Chapel of Ease (14 page)

“No, I'm afraid not. Needsville is pretty small.”

“So how do I get back to the airport?”

“Somebody'll take you,” she said diffidently.

At last we topped a particularly steep little hill and passed a sign that said,
WELCOME TO CLOUD COUNTY.
A few minutes later we entered Needsville itself.

“How many people live here?” I said as I looked around. The post office was new, and the convenience store, and the bank looked relatively recent, but the rest of the abandoned and shuttered buildings looked like they might've last been used in the '80s. The town looked like one of those bushes that's dead except for a few tiny sprigs of green here and there.

“About three hundred,” Bliss said. “But not many live in town. Most have farms or houses out in the country.”

I looked at the circle of hills that surrounded the town, and the mountains beyond. The sense of isolation hit me anew, and impulsively I pulled out my phone. I got no signal.

“Yeah, sorry,” she said when she saw what I was doing. “We had a cell phone tower in town once, but something happened to it, and they haven't replaced it.”

“So I'm cut off from all civilization?” I said, trying to sound light and not admit my apprehension.

“We're civilized, Matt. We may be isolated, but we're not backwards. You can get a signal a bit further on.”

She didn't say it harshly, but I realized I was accepting the cliché idea of Southern rural life. “Sorry. Didn't mean any insult.”

We went through town and turned onto a road bumpy with fresh repairs to its asphalt, and followed it until we reached a small fire station. Bliss parked the ambulance and said, “We have to change cars here. I don't want to take the ambulance down Geeter Road.”

“What if somebody gets sick on Geeter Road?”

“Their bill comes with a charge for new ambulance shocks and tire alignment.”

We got out and drove on in her pickup. The lighter vehicle meant more bouncing, and I held Ray's ashes tight in my hands. We turned onto a gravel road and, after another fifteen minutes, pulled into the driveway of a small farmhouse. A car and two trucks were parked beside it, and I heard dogs barking from inside after Bliss turned off the engine.

“Those dogs sound big,” I said.

“Don't worry. Like I said, they know you're coming.”

We got out. I left Ray's box on the seat; I wasn't sure of the etiquette of this situation, but I didn't want to just show up and hand them over like a UPS driver. That was the whole thing we were trying to avoid, after all.

The screen door opened, and two big dogs of indeterminate breed rushed out, practically knocking each other down in their haste to reach me. When they did, they jumped up and licked my hands. Their paws were big and broad, and I felt their nails through my jeans.

“Get off'n him!” a man ordered, and the dogs did, but continued to mill around my feet, thick tails wagging. “Sorry about that, they get all wrought up when they meet somebody new.”

The man was about fifty, with white touches at the sides of his otherwise black hair, and his resemblance to Ray was undeniable. He strode out and seriously shook my hand. “Reckon you must be Matt. That fella Neil said you'd be coming.”

“I am,” I said.

“My name's Gerald. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

The door opened again, and an older woman emerged onto the porch. She wore denim cut-offs and an orange T-shirt that said
VOLS
, which I assumed was a local sports team. “Is this Rayford's friend?” she called.

“It sure is,” Gerald said. “Matt, this is Ladonna, Rayford's mother.”

She came down and graciously shook my hand as well. “I want to thank you for bringing Rayford home.”

“It was the least I could do,” I said. “He was a good friend.”

A third person came out. He was bigger, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, and his black hair was tangled with sweat. He looked at me, and I felt a jolt all the way down to my toes. Things suddenly got a whole lot more interesting.

“Who's this?” he said, and his voice was just as deep and full as you'd expect from a rural Adonis.

“Rayford's friend from New York City,” Ladonna said.

The man stepped off the porch and sauntered over. “Hi. Cyrus Crow. Folks call me C.C.”

“Matt Johansson,” I said. His grip was firm, and the muscles on his forearm flexed when we shook. He was, without a doubt, the best-looking guy I'd ever been this close to, and given some of the dancers and actors I'd met, that was saying something. This was a complication I had not foreseen, and would have to do my best to shake off.

“Rayford and I grew up together,” C.C. said. “We've been friends since we were knee high to a polecat. It was a real shock to hear about him.”

“It was a shock to all of us, too,” I agreed.

“Bliss, thanks for hauling him all the way from Nashville,” Ladonna said. “Bliss and Rayford used to date, did you know that?”

I could tell by the look on Bliss's face that Ladonna was mischaracterizing the relationship. “No,” I said, “we didn't really talk about that.”

“It was a while ago,” Ladonna said. “I reckon we should get the formalities over with here. Matt, would you bring us our son?”

I took the box of ashes carefully from the truck and handed it to Gerald. He solemnly took it, bowed his head over it, and instead of praying as I expected, he hummed, similar to the way Bliss had done at the Waffle House. Ladonna put her hand on the box's top and joined him in a kind of soft, harmonized keening. He took the ashes inside.

“That's just our way,” C.C. said when he noticed my puzzlement. “Music's a big deal around here.”

“So I hear,” I agreed.

Bliss handed me my backpack. “Pleasure meeting you, Matt.”

I realized I was about to be left alone at a house where I knew no one, and with a dangerously attractive—and probably dangerously straight—man right under my nose. I tried desperately to think of some way to convince Bliss to stay, as she was, at the moment, my only lifeline back to my world.

As if reading my mind, C.C. said, “Why don't you stay for dinner, Bliss?”

“Ain't having dinner,” Ladonna said. “We'll eat at the wake.”

“And I'll be there,” she said.

“Are you sure you can't stick around for a little while?” I said, and tried not to sound desperate.

She smiled, and it was one of those Cheshire–
Mona Lisa
smiles filled with amusement and hidden knowledge. “There's nothing to worry about, Matt. Gerald and Ladonna will take good care of you.”

I leaned very close and said softly, “Like the family in
Texas Chainsaw
?”

She laughed and said with equal quiet, “No, like good people with a guest. Don't worry, you're perfectly safe here.”

I had no real choice, so I watched her drive off, trying not to panic as my only contact with the outside world disappeared.

I felt the presence before I heard the words, and turned to find C.C. right behind me. This close, he was even more handsome, and the sweat only emphasized his overwhelming, and probably straight, masculinity. I looked up at him, because he was a good four inches taller than me, and the sun backlit his black, wavy hair. He said, “I know what the stories say, but these are nice, good people, and they're very glad to meet one of Rayford's friends from the city. Ever since he left, they haven't heard much about him.”

“I'm just not used to this … lifestyle,” I said weakly.

“What, rural family life?” he said with a laugh.

That made me smile. “Yeah.”

“It's just like urban family life, except with less traffic and much lower to the ground.”

Oh, great—he was funny, too. I was doomed. “I suppose you're right.”

“C.C., why don't you show Matt where he can unpack?” Ladonna said.

I followed him into the house, wondering how many times Ray had walked these same steps. The dogs flanked me, still sniffing at my city odors. “These dogs have names?” I asked.

“The big yellow one is Ace,” C.C. said, pronouncing the color as
yeller.
“The blue heeler mix is Tom.”

“Ace and Tom,” I repeated, and the dogs happily lolled their tongues at me.

Inside the house was a schizophrenic mix of old-fashioned rural life and unmistakable modernity. The fireplace was big and worn, but the flat-screen TV mounted to the wall was practically new. Old work boots sat beside the door along with a pair of recently bought tennis shoes. A rack held three long guns, while a mounted deer head and two fish looked down on us with glassy disdain. On an end table beside the couch rested a black rotary phone, the kind I'd only seen used as props in period plays.

“You can put Rayford on the mantel, Gerald,” his mother said.

Gerald opened the box and took out the pearl gray urn. He placed it on the brick shelf, stepped back, and crossed his arms. Neither he nor Ladonna expressed any emotion, but just looked at it with the same blasé evaluation they might show a vase of flowers.

“A little to the left,” Ladonna said at last. Gerald did as she asked. Then she turned to me and said, “Matt, bring your bag after me.”

I followed her into a back bedroom. It was as small as anything you'd find in New York, and the corners were stacked with boxes and small bits of machinery I didn't recognize.

“This used to be Rayford's room,” she said sadly as she looked around. “We were using it as a storeroom, so you'll pardon the mess.”

“It's fine, Mrs. Parrish,” I said, and dropped my bag on the bed. “Thank you for putting me up. I had every intention of staying in a hotel, but there wasn't one nearby.”

“No, the Catamount Corner closed up last year. Shame, too, but I understand why. Ms. Peggy, the owner, lost her husband, and I'm sure the place had too many memories for her.”

“Bliss mentioned there would be a wake tonight?”

“Yes, over at the barn dance. You're welcome to come.”

“I'd like to. I'd enjoy meeting some of Ray's friends.” I just couldn't bring myself to call him “Rayford,” the way everyone here did. “Do I need to dress up?”

“Lord A'mighty, son, no. It's nothing formal.”

“Well, I brought a suit for the church service.”

She looked at me through narrowed eyes, as if I'd suddenly revealed myself to be some sort of spy. Before she could speak, her husband joined us and said, “You're probably pretty tired after your flight. Bathroom's right down the hall on the left. Feel free to freshen up, or take a nap if you want.”

I remembered what Ray had said about churches in Cloud County, and wondered if I'd committed some major faux pas. Everything I knew about the South centered around God and guns, and that included hating people like me just for existing. Still, they didn't seem to be aware of my sexuality, and I certainly wasn't going to mention it.

Of course, if C.C. was around much more, I might not be able to hide it.

 

12

At 5
P.M.
, there was a soft knock at my door. I'd fallen asleep, and before I could get up, the door opened and a beautiful young woman poked her head in. Black hair peeked out from beneath a baseball cap and framed her small, delicate face. “Hello? You awake?”

“Yeah,” I said as I swung my feet over the side of the bed. “Come in.”

She was perhaps twenty, with a terrific figure and a coquettish air. She wore overalls and a cropped T-shirt, and in a lot of ways fit the stereotype of the hot hillbilly chick perpetuated by
The Dukes of Hazzard
and
True Blood.
I guessed that she was the sister Ray had mentioned. “Get some sleep?” she asked.

“Yeah. Too much, maybe. Is it time to go?”

“Pretty soon. I wanted to talk to you first. I'm Thorn.”

“Matt.”

“Short for Matthew?”

“Yeah.”

“Mine's short for Thornblossom.”

“Really? Why don't they call you Blossom, then?”

She grinned, and the resemblance to Ray was unmistakable. “I suspect after you get to know me, you'll understand.”

“You can't be that bad.”

“Maybe I'm that
good
?”

Oops. I'd inadvertently been flirting with a straight girl. That happened sometimes, when I was in situations where it wasn't generally known that I was gay. I said quickly, “Well, I need to freshen up a little before we go to the wake. Your parents said it was in a barn?”

“Yeah. It's where we all meet to sing and play. Ray used to love going there. He'd play until doomsday if nobody stopped him.”

“Well, I'm looking forward to it.” I waited, but she showed no signs of leaving. “If you'll excuse me?” I prompted.

“You don't have to be shy around me,” she said.

Oh boy. As softly as I could without actually whispering, I said, “Uhm … look, Thorn, I need to tell you something. I'm gay.”

Thorn looked skeptical, then surprised, then disappointed. “Really?”

“Really.”

“So you and Rayford were…?”

“Ray? No! He wasn't gay. In fact, he dated one of my best friends. A woman friend.”

“People around here always figured he was secretly gay.”

“Why?”

“'Cause he liked those musicals. And he always talked about the theater.” She pronounced it
THEE-ate-her.
“We all just figured when he got to New York, he stopped pretending.”

“No pretending. He was straight.”

“Mama and Daddy'll be glad to hear that.”

“But I'm not.”

“You're not glad he was straight?”

“No, I mean
I'm
not straight.” Although she was more right than she knew.