “that’s a point in his favor.”

  “Ain’t that the damned truth.”

  The casket was empty, which was exactly what I’d suspected. Daddy had left Otis’s body in the mountains and carefully removed the face. He knew Hank Shaw wouldn’t really investigate, especially if Otis was wearing Daddy’s clothes, which he had been.

  “Well?” Rufus said.

  “It’s empty. Which means they never found my daddy’s body. They found Otis’s.”

  “You mean . . . ?”

  I nodded. “My daddy dug up his own brother to fake his death.”

  “Why would a man do such a thing?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “I think he believed it would give him more power. Around here, there’s no power like the afterlife.”

  Rufus nodded. “I believe you have broken the code, my friend.”

  63

  The next morning, after a sleepless night, I rose silently and left Granny’s house before dawn. I took the map and my 9mm and drove Mary’s Tahoe back up to the gate where Shaw had taken us a couple of weeks earlier. The gate was locked and covered in police tape, but I didn’t see any officers around. I jumped over the gate without much effort and headed for the cavern where Shaw had instructed Roger and Choirboy to put the wires around our wrists.

  Here I encountered more police tape blocking the way. Beyond the tape were two corridors. The one we’d taken to get to the well was on the right. More police tape covered this entrance. The one on the left was open.

  I pulled out my penlight and the map. I turned it over and read what I’d already memorized.

  Lester

  Earl

  Earl

  Lester

  Lester

  Earl

  After Earl, follow the light.

  I looked at the two corridors again.

  Lester. />
  Left.

  It almost made sense. But what about my name? Did it mean right? It had to. An idea hit me, and I stepped back out into the sunlight. It was still morning, so the sun was low in the east. I faced the cavern, the same direction I’d be facing if I was still inside looking at the two corridors.

  The sun was on my right. My right was the east. East for Earl.

  I went back inside and took the left corridor. Even with the penlight, it was slow going. The corridor seemed to go on and on, winding mindlessly into the mountain. Because of the limited range of my light, I moved at a snail’s pace, not wanting to miss anything.

  A few moments later, the corridor widened, and I was presented with another choice. I didn’t need to look at the map to know it was time to go Earl, east, to the right.

  I followed the instructions, moving slowly through the caverns for at least half an hour until I came to the last Earl. Here there were three corridors, but only one could be considered on the eastern side, so I took it.

  When I saw light ahead and smelled smoke, I knew I was close.

  Inching forward, I came to a large cavern illuminated with a flickering light. On the far side, there was a massive hole in the mountain the size of small church, and a great expanse of stars shone in the predawn. A snarl of smoke drifted among them, and I followed it back to its source, a campfire, built out on the ledge. There was an animal roasting on a spit.

  My father sat with his back against a rock, taking in the stars, and it was the most beautiful vista I’d even seen. I stood frozen by the view, by the knowledge that my father was indeed alive.

  “Daddy?” I said.

  He turned to me slowly and nodded.

  “I prayed that you’d come,” he said.

  I didn’t know what to say, how to proceed. Everything that had happened over the last few weeks seemed a blur, unimportant. My father was alive. My father was sitting here, roasting some wild animal in the early morning dark.

  “Come on out. Let’s talk.”

  He waited as I made my way out on the ridge. From here, the view was even more spectacular. The stars seemed to go on and on forever, an ocean in the sky. Over past a few more mountains, there was the first light of the sun, straining to bleed over everything, to light a new day. But the night held on. A kind of peaceful stasis manifested itself. I sat down and watched.

  “I never miss a sunrise,” he said.

  I nodded.

  “You look like you’ve had a go of it.” His voice was the same sonorous timber, the same captivating sound of the divine it had always been. His physical presence had diminished. His body had wasted away, and his hair had fallen out. He seemed to be some ghost version of himself, and in my awe, I wondered if he’d really ascended. There was so much I didn’t understand.

  “So,” he said, “I saw the police tape. Must mean they got Hank and Billy. Probably that choirboy too. What about your brother?”

  “What about him? He never did nothing but try to please you.”

  He smiled. “True enough. But the spirit wasn’t on him. You know God works in mysterious ways. The proof is your very presence. I told Bryant to contact both of you. My hope was that you’d both come, but he didn’t make it, did he? Just you. All the way from North Carolina. You came when I called. Ain’t that something?”

  It was something, but I didn’t know what exactly. The truth was, I hated him for having this power over me, for manipulating me from inside this mountain.

  He shrugged. “It had to be done. Once upon a time, I believed he was special. God teaches you, though. He taught me that no matter how much I wanted something, I couldn’t make it be. That’s why I decided to reach out to you both. Let God decide who was worthy. And look what he decided. That’s twice by my count the Good Lord has saved you, brought you back ’round for a shot at redemption.”

  “Redemption?”

  “Of course. You didn’t think God had given up on you, did you? He don’t never give up.”

  “So you brought me here?”

  He smiled. “I follow the Good Lord’s example. Like him, I don’t never give up on a sinner. Especially not my own flesh and blood.”

  “You had McCauley contact me?” I said, still trying to get my head around it.

  “You think that fool ever came up with an idea of his own?”

  “Why be so vague? Why not just tell me where you were? Why hide at all?”

  Daddy grinned. “Why indeed? Lots of reasons, but let’s just say I wanted to remain hidden until Billy and Hank were out of the picture. I’ve known for some time now that they would betray me. Just like I knew you’d come back to me if I did it just so. God showed me. He sure did, Earl. He showed me I’d get my son back. He showed me you’d come back to the fold. All I had to do was leave some clues, and here you are.”

  There was silence. I was aware of the 9mm pressing against my calf. It felt cold and persistent. I wanted to kill him before he said more, before he convinced me my life—at least the last thirty years of it—had been a sham.

  “It’s time to step up to the plate, Earl. Decide who you are, what you’re going to be.”

  And that was really the question, wasn’t it? Who was I?

  The son of a North Georgia preacher. The boy of a legend who called the lightning, and looked upon God’s face, and lifted serpents into the air like they were harmless. A man who couldn’t betray his past, his father. A man who had been manipulated by the master, by the one man nobody could stand up to.

  Except that wasn’t quite right, was it? I heard Lester’s voice inside my head. You’re the only person I’ve ever known who stood up to Daddy.

  Yet I still felt caught under the shadow of his towering existence. I feared that version of me was gone. I feared all the heartache I’d endured had killed the little bit of life I’d once had.

  After all, didn’t I need to be redeemed? Hadn’t I sinned early and often and even seen the long-term effects of those sins on my life?

  I felt like a man being split apart by the lightning. One side of me knew it was all bullshit, it had to be, while the other side of me was sure it was the truth and that most of my life had been a lie.

  It wasn’t until Daddy said the next part that I came to my senses.

  “It’s always the females,” he said. “They ruin everything. They make a godly man live in sin, a good son turn on his father. But in the end, it all works out to good. I’ve said it so many times, but it’s true: God does work in mysterious ways.” He smiled at me then as if the matter was settled, as if that was all it would take for me to forgive him for a lifetime of fear and subjugation, as if his simple yet deeply flawed logic would be irrefutable.

  The sad thing was I almost wanted to just let it ride. It would have been easier to do just that.

  Instead, I reached for the 9mm.

  “What’s this?” he said.

  “A gun,” I said.

  He smiled at me as if I were offering him more bread at the dinner table.

  “You ruined lives,” I said. “Mine, Lester’s, Maggie’s, Allison DeWalt’s, Baylee’s. Many more.”

  “You would give me so much power? I say again, the Lord makes all things come out to good.”

  “What about Aida?” I said. “Nothing good came out of that.”

  He sighed. “You never learn, do you, Earl? You never let go. I admire that. Well, would admire that if you applied it to faith. Instead, it’s just one more aspect of your personality I don’t understand. God has offered you everything, yet you continue to reject him.”

  “You don’t know God,” I said. “I’ve seen God.”

  “Have you now?”

  “Yes, sir. I saw him in Arnette Lacey when she took me in after you deserted your own son.”

  “That nigger midwife? You are a corrupted soul, Earl.” I saw the first glimmer of irritation in his face. He’d been so sure that if he could get me here, the rest would be easy. I’d accept his faith, turn to his religion. He’d wi
n in the end by controlling me. Because that was what Daddy’s love had always been about: control.

  He stood up then, and for the first time, I saw what had been lying on the other side of him. It was a sawed-off shotgun. He picked it up with one hand but kept the twin barrels pointed toward the ledge.

  “You’d shoot your father, Earl? After all I’ve done for you? No, I don’t think so. Put down the gun. Let’s pray. I love you.”

  “You’re a liar. What kind of love is it that makes a father hand his son a snake? What kind of love does . . . all of this? I mean, think of the wasted lives just to get me right here. Just so you can have the satisfaction of knowing I never got away?”

  “If you don’t put that gun down, son, I’ll be forced to defend myself. In a firefight, I’m going to win. Even if I die. I go to heaven. If you die, though . . . well, that’s the rub, ain’t it? I want you to think about that. Think about it hard.”

  “I should have killed you a long time ago,” I said. “I should have done it while you were sleeping. Think of all the misery I could have saved.”

  “You don’t know misery, boy. Not the kind that hell will bring.” He lifted the shotgun. “I’m afraid one of us is fixing to get shot.”

  I aimed the 9mm at his head. “It might be you.”

  “So be it. I’m prepared. It’s you who will have to answer for your sins. Just remember, God’s judgment is harsher than any lightning. I see the marks on you now, but God will leave a mark on your soul. He’ll blister it and—”

  He fired. The shotgun pellets ate up the entire left side of the cavern, narrowly missing me. I felt the heat of them on my arm and neck, and when I twisted away from the blast, I lost my balance and fell onto the hard ground. I hadn’t been expecting that. Daddy always said his peace, was never one to cut his own speech short. But not this time.

  Still, I managed to hold on to the gun. I aimed it up at him. My first two shots went wide, out through the side of the mountain.

  He kicked the gun out of my hand.

  “It’s a good thing I love you,” he said. “Otherwise, you’d already be in hell. But no, your father just keeps on trying and trying and trying to make you see.” Something in him had snapped. He began to kick me repeatedly. My side hurt so badly, I could hardly process the kicks.