When we got to the pecan tree, several pieces of Styrofoam lay all over the yard. A small skeleton, with very little decay still rotting at the bones, was lying in the middle of the debris. The air was ripe.
Jimmy had risen.
It had been a scandalous attack. The only thing we could figure was that with all the rain we’d had that month, the ground was saturated, and the cooler that Momma had buried him in had just floated right up out of the ground. He’d been dead for over a month. Picked-over corpse littered the yard. Something wild had caught the scent and forcibly shredded the cooler to get to the source.
“Holy Mother of Christ,” said Hazel. “That dog stinks to high Heaven.” Her face was pallid.
Heidi howled from her pen, sensing the malice.
“Go back inside,” I told Birdie.
She was standing there trembling in her bed sheet, pinching her nose, eyes wide open.
“Hazel, get me the shovel.”
The ground was muddy; my feet sank as I worked. As I scooped the remains back into the deep hole, I prayed silently that Jimmy’s little soul, at least, was free from toil.
When I dropped Birdie off at her school, she still hadn’t overcome the shock. The whole ride there, I kept trying to explain that Jimmy was safe in Heaven, that those traces she’d seen really weren’t part of him anymore. Souls rise, and only the bones return to the earth: from dust to dust, I reminded her.
She argued that when Jesus rose from the dead, he must have taken his bones with him because he was able to come back a few days later and walk the earth. He couldn’t have done that without legs, she pointed out.
She was convinced that Jimmy was possessed by evil and he’d come back to haunt her on Halloween because she had let those jackals of Satan eat him up that day.
31. Hunter’s Paradise
I had to stop and fill my tank at a Redimart in Clay City. Ever since I’d quit Clem’s, I felt guilty buying gas from anyone else, but it was hard to face him. He took my leaving personally. I wondered how he was doing, if he had stayed open tonight, or if he’d closed up to trick-or-treat with his granddaughters. I missed him and wished he’d get over his mad so we could be friends again, go fishing or to a ball game, have lunch or something. Like old times.
Everything was different now. I spent less and less time at home, and when I was there, I read or studied mostly. Sometimes, especially when Florabelle was over with Daisy, it was hard to concentrate, and I’d get irritable and take it out on Birdie, then have to apologize later. She didn’t understand my new objective. She called me selfish and took it personally, too. She resented both my job and Culler.
Daddy really hadn’t said too much, as I was paying more on the bills. But I could tell Momma was alienating me. She and Hazel both laid on the guilt, almost daily, for me not going to see Grandma as much as I used to.
I had very little time for sewing anymore, either, but I hadn’t lost my touch. I got plenty of needlework practice on sheep abdomens.
At first, the doctors at the lab had me cleaning beakers and measuring out samples, but when they realized how much practical knowledge I had, how much I had learned and memorized about physiology, they gave me more hands-on tasks with the livestock. I performed a lot of suturing and stitching, and was learning how to identify certain disease cells under the microscope.
They told me I had initiative. That made me feel good, hearing that said about me. I liked what I was doing, and was gaining more confidence. No longer was I conscientious about a uniform. Now, when I got to work and put on my lab coat, I wore it with the utmost pride.
Sometimes, I’d even wear it home, or leave it on when I went in the bank to make a deposit, or to the grocery store, just so everyone would see me and know what I was. Instead of a tire gauge, now, I had a pocket flashlight. I would do things to make people notice this, too, such as take it out and pretend to check the battery when I was in line at a soda counter.
There was one further step I had taken, and no one knew about it. I had applied for enrollment at Transylvania. I wanted to begin in the spring semester.
One night at the library with Culler, I had filled out the paperwork, without him realizing what I was doing. Then I had requested Carlisle High to send my transcripts, and one Saturday, I had pretended to have errands to run all morning, but really had taken a five-hour exam called the SAT.
I was waiting for a reply in the mail. Until I heard any news from the university, I wasn’t going to tell anyone my plan.
I knew I could handle one or two night classes and keep working full-time, and still have money left over. Besides, I was in no hurry. I really didn’t plan to try for a degree, but I wanted to take a few science classes to learn more about what I was doing at the lab. I wanted to start with Chemistry.
When I got to Connie’s dormitory, I was late. It had taken me almost an hour to bury Jimmy and get cleaned up again. Culler’s jeep was already there. I carried the bag with our costumes upstairs, and we had fun trying to get them on. Connie had bought some wine coolers, which we drank while we were getting ready.
“You look like the real thing,” said Connie, tugging at Culler’s bullet pouch.
“It was Daniel Boone’s hunting skills that intrigued the Indians and saved his life,” I shared.
“I heard that,” said Connie. “His life story’s all over this campus. Did you know the reason he left Kentucky and went back west was because he felt too cramped and wanted elbow room?”
“Yeah, but when he died, they shipped his bones back here to be buried. He called this place a hunter’s paradise.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it paradise,” said Connie. “There’s hardly any good-looking guys.”
I had braided my hair and was trying to do the same to hers, but she kept jumping around the room, doing what she called a rain dance.
I told her we’d had enough rain lately, then told them what had happened to Jimmy.
Culler was deeply troubled by my story. He still wanted to get Birdie another puppy, but I wouldn’t let him.
“That’s pretty spooky,” said Connie. “Maybe there’s a full moon tonight.”
I kept starting over with her hair. I had never been to a big party before, with people all my age, and I was stalling. Part of me was excited and curious, but then I felt strange, too, not really knowing how to act. College kids seemed to have a language, a walk, a style of living all their own. I felt safe in the company of my new friends, but I was still a little nervous.
The first thing we did when we got there was try the witch’s brew. Connie explained later that this was orange Kool Aid and grain alcohol. To me, it tasted like just Kool Aid and we drank a lot of it while we were dancing.
Over three hundred students had come out for this event. Costumes ranged from everything such as Roy Orbison look-alikes to nuns in habits. One guy came as a penis, and kept tripping over large balloons tied around each of his ankles.
We stayed for almost two hours. Connie introduced us to a couple of people she knew. She finally hooked up with some guy in her Accounting class, who she’d had a thing for all semester.
Culler and I left around ten; the rain had stopped and he wanted to take a walk. He held my hand, and we walked around the campus, all the way down to the tennis courts. Here, we kissed for quite some time, then Culler got the idea to go riding in my car with the top down. It was pretty cool out, but the night seemed right for it.
There was something about Halloween that was always romantic to me, some element of mystery that made my spine tingle from excitement, not fear. My head felt funny, like it was floating about the car. It was hard for me to see the road in front of us; I was glad Culler wanted to drive.
We rode for several miles, not talking, just listening to a John Cougar Mellencamp tape we borrowed from Connie. We sang many of the lyrics into the wind and made up some of our own.
After a while, Culler shouted, “Let’s go back towards your house. Spend some time alone in
the country. It’s so neat out here.” He always teased me about being a country girl. Sometimes, I’d ask about his city girlfriend, the one in Orlando, but he never wanted to talk about her.
“And how am I supposed to get you all the way back to Lexington by midnight?” I asked, laughing at his suggestion.
“What, you still have curfew at your age?”
“Not an official one, but they wait up for me.”
Culler looked at me, slipped his hand into my lap. “Well then, I’ll let you go home, and I’ll just sleep in the woods somewhere. You can drive me home tomorrow.” He smiled.
My thighs grew hot where his hand rested. I tried to focus on the road, but my head was spinning. I wanted to lie down. I lay my head over the console, on Culler’s lap. It was quiet now, down, out of the wind.
Culler turned the cassette tape over, brought his hand back to my head. Slowly, he worked my braid out with his fingers. When he was almost to the end of it, I reached to help him with the knot. As I did so, I brushed his lap, warm and stiff. My throat tightened.
He pulled over at Toad’s Pond, the place I’d hooked him months back. It didn’t seem like we’d been driving for an hour already. Culler walked around, opened my door.
The ground was cold, still damp from all the rain. I shivered against the moist grass. The stars hung low enough to touch. I reached up, Culler was pressed against me. He had taken off his vest, unbuttoned the front of my dress. His chest was heavy and warm.
He kissed me firmly for what seemed like forever, then inside me, something burned. I was a brave squaw. Daniel Boone was in control of me, and somewhere on a mountain pass, he was blazing a new trail. Captured, I surrendered to his flesh.
It began to rain.
Culler didn’t stop, though, he kept us in motion, as the rain pelted off his back, splashed into my face.
Then I felt him splash inside me, and I winced.
He licked rain from my mouth and kissed me. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m cold,” I said, hugging him close to me.
“We’ll go somewhere,” he said. “But let me do something first.” He reached into his costume belt lying next to him, pulled out the knife. Then, still inside me, he stretched above our heads, and carved into the tree.
My head spun, and the rain blurred my sight. I could barely make out the letters. J.C. loves F.R. Our trail was marked.
The rain was coming down in torrents now.
We ran back to my car, which was parked under a tree. We got the convertible top back up, but the interior was drenched.
“I need to dry this out,” I said. “The carpet will mildew.”
I was still naked and shivering. Culler eased across the seat towards me and started kissing me everywhere.
“Let’s go,” I said, moving his head away from me. “I know a place.”
After standing there ten minutes, fishing for the key in my glove box, I unlocked the door to the station, walked through to lift one of the garage doors for Culler to pull the car in. I only turned on one overhead bulb, and it was hard to see what I was doing. The floor was slippery; twice, I nearly fell looking around for some dry towels.
Two pair of Clem’s overalls were hanging on the closet door. Culler and I dried each other and put them on.
“Pull that door closed,” I said. “If anyone drives by, they’ll recognize my car.”
I plugged in the blower to try it out, but I got so dizzy that Culler had to take over.
“Hurry,” I said. “We can’t get caught in here.”
I found some change in the pocket of the overalls, eased myself out front, under the awning, to buy a Pepsi. I found Clem’s kerosene lantern, one he kept in the garage for emergencies, lit it, and brought it into the station. I was afraid too much light would call attention to us.
My stomach was upset, and my legs were somewhat sore. I spread out another clean towel on the floor and lay down. The cold rain had sobered me a bit, and I knew it was wrong of me to be there, under the circumstances with Clem. I should have given him back the key in the first place, but he’d forgotten about it. So had I. Lying there, safe from the storm, I rationalized that it would just be a while, until the rain stopped. No one would know about it.
In a few minutes, Culler came into the station. “You feeling better?”
“Soda’s helping some.”
“Your car is going to be okay. I dried out the console, too.” He moved the lantern from the counter to the floor next to us, and lay down beside me. “Seems like I’ve been here before,” he said. “But you were working on me.” He rolled over on me, kissed my neck, looked into my face. His eyes were glazed. “Now it’s my turn to work on you.”
He unzipped the front of my overalls, found my breasts, warming them with his hands. “I’m the doctor this time,” he said. His hands were still rough from building Heidi’s doghouse, and as he examined me, it prickled.
We lay there together, fondling and listening to the rain drum on the aluminum roof above us. Lightning flashed through the windows, and our cool, damp flesh glowed a pale blue.
He pressed into me again, and I stiffened.
“What is it?” he said.
“Did you mean it, on the tree, what you wrote?”
“Yes,” he said. “I love you, Fern.” He stopped, waited.
I didn’t say anything then, just urged him deep inside me. I wanted to feel the same warm response I had felt under the tree at Toad’s Pond. And we moved wildly until I did, more than once too.
I awoke to the sound of thunder. Culler lay across me, snoring evenly. I looked at the clock on the wall; it was 3:00 a.m. The rain still beat down and I felt a panic growing inside of me.
“Culler.” I shook him.
He roused, rubbed my stomach as he stretched.
“We have to go; it’s late.”
Culler sat up, squinted at the clock. “Shit,” he said. “You have to get home.”
We worked fast to get the place back in order. We were both groggy from the alcohol and staggered around in the dim light, then changed back into our wet costumes. I hung the overalls, folded all the towels, wiped up the puddles where we’d dripped. Culler backed the car out, I swept away the rain pool beneath it.
Before I pulled into my driveway, I turned off the headlights. Heidi barked in her pen, but the storm muted her howling.
We tiptoed in.
The kitchen light was on, but it didn’t sound like anyone was still up. The house was silent. I fixed Culler a bed of blankets on the basement floor, told him I would wake him early, before Daddy got up, and drive him home. He tried to coax me to sleep down there with him, but I knew Momma would be listening for me to come up the stairs.
I tucked a quilt around him, kissed him goodnight.
Upstairs, snug under my covers, I dreamed Culler and I were running through the warm rain of hunter’s paradise, looking for elbow room.
32. More Sirens
It was the second time in two months the folks in Leeco heard sirens. The last time was when Grandma had Daddy arrested in the garden. This time, it was a fire engine out in front of Clem’s. The station had burned down to the ground. The assumption was that lightning had struck; only the rain had kept the fire from reaching the pumps and spreading up the hill to the houses.
We stood out in our driveway, under umbrellas, watching the flames dance. At the bottom of the hill, the sky was ablaze. It was still sprinkling, the smoke hovered low, suffocating.
“Your Daddy’s gone down there,” said Momma, tears in her eyes. “He was still awake, waiting up for you, and heard the explosion.”
“I heard it, too,” said Hazel. “I thought for sure we’d been bombed.”
I’d been home for two hours and had heard nothing. Momma had come in, shook me from a deep sleep, dragged me out of the house, worried the fire would spread. Standing in the cool, damp November air, I was still in a daze. It was hard to believe what was happening.
Birdie had run
around to let Heidi out; she stood between us, shivering, knowing the danger. Birdie soothed her.
“Poor old Clem,” said Hazel.
Momma looked at me. “He’s had that place for almost twenty years. What a shame.”
In silence, we listened to the crackling flames. We could see Daddy walking back up the hill in a yellow poncho.
“Anything left down there?” asked Hazel.
“Mighty nigh lost everything,” he said, frowning. Daddy was drenched to the bone. “He had a lot of gallon jugs of gas in there, caught fire quick and spread. They’ll look around, salvage what they can at daybreak.”
“Nobody was hurt?” asked Momma.
“No one was even nearby.” He looked at all our faces. “I was the first to report it. They figure it was lightning. One of the firemen said a bank was struck over in Campton. Nasty storm.”
“Was Clem down there just now?” I asked. I felt a lump in my throat. The air was smothering.
Daddy looked at me, hesitated. “Yeah, they called him in. He’s pretty shook up. Said he felt like he was watching his whole life blow up in smoke.”
“I know he’s insured,” I said, looking down. My head was splitting.
Daddy nodded. “He wants me to help go over the policy with him tomorrow, check the fine print.”
“Let’s go inside,” suggested Momma. “I’ll put some coffee on.”
“It’s almost five o’clock, we’d be up in an hour’s time anyway,” said Hazel. “Let me go get some clothes on.”
As we were walking into the house, Daddy grabbed my shoulder, pulled me back, waited for Momma to get inside. “Why were you out until two this morning?”
His grip throbbed and sobered me. I felt my heart stop. Right then, the whole night seemed such a blur, I couldn’t recall the events. Suddenly, I remembered Culler was still in the basement.
Natural Bridges Page 18
