Henry looked toward Raylene, who didn’t meet his eyes.
“Sure, King. I understand.”
“Okay, then. Long as we’re loud and clear,” King said.
“Henry, tell her I’m sorry, will you? I truly didn’t mean her no harm.”
“I will, Dwight. And I’m sorry about your face. I got a few extra jars of moonshine in the truck, if that’d go any distance to making up for it.”
Dwight broke into a smile wide enough to make Raylene sigh as she was trying to close up the wound.
“Aw, now Henry, it really is water under the bridge, but since you’re offering, I wouldn’t say no to any of that Martell ’shine.”
“Okay, then. Let me get Eve settled in the truck and I’ll bring them in for you. If you’re sure you don’t want to press charges, that is. I’ll understand if you do. Even let you have the whiskey anyway, just to show there’s no hard feelings.”
“You’re a good man, Henry. A good man. Your daddy’d be proud of you. But no, I ain’t pressing charges, so you can take Deputy Watson here with you when you go, if you don’t mind. Drinking with the coppers hanging ’round always gives me indigestion.”
“That’s not indigestion, that’s your guilty conscience acting up,” Raylene said.
Henry held out his hand. Dwight shook it with a grip that belied his age.
“I’ll walk you out,” Brady said. “Since I can see I’m not needed here. You take care of this old cuss, Raylene. King.” Brady inclined his head to him.
Henry walked back over to where Eve was waiting for him, looking frail and confused.
“Come on,” he said gently. “You want to get out of here?”
She looked up into his face and nodded silently. He placed his hand lightly on her back and led her out into the shiny heat of the day.
Once she was settled safely into the passenger seat of his old truck, he shut the door and turned toward Brady, who’d walked out behind them.
“Henry, I’ve been hoping to run into you. That’s why I was headed over here when I got the call from Gladys. Thinking I’d catch you on your deliveries.”
“Everything all right, Brady?” Henry asked as he moved to the bed of the truck to grab the whiskey for Dwight.
Brady hitched up the pants of his deputy uniform and shifted his not inconsiderable weight from one leg to the other.
“Oh, can’t complain, Henry, can’t complain.”
Brady had played football in his younger days. Blackwater’s star quarterback, if you wanted to be kind. Truth be told, the Cougars had never had a season better than four and six during the years that Brady and Del had played, but that was a fact that got glossed over in the retelling.
But the partnership that Del and Brady had started under the small-town stadium lights had endured into adulthood, when little else had, save a few tall tales of glory too often told. The two of them made up the entirety of the Knightsbridge County Sheriff’s Department, unless you counted Sheriff McKinney, and hardly anyone did.
“Is it Jonah? Ms. Watson? I was heading over there later to drop some supplies by.”
“No, no. Far as I know, Jonah and Aunt Helen are doing fine. I went by to see them myself just a few days ago,” Brady said. A cloud passed over his face as Brady spoke his younger brother’s name, but it was gone as quickly as it’d come.
Brady and Jonah had been raised by their aunt Helen after a car accident had killed their parents when the boys were young. Brady had grown up and moved away from the house out on the marsh, but Jonah had remained. He was comfortable where he was, with his aunt Helen, and since the other accident, the one that had left him the way he was, no one had expected any different.
“No, actually, I wanted to talk to you about your girl there.”
“Eve,” Henry said automatically. She didn’t like to be called girl.
“Eve, yeah. Those folks down at the shack, they came through town again last night.”
Henry had heard them. He’d gone looking for Eve—she often got restless at night—and found her up on the roof. As he took the steps up the ladder, he’d made just enough noise so she’d know he was coming, then sat beside her and leaned back to watch the stars with her in shared silence.
He didn’t know what troubles she was trying to let loose out in the night air, but it always seemed to do her good, left her calmer, more settled, after she’d come back from her wanderings.
But last night, she’d been agitated. When he’d heard the voices carrying over the wind from the direction of the old shack, he’d asked her if she wanted to talk about it, but Eve just shook her head and hugged her knees tighter to her body.
“I heard them” was all Henry said.
Brady rubbed his hand against his cheek.
“They mostly steer clear of the locals, you know, but there’s a few around that we think might have dealings with them. But that class of people, well, they don’t trust the cops, and we’re having a real hard time getting anybody to talk about what’s going on down there.”
Henry knew all this. He and Del had talked it over plenty in the last few weeks.
“The thing is, word’s bound to get back to them, Henry. Now that you’re bringing the girl around town with you. Eventually, they’re gonna hear about it, and they just might come looking for her. Maybe not this time, but soon enough, if they have a bone to pick.”
“Then we’ll deal with that when it happens, Brady,” Henry said. The idea of anyone coming after Eve made his skin grow cold. He’d been keeping her close to him. But he didn’t know what else he could do. “I got other stuff to worry about just now.”
Brady gave him an understanding nod. “I know you do, Henry. Del told me about your mama. I’m really sorry to hear how poorly she’s been.”
Henry felt his throat go tight at the thought of his mother. She hadn’t gotten out of bed again that morning.
“And you know I don’t want to add to your burdens, man, but I gotta tell you, you might want to keep an eye on the old man.”
“Livingston?” Henry asked in surprise.
Brady nodded. “People are starting to complain, Henry. It’s all fine and good when he can keep his preaching in the woods, but when he starts shouting at people from the top of an upturned trash can on Main Street, folks don’t much like that.”
Henry sighed. “Brady, I appreciate that, but I don’t know what you think I can do about it. He’s never listened to me anyway, and now that Mama’s going downhill, he’s been—”
“He yelled at Babs Holstrom that she was Jezebel returned, yesterday. Scared the shit out of her and her kids. And Ronnie wasn’t too pleased about it when it got back to him either. And sending Del out to deal with it doesn’t do any damn good at all. Just fires Livingston up more.”
Henry gave a deep sigh and passed a hand across his eyes. “Jesus, man. Okay, I’ll try to talk to him. But to be honest, I don’t see it doing much good.”
“I understand. Just give it a shot, will you? And hey? I’m sorry about your mom. Give her my best, all right.”
Henry nodded, his jaw tight. It didn’t matter how many people chipped in to send Mama their best, unless their best happened to be a last-minute miracle cure for the cancer that was eating away at her final days, but he supposed the sentiment was well meant.
“You take care, Henry,” Brady added, before heading back to his cruiser.
“Yeah,” Henry whispered to his retreating back. “You too.”
But Brady was already starting his car, and Henry was left standing in the parking lot with two bottles of bootleg liquor in his hands, a broken girl in his truck, and far too many worries on his mind.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Are you mad at me?” Eve asked.
Henry glanced over at her, but she wouldn’t look him in the eye. He pulled the truck to a stop and threw the gearshift into park.
He’d gotten used to having her there, a quiet shadow by his side. More than that, he counted on having her th
ere, hardly able to imagine a world without her presence. Yet, in many ways, she was as much a mystery to him as she’d always been.
“No,” he said.
She looked up into his eyes. “Will you send me away now?”
“Eve,” he said, drawing out the word on a sad sigh. “No. No one’s sending you anywhere.”
She didn’t look convinced. Henry took her hand in his own.
“I know things have been . . . confusing. But it’ll get better. Easier. I promise you.”
She looked away from him. “There are so many things I don’t understand. The talking, and the smiling, and the things people mean behind the words they say. I don’t know how to be, Henry.”
“I know, Eve. It’ll get better.”
“Will it? What if you’re wrong?”
He didn’t have the words to set her mind at ease. He could only hope that time would do that. He gave her a small, sad smile.
“Come on,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “Let’s get this stuff over to the island. Ms. Watson’s waiting on it.”
She nodded, but the sadness was still there, floating around her like a fog.
After they got out of the truck, Henry pulled a rope that hung from an old cypress. The bell attached high in the tree clanged with an echo through the marsh. He pulled the rope three times in all, the signal to Jonah that visitors had arrived.
Minutes later, the sound of a boat slipping through the water met their ears.
“Hello, Jonah,” Henry said, helping the man pull the pirogue up to the shore. “How are you today, my friend?”
Jonah gave a good think to the question before nodding and answering, “Good. I’m good today. Aunt Helen’s in a state, but ’twasn’t me that caused it this time, so I’m good.”
“Her electric’s down again, huh?”
Jonah nodded. “She’s in a state. But ’twasn’t me.”
“Course not, Jonah.”
The big man gave Henry a wide, toothy smile. “She’ll be better at seeing you, though, Henry. You always make her laugh.”
Jonah caught sight of Eve, who was watching him solemnly.
“Ma’am,” he said, nodding in Eve’s direction. She tilted her head, studying him in return. Jonah didn’t seem bothered by her odd response. He stepped out of the pirogue and helped Henry load the crates of supplies onto the boat.
Henry watched Eve during the short ride to the marsh house. She seemed calm here, dipping a finger into the water and watching the wake it made. Her face came up and brightened as a frog croaked and hopped into the green water to their left. She didn’t smile, not quite, but some of her tightness had come loose.
“Henry,” called Helen Sue Watson from the shore when they grew closer. “Am I glad to see you, my boy.”
With the boat on solid ground again, Henry reached a hand to help Eve step out. She’d visited the marsh house with him before, though she’d been reserved and mute around the older woman. He couldn’t help but hope she’d feel more comfortable this time.
“And you brought me salt, I see. You’re a godsend, Henry. That you are.”
“I don’t know about that, but salt’s easy enough to manage.”
“My damn electric’s out again. Got a pole dropped down in the marsh, and the electric company’s in no hurry to get it up and running, since I’m the only one it serves out here in the boonies. I tell ya, Henry, that damn electric’s more trouble than it’s worth some days. Just like a husband, it is. Sticks around just long enough you start to think you can depend on it, then it goes and lets you down.”
Henry laughed. “I can’t imagine a man brave enough to let you down, Ms. Watson.”
She snorted. “Oh, I’ve known a few. Brave or stupid. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.”
“You remember Eve,” Henry said.
“Of course I remember Eve, boy. I’m old, but my mind still works just fine. Come on in, then. It’s hot, and it stinks of venison and gator meat, but I got a freezer full that I gotta make into jerky before it starts to go bad. Damn electric company. Don’t get me wrong, jerky’s fine in small amounts, but I don’t fancy a whole load of the mess. But what can you do?”
They carried in the supplies, and sure enough, she had a kitchen full of meat in various stages of defrosting. Some was seasoned and ready to go into the smoker, which Henry could smell was already going in the back. Some was waiting on the salt that Henry had brought in five-pound bags.
It looked like a butcher’s shop in there.
“You look pale, girl,” Helen Sue barked at Eve. Henry dropped the bag of salt he was carrying and turned to see Eve sway on her feet and put a hand out against the wall to steady herself.
“Eve, are you okay?” he asked, coming to her side.
She didn’t answer, just brought her other hand up to cover her mouth.
“Didn’t take you for the squeamish type, dear,” Ms. Watson said. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. My own mother was one hard woman, but any sight of blood and she’d pass clean out every time. Henry, take her out to the back porch and get her some fresh air, will you? There’s a nice breeze out there.”
Henry nodded. Once they’d left the kitchen and settled down on the porch, some of Eve’s color did seem to come back, leaving high red patches on the apples of her cheeks.
Jonah joined them, carrying a shoebox full of toy cars.
“Would you like to see my cars, Eve? I got some new ones Brady brought for me.”
Eve took a deep breath and gave Jonah a nod.
“You sure you’re okay?” Henry asked her, and she nodded again, then turned her attention back to the red toy El Camino Jonah was handing her.
“Not one for idle chitchat, your girl,” Helen Sue said to Henry. “Come with me, son. You can help me bring out some glasses of tea. It’s not cold, but it is sweet.”
Henry nodded. Eve seemed fine, but worry still nibbled around the corners of his mind.
“How’s she settling in, Henry?” the older woman asked with a piercing directness once they were out of earshot.
Henry shrugged. “I’d have said all right, up until she cut Dwight Pennick’s face with a broken bottle this morning.”
Ms. Watson turned slowly back from where she’d been pulling glasses from the cabinet.
“You’re serious,” she said.
“Dwight’s gonna be fine, but I just . . . I don’t know how she’s settling in, to be honest.”
Helen Sue nodded, cutting her eyes at Henry while she poured the tea into the glasses.
“You two seem awful close,” she said. “I know it’s none of my business, but I’m too old to be worrying about manners. And I’m worried for you, Henry. Do you have feelings for this girl? Romantic feelings?”
Henry opened his mouth to answer, then shut it and sat down hard on the bar stool pulled up at the old woman’s kitchen island.
“I don’t know what to say to that. Feelings, yeah. But romantic? That’s such a . . . I don’t know. A thin word. It’s not like that. It’s less, and it’s more. A whole lot more.”
Helen Sue just looked at him, waiting for him to go on.
Henry shook his head. “This is gonna sound crazy,” he said quietly. “But it’s like, when I pulled Eve out of that river, and I breathed air back into her, I gave her too much. Too much of myself, and now she’s walking around with part of me inside her and I can’t get it back. And I don’t even know if I want it back.”
“Lord have mercy, boy,” she said.
“Have you ever felt like you’ve met somebody who was the only person in the world who fit into your edges, and you theirs? Somebody who was the other half that made you whole?”
She peered at him, a magnifying glass concentrating sunlight to bore into his soul.
“No, Henry, I haven’t. And thank God for that.”
He deflated, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know how it happened. God knows I didn’t ask for it. But there it is.”
; “Well, I was hoping you’d tell me something that’d set my mind at ease. Not sure how old I’ll be before I learn not to ask questions I don’t want to hear the answers to.”
Henry shrugged. He didn’t like it much more than she did.
“That girl’s broken, Henry. She’s broken and she’s dangerous.”
He nodded. She didn’t need to tell him that. He’d known it from the beginning.
“And if you think you can fix her, I’m afraid you’re destined for heartache, my dear. Some folks are slated for more than their fair share of heartache, and I do believe you’re one of them, Henry Martell.”
One corner of Henry’s mouth came up. “That’s why I like talking to you, Ms. Watson. You always make me feel so much better.”
Helen Sue shook her head and handed Henry the tray of tea glasses.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. But since we’re already talking of low-down things, tell me how your mama’s doing.”
“Not good,” Henry said, following her back out to the porch. “She’s gone downhill faster than anyone expected.”
Mama had been in the shed, working on her old loom and teaching Eve the ins and outs of how to weave fabric, the first time she’d collapsed. Henry would never forget Eve’s face when she’d run to fetch him.
“What’s the doctor say?”
He shook his head. It was a sore point, and one Mama refused to budge on.
“She won’t see one. Says when it’s her time, it’s her time. God’s will, and all that.”
Helen Sue took a seat and stared off into the trees in the distance. Henry couldn’t help but wonder if she was thinking of her own mortality. She and Mama were of a similar age.
“She didn’t get to choose how she’s destined to leave the world, but she’s chosen how much dignity she’s taking with her to the end. Your mama’s a fine, brave woman, Henry.”
He didn’t mention that he’d spoken to Alice, and together they’d made arrangements for a doctor Alice knew from the hospital to make a home visit to see Mama that evening. Henry could almost understand his mother’s insistence not to undergo radiation and chemotherapy again, but he couldn’t sit by and watch her die and not lift a finger. He wouldn’t.
The Unremembered Girl: A Novel Page 8
