by S.E. Akers
Finally, I huffed as the dismissal bell rang throughout the halls. I sprang from my seat like a prized thoroughbred out of the gates and maneuvered through a maze of students and faculty, making my way to the parking lot in record time.
I looked down at my watch as I hopped into my car. Two Thirty-Five. Plenty of time to make it to the mine before the meeting starts. Then after one lucky crank of my old Charger’s engine, I was zooming out of the lot before the caravan of school buses departed.
As my car cruised through town, I couldn’t help noticing how quiet it was — almost deserted. Not that Welch ever came close to the hustle & bustle of a metropolitan city, but it was unusually odd. All the shops and businesses appeared to be open (well, their lights were on), but no one was out and about on the street. Even the local cops weren’t parked in the center of town like they usually were. And it was a good thing, too. I was more than exceeding the city’s downtown 10 mph speed limit as I zipped down the narrow one-way street.
Just as soon as I’d crossed the Tug River Bridge, people began gradually appearing and then all at once I realized where everyone was. A stream of vehicles lined both sides of Highway 52 for as far as my eyes could see. People were parking their cars and trucks wherever they could fit them, most of them not caring if their ends or fronts were sticking out into the road the least bit. You would think you were in the middle of a parade the way folks were marching alongside the highway in droves. And rest assured, all their footsteps were beating a path straight towards the mine.
I still had a quarter of a mile to go before I would reach the mine’s main entrance. I’ll never find a space in their parking lot. It’s not like Daddy would’ve anticipated this crowd, let alone had the gumption or the audacity to put out a “Reserved for Daddy’s Little Girl” sign on an empty space in the employee lot.
I finally spotted a sizeable gap in-between a red & white pick-up truck and a rusted-out yellow Mustang. By my assessment, it was going to be tight, very tight. I squeezed my car into the spot carefully, praying I wouldn’t hit either vehicle. Perfect, I thought as a small wave of pride swept over me. You can’t learn those skills in Drivers Ed. I edged out of my Charger cautiously (barely having enough room to get my door open) and then followed the determined swagger of the crowd.
There were tons of people — well over a thousand, easily. Most of them were coal miners with their family members right by their sides. It seemed everyone around town had the same thing on their minds…their fate. I even spied Mr. Estell just standing idly around up ahead, not really talking to anyone. He didn’t work for the coal company, but then again, neither did a lot of the people who had turned out.
Weird… That’s twice today. A once-a-day spotting of the creepy drifter was more than enough as far as I was concerned. My mind was already stewing with fretful thoughts about the meeting, and now almost instinctively, my body seemed to be growing rigid with apprehension, right along with every step that carried me closer to the eerie man. I looked straight ahead as I started to pass him, but oddly I felt him — staring dead at me. Discreetly, I shifted my field of vision. His face appeared hard, and the glare I spied in his eyes was painfully frigid. I untightened my muscles with a shudder just as soon as I was safely out of his sight.
I guess every town has one of “those guys”…
I stepped off the highway as soon as I’d reached the gravel-covered road that led to the mine’s parking lot. Just as I’d predicted, it was packed.
I had to practically force my body through the restless crowd—twisting & turning, pushing & shoving—every step of the way. I reached the main entrance without any injury, only to discover that the gates had been fastened shut with a winding metal chain. That wasn’t normal for this time of day, but it was clear why they were.
I overheard people yelling at Uriah Hatfield, the day shift security guard, telling him to “Open up the gates!” You didn’t tell Uriah what he was going to do, not if you knew what was good for you. The surly guard simply ignored their pleas while he sat kicked-back in his cramped glass station and continued reading his newspaper. Evidently, he had orders not let anyone but employees scheduled to work on the property. I hoped Daddy had left word I would be coming. I couldn’t stand the thought of being so close to getting some mental resolve only to be turned away because I hadn’t been cleared to enter. That would be sheer torture, especially in this horde of anxious rednecks.
After a little more maneuvering, I was standing in front of the security station, tapping on the glass window and pressing the call button. Uriah Hatfield lowered his newspaper. Without delay, he tilted his stare towards the ceiling and gave his head a trepidatious shake. I actually saw him mouthing out a regretful, “Oh no” along with it. That wasn’t encouraging.
Well, the sign does say “Mine Security”, not “Welcome Center”.
Uriah leaned over and pressed the intercom button. “If it ain’t trouble herself come a knockin’ on my door,” he groaned with the volume up loud enough for half the crowd to hear.
I was slightly offended by his semi-warranted crack. When I was a little girl, Uriah had harshly tagged me as a “trouble-maker”. I preferred “curious”. So he had found me playing in a few areas around the mine I shouldn’t have been on several occasions. And yeah, maybe I did hijack a rail car or two (actually nine, if he’d kept count) when I was pretending to be a train engineer. I was only copying what I’d seen Mike Riverside doing before — on plenty of occasions, I might add. He never got into any trouble, but I sure did. Then again, my daddy didn’t own the mine.
“Hi, Mr. Hatfield,” I muttered through the circular intercom. “Daddy said it was okay for me to come. But I promise I’ll be on my best behavior today. No trouble.”
Uriah Hatfield let out a grunt as he rose from his seat. I did notice he was actually wearing his official security guard uniform for a change. Any other time he would be dressed in an old flannel shirt and worn out jeans. He preferred the laid back & casual look, but not today. I guess Harper Riverside really is puttin’ on the dog for the prospective buyers.
Uriah opened the door and then stepped outside with a grumbly sigh. “Yeah, Bea mentioned you’d be a comin’ and to let ya in . . . But why’d ya haveta bring the whole damn town with ya?”
I really wasn’t in the mood for his abrasive humor, so I smiled politely and shrugged my shoulders. Then with a gruff wave of his hand, Uriah motioned me over to a smaller door-sized gate beside the main one.
“I’ll know better next time,” I teased as I entered. Uriah didn’t say a word. His only response was a curt snarl accompanied by a stream of dismissive headshakes before he moseyed back to his post.
Apparently water doesn’t flow under his bridge, I noted as I shook off his grumpy gesture.
My entry riled the heck out of several bystanders, all of them questioning why I was allowed in and they weren’t. Uriah ignored their comments with a blatant flick of his newspaper and then propped it back in front of his face.
Now that I was officially “in”, I headed straight for the main building where Daddy’s desk was located. Harper Riverside’s office and the conference room were directly down the hall from it. Surely they’ll have the meeting in one of those rooms.
Upon arriving at the main building, three sleek black Chevy Suburbans sat parked right in front of it, making the scene look like something out of a spy movie. My eyes glanced around to the rear of the vehicles. Yep, dealer plates. My stomach did a quick flip as I whisked open the door and stepped inside.
Without delay, I dashed up the stairs to the second floor. Sadly, all I found was an empty reception area — no Ms. Sutherland, or any other secretary for that matter, and certainly not Daddy.
Where is everyone? They have to be here… Somewhere?
The office looked exactly as I remembered, only weathered by time. Mr. Riverside was known for his frugalness and never updated a thing unle
ss it was broken-beyond-repair. The walls were still covered in the same multi-tone beige seagrass wallpaper that was peeling away from its seams. I placed my hand on the wall in front of me with a smile, thinking about how I used to run my fingers all along the paper’s bumpy lines when I was little. There was just something about its texture I’d always found pleasing. The same burgundy leather chairs I would climb on and spin around in until I was beyond dizzy were still seated in front of the same old metal desks that had been here forever. They were plainly outdated style-wise, but as I plopped down into the one at Ms. Sutherland’s desk and gave it a quick spin, I discovered they were still perfectly functional and quite comfortable as well.
As I whirled around, I spied numerous maps of the mine’s tunnels plastering the walls. Several safety awards were hanging in the mix as well, right along with a few candid photographs of miners who had passed away. Still spinning, I lowered my feet to slow the revolving chair and stopped directly in front of Ms. Sutherland’s desk. Something caught my eye that sparked a smile. Sitting on its far right corner was the hand-carved coal sculpture of a miner I would play with when I was little. I used to pretend it was an award I’d won. I would even climb on her desk and stand there like I was on a stage, giving my acceptance speech as I waved it around proudly. Sometimes it was an Oscar and other times a Grammy (though honestly, I couldn’t carry a tune).
Yes, I held so many memories of this office. A funny feeling sent my lips into a tight purse. For some strange reason, I felt like today would be another one of those memorable moments. Whether it’ll be a good one or bad one, now that remains to be seen…
The next thing I knew, I felt a hand firmly grasp my shoulder. Startled, I grabbed my chest and sprang straight out of the chair. No one’s ever been able to sneak up on me, I thought as I caught my breath and spun around. Low and behold, there stood Beatrix Sutherland. Imagine that… All these years and a blind lady managed to pull it off.
“Shiloh, is that you?” Ms. Sutherland asked.
“Yes, Ms. Sutherland,” I replied, still clutching my chest and rightfully stunned by her on-the-money guess. “You startled me.”
“I’m sorry, dear,” she apologized with a lighthearted laugh. “I didn’t mean to. Usually, I’m the one who gets snuck up on. I never get to be the sneaker.”
Beatrix Sutherland hadn’t changed a bit. It was truly remarkable. I hadn’t seen her in several years, not since her 65th birthday party, but it appeared that time hadn’t marched across her face as I’d expected. Sure she had aged slightly and acquired a few more wrinkles, but they were soft and somewhat flattering. I’d seen younger women around town with markedly more lines on their faces. Maybe she’s had some work done? Though I honestly couldn’t picture it. Beatrix Sutherland seemed too relaxed and carefree. Plus, she had never struck me as someone obsessed with vanity for as long as I’d known her, and after all — she was blind! Why would it matter how much of a toll time had taken on her face? She didn’t have to look at it (and couldn’t see others doing so either). I watched as her chestnut-hued eyes drifted aimlessly off to the side. She still had her figure, too. She must be one of those seniors who stays active and hits the gym all the time. The only thing that seemed somewhat traditional about the sweet little old lady was her cropped, pixie-length silver hair — but even it was extremely trendy-looking on her.
I spotted her clutching a massive amount of files and paperwork. “Here, let me get those for you,” I insisted.
“That’s kind of you, my dear, but I’ve got these. I’m blind, not crippled,” Ms. Sutherland declared as she threw the load of office work over three feet towards the direction of her desk. I watched in amazement as they all landed perfectly on the only vacant spot its cluttered surface claimed…and not a one of them had even slipped an inch out of place.
My mouth cracked open slightly. Impressive.
“Freesias,” Ms. Sutherland said with a smile.
“Excuse me?” I asked cluelessly.
“Freesias, dear. That’s what I always smell whenever you’re around. That’s how I knew it was you,” she remarked confidently and then sat down at her desk.
I pulled my shirt out a bit and lowered my head, attempting to catch a whiff of any sort of aroma being emitted from my body. I didn’t find the slightest trace of a floral scent, and I could smell everything.
“I don’t see why?” I questioned. “I’m not wearing any perfume, and my deodorant is unscented. My soap has a subtle scent, but nothing like freesias. It must be the fabric softener,” I shrugged.
“Hmmm,” Ms. Sutherland hummed curiously as she continued sorting through the files on her desk.
“Have you seen . . .” Crap — I misspoke. I quickly rephrased my question. “Um, do you know where Daddy is?” I thought to myself, Of course she hasn’t “seen” him, idiot!
Ms. Sutherland stopped filing for a brief moment and stroked her silvery hair. She turned towards the direction of my voice. “He’s already in the conference room. They all are.” Then she slowly swiveled her chair back around to finish her work. Between her noticeably more rigid posture and the uneasiness I’d detected in her tone, clearly she was disturbed by something. And that simply sent my own worry shooting through the daggone roof.
“All meaning the entourage from Xcavare Enterprises?” I speculated.
Ms. Sutherland turned around out of courtesy and asked, “What do you know about Xcavare, Shiloh?”
Now I sensed some anticipation lacing her tone. “I know they were supposed to land at the Mercer County Airport today.”
Beatrix Sutherland’s normally relaxed stare now seemed the height of focused, like she was taking great pains to process the information. After a considerable pause, she asked, “Is that all you know about them?”
Strangely I felt the sudden need to weigh my words carefully. “Umm, Katie told me a little bit more . . . and I may have googled them in the school library today.”
“Katie? Katie Stowell? Ron and Julia Stowell’s daughter?” she asked.
I could tell she already knew the answer to her own question. Everyone knows everyone in Welch.
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“Then you must know that among their many geological and mineral endeavors, they also have a small operation devoted solely to the excavation of gemstones,” she acknowledged, seeming a bit peeved.
“I did hear something about that,” I admitted.
Ms. Sutherland leaned back in her chair and let out a ruffled sigh. I found her response peculiar. For a brief moment, I was kind of glad she couldn’t see the perplexed look I knew was written all over my face, particularly the part of my lips. Then with the inescapable draw of a magnet, my eyes followed the slow and steady track of her head as it turned towards the window. If I didn’t know she was blind, I would swear she was actually looking out it, like anyone would if they were in deep thought about something.
Maybe she needs to feel the warmth of the sun on her face?
She sat there, lost in her thoughts while she rubbed the ring finger of her left hand—the very one that normally displayed the delicate gold metal band set with her perfectly-round golden topaz—which for some reason was missing. Oddly, I became engrossed in staring at her only bare finger.
“Ms. Sutherland, what happened to your topaz ring?” I blurted without thinking.
She stopped stroking her finger immediately and abruptly lowered her hand. “Oh, I must’ve left it at home . . . on the sink.”
It wasn’t what I would call a convincing excuse. She had remembered to put on all the other rings she always carted around. Surely her hand would have felt strange…like something wasn’t there.
“It’s always been your favorite, right?” Ms. Sutherland softly asserted.
I found her correct guess intriguing. “How did you know that?”
“Oh, I seem to remember a little girl who would come down here with her fathe
r that would sit in my lap and run her fingers all over my hands. She played with every one of my rings . . . twisting and turning them on my fingers. But she always paid the most attention to my little topaz.”
Her vivid memory sparked a smile. “That’s right. It was my favorite. Not that the others aren’t beautiful,” I quickly clarified. “I guess I just liked its simple elegance . . . and it always had a special sparkle. It seemed to catch the light more than any of your others.” My voice trailed off. Crap! I just did it again… How can she ever see any of her rings “sparkling” or even “catching the light”?
Ms. Sutherland’s grin beamed her amusement. “No,” she quickly pointed out, “I can’t see my rings catching any light.” Then an airy stream of giggles breathed past her lips, which served to put me somewhat at ease. “All I need is to feel them there,” she assured. “I don’t have to physically see them, my dear, but they mean just as much to me.”
“Or maybe because it’s my birthstone?” I added.
“Maybe,” she smiled. “But you know, there are many different colors of topazes. Though I’ve always found the golden ones are the most practical to have around,” Ms. Sutherland stressed.
I’ve heard jewelry described as many things, but never “practical” — quite the opposite. Maybe when you can’t see their beauty, they serve a different purpose? Though for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what the heck that would be.
Ms. Sutherland rose from her chair and took a few steps in my direction, positioning herself in front of me.
“Shiloh, would you indulge me, dear? I haven’t done this in years, but I would love to get a better idea of the young lady you’ve grown up to be on the outside. I’d like to have a fresh mental picture of you . . . If you don’t mind?”
I knew what she was referring to. She hadn’t “felt my face” in years, and I was so fond of her that I gladly obliged her request.
“Sure” I replied. “Go ahead.”
Her hands found their way to the top of my head. Gently, she caressed them down the sides of my face and then back up, like I imagined an artist would if they were modeling a piece of clay. Ms. Sutherland’s eyes softened with every stroke of her fingers, and her smile grew wider with every turn.
“Beautiful . . . The outsides certainly match the insides,” she proclaimed.
This was the second time today my appearance had become a topic of discussion, and I found myself feeling uncomfortably self-conscious — again. I shied away as politely as I could.
Ms. Sutherland started to say something when the sound of a door creaking open halted her thoughts. Then voices began trickling down the hall that seemed to be growing louder with every passing second.
Jack Taylor, the day shift foreman, was the first to emerge. He tipped his lighted hard hat at us as he walked by.
“Ladies,” Mr. Taylor said with a smile. I took that as a good sign.
Next to step into the room was Ricky Rogers, the local coal miners’ union president. He was in a hurry and had a scowl on his face. I couldn’t make heads or tails from his expression. He always looked like that. Personally, I thought it was frozen that way. He was just one of those folks who was never happy about anything.
Ricky Rogers paused only for a moment to acknowledge our presence. “Bea. Shiloh,” he remarked curtly before clomping out the door.
The news couldn’t have been bad, I thought. As neurotic as what Ricky Rogers was, he would have opted to leave via any of the open windows.
Ms. Sutherland sat back down at her desk and began randomly shuffling through some paperwork, almost like she was trying to find something to work on or possibly in search of a distraction.
Daddy was the next one to follow. It’s about time, I sighed. He was sporting a strange look on his face when he stepped into the office that shifted into borderline-frightful as soon as our eyes met. Not a second later, he was hurrying towards the door and motioning for me to follow. Panic-stricken, I planted myself right where I stood as he breezed past.
“What’s WRONG?” I demanded, confused by his behavior. When Daddy realized I hadn’t budged, he grabbed my arm and yanked me towards the door.
“Shiloh, our meeting’s over. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home later,” Daddy insisted. “I’m sure you’re tired of waiting.”
There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. He was rushing me out of here. “I haven’t been here that long,” I countered, still wondering what sort of awful news could have rattled his chain. I’d never seen him this flustered. Again, Daddy gave me a slight shove in an attempt to get me to cross the threshold and move out into the hall. But there was only one problem: I wasn’t going anywhere, and he knew it too.
Daddy attempted to reassure me with a smile and a quick peck on the cheek. “Shi, everything’s fine — really.”
I wasn’t buying it. Something was most certainly “up”.
“Honestly,” Daddy stressed and then tried ushering me out the door one more time.
I pushed his hand away automatically. “NO! I DON’T BELIEVE YOU!” I exclaimed with an equally forceful tone.
This was the most defiant I’d ever acted towards my father. He was plainly signaling for me to leave, but I stood there glaring at him like I had the word “LIAR” etched in the whites of my eyes. His brow started to furrow, letting me know his patience had worn out. Sure, Chloe had bucked him countless times over the years, and I’d seen him make this face before, but never towards me. The daughter who had “never disappointed him” was now showing out — at his work, to boot.
I sighed and lowered my head. “Okay . . . If you say so,” I conceded. Then I lifted my gaze to his, opting for something a little more passive. “After all, you’ve never lied to me.”
Daddy glanced over at Ms. Sutherland and then gave me a stern look. “I’ll be home as soon as possible, but I need you to leave — right now,” he commanded in his stern father-voice.
I attempted to calm myself down by rationalizing (hoping really) that maybe his boss wouldn’t have wanted any family members in the office during the meeting. “Of course, Daddy. Bye, Ms. Sutherland,” I called back to her somberly.
“Good-bye, dear,” she replied with a sympathetic smile.
I was just about to disappear through the door when a strange voice called out, “Well now . . . Who is this? I thought I’d already been introduced to all the lovely ladies in the office.”
The voice’s accent was undeniably from someone who’d never hung around a Southern state long enough to pick up any semblance of a country twang. Very refined and articulate, I noted. It oozed with charm and sophistication — not to mention, considerable wealth.
Daddy’s hand grasped my arm a little tighter as he slowly turned towards the stranger’s voice. He announced, “This is my oldest daughter. She came by to drop something off to me, but she’s on her way home.” Daddy was keeping such a stationary hold on my arm I doubted if I could turn around willingly.
“Well personally, I would love to meet my night foreman’s eldest daughter. Xcavare is a family business, you know. Turn around, child. I insist.”
Daddy’s hesitation confused me. By all accounts of what I’d just heard, the mine was his. It was being sold, not closed. They’re still in business and Daddy’s job is safe. The town is safe. This is great news!
Daddy’s unyielding grip eventually loosened, though slowly.
Just as soon as I was free, I whipped around beaming a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. There in the middle of the office, a striking yet strange man stood before me. He towered over portly Harper Riverside standing directly to his right. The man seemed refined without a doubt, though he had a slightly weathered look about him — not necessarily by years, but rather experiences. My eyes traced every inch of his appearance. Waves of white hair cascaded down past his shoulders, framing a long and sharply chiseled face. He actually had enough tresses to lend to
Mr. Riverside (whose own had thinned out quite a bit since the last time I’d seen him). The distinguished new owner was dressed in the most stylish three-piece suit I’d ever seen. It was a charcoal gray hue and carried a hint of iridescence that amped up his steel-blue eyes to the point of penetrating, almost like he’d selected the color for that intended purpose. My final ruling: very tailored, very classy, but nevertheless — very peculiar. A cane lay propped in the bend of his arm, which gave him an extra touch of sophistication. The handle was wrapped with a strip of leather that spiraled up to its tip, and the carvings on its long wooden shaft were incredibly ornate. I assumed the fancy walking-stick was just for show since he looked somewhere in his 40’s and to be in perfect health.
He won’t have to worry about getting confused with any of the locals around here…That’s for sure!
“Lazarus Xcavare,” the man announced as he extended his hand.
I glanced back at Daddy. He seemed calm, yet apprehensive. I kind of got the impression he didn’t want me to shake it, but as soon as Daddy noticed my eyes narrowing, his demeanor did a complete turnabout and then he casually motioned for me to oblige the request of his new boss.
Maybe Daddy really is uncomfortable with me being here? I am at his workplace…interrupting an important meeting. After all, it’s not Bring-your-daughter-to-work Day.
“Shyloh Wallace,” I announced politely as I reached over to shake the intriguing new owner’s hand.
I noticed a beautiful band of braided gold resting on the ring finger of Mr. Xcavare’s right hand, set with a polished royal blue stone. Though its color seemed to vary, the stone’s blue hue melded nicely with the mixture of tiny black, white, and golden flecks that randomly splattered its surface. I found myself strangely captivated by it for some reason and even purposely brushed my fingers over it as I took his hand.
Suddenly a subtle, though noticeable jolt shot up my arm. It felt kind of prickly and cold — eerily cold, in fact. I quickly composed myself with a smile and passed it off as static electricity. The longer I stared into his steel-blue eyes, the more they began to deepen into a shade strikingly similar to the stone in his ring. Probably just from the lighting in the room, I rationalized innocently.
His handshake was strong, exactly what you would expect from a titan-of-industry. However the next thing I knew, my entire body felt as frigid as a block of ice and my heart seemed frighteningly black for some unknown reason. A wicked vibe flooded my head not a second later and then I heard a voice call out,
Damn, I’m so tired of this!
Just a few more hours to
finalize things and then
I can start searching…
And where the hell is Grey?
Father insisted he be here…
He’d better be out collecting
my samples… I’ll have no stone
unturned while we search this
flea-bitten, trashy hick-town…
The sooner I find it — the better!
My eyes froze on the spot. I’d heard Mr. Xcavare’s voice as clear as a bell, but the troubling thing was — HIS LIPS HAD NEVER MOVED! He was simply standing there, smiling. Without delay, I glanced around at everyone in the room, desperately searching for any sign that they had heard what he’d just said. Unexplainably, they hadn’t. I felt the color beginning to drain from my face, and my head automatically sank towards my chest.
Daddy noticed my peculiar behavior and crept closer to where we stood. Lazarus Xcavare must have picked up on it, too. He was still holding my hand, but then all of a sudden, he placed his arm around me, like he sensed my apprehension and was attempting to soothe me. My body rocked with another frigid jolt as he drew me closer.
What is with these ignorant
hillbillies? Have they never
seen a man of stature before?
Probably not…
I guess they’re more
comfortable with their men
running around in
overalls and tank tops.
They really need to teach these
young people some manners.
This one will probably end up
barefoot and pregnant
by spring…
If she isn’t already…
Surely someone heard that, I thought, still paralyzed by a mixture of fear and sheer disbelief. I looked over at Daddy. Why isn’t he correcting this asshole for basically calling me a backwoods slut?
Feeling my eyes on the verge of popping out of their sockets, I sought out a random spot on the floor in hopes of hiding my dumbfounded stare. Voices echoed around me, but I couldn’t focus on what they were saying. My eyes eventually drifted back to my father, only to see him standing there looking equally as stunned with his mouth practically scraping the daggone floor.
“Shiloh?” Daddy called out nervously. He didn’t know what the heck was wrong with me, and frankly, neither did I.
I realized how embarrassing this undoubtedly looked, especially for Daddy. I scrambled for an excuse as I remained motionless, still locked in Lazarus Xcavare’s arms.
“I just feel a bit light-headed,” I mumbled.
Again, the voice blared in my head,
Yes, indeed…
Probably pregnant!
After hearing that, I sprang out of Lazarus Xcavare’s grasp and started fanning myself uncontrollably.
“I think I need some air,” I insisted nervously, “ . . . or something.”
“Bea, get this girl some water, now!” Harper Riverside ordered gruffly, trying to take charge of the awkward situation and clearly disgusted by the spectacle I’d just made.
My eyes fell upon Ms. Sutherland, desperately trying to clear my head so I could attempt to make some sense of what the heck had just happened. A dreadful look had hardened on her face. Even her soft wrinkles seemed much deeper and more defined. The scene must have sounded awful to her since she couldn’t physically see what had transpired.
“Right away, Mr. Riverside,” she agreed.
My eyes followed Ms. Sutherland to the water cooler, watching her maneuver effortlessly through the men. Though on her way back, she accidentally bumped into Mr. Xcavare, spilling more than a few drops of water on his designer suit.
“Excuse me, Sir,” Ms. Sutherland apologized nonchalantly.
Lazarus Xcavare snarled as he pulled a crisp white handkerchief from his inside pocket and then blotted the water spots with several testy pats.
That’s odd. She didn’t have a problem avoiding them a second ago, I thought suspiciously. But right then, I couldn’t have cared less if she had dumped the whole cup on him — and a big part of me wished she had.
Daddy swiftly sat me down at a vacant desk. I couldn’t muster the courage to look at him or anyone else in the room for that matter, particularly Lazarus Xcavare. So I just remained there with my head down in a quiet slump, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on me — and strangely enough, even Ms. Sutherland’s.
Beatrix Sutherland kneeled beside me, wrapping my dazed frame in a hug. “Here, dear. Drink this,” she insisted, practically shoving my face into the plastic cup.
“Is she going to be all right?” Harper Riverside asked, making a forced attempt at some compassion.
“She’ll be fine,” Daddy assured them with a half-hearted smile. “Don’t let us keep you from your tour, Mr. Xcavare. I know you have a lot of business to tend to today.”
“Yes . . . I do,” Mr. Xcavare remarked with a confused look directed my way. Then after a few more silent seconds, he abruptly snapped out of his awkward trance and turned his stare straight to my father, now appearing without a care and his eyes practically glistening. “Caiden,” Lazarus Xcavare chuckled and then continued, “May I call you Caiden?”
“Yes, Sir,” Daddy responded cordially.
“No, no. I’m Mr. Xcavare . . . My father is Sir,” he countered with a sarcastic laugh and dramatic wave of his cane. �
�I know you aren’t technically on the clock right now, however, I want you to accompany us on the tour.”
Though my face was still buried in the cup, my eyes were solely focused on Daddy. It was obvious from watching him quietly rubbing his creased brow that he didn’t want to go. Mr. Riverside began shifting around restlessly, having picked up on his employee’s reservation as well.
“Certainly Caiden will join us,” Harper Riverside blurted adamantly, which lit an instant smile on Lazarus Xcavare’s face.
“I would also like to do a quick drive around some of the property that sits adjacent to the mine,” Lazarus Xcavare announced. “I bet you know this area like the back of your hand, Caiden . . . Am I right?”
Daddy looked a bit perplexed. “Yes, Mr. Xcavare. You’re right.”
“Well, of course, I’m right. I always am,” Lazarus Xcavare laughed. Then he lifted his cane and pointed it at everyone in the room with one grand, theatrical sweep. “Listen to your instincts. That’s what I always say and do,” he added vainly.
Harper Riverside joined in on his laughter and gave Mr. Xcavare a swift smack on the back. That gesture went unappreciated. Lazarus Xcavare’s eyes narrowed just as quickly as his laughter ceased, which in turn had Harper Riverside cowering back nervously and wallowing in regret.
Daddy cleared his throat. “What properties do you want to survey? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Oh, not at all, Caiden. I’m interested in touring all the adjacent land that surrounds the mine within a five-mile radius, for starters. You never know where better reserves are hiding,” Lazarus Xcavare winked and then smacked the handle of his cane against the palm of his hand.
“Even Shiloh Ridge?” Ms. Sutherland submitted, her tone laced with doubt.
Everyone turned their heads towards the blind secretary who had been sitting quietly off to the side.
“I suppose,” Lazarus Xcavare replied in a condescending manner, looking only at Harper Riverside, “ . . . if it’s adjacent to the mine.”
Mr. Xcavare didn’t appear to appreciate her interjection into their conversation, nor did he ever physically direct his attention towards her in any way. Though judging from Beatrix Sutherland’s much straighter stance and the eager quiver rocking her lips, the mine’s high & mighty buyer didn’t intimidate her one bit.
“That property’s not for sale,” Beatrix Sutherland brazenly continued. “In fact, there are people living all over these mountains, scattered here and there within that range.”
Lazarus Xcavare breathed out a petulant sigh and raised his head with a bold laugh. Then he turned to the office secretary, finally acknowledging her meager presence.
“Everything is for sale, Madame and everyone has a price,” Lazarus Xcavare assured her with an arrogant and lofty raise of his brow.
“Oh, Caiden’s definitely the man for the job. He lives just up past Shiloh Ridge. That land is practically his own backyard,” Harper Riverside added, attempting to break up the escalating tension in the room and win back a spot within the clearly irritated man’s good graces.
Mr. Xcavare flashed a pandering grin. “Perfect. Maybe while we’re out, you can show me your home? We’re a family business. I would love to meet the rest of yours,” he proclaimed while his cold little peepers shot a curious glance my way. “Shall we go?” Lazarus posed with a couple of claps and then strutted towards the door.
“If you’ll give me a minute to check on my daughter?” Daddy requested, not appearing to be in any hurry to join them.
Harper Riverside looked back at Mr. Xcavare before rendering his decision.
“But of course,” Lazarus Xcavare agreed with an arched brow. “I’m sure she’s fine. We’ll be waiting downstairs.”
Mr. Xcavare stepped out into the hall with Harper Riverside following behind him like a faithful, lowly servant. I’d never seen my father’s boss so submissive or obedient to anyone. He probably would have lined Lazarus Xcavare’s path with rose petals if he’d had them.
Without warning, Lazarus Xcavare reappeared in the doorway. “Goodbye, child. I genuinely hope you recover from whatever it is that’s ailing you,” he remarked with a curt smile and then was gone in a flash.
Daddy knelt beside me. “Shiloh, are you working at the Drive-In tonight?”
I got the clear impression that hearing a “yes” would be music to his ears. “No. My next shift isn’t until tomorrow night,” I replied.
Daddy’s stare fell to the floor, his eyes drilling into the carpet anxiously, which only added to my confusion. I figured he would have been more concerned with “what in the hell was going on with me”, but he didn’t even question my bizarre behavior. He just sat there with the focus of a chess player…contemplating WHAT, I had no idea.
My voice began to crack. “Are—Aren’t you going to ask me what happened . . . or what’s wrong?”
Still trapped in his daze, he neither answered nor acknowledged me.
What is he brooding about? I wondered.
“Daddy?” I called out, over and over. My voice ascended with every one of my attempts to snag his attention. “DADDY?”
My father’s hazy stare eventually fell back on me. His eyes flared just as soon as he realized that he’d unintentionally been tuning me out.
“Oh Shiloh, I’m sorry, honey. What happened?” Daddy asked, now looking the epitome of concerned.
I sat there in silence for a moment, knowing full well that Daddy and Ms. Sutherland were both anxiously awaiting my answer. I couldn’t have possibly felt any more uncomfortable if I happened to be strapped to a chair in a dark interrogation room left to sweat out his question under a hot blinding spotlight.
What do I tell him? Oh, nothin’ much… I just heard every freakin’ thing that creepy guy was saying — in his DAGGONE HEAD! It sounded crazy! Completely insane! My embarrassing behavior had already caused Daddy enough tension, so there was no way I could tell him I’d just heard Lazarus Xcavare’s thoughts, let alone what kind of things that pompous ass had said. So with that considered, I opted to construct my words very carefully.
“I don’t know . . . Stress, maybe? I’ve been tied up in knots all day.” They both looked skeptical. “And I didn’t eat any lunch because I had such a heavy breakfast. Maybe my blood sugar dropped a bit?” I added.
Both their expressions gradually softened as more and more seconds ticked away. So it seemed their doubts had subsided a little, at least on the surface (though that was probably more wishful thinking on my part).
“But you’re feeling better now?” Ms. Sutherland questioned.
I rose from my chair, preparing to put forth a convincing performance. “Yes, yes. I’m fine. Totally fine,” I declared and topped it off with a perky smile.
Daddy stood up beside me and grasped my shoulders. “I want you to go straight home, okay?”
“I will.” That was my plan anyway. I would have run out of here five minutes ago if someone had magically issued my frozen frame a merciful thawing. Even the idea of diving into my bed and throwing the covers over my head like when I was little sounded incredibly comforting.
Daddy shot a quick glance towards the door. “I have to go now, but I want you to do something for me. After you finish your homework, could you start cleaning out my workshop?”
My mouth dropped. “Your workshop?” I asked cluelessly.
Why in the heck does he want me to do THAT? He was all worried my physical-state just a minute ago, and now he wants hard labor out of me? Did I miss something? Am I in trouble?
“It would really help me out, Shiloh,” Daddy insisted with an earnest nod. “I’ve got a few things I need to finish up this weekend, and I could get them done a heck of a lot faster if it was more organized out there.”
Now I was the skeptic. I didn’t know of any pending projects that required an organized workspace. However, I knew all too well how messy his workshop behind our house had gotten.
It was an accomplishment when he finally completed a project, what with all he had to do on a daily basis. Cleaning up whatever mess he’d made afterwards was a rare occurrence. Though in his defense, he simply didn’t have the time. No sooner than he would wrap up one job, Charlotte would be waiting on pins and needles to hand him another.
“Sure, Daddy,” I agreed humbly, like a dutiful daughter would, and reached over to kiss him on the cheek. “You can go. I’m fine. I don’t have any homework, so I’ll get started on it as soon as I get home.” I gave him a reassuring smile. “I promise.”
Daddy slapped on his hard hat and then after a quick return peck, he was out the door.
The sound of Ms. Sutherland’s throat clearing finally tore my blank stare from the empty doorway. “Your blood-sugar, huh?” she asked in a dubious tone.
Nope. She hadn’t bought a bit of it. “Isn’t that what happens when you haven’t eaten in a while?” I posed, determined to put this topic to rest.
Beatrix Sutherland shook her head and went back to sorting the remaining files on her desk, sighing under her breath. “I guess standing too close to trash like that will make anyone lightheaded,” she remarked, “and even a little queasy.”
Her comment surprised me. I had a damn valid reason for thinking that about Lazarus Xcavare. I’d heard his opinions of Welch and its residents — especially the insulting “barefoot and pregnant” one about me. Was it possible she’d heard them too?
“Trash?” I inquired.
“Oh, just those hoity-toity, uppity folks,” she elaborated with a grumble. “You don’t have to see trash to know it’s there . . . All you have to do is smell it.”
Ms. Sutherland was right. Lazarus Xcavare was arrogant and odd — very odd. Without a doubt, he would definitely ruffle a few feathers around town with his brash mannerisms alone. You didn’t need to hear what he was thinking to know he was a snide, elitist asshole.
“It was nice seeing you, Ms. Sutherland, but I guess I need to get home now. Apparently I have a big evening ahead of me,” I scoffed lightly. I didn’t feel like chatting anymore, and I wanted out of here desperately so I could be alone with my thoughts…and hopefully, no one else’s!
“Shiloh, before you go, I wanted to ask a favor from you.”
“Sure,” I shrugged.
“I was wondering if you had some free time on Saturday? I turned in my notice earlier today, and I need some help boxing up my belongings. They’re just things I won’t need for the next ten days. I’ll pay you, of course.”
My eyes shot open. “You’re leaving? The mine? And moving out of town?”
“Yes, dear,” Ms. Sutherland confirmed casually.
I can understand why she may want to retire, but moving away as well? I’d sensed some tension between her and Mr. Xcavare, so naturally my curiosity was piqued.
“Is this because of the sale?” I probed.
“Partly, but my stay here has always been limited . . . and now it’s time for me to complete my duties and be on my way,” she said confidently. “You’ll have some help too. Someone usually comes by on the weekends to do odd jobs for me. I’ll have them assist you with the packing. Mr. Mayfield will be dropping off a box truck tomorrow night. All you will have to do is pack boxes and then load them into the back of the truck.”
Even as she spoke, I still couldn’t process the idea that she was leaving — for good. I hadn’t spent any real time with her in years, but I was genuinely fond of her and could tell by the sinking feeling in my stomach that I would truly miss her.
“Yes, Ms. Sutherland. I can come over around eight o’clock, if that’s okay?” I wanted to help her as much as I could before the dance-from-Hell that evening.
“Splendid!” Ms. Sutherland exclaimed. “Okay, give me a hug, and I’ll see you then.”
I gave her a tight squeeze. “Bye. I’ll see you Saturday. But I’m not taking your money.”
“You will have to take something, dear,” Ms. Sutherland insisted as she ran her hand along the curve of my jaw. “Goodbye, Shiloh. Don’t work too hard tonight.”
“Okay.” With that said, I hurried out the door, ran down the stairs, and rushed outside for some much-needed fresh air (well, as fresh-of-air as one could get around a dirty old coalmine, that is).
The weight of my body thrust me back against the door while the cold whip of a late fall breeze smacked my face and followed my slide to the ground. I felt like I was in a trapped elevator, crashing down into a bottomless pit of confusion.
What the heck just happened in there? My mind was racing. I’d heard things I couldn’t possibly have been able to hear. An icy chill coursed along every nerve in my body. Instinctively, I clutched my little oval locket for some sense of security, trying to keep my breaths controlled and deep.
And why would he think that stuff about me? As crazy as it sounded, I was slightly more disturbed by the notion of some stranger implying that I was some little moronic redneck slut who whored the hills sans-protection. I tended to be a bit prideful about my sexual-status. My virginity was something I held in the highest regard (kind of like my own Endangered Species list). My sex life—or lack thereof—was no one’s business but my own!
And who’s going to believe me? That was the depressing part. My father? Apparently Daddy was so humiliated by my behavior he’d ordered me into an evening of hard labor and seclusion out in his workshop. My mother? She would be on the phone with an asylum before I could finish my sentence.
I scooped myself up off the ground and veered towards the main gate. I’d been so engrossed in my thoughts that I hadn’t noticed the celebration going on all around me. Crowds of people were cheering and hugging each other left and right. I hadn’t seen this much unity and affection in our community since two miners were trapped in one of the tunnels over ten years ago.
I rolled my eyes. I guess they’ve heard the GOOD NEWS…
Jack Taylor was hopping around, kissing every female in sight. He even kissed a couple of men by accident. The miners were all so overjoyed they didn’t mind. To my amazement, one of the gruff ’n burly-looking guys actually kissed him back.
With a listless gait, I wandered over to the security station and tapped on the window.
“I’m leaving now, Uriah,” I muttered.
The grumpy old guard emerged from his post. “You gonna take all these fools with ya?” Uriah questioned as he walked over to unlock the side gate.
Still rattled from that handshake, I made no attempt at any comments or pleasantries, not with the dark thoughts of Lazarus Xcavare continuing to plague my mind.
Then suddenly, the strangest of feelings came over me. I found myself unconsciously turning back towards the main office building. My stare shot up to the second-floor window, precisely where the incident had occurred. My eyes immediately spied the silhouette of a woman through the open blinds. It was Ms. Sutherland. She was facing the window, just standing there. I started to turn back around but felt compelled into doing a double-take when the bizarre sensation intensified. For a second, I could have sworn she was actually watching me. It was almost indescribable, but I felt her eyes on me — looking dead at me. Something inside me burned with certainty.
“Shiloh? Are ya comin’? Just ’cause we’ve been bought by some rich Yankee, don’t mean I’m plannin’ on turnin’ into a doorman no time soon,” Uriah griped.
I snapped out of my trance and hurried past him, rushing out of the gate.
“Thank ya!” he replied sarcastically, needing to point out my lack of manners. But right then, etiquette was the last thing on my mind.
“I hope ya didn’t find no trouble while ya’s in there,” Uriah hollered, making a point of calling out the strange look shellacking my face. “I ain’t cleanin’ up no more of ya messes!”
I kept walking sluggishly and thought, No… But something tells me that trouble just found me.
I drifted past the
exuberant crowd, eyes straight ahead and my body moving in slow motion. The walk was almost surreal. Everyone around me was jumping up and down—a whoopin’ & a hollerin’—but I remained locked in my daze while I tried to rationalize what had just happened.
Too much static electricity in the air? That sounded far-fetched. My reasoning for psychic phenomenon was extremely limited, and I didn’t believe in telepathy. It had never happened before, and trust me, there had been P-L-E-N-T-Y of times over the years I could have put it to good use.
There has to be a logical reason for what happened…because if there isn’t, that would just make me plain ole nuts!
I finally arrived at my car and not a minute too soon. I climbed in and sat there for a moment, simply clutching the steering wheel. All the other cars parked alongside the road were leaving in such a hurry, bustling to get out of here — but not me. I was fine right where I was.
My things were exactly where I’d left them, lying beside me in the passenger-seat. I picked up my cell phone.
