Road to Nowhere (8 page)

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to Joe about.”

“I expect.” She took her pot off the stove. It was cast iron. Did she know they had aluminum pots now? That thing would weigh ten pounds, and the handle was as hot as the rest of it. She probably knew all about the new stuff, and she preferred hers. “Now, are you sure you wouldn’t like something, Mr. Harris?”

Regain control of the conversation. He glanced over at the woodstove again. “Is that coffee in the pot there?”

“Joe likes his coffee strong,” Rose said. “I can make you some fresh if you like.”

“No, thanks. I’d give that a try, if it’s all right.”

She took down a white mug from a hook over the sink and set it in front of him. She filled it from the pot.

The acrid steam hit him, and it felt like the cast iron pot had.

“There’s milk or sugar.”

“Black is fine.”

Probably been sitting there on the hot stove since daybreak. It was a wonder there was any water left in it at all. He held the cup up close to his mouth and inhaled enough to get a few drops of the coffee itself.

He’d had straight-up horseradish that wasn’t this bitter.

He tried an actual sip. After a cup of this stuff, he’d be out there plowing fields himself, probably with his bare hands.

The conversation was on indefinite hold while he gave full attention to this jet fuel. Taste was not the point—this coffee was a kick in the pants to get a person out the door to work.

After a couple minutes, though, he was about ready to try talking again. And she’d brought the subject up. “What do people around here think of the new road?”

“Around here it won’t matter so much.”

“I guess not. You’re pretty far from Wardsville.”

The door wheezed and Joe Esterhouse himself was finally with them. Overalls, flannel shirt, hands black. He nodded at Wade. “Morning. Be right with you.” Then he was gone into the hall.

“Working on the tractors,” Rose said.

Wade took one more swallow. The last third of the cup looked pretty swampy, and he decided that discretion would be the better part of valor. He took one more long swallow of the room instead, and then Joe was back with clean hands and it was time for business.

Fool tractor. It still wasn’t right. And he wouldn’t get back at it till tomorrow.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, even if he already knew. Only one reason Wade Harris would drive all the way down here.

“Joe, I need your help.”

“I’ll help if I can.” Rose put some coffee on the table for him.

“It’s the road, Gold River Highway. I don’t know if anyone understands what it means for Gold Valley.”

“I might not.”

“That place could explode, and it’s the road that’s holding it back. There could be a thousand more houses in there, and I mean big ones. Million dollar houses. There’d be tax revenue and development. It’d put Jefferson County on the map.”

That was all the man ever thought about. “Already on the map, last I looked.”

“Okay, whatever. That’s not really my point. I know how everyone feels about it. But now, here’s the thing, and this is where I really need your help. My boss is a guy in Raleigh, Charlie Ryder. He’s got developments all up and down the mountains. He has lots of friends in the legislature.

“I looked at that letter from Raleigh, Joe. I can’t make out what most of it means, but I can tell there’s something fishy about it. So now I’m in a hornet’s nest, with Randy and all his friends screaming at me on one side, and Charlie screaming at me on the other side, and I’m just getting jerked around and I don’t know what’s going on. And I don’t like it.”

Salesmen and city folk, always the same. “How can I help you with that?”

“You’ll level with me, Joe. You don’t play games. Is this road deal rigged? Do you know?”

“There’s never trouble like there is with a road.” It hadn’t changed in fifty years. Joe felt the tiredness coming down. A bunch of trouble and he didn’t care anymore. But Wade was in it and he was asking for help. “Yes. It’s rigged. I’d been thinking you were part of it.”

“No. The first I heard of it was the meeting last month. Can you find out who’s behind it? You must know somebody there in Raleigh.”

“Most of the people I knew are gone, long ago.”

“Oh well. At least tell me this, Joe. I know it’s a ways off, but if . . . when the vote comes up, how are you leaning?”

“People have been counting on it. Wouldn’t be right to change now.”

“Okay. Great. I appreciate your time.”

That seemed to be enough for Wade. He stared around the kitchen for a minute or so and said his good-bye, and Rose showed him out. And then she was back, sitting across the table from him.

“I’d say you know a few people in Raleigh.”

“I suppose I do.”

“And you’ve had your own thoughts about the road.”

He didn’t answer her.

“Then you must be giving up on it all,” she said.

“Comes a time when it doesn’t seem to make a difference anymore.

It’s too hard to fight.”

February 21, Tuesday

Louise was fiddling in the kitchen. She had no idea what to fix for supper, and Byron was going to be home any minute. The man liked his dinner prompt.

Well, she did, too.

The sun was coming right in the window, like it did this time of year. Angie said she should put up some blinds, but Louise couldn’t abide it. They cluttered up the window, and that was the one place in the kitchen she wanted big and open. There was plenty of clutter everywhere else. She didn’t know what she’d do if Byron hadn’t put up shelves on the wall for all her little things.

She picked up one that was about her favorite—a little castle with snow, like a fairy tale. She had a sticker on the bottom and she’d written “Christmas 1995 from Matt to Grandma” on it. That nine-year-old boy and his big hugs and he’d spent his own money.

What she wouldn’t give for one of his hugs right now. She made herself get back to supper before she started thinking about guns and wars and where he was now.

And there was Byron, slamming the door and dropping his coat on the chair and his lunchbox on top of it. She knew that’s what he was doing, anyway even if she couldn’t see him from the kitchen.

“What’s supper?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said.

Now he was settling into his chair, and the television came on. There was some roast left over and some chicken casserole that he liked.

“I think I’ll warm up the casserole from Monday.” She turned on the oven and put the dish in. The microwave was faster but she liked a hot casserole dish.

There, that was taken care of.

She went out to the front room to hang Byron’s coat in the closet and get his lunchbox to put away. He had the news on and she sat next to him to watch, but he wasn’t watching. He was just staring at the wall.

“Something happen at the factory today?”

“They had a meeting. Called everybody up front and Mr. Coates said he was giving us some news.”

“Well, what was it? New orders?” She’d never seen Byron looking so glum. Surely . . . “He isn’t closing the factory?”

“No. Well, not yet. But he’s selling it.”

“He’s selling the factory?”

“Some big company down in High Point.”

“Now, Byron, that doesn’t mean anything’s closing. They wouldn’t just buy the factory so they could close it.”

“They might. One way to get rid of competition.”

“Fiddlesticks.”

“It’ll mean bosses coming in from outside that don’t know how we do things, and making changes.”

Louise could smell the chicken, so it was time to get to work on the table. “What about Jeremy?”

“Well, sure, since they fought, everyone’s been guessing that he’d never take over. But nobody thought it would come to this.”

“What else would Mr. Coates do? He must be ready to retire.”

“Never acted like it.”

“It might all be for the best, you know.”

“Well, then I might be ready to retire.”

“I hope not!” Louise jumped up to get supper on the table. “What would I do with you all day? I don’t have any idea.”

“Might be about time to retire. I wouldn’t want to see things be all changed around.”

“Just don’t worry until you have something real to worry about.”

But she was worrying. That man was all the world to her, and change was hard on him.

And there’d be a lot of other people worrying, too.

First that road and now this—why did they have to happen at the same time?

“Sue Ann, why did I do it?” He didn’t feel like even moving. Kyle had put up a fire in the fireplace, and for that Randy would be eternally grateful. And now all he could do was just sit and imagine the further and endless persecution he would suffer.

“You had to vote yes at that meeting. It was just like you said.” Sue Ann was such a comfort, always saying just what he needed to hear.

“I’m wondering more about why I wanted to be on this board. After four years, you’d think I’d learn. But I went and got myself elected again last November and now I’ve got another four years. What was I thinking?”

“You were thinking you could do some good.”

“Then I was sorely mistaken. Everett Colony was in my office for forty minutes this afternoon and I don’t believe I spoke a dozen words.” He rubbed his head. “I think I’ll take an aspirin.”

“I’ll get it for you.”

“Thank you. Where are Kyle and Kelly?”

“They’re at the high school. They went over for a club meeting and they’ll stay for the basketball game.”

For a moment the picture of a high school gymnasium came to his mind, filled to overflowing with hundreds of fans all screaming at the top of their lungs. His head throbbed.

“Here’s your aspirin and some water.”

“That’s just perfect,” he said, “and now I believe I’ll sit here and enjoy the quiet.”

“Let me know whenever you’d like your dinner.”

“I’ll do that.” Randy opened his eyes to watch the fire, which was very soothing. A few more minutes and it seemed that maybe the aspirin was helping, too. Dinner was even starting to appeal to him a bit.

He looked over toward the dining room, and wasn’t that sweet. Sue Ann had their two places set with her mother’s china. She must have been thinking they’d be just the two of them with the children out for the night, and she’d probably made up a nice supper.

“Here I come, dear. I think I’m about recovered and I’m suddenly real hungry.”

“I have a roast for you.”

“I don’t want to keep it waiting.”

But it wouldn’t have been a real dinner without the telephone ringing, and so it did. Randy sat down next to it and picked it up.

“Randy McCoy, can I help you?”

“Randy, it’s Louise.”

That probably wouldn’t be too bad. “Well, good evening. What can I do for you?”

“I just heard some news and I thought I’d pass it on around the board. Byron says that Roland Coates told them all today that he was selling the furniture factory.”

“Selling it? Good gravy.” One little throb in his temple reminded him that his headache might be gone for the moment, but it was not far away. “What’s that going to mean?”

“Well, I don’t know. It might not mean anything at all. And, now, I’ve only heard it through Byron. I don’t think that counts for being official.”

“If they shut it down, there’s a hundred fifty people out of work, and half the school budget gone.”

“No one’s said they’re going to close the factory,” Louise said.

“Well, if they don’t, that means no end to the traffic and trucks through Mountain View.”

“It’s one way or the other, Randy.”

“I guess it has to be. What will the neighbors think?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wade set the phone down. “That was Louise. The plant in Wardsville, the furniture place. The guy is selling it.”

Cornelia had two steaming crocks of onion soup on the table. “So?”

“So? This is New York selling the Statue of Liberty.”

“Whoever buys it, maybe they’ll clean it up. Why is it way back there by the high school, anyway?”

“I think it was there first, before they built the school. I don’t know. It won’t matter to us.” He shrugged. “I guess.”

“No one in Gold Valley works there.”

“No. All people from Wardsville and Marker and Coble.” The soup had cooled off enough to eat. “But it’s all one county. I told you the newspaper guy came to the office?”

“Last week.”

“So I bought a copy to read.”

“How bad was it?”

“Worse than I figured. I’m pushing the road for my own profit and I don’t care about anyone else.”

Cornelia gave him a big sympathetic smile. “That’s not true.”

“I guess not. Hey, I forget. Where was Lauren tonight?”

“At school. At a basketball game.”

“How’s she getting home?”

“Friends.”

Kids? On those roads? “I’ll get her.” He started shoveling soup. Corny watched him.

“And Meredith called,” she said.

Why did she ever call? “She needs money?”

“Not this time. She’ll be home next month for spring break.”

“Great. And the soup was, too.” Wade had started toward the closet for his coat, but then he stopped. “We should do something.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Something fun. I’ll think about it.”

A game in the high school gym on a cold February night was just about as good as anything ever got. Randy and Sue Ann waited at the door just a minute before they went on, listening to the crowd.

Then they were in the sound instead of just hearing it, like being under water instead of just seeing it, and that warm heavy feeling came down on Randy like it always did. He could have been a teenager again whenever he was in there, out on the wood floor and the basketball rough and hard in his hand and running the drills and warming up, he and Ed Fiddler and Jeremy Coates and the others, and Sue Ann leading the cheers.

Now it was Kyle playing, and Kenny Fiddler, and Kelly was leading cheers, looking for all the world like her mother.

They sat right under the Cherokee Warrior painted on the wall, and just in time. The referee tipped the ball and the boys were off. It was back and forth real quick to start, and both teams put up points in the first minute. Randy was watching for a few things to see how the Cherokees were playing—how much they were passing, how close they were getting in under the basket—and it was looking pretty good. They’d really been working on that passing especially. The defense wasn’t clicking quite the same way, though, and Hoarde County was getting their shots in, too. There’d be a lot of points if it kept up like this. And that was fine.