Heaven Should Fall (12 page)

I moved to sit down beside him, and he reached for my arm to ease my way down. “I can’t stand it when people try to explain random tragedies. You wouldn’t believe how many people have said to me that small planes are dangerous and my mom never should have been in one in the first place. As if I’m going to say, ‘Oh, I feel much better about losing her now that you’ve explained why it was her own fault.’”

“Yeah, you and Candy are going to be the best of friends.”

I laughed and turned onto my back, resting my head in Cade’s lap. The sky was a more appealing sight than the jagged gap of the quarry; the high clouds moved through it slowly, their trailing edges thin as contrails. Cade stroked my hair back from my forehead in an idle way, and said, “I wish you could see this place the way it was before. I feel like there’s this part of me I can’t even show you because it doesn’t exist anymore.”

“It’s pretty much the same, though, right? It’s just the water that’s missing.”

“It’s just the people that’re missing,” he said.

I turned sideways so I could look out at what he was seeing: the ledges where his friends had once stood, the knotted yellow rope hanging from a tree, the scrubby and pebble-strewn grass that must have been the site of a hundred tailgate parties. I wondered if Elias missed it the same way. The Olmstead home seemed riddled with broken connections—to their extended family, to their way to gather as a community and even to each other, for the atmosphere of the house felt heavy with brooding thoughts that nobody talked about. It was no wonder Cade hated coming home. I had never imagined, in all my time growing up with just my mother, how hard it might be to live in a family. From the outside it had looked like the easiest and most natural thing.

Maybe it’ll be different after the baby gets here,
I thought. The common work of caring for a newborn might bind the family together once again; a christening might even be an opportunity to reach out to Randy’s family and put a stop to the enmity from Dodge’s side. It might even give Elias a sense of renewal and purpose, and a distraction from all he had going on in his head. These are the thoughts I had, heady and optimistic, as Cade tried to make sense of the lost quarry lake. After all, my mother had never hesitated to share her burning testimony that it’s never too late to start over. My mother, however, was not an Olmstead. It was a lesson I would learn, again and again, in the months ahead.

Chapter 12

Jill

The first blow came with the letter from the university, telling Cade that he had been cut from the work-study program due to a missed filing deadline. He started out bewildered, then grew angrier and angrier as he paced the back porch with his phone against his ear, pleading with the people in Financial Aid. I sat in the chair beside Elias and folded the freshly washed hand-me-down baby clothes slowly into a basket, lying low but listening in. At last he came in and slapped the phone down on the table in disgust.

“April 25,” he barked. “That was the deadline. You know what I had going on April 25?”

“I can’t remember.”

He jabbed the air with his index finger, gesturing toward my belly. “Junior there. School during the day, work in the afternoon, Stan’s in the evening, five hours of sleep. Bylina’s office any spare minute I got. You puking your guts out until they had to stick an IV in you. Like I’m supposed to remember financial aid paperwork in the middle of
that.
”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Cade.”

“Nothing
to
tell me. We’re not going—I can’t—” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. He stopped in midpace and glared at the wall for a long moment, then kicked a box of Leela’s stars across the floor with the bottom of his boot. It skidded to the fireplace and hit the tools, knocking the poker to the floor with a clatter. “Goddamn it to hell.”

“Well, I guess you file again and hope for the spring.”

He ignored that. “All these months, since even before we left, I thought we were going back for the fall. They let me register and everything. And all this time, there’s been no hope.”

“That sucks, bro,” said Elias in a monotone. “I’d transfer you my GI Bill credit if I could, but they don’t let you.”

Cade set his hands on his hips and looked at the basket of clothes at my feet. “I’ll get a job down there, is what I’ll do. Just have to try harder. Because I am
not
fucking staying here. Not for thirty seconds longer than necessary.”

“Can’t blame you,” said Elias. But Cade was already heading out the back door, throwing it open so brusquely that the walls trembled. I rose from the chair, tugging my shirt down to cover my cumbersome belly, and made my way outside, taking my time to let him cool off a little. I found Cade leaning against the shed, smoking a cigarette and glaring into the middle distance. He didn’t so much as glance at me as I approached, yet once I had set my own back against the shed in a little gesture of solidarity, he started speaking.

“We gotta get out of here, Jill,” he said. “I never would have moved back up here if I’d thought it would cut my ties this badly. I thought it was strategic, you know? Saving money so that in the fall everything would go smooth. And it’s not working out like that at all.”

“I’m sorry about the work-study.” I turned my head to see him in profile: still so handsome, still the golden boy, but with a restless, hollow look around his eyes that hadn’t been there a few months before. “Isn’t there any way around it?”

“No.” He flicked the cigarette away half-smoked, as if he was embarrassed to be caught by me. “I’m so pissed.
So
pissed. Everybody and everything I worked for is frickin’ leaving me behind. That’s supposed to be my life’s work back there. It’s not here, that’s for sure. I was
never
meant to be here. You know how I didn’t want to bring you here on Christmas? You see why now? It’s like an echo chamber of craziness here, and they’re taking me out with them.”

He slid his back down the side of the shed until he sat crouched in the scrubby grass, his knees pulled up tight against him. “That baby,” he said. “It’ll all be worth it, right? This’ll all make sense once it gets here.”

“That’s what everybody says,” I agreed. To make him smile, I added, “Candy says so. This one and the next twenty after it.”

He rewarded me with a grin that looked genuine, if a little tired. “Soon as you get better from having the baby, we’re gone. I promise I’ll have a job by then. And I know I need to focus on getting that appointment for Elias, too. It’s just so weird that they built him up into this big brave guy and now he flips out at the drop of a hat.”

I knew Cade meant well, but it wasn’t Eli’s bouts of anxiety that had me so worried. It ate at me, this sense that Elias was the type of person who would sit there calmly smoking and watching TV until the day Dodge made one comment too many; he would finish off the pack of cigarettes, or let the movie run to the credits, then walk over to the Powell house and shoot everyone in their sleep. Cade might think I was being fantastical and morbid, but things like that happened. They happened all the time. When I thought about my mother’s story about the almond trees—how she had found herself in just the right place at just the right time to see the light shine down on a truth that would change our lives—I couldn’t help but believe there was a purpose to our being here. Maybe we were the only two people in the world who could contain a disaster, here in this place, here at this time.

“He needs to go see a regular doctor, too,” Cade added. “Go in and get the come-to-Jesus talk about his weight. Because, seriously, it can’t be good for you to get that fat, that fast. I’d be glad to take him out running so he can look a little better, but I can’t until he backs off eating like it’s a state fair contest.”

I grinned—not at the insult, but at how unsurprising it was for Cade to think Elias would be happier if he made himself more attractive. I said, “I’ll coax him into going if you make him the appointment.”

“Deal. I’ll make it tomorrow.” He sighed and rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Right after I send out thirty more résumés.”

* * *

The next day, as promised, Cade called the VA hospital and made an appointment for Elias on the next available date, which wasn’t for two weeks. As soon as it was booked, I started looking for a natural opportunity to bring it up with Elias. The first one came on an evening when Dodge had left for the range with his gun-club buddies and the rest of the family, except for a dozing Eddy, were at midweek church. Cade made himself scarce when he saw me hovering around Elias. He knew how to take a hint.

As soon as I sat down beside him, Elias switched the channel to
Lockup: Raleigh
. “Kendra’s probation hearing is coming up,” he said. “Hearing the boyfriend’s victim impact statement ought to be interesting.”

“I thought you hated this show.”

“It’s grown on me. Makes my own family seem normal.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I always figured that’s why my mom liked it, too.”

On the screen Kendra was speaking emphatically to the unseen interviewer, explaining why she felt she was ready to be released.
I’ve been minding all my p’s and q’s,
she was saying.
If something’s poppin’, I stay out of it. I’m done with that kind of life
.

“It’s sad, you know?” said Elias. “Five years she’s burned up in that place. Her kid barely knows her. Looks like about the only skill she’s got is surviving prison. Not something you can transfer to civilian life.”

“She seems pretty resourceful. She’ll probably find a way.”

He watched in silence, exhaling a slow trail of smoke. The heating pad rested against his thigh, its little red indicator light aglow. “You know, all that time I was over there, I figured I’d come home and get married pretty quick. I’d have some kids, buy a house maybe down in Liberty Gorge. It seemed easy, like a board game. Get off the plane, roll the die again. Figure out how many spaces you get to move.”

“You’ve only been back for, like, seven months, though. There’s plenty of time for all that. Who’d you expect to marry?”

“No particular person. I figured it would just sort of happen, the way everything else does. The natural progression. But I guess everything looks easier from a distance. Unless you’re Cade.” He rolled his shoulders and rested his head back against the chair, gazing up at the ceiling. “If you’re Cade, you can just skate straight on through all of it.”

“You know that’s not true. Cade and I wouldn’t be here if it was.”

“It’s a minor glitch. It’s not the first one he’s had. He flounces and cries and thinks the world’s going to end, and after you shower him with pity he ends up walking out of it without a bruise. It’s the way he is. Sometimes I envy it so bad I want to knock him out. I could live a long time on just a taste of that kind of life.”

The television showed a clip from a boisterous
Lockup
segment coming up after the commercial, but Elias’s gaze seemed far away. “Cade wants things to be better for you, too,” I said. “He made you an appointment at the VA hospital on Wednesday. Just a follow-up.”

He shot the quickest of glances at me. His eyes flashed surprise. “I’m not going.”

“Why not? It’s no big deal. I’ll drive. You’ll get some better meds, I’ll get a chance to get out of Frasier for a few hours—we both win. I’ll buy you lunch. Get you something other than Candy’s grilled cheese.”

“No chance.”

“It’s not until next Wednesday. Sleep on it. We’ll see how you feel once it rolls around.”

“I’m going to feel like shit once it rolls around,” he replied, his voice getting tighter. “Same as every day. Dodge had the nerve to say he’s taking me to work at the U-Store-It next week so I can stop ‘freeloading.’ Asshole.
He’s
gonna talk about freeloading, living in a glorified shed behind his in-laws’ place. Guy needs to be knocked out.”

“Just ignore him. Everybody else does.”

Elias grunted a reply. I stood up and rubbed his tense shoulders, and after a few moments he released a deep, slow breath.

“Your muscles cramp up when you stay in one position for too long,” I told him. “I think that’s why your back hurts so much. Maybe we could go for a walk once a day, huh? Just up and down the street a little. Loosen you up.”

“With you pregnant out to here.”

“Ah, so what. I could use the exercise, too. I’m sick of not being able to run.” I kneaded his muscles, first one side and then the other, working my hands in tandem. He rolled his neck, then took a final drag of his cigarette and crushed it in the ashtray. The sallow light from the lamp beside him illuminated only one side of his face, leaving the other in shadow. The memory of him lying on his back on Stan’s futon came back to me just then. He had seemed like a stone wall, nothing but muscles and uniform and an elaborate set of fighting reflexes ready to go. Now it seemed as though all of that had pulled inward, like blood retreating toward the heart when one is in danger of freezing. But pride still guarded the perimeter of his mind from invaders like me.

“We’ll go,” I affirmed, letting his silence be his answer. “You and me.”

“Sure.” He let his head drop back against the easy chair. “You always smell like Starbursts.”

I laughed and scratched gently along his hairline, and he cocked his head like a dog getting its ears scratched. Candy had cut his hair in the kitchen the other day, buzzing him with the clippers after she’d trimmed each of her boys. The white of his scalp showed through clearly beneath his dark brown hair. He smiled, and I rested my hands on his shoulders. Eyes closed, he crossed his arms over his chest and laid his big hands over mine. “You kill me, Jill,” he said. “You really do.”

I headed upstairs to my bedroom and curled up around Cade, who had propped himself up on the pillows to work on his laptop. He draped his arm lazily across my back and continued to peck at the keyboard with his left hand.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

“Okay. He said he’d go.”

“That’s good. You must be persuasive.”

I burrowed my head beneath his arm and breathed out a sigh against his chest. Guilt gnawed deep in my belly, and I wasn’t entirely sure why. I thought back to the evenings I had spent with Stan, and how even as his arms had comforted me, I knew where the boundaries lay—where I belonged, and with whom. I had felt so lonely then, but my kind of loneliness was nothing more than physical separation from the one I loved. It was nothing next to Elias’s kind—to be broken and sick, shell-shocked, lost inside his own mind that could never quite come home.

I told myself I meant no harm by it. That I carried no intention of touching him in any way that wasn’t chaste. And if he liked it a little more than he should, then perhaps he would remember that he was a twenty-four-year-old man, and he would get up from his easy chair and go out in search of a woman who could offer him more. One who wasn’t pregnant with his brother’s child.

If it had worked even a little, then it would have been worth the world.

Instead, it didn’t work at all.

* * *

The following Wednesday morning Elias climbed into the Jeep without any apparent nervousness. He said almost nothing for the long drive, taking charge of changing out the CDs at intervals, and that was all. At home he never listened to music, but on the floor behind the passenger seat he had a padded black case packed full of CDs arranged in little plastic sleeves, and his taste in music disarmed me. All of his selections were women with sweet soprano voices—Alison Krauss and Faith Hill and Kate Bush. It was a world apart from the music that blasted from the stereo at gun-club meetings. But it seemed to soothe him, and he gazed out at the scenery the whole way, chain-smoking with the window rolled down.

At the VA hospital we settled into the waiting room for a little while, and when they took him back I opened a magazine and prepared for a long wait. But within fifteen minutes he was back again, a pink form and a prescription in one hand, looking satisfied.

“That’s it?” I asked.

“That’s it. They’re taking me off the Prozac and putting me on something else.” He held up the paperwork. “I told them I just wanted something to calm me down, and didn’t need all this antidepressant shit that screws with my body. So that’s that.”

“So what they gave you isn’t an antidepressant?”

“No, it’s just some sort of anti-anxiety medication. Pretty cool. It sounds a lot simpler. And they gave me better pain meds, too. You were right.”