Authors: Steven Gossington
Chapter 35
Buck Bogarty wiped his eyes to hold back the tears.
He’s my dad. Why doesn’t he talk to me?
He floored the hot rod’s accelerator. Headlights illuminated only a short span of the winding country road in front of the car. Three guys rode along with him in the car, and they howled with delight as Buck would negotiate tight turns with squealing tires and then accelerate down straightaways.
“Let her rip, Buck.”
“Take it to the limit.”
“Let’s see what she can do.”
They didn’t notice the frown on Buck’s face.
A low hill appeared in the headlights, a hump in the road. Buck’s hot rod hit the bump and went airborne, then slammed back down on the road. He didn’t anticipate the sharp turn a few yards away from the hill. As he strained with the steering wheel to follow the road, the car lurched onto the two right tires and then began to roll and bounce off the road and into the trees. Buck’s vision went black.
Several minutes later, Buck opened his eyes and coughed. He lay in shallow water, and he spat and cleared his mouth then raised his body up into a sitting position. As he stood up, he felt stiffness in his neck and lower back.
Buck looked around and spotted his car perched on its side against some trees. “Hello,” he said.
He heard moaning, and two heads appeared from the grass near the car. “Buck, are you okay?” someone said.
Two figures stood up from the grass and brushed off their clothes. Buck walked over to them. “Ever’one all right?”
“I think so,” one of the guys said. “I guess we had a wreck.”
“Where’s Spike?” Buck said.
They searched the area for several minutes.
“Over here.” One of the guys kneeled down and shook a body in the grass. “Hey, I don’t think he’s breathing.”
Buck ran over and dropped to his knees at the other side of Spike’s limp body.
After shaking the body again, the guy looked up at Buck. “He’s not breathing. What do we do? Buck, what do we do?”
Buck stared at Spike and started to speak.
“C’mon, Buck. We’ve got to do something.”
Buck bent down and began to breathe into Spike’s mouth.
Don’t die, Spike. Please, don’t die.
Buck pulled Spike’s jaw down to open his mouth more, and his second breath was more forceful. He saw Spike’s chest rise out of the corner of his eye.
Damn it, Spike. Wake up.
After several seconds, Spike coughed once and took several breaths. Buck shook him, and Spike opened his eyes.
Buck sat back and exhaled. “Thank God.”
Spike raised his head. “What happened?”
“I wrecked my hot rod. Does anything hurt?”
Spike considered the question. “Not too bad.” Buck and the other two guys helped Spike stand up. He stretched his arms and legs, and felt his head and chest. “I don’t think anything’s broke.” He looked up. “Why are you shaking, Buck?”
Buck thrust his hands into his pockets, dropped his head, and walked away.
****
Aaron lay stretched out on his bed late that night. Various body parts ached from his Big Thicket ordeal, and he hadn’t slept well for the last several nights.
He sat up in bed and slammed his fist into his palm
. I know I can make this job work. I’ve done some good here already.
He peered into the painting on the wall across from his bed.
At the end of that dirt trail, those people in the trees are warning me about something. That must be one heck of a dangerous path.
Chapter 36
After Forrester Brighton was shot, Aaron saw Marley only by happenstance.
Around noon on a sunny Saturday, he spotted Marley and Cristal in their front yard and pulled his car to a stop at the side of the road. He waved from the car and walked up to them.
“You look well, Cristal.” He looked at Marley. “Is she back to normal?”
“Yes, as if nothing had happened. She doesn’t remember much about her time in the hospital. And as you can see, the tick rash is all gone.”
“It’s great to see her healthy again.” He patted Cristal’s shoulder.
Cristal held her forearm up to him. “I have a sore.”
Aaron noticed a red spot where an intravenous catheter had penetrated the skin. Yellow coloring surrounded the spot.
“She’s proud of that sore,” Marley said. “She painted a sun around it.”
Cristal nodded. “That’s how I got my medicine.”
Aaron leaned down and examined the colorful spot. “Nice job. The medicine helped you, like the sun does.”
He stepped back and looked at Marley. “Now, we all have our battle wounds.”
Marley met his gaze.
Aaron crossed his arms. “How’s Forrester?”
Marley smiled. “It’s rough, but he’s learning to live with the injury. He’s going to the rehab center tomorrow.”
Cristal tugged on Aaron’s arm. “Genie made my wish come true. My daddy’s coming home.”
Aaron sighed, and he nodded at Cristal. “I’m happy for you.”
Marley touched his arm. “Thanks for helping out with the Taggett family.”
Aaron nodded. “That’s worked out well.” He looked down. “So far anyway.”
“Keep at it. I have faith in you.”
He reached out and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back for a moment, then she let go.
“Goodbye,” Aaron said.
He turned and walked away, stepped into his car, and looked back.
Marley hadn’t moved. A breeze lifted her hair. She held her head high and smiled at him.
Later that afternoon, Aaron lounged in his living room and stared at the front windows. He hadn’t switched on the TV or the stereo, and the house was dark and quiet.
He slapped his thighs. “Snap out of it. I’ve got things to do.”
Aaron backed his car out of the driveway and headed for a grocery store to restock his kitchen. As he turned right onto the road to his clinic, he spotted someone walking in the front yard of Rocky Donnigan’s trailer home. As far as Aaron knew, the fate of Rocky’s home and possessions was yet to be determined after his untimely death.
Aaron pulled his car to the side of the road. A man looked up as Aaron stepped out of the car.
“Preston.” Aaron hiked over to him through the tall grass.
“Hi, Doc.”
“You look good. Is the shoulder healing well?”
Preston wore a sling to support his left shoulder. “It’s coming along.”
“Stop by the clinic in a few days and let me check you out.”
“I’ll do that.”
Aaron glanced at the trailer home. “I guess someone will dismantle this place. I don’t think it’s worth much.”
“I’m looking for his bike. Have you seen it?”
“Maybe it’s around back.” They walked to Rocky’s back yard and spotted the bike propped up against the back of the trailer.
Preston ran his hand over the handlebars. “Can I take it with me? I’ll take good care of it.”
Aaron put his hand on Preston’s back. “I don’t think anyone will mind. I can’t think of a better place for it.”
Preston stared at the bike. “Sometimes I feel like Rocky is still watching out for me.”
“Maybe he is. That can give you strength.”
Aaron lay in bed that night and stared at the ceiling. His body aches were less intense today, but all evening, his heart had raced and pounded off and on.
He sat up on the side of the bed and felt his pulse.
Heart rate about 100 beats a minute. It’s not my thyroid; I’ve had that checked, and I stopped drinking caffeine late in the day.
He sighed.
I know stress can kill. Maybe it’s stress from all this craziness going on around me.
He relaxed back on his pillow.
At least, I haven’t had a nightmare for a while.
As he closed his eyes, Marley’s smiling face appeared. After a few seconds, her face dissolved into blackness.
Aaron tossed and turned for hours, drifting off to sleep at about 3:00 a.m.
Chapter 37
Stella connected with the Sunday morning sermon; it was about the power of forgiveness.
She found herself walking toward the exit next to Myra Benningham.
“How’s Preston doing?” Stella said.
“Much better, thanks.”
“Is he here?”
“No, he and his dad are at the movies.”
“They’re doing things together. That’s good.”
Myra stopped and turned to Stella. “I’m headed out for a meal, along with most everybody else. Why don’t we have lunch together?”
“Sure. I’d like that.”
Stella followed Myra’s car to a restaurant not far away. Soon they sat at a table across from each other with their food from the Sunday brunch buffet.
“Can you tell me more about Preston?” Stella said. “I have a special interest in his progress as he’s one of our patients.”
Myra sipped her iced tea. “Preston is in a twelve-step program, and he’s been going to the meetings. He seems committed to recovering.” She smiled. “For the first time in years, we have real hope.”
“I’m so glad to hear that he’s improving.” Stella shook her head. “He’s had such a tough road.”
“He talks with me again, like the old days. He’s eating healthy. It’s wonderful. He even asked us to give his gun away.”
“I’m sure glad he didn’t squeeze the trigger that day in our clinic.”
“Me, too. We’ve had it locked up since then.” Myra cocked her head. “I think he shot his gun only one time that I heard about.”
“He shot his gun? You mean, at someone?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“When was that?”
“I think about two years ago or so. Brad refuses to talk to me about it.”
Stella gulped her bite of ham and cheese omelette and coughed. “Two years ago?”
“I think that’s about right.”
“Where did this happen?”
“I don’t know for certain. I think it was close by, in town. I just have a vague impression of the whole thing.”
Stella stood up. An image of her dead son’s smiling face floated across her vision. She was breathing fast, and she fanned her face with her napkin.
“Stella, are you all right?”
“I’m sorry. I have to go now.” Stella turned and stumbled out of the restaurant. She sat on a bench outside for several minutes, then walked to her car and drove away.
****
Late that afternoon, Brad and Myra Benningham sat in their living room, sipping coffee.
“We had a great day at the movies. He’s different this time,” Brad said, his arm around Myra’s shoulders.
Myra smiled. “Yes, he is. He seems more like the old Preston to me.”
They were silent for several minutes, gazing out the front window.
Brad sighed. “I have to make up for lost time.”
“That will be good for him and you.”
Myra turned to him. “After church today, I had lunch with Stella. I told her about Preston, that he’s doing better and he wanted us to give his gun away.”
“I’ll bet that made her happy. He really scared her with his gun in the clinic that day.”
“She got upset about something. I told her I seemed to remember that Preston shot his gun once.”
Brad lifted his arm from Myra and sat up. “Why did you tell her that? She doesn’t need to know that.”
“So, I’m right? He did shoot his gun? Was anyone hurt?”
Brad stood up and pointed at her. “It’s of no concern to you or anyone. Don’t mention it again.” He whirled around and walked away.
He struck his fist into the palm of his hand.
I have to make this go away. It can’t come out.