My Name Is River Blue

by Noah James Adams

  Lindsey and Tyler were the same age as Carlee and I were when we first met in junior high. When he was around her, he wore the same dumb look as many other boys did the first time a girl excited them in a way that was both thrilling and frightening. Tyler was in the midst of the changes every boy goes through on his way to becoming a man, and I was sad that I wouldn't be there for him as the big brother he wanted me to be.

  I pushed Tyler's hair out of his eyes and studied his face a moment. I whispered my goodbye, and left a brief note for him on the nightstand before I walked out of his life.

  Papa and I said goodbye in the woods while we waited for the helicopter. He told me that when my ride set down that I had to board it immediately. I felt a bit like a soldier taking orders for a secret mission.

  I had planned to control my emotions and make it easier on Papa, but as soon as I hugged him, I lost it, and I knew that he hurt just as badly as I did. I thought back to the day when I was thirteen years old and met Papa for the first time at the old fields of Harper Park. There was no way for me to know back then how much the man would mean to me.

  That night at Deer Lake, I knew that when I walked away from Papa I would be alone again, the same as I was when I first met him. The difference was that I would have good memories to carry with me, and Papa said that good memories are a treasure that some people try all their lives to build and never do.

  When the time came, Papa firmly pushed me away. I left him in the trees and walked as fast as my bad leg would allow me to the helicopter that would take me away from Bergeron County and everything I had ever known. As I began my first ride in an aircraft of any kind, I looked down and saw the flairs that Papa had placed around his makeshift helicopter pad. I knew he was standing inside the tree line to my right and I waved goodbye.

  I never saw Papa again.

  As the helicopter hovered over the lake, memories of sunny days and moonlit nights with people I loved played through my head. Even today, when I close my eyes and focus, I still see those scenes at Deer Lake as if I were watching my favorite home movies.

  I see Papa and Uncle Manny setting up camp, pausing to chuckle at Ant and me, thirteen-year old savages, chasing each other into the lake and dunking each other until we gasp for air.

  I hear the magic in Ant's voice along with the crackling fire, as we dream of playing pro football and living the good life in a big city. There's Ant and I on another day. We smile as we watch the excitement in Max's eyes when he hooks his first fish.

  I see the first time Tyler sets up camp. With each task he completes, he peers at me from under his blond mop. He looks for approval, and each time I grin, giving him the thumbs up. A wide smile splits his face when I tell him I'm proud of him.

  Carlee and I are holding each other in the water, kissing long and hard, and working our way up the bank and into the tent where we love each other as the night passes into morning. I see us when dawn sends silver slivers of light through our canvas covering, and we crawl, sharing the red blanket, to sit just outside the tent. We watch the sun break into an orange glow over the horizon just at the top of the pines. At the most peaceful moment of any day, on the bank to our right, we see a doe nosing in for a drink. She breaks the still water, but only gently, as waves spread soundlessly across the surface of the lake. I look from the deer to Carlee, and I'm in awe of her breathtaking beauty, her blue eyes filled with the wonder and glee of a child on Christmas morning. I kiss her slowly and tenderly. I love her so.

  Carlee faded away along with Deer Lake, and I could see nothing but a blur of distant lights somewhere ahead and below us. My throat swelled, my chest squeezed, and my eyes burned as if my tears were liquid fire. After I began crying, I didn't try to stop. I couldn't have. I held onto the black box with the stranger inside, and I wept aloud for the loss of River Blue and the people and places he loved.

  The pilot gave me a quick glance before turning his attention back to his job. Maybe he knew. Maybe he had taken others away in the dark hours before dawn.

  Maybe all they had left were memories too.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  March 2007

  My familiarity with the landmarks I saw made me feel that I had never left, and yet it had been more than a year since I had escaped from Bergeron County in December of 2005. Driving my rental through town, I was comfortable that I had changed more than Harper Springs had and that no one would recognize me. A plastic surgeon had done a couple of tricks to my face. I had grown a mustache and a goatee, added fifteen pounds, and buzzed my hair shorter than anyone in Harper Springs had ever seen it. Only someone who knew me very well and was familiar with my voice would be suspicious.

  In public, I usually sported a plain, black baseball cap and a pair of wrap-around shades. I always wore long sleeved shirts with jeans, as I would never allow anyone to question the accident and surgery scars on my arms and legs. If I timed my public appearances in a way that my left leg was rested, my limp was hardly noticeable. I only used my new cane, when necessary, in a place where I would draw little attention.

  The previous day was one of those times when the pain in my leg and back required not only the use of my cane, but a few more painkillers than normal. From the backside, I had driven as far as I could onto Deer Lake Farm property using a dirt road that became a trail, which I took on foot the rest of the way through the woods to Deer Lake. It was as beautiful as it had always been, and I sat for more than an hour on what had been a campsite many times for Ant and me. It was the place where I first made love to Carlee.

  Up the hill, farther back from the lake bank, under the shade of a sprawling oak tree, was the best spot to view the lake and its surroundings that often included deer drinking from the far bank. Someone had planted two red rose bushes, one on either side of the tree, and then added daffodils and pansies in a circle around the roses. I stretched my body amid the flowers and hugged the plot of new grass growing from the soil that had not yet fully settled. I eventually fell asleep with my mind wrapped around warm memories of a life that I would never have again.

  When I left the lake, I continued hiking towards the hill that overlooked the heart of Deer Lake Farm. From there, I used my binoculars to scan Papa's house, the barns, stables, the ring, and the surrounding areas. It was all just as I remembered it, and I stayed much longer than I should have in hopes of seeing some of the people I had missed so much.

  The pain shooting through my back and leg was a price I was willing to pay to see Uncle Manny, Tyler, and Lewis. The men looked the same, but Tyler had experienced the growth spurt I had promised him he would have. He was much taller, and I could see the muscle development that I knew made him proud. With my last view of Uncle Manny and Tyler, I saw my uncle hang his arm around Tyler's shoulders before they walked from the barn into the house together.

  Since the night the chopper took me away, I had not seen anyone from Bergeron County with the exception of Uncle Manny, who made his annual trip to his parents' house in Mexico. I met him there and visited with him and the rest of the family for more than a week. I never lived with my grandparents, but it was easy for me to visit, and I did so several times after Tom pronounced that I was ready.

  I wanted so badly to walk down to the farm to be with Uncle Manny and Tyler, but I couldn't risk the chance that any customers might raise questions about me in such a familiar setting. I also didn't want to discuss my reason for coming back with any of my "family" because it was better that they didn't know. When my pain became too much, I had to pop more oxycodone than usual just to take the torturous hike back to my car.

  On the outskirts of Ackers, where I had rented a cheap motel room, I could not avoid driving past the hulking, red brick building that seemed to stretch on forever. Surrounded by a fence twenty feet high with double rows of razor wire across the top, Stockwell still looked as menacing to me as it did when I was an eleven-year old boy riding in the back of a police cruiser. I will never forget the fear I felt when the officer no
sed his car past the guard station to deliver me for what the judge called behavior modification and training.

  Inside my ratty motel room where everything was old, stained, and stale, I stared at two bottles of narcotic pain pills. I couldn't remember what I had already taken which can be a bad thing when you're dealing with morphine. I passed on the morphine and swallowed three more of the oxycodone pills, which helped me sleep past dinner all the way through to the next morning. I woke up with my stomach screaming for food and risked my life by eating a greasy breakfast at the motel restaurant before driving to the county library.

  As I parked my car in the library lot, I hoped that I wouldn't have to ask how to use the resources. Tom taught me to limit my need for conversation with others so that I gave them little to remember. I tried to be the young man who went unnoticed, but when someone did notice me, I wanted to be the guy who was hard to describe and easy to forget. I never established a routine that anyone could use to predict where I would be on a certain day at a particular time. I was always just some guy who was no one special and not worth mentioning. "Utterly forgettable" is the phrase Tom used to describe how I should look and act in public.

  When I walked inside the library, I was relieved to see signs with directions to the various sections and services. Once I found the right area, I took a seat before a computer and read instructions for finding state and local newspaper archives. The program was easy to use. I could search the newspapers by names, categories, events, key words, and dates. I spent several hours catching up on what I had missed.

  I found a few articles that I enjoyed reading about people and places that I had known well. I read that Deer Lake Farm was starting an equine therapy program for special needs children and had hired a therapist to run it along with help from Sue, the riding instructor. The state had approved money to build onto Tolley House, giving it the capacity to house an additional six boys. I read Coach Haney's prediction that the Hawks would do well in the fall with some talented young players, such as rising sophomore quarterback Tyler Long, who would be competing for the starting job. It took a moment for me to remember that when Papa adopted Tyler that my "little brother" took Papa's last name. I was sad to read that Marcia Medlock had passed away the week before Christmas, a year after she was diagnosed with lung cancer.

  I looked for another obituary dated five weeks prior. When I found it, it was another painful affirmation that Papa was gone. It had been only a day since I had seen Papa's headstone at Deer Lake, the site of his final resting place. It had been incredibly difficult for me to accept another tragic death of a loved one, and it wasn't truly real to me until I visited his grave. Papa's death was not only an overwhelming loss to those closest to him, it hurt hundreds of people whose lives he had touched, and hundreds more people who would have benefited from his uncommonly generous spirit.

  Having been Papa's oldest and closest friends, Uncle Manny and Tom knew how to contact each other. When Uncle Manny passed the sad news to Tom, he knew that Tom would relay it to me. He was kind enough to tell me in person and to accept my invitation to stay with me at the cabin for a few days. It was a difficult time when we both needed a friend.

  When I heard that Papa died of injuries he sustained after his truck broke through the guardrail of Angels' Curve, I didn't believe for a second that it was an accident and Uncle Manny agreed. Papa had been trying to clear my name ever since I left Harper Springs, and we wondered if he had made someone too nervous. When I thought of what Carlee told me the night before she died, I was convinced that the same man was responsible for the deaths of Ant, Carlee, and Papa.

  Uncle Manny pressed the cops to investigate Papa's death as a homicide, but they found no evidence of foul play. The police investigation suggested that Papa lost control of his truck on a dark, rainy night, and the coroner agreed, ruling Papa's death an accident. The ruling did not deter Uncle Manny from pursuing his own investigation, and he got lucky when he spoke to one of Papa's friends on the city council. The man gave Uncle Manny a perfect motive for Bill Summers to kill Papa.

  Back when Harper Springs was trying to build the new high school stadium and athletic buildings, they ran short of the money they needed for the periodic payments to the construction company. The city sought to raise the money by selling the old part of Harper Park. To ensure that the park remained a place for neighborhood kids to play, Papa bought it. He agreed to allow the city to buy back the land whenever they wanted for the same price, as long as the city did basic maintenance, such as mowing and trash removal. Furthermore, he told them that if he died, his will would instruct that the land be gifted to the city. During all the times that Papa and I played and practiced in the old park, he never mentioned that he owned it. My guess is that he always thought of the park as belonging to the kids who played there.

  For months prior to Papa's death, Bill Summers, and three other businessmen, persistently offered to buy the old park from Papa. They wanted to build an apartment complex along with some retail stores, and Papa refused all their offers and told them that he would never take that land away from the kids who enjoyed it every day. Summers then discussed the matter with the city manager and the other council members. His idea was to loan the city the money to buy the land back from Papa so that Summers could in turn buy it from the city. Since Papa and some of his friends were also on the council, Big Bill's problem was that if he loaned the city the money to buy the property from Papa, he would still come up a vote short of what he needed for the city to agree to sell the property to him.

  Uncle Manny believed that Big Bill decided to solve his problem by eliminating Papa so that Papa's will would bequeath the park to the city. With Papa gone, his vote was no longer available to stop the city from selling the park to Summers. The problem with Uncle Manny's theory was that Big Bill had an alibi in the local newspaper. There was a picture of him at the grand opening of one of his new restaurants two hours away in Atlanta. It was taken the same night Papa died at about the same time as the accident. Uncle Manny knew that Bill Summers couldn't have run Papa's truck off the road, but he intended to find out who Summers paid to do it.

  I had my own idea of how to deal with Bill Summers. It was a more direct approach, and it was the reason for my return to Harper Springs.

  As far as the contents of Papa's will, Tom gave me the highlights that Uncle Manny shared with him. Papa left his estate to both Tyler and Uncle Manny, who was executer of the estate and legal guardian for Tyler. They would both have more money than they would ever need. In instructions separate from the will, Papa also left me a large sum of money. Uncle Manny was to hold the money for me in his name and periodically send it to me through Tom.

  At the library computer, I got down to serious business when I searched for the Summers family and then entered the names of all his businesses that I knew. I discovered that Big Bill and Beth were divorced. It was final in January. Billy was playing football for Iverson, which told me that he and his mother had moved out of town. As far as Big Bill's businesses, nothing had changed as far as I could tell. Nothing like a bankruptcy that I would have cheered.

  I scanned the local paper for the Around Town column, and it appeared that Big Bill still kept his Tuesday night tradition. According to the newspaper column, he and other concerned leaders from the county gathered each Tuesday night for an informal dinner meeting at the Harper Springs location of Big Bill's Barbeque. They discussed the welfare of Bergeron County and brainstormed ideas for growth that they would present at future city and county council meetings.

  Carlee once told me that Big Bill always closed the restaurant early on Tuesdays so that all regular customers were out by eight o'clock. The cook and server would cater to Big Bill and his friends in the private dining room until time for the confidential discussions at which time the employees would lock up and go home.

  I found a newspaper article about my trial. Had I not left the night I did, I would have been in court the following afternoon where
I would have heard the foreman read the jury's unanimous guilty verdict. In an interview with Big Bill, a reporter asked him how he felt about me skipping town. He claimed that nothing would ease the pain of losing his beloved Carlee, but he was at peace knowing that I would be brought to justice, if not in this life, then in the next. I wondered if Big Bill would still feel at peace if he could read my mind.

  On my way from the library to pick up lunch, I stopped by the cemetery and visited Ant's grave. Someone, probably Jenny, had recently placed an artificial flower arrangement into the detachable vase in front of his headstone. I was glad that Ant had someone who cared enough to keep his grave looking like someone cared.

  I didn't speak aloud to Ant. I just stood there quietly remembering my brother and wishing as I always did that he was still with me. After all the months that had passed since his death, I still missed him every day.

  I found Carlee's grave in another section of the cemetery where the plots all belonged to the Summers family. There were quite a few of her relatives buried near her and room for more. I guessed that the vacant plots closest to her were for her immediate family. It irked me to know that Big Bill would be buried near Carlee.

  I spoke to Carlee a while and told her that I loved her, and that I had not talked to another girl since she passed. One reason had been the need for a reclusive lifestyle that had no room for a relationship, and the other reason was an absolute lack of desire to share with another girl that part of me that I gave to Carlee. It had become much easier to understand how Papa felt about relationships after he lost Lisa.

  From the cemetery, I drove back to my motel and walked next door to have a bowl of potato soup and a ham sandwich in Cathy's Cafe. As greasy as breakfast was, I tried to be safe with my selection. It wasn't bad compared to what I ate in Stockwell.

  After lunch, I placed the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the outside door handle of my motel room and chain locked the door. I planned to spend the afternoon napping and resting, and I didn't want a maid banging on the door. I set my watch alarm so that I would have plenty of time to check out of the motel and make it to Harper Springs for dinner. I was in the mood for some barbecued wings.