Above the Waterfall (15 page)

A snapping turtle hauls itself toward the stream. Not a short journey: the shell's gray mosaic dusted brown. To this meadow from where? A smaller stream? Or some miles off, a drought-drained pond? I think of my grandfather in another meadow years ago, a divining rod trembling in his hand.
Right here,
he'd told his neighbor. I'd been with him that day, but had there really been water? If I was told, I have no memory of it.

Soon Gerald and I will be on his porch stringing beans and filling a washtub. We'll ponder the mountains, watch the woolly worm's coat to see how cold the winter will be. Watch fog saddle the mountainsides white. Soon.

I look at what I've written and watch the turtle move
through the grass, over the spoon dip of the trail, into woods soon slanting toward water.

           
From the dying drool of a farm pond

           
where deep-most dock legs are dry,

           
let it plod through field and pasture

           
to find lasting water, let it pulse

           
the creek pool's muddy heart,

           
then rise, a slow becoming,

           
like a bruise summoning

           
its own harsh beauty

           
and survive

If not today then soon, gray clouds will gather. Let it come so I might hear leaf splats, watch the wet blotch, taste on my tongue, feel on my face the pentecost of petrichor.

And afterward:

           as the storm moves on

                  
      rain trickles off

                                        
         the leaves

                                                          like an afterthought

When Jarvis came back, I had him take Darby downstairs and put him in a cell. No paperwork yet, I said. I told Ruby I needed to be left alone and shut my door. After twenty minutes I'd thought and rethought things enough to make a choice. I spent the next hour making phone calls and typing up a confession, then told Jarvis to bring Darby back upstairs.

I pointed at a seat and closed the door. Darby set his left leg over his right knee, then began scratching his ankle. Thinking of that bag of crystal Shilo was dipping into at that very moment. Or at least his body was thinking about it. But then I saw it wasn't meth bugs. Darby's sock had a hole and his fingers tugged at the cloth to conceal it. Sent to prison twice for theft, then trying to kill
his own uncle, but a worn-out sock was what shamed him.

“Here's the deal,” I said, pushing paper and pen to his side of the desk.

“You're crazy as a shit-house rat if you figure me to sign that,” Darby said after reading it.

“You'll sign it,” I said, “because if you don't all kinds of bad things are going to happen to you.”

“Like what?”

“I'll go back over to your house and get the drugs your lady friend showed me. Third offense is another year in prison guaranteed, added on to what you'll get for the fish kill.”

“They'll lock me up longer if I take all the blame for it,” Darby said.

“I talked to the DA and to Tucker too. I said I could get the guilty person to turn himself in for a bit of leniency. The DA's willing to let you off with a five-thousand-dollar fine, no jail time. Tucker wasn't a damn bit happy, but he said if he got ten thousand in restitution he'd accept the deal.”

“I ain't got that kind of money,” Darby said.

“I'm paying it,” I said, “the fine and Tucker both.”

Darby cocked his head and stared at me. It was the look of a man who wouldn't trust his own shadow.

“There's another thing for you to think about,” I said. “You were right about Becky Shytle wanting your inheri
tance, but she wants it for the park, not herself. I helped her figure out how to do it too. The short of it is, Gerald will donate the land to the state.”

“Bullshit,” Darby said.

“You think so,” I said. “I can't imagine why Gerald wouldn't go along with it, can you, especially after you tried to put him in jail?”

“He promised Momma . . .”

I smiled.

“That's why the donation will be in
your
name, Darby, not Gerald's. It will be
your
land that's been donated, and don't you worry, you'll get all the credit for it. There'll be a plaque at the park with ‘Donated by Darby Ramsey' engraved on it. They're nice plaques, Darby, not some cheap thing like you'd get at Walmart. It even has a gold finish, and Becky will make sure they put it where everyone can see your name.”

“This ain't near right,” Darby said, and said it again, this time more a moan than a statement. He stared at the paper and then settled two fingers on the ink pen but didn't pick it up.

“So what's your pleasure, Darby?”

“What else have I got to do?” Darby asked. “That is, if I sign it?”

“Nothing else, except that, once you do sign it, you understand that dragging C.J. Gant into this will do you
no good. Who will believe you if it's your word against a guy who built a park for kids? And this cell phone, it's going to disappear too. You'll have nothing to link it to him but your word. But even so, if you do mention C.J. was involved in this,
ever
, I'll kick your ass so hard you'll be shitting out of your ears.”

“What about Shilo?”

“She's not going to be brought up in any of this, same as C.J. And if you do anything to her for talking to me, I'll kick your ass for that too.”

“So I take all the blame.”

“Sign that paper and you're every bit as free as them.”

Darby stared at the window, no doubt wishing he was somewhere other than here.

“So I'll just walk out soon as I sign it. No bond or anything?”

“That's right.”

“How do I know you won't go back on your word after I sign this,” Darby asked, “and me end up in prison anyway?”

“I won't do that.”

“Why not?”

There were a couple of answers I could give, but I picked the one Darby would believe.

“Maybe it's because I think you'll die quicker outside of prison than in.”

For the first time since we'd sat down, Darby met
my eyes. The mask of bravado and swagger drained away. What was left wasn't hopefulness or hopelessness, sadness or happiness, relief or fear. I couldn't put a name to it, but I knew it was human, and then it drained away as well.

“Okay,” Darby muttered. “I'll sign it.”

I brought Ruby in as a witness and Darby signed the confession. As soon as he left I took out the blue cell phone and dialed the number. C.J. picked up on the third ring.

“We need to talk, C.J.,” I said. “I'll meet you at the park in twenty minutes.”

He still didn't speak.

“I've already talked to Darby.”

“All right,” he said.

I drove to my house and got the money I'd hidden in the attic. Sat at the kitchen table and I counted out the fifteen thousand for the fine and restitution and then another twenty-five thousand to pay for the porch. After all the ugliness I'd seen as a sheriff, I figured I was at least owed a pretty view. I put the eighty-five thousand in a paper shopping bag and drove back. I parked at the courthouse and walked down to the park. The air was less humid, cleaner feeling, and the blue sky had the clarity you get this time of year. People were out, getting an early start to their weekend. As I sat down on a bench, I saw Barry and his family. Carly stood under a tree near the swing set, the baby in the bassinet beside her, while Delila, their three-year-old,
caught a ball Barry tossed underhanded. I walked a few yards toward them and waved. Barry opened a palm in response but turned back to his daughter.

I would have gone and spoken if Barry had looked my way again, but he didn't, so I sat back down and closed my eyes, leaned my head upward to feel the sun's warmth. When Sarah and I went to Laurel Fork that afternoon, I'd asked her to marry me. Then we'd skinny-dipped in a pool below a waterfall. The water was icy cold but we hadn't toweled off or wrapped ourselves in the quilt we'd brought. We just lay on a big slab of rock near the tailrace. Side by side, silent, just one of my hands touching one of hers as the sun warmed us. After a few minutes, we'd gotten up. Sarah nodded at where our bodies had made damp shadows.
You know there will be times I'll be like that
, she'd said, pointing at her shadow.
Sometimes the pills aren't enough. There may be times you'll wish . . . No I won't,
I'd said and pulled her to me.
There will never be a single moment I'll think anything but how lucky I am to have you as my wife. I promise.
Then we'd made love. Afterward, Sarah had gone back into the water. I stood on the bank and watched her swim to the pool's center, disappear, and resurface, her throat lifting as she swept back her hair with one hand, her eyes meeting mine as she waded back to shore unclothed, her hair and skin glistening, her bare feet stepping softly over the river rocks, coming closer with her damp arms already open
to embrace me. She'd pressed her head against my heart. Promise me again, Sarah had said.
I promise,
I'd said.

I opened my eyes and watched Barry and his family. I hoped that he no longer awakened in the night to drag a vacuum cleaner across a floor, straighten a towel, or wipe off a counter. I imagined him waking at 2 or 3
A.M.
and realizing
I don't need to do that anymore,
then placing an arm around Carly's waist, closing the space between them.

I looked around the park C.J. had made possible, thought back to that afternoon when C.J. had saved my arm, surely my life. I wanted to believe I'd have done the same for him, but I knew that I would have hesitated, if just for a second, and it would have been too late.

C.J. drove up, not in his SUV but a Ford Escort I'd seen on Bob Ponder's used car lot. He came and sat down, looking out at the park, as I did.

“So you had the camera connected to your office computer?” I asked.

“Yes.”

A child got on the swing set, and her father pushed to get her going. She rose and fell, legs straight out, hands gripping the chains. At the top of the arc, she squeezed the chains tight and lifted a few inches out of the swing, for a moment airborne and weightless.

After a couple of minutes, C.J. spoke.

“If you expect me to say I'm sorry I did it, that's not
going to happen. I stuck my neck out for Gerald and you see what he did to me, what he did to my boys' futures. You know with that bad heart he won't live much longer. Then Darby will sell the land and spend every penny on drugs. You tell me that won't happen? The one chance that money could do some good was helping my boys. Tell me that's not true?”

“Even if it is all true . . . ,” I said, and for a moment it was like I'd lost my train of thought.

“Even if it is all true
what
?”

“It was still wrong, C.J.”

“Okay, it was wrong. Is that what you need to hear, me saying it myself?”

“I just couldn't expect you to do this,” I answered.

My words sounded convoluted, even to me.

“You know I didn't want to come back up here,” C.J. said, not looking at me or the girl swinging but at the mountains. “Another head of PR job was opening soon at Myrtle Beach. Same raise in pay as here. I told Mr. Tucker the Myrtle Beach job was the one I wanted, but because of the expansions, he needed me here for the politics since, like him, I
understood
the local culture. A year, at most two, he told me, and I'd be back at Myrtle Beach, with a big promotion and a bump in salary. So I came back, because it was the best thing I could do for my boys. Then the reces
sion hits and I'm stuck in the same county I spent my early life trying to get out of. But even so, once I got here, I tried to do some good. I told myself that this was where I came from, that despite everything, this was
home
and I could make it a better place. And not just for me. I've done a lot of good for this community, more than I had to for the job. I spent
my
time, not Tucker's, to get this park and the new fire station built. And now, people in this town, the same ones who looked down on me growing up, they're glad I got fired. So fuck Gerald and fuck this whole town.”

C.J. paused.

“Go ahead,” he said, “tell me how that dumbass couldn't even get rid of a six-ounce cell phone.”

“His girlfriend sold it to Trey Yarbrough, for seven dollars.”

C.J. shook his head.

“And they say you can't go home again, right, Les? Well, I'm back and nothing's changed. The same people doing the same stupid things.
My
people
. Who've never done a damn thing for me. The only college scholarship money I got from this county came from the Knights of Columbus, folks who had moved here from other places. Yeah, my people, who resented me when I treated them the same way they'd treated me growing up. You don't think I've heard them?
Why that's old Darnell Gant's boy. Look
at him all dressed up. His daddy used to be the biggest drunk in this county, and now he thinks he's some hotshot because he works for Tucker at that resort.”

C.J. turned to me.

“There have been times you did the same. I've seen it at council meetings, heard your little quips.”

“Maybe I did some of that, but I've defended you too.”

“So what now?” C.J. asked. “Are you arresting me?”

“No, this is over. Darby's signed a confession that he acted alone. That's part of the deal, that he won't bring you into it.”

“And you believe he'll keep quiet about me, despite the confession?”

“I know he will. Greed and fear are a potent combination.”

“What about the phone?”

I took the blue cell phone out of my pocket and set it between us.

“You want to get rid of it or you want me to?”

C.J. put the phone in his pocket. I nodded toward the Escort.

“Traded cars, I see.”

“When you don't have a job, you have to do things like that.”

“You'll find another job. Tucker told me he'll give you a good recommendation.”

“There's a little more irony,” C.J. said, looking out at the park. “The person who's been the most decent to me in this county is the one who fired me.”

“Any prospects yet, for jobs I mean.”

“If I'm completely off the hook, as you say, I've a good chance at a job in Florida.”

“You are.”

“I'm going for an interview next week. Tucker actually called the CEO, told him about me. Of course, it pays half of what I made here. Jane will have to find a new job too, and in this economy, we'll lose all sorts of money on our house. The boys' college money will be down to near nothing, maybe tuition for a year at a state school.”

“You'll give them more than your parents gave you,” I said. “You already have.”

“And how hard is that, Les?” C.J. said, turning to me. “Sending them off with a comb and toothbrush would be more than what I got.”

Across the park, Barry and his family were leaving, Carly and the baby already heading to the car. Barry looked my way and I waved. He waved as well, then kneeled to lift his daughter. Her arms locked around his neck as he rose and walked toward the car.

“Darby told me that you two thought about burning Gerald's house down.”

C.J. shrugged.

“I don't believe you would have done that. Darby would do it, but not you.”