Jewelweed (59 page)

“But he could have an infection,” Kevin offered.

“If he did,” replied Ivan, “he'd eat a handful of herbs and cure himself, or make a vegetable bandage out of mashed leaves, berries, and roots. Nothing could slow him down for long.”

“How would he know which herbs to eat?”

“Same way he knows how to move around the way he does. It must be instinct. You should see him climbing those rock cliffs. You wouldn't believe a human can move like that—as quick as a cat and as sure as a spider. It's like August said once: most of us are born into nature, but the Wild Boy was born out of it.”

“And this hermit looks out for him?”

“He even stays with Mr. Mortal sometimes,” said August. “In fact, I think the Wild Boy might stay there a whole lot more than Mr. Mortal lets on.”

“Mr. Mortal?”

“That's the hermit,” said Ivan. “He has a dirt house beside a melon field. August and I have been there hundreds of times. If he's in just the right mood, he makes us tea with honey.”

“What kind of hermit makes tea?” asked Kevin.

“The war-hero, tea-making kind,” replied Ivan.

“What do you think the Wild Boy worries about at night?” asked Kevin.

“He doesn't worry about anything,” said Ivan. “The Wild Boy has no fears. If he feels like sleeping, he sleeps. If he feels like running, he runs. If he feels like swimming, he swims. If he feels like making a fire, he makes one. Sometimes he sits in a tree next to August's house, just because he wants to. He has even been known to slip into someone's house and take a freshly baked pie if he's hungry.”

“He'd get caught if he did that,” said Kevin.

“No, he wouldn't. He gave August a jar of canned peaches once. Where do you think he got them if he didn't sneak into someone's house? It's not like he's going to can them himself. He doesn't have any jars. He lets others do the work while he just moves through the country like a young buck—quick, quiet, and smart.”

“But what would happen if he got sick or hurt?” asked Kevin.

“Good question,” said August, staring out over the pond. “Disease and injury could be a real danger for the Wild Boy. I hadn't really thought about that before.”

“Now don't start worrying about that,” said Ivan. “You've seen him more than anyone, and you've never seen him sick.”

“Maybe we could convince my mom to arrange for a doctor to find him and check him over,” offered August.

“Are you crazy? A doctor would kill the Wild Boy in an instant,” replied Ivan.

“You're right about that,” said Kevin. “Hospitals are full of infections and diseases, and most doctors are in hospitals all the time.”

“Shh,”
whispered Ivan.
“Shhh.”
He pointed out into the pond.

“What is it?” asked August.

“Shhhhh.”

Then August started pointing as well, and when Kevin sighted along his arm he saw a dark head sticking out of the water, like a rounded-off wooden post.

“Jesus,” Kevin said.

“Shhhhhh.”

The head moved slowly and silently toward them across the surface of the water.

“Jesus.”

“Shhhhhhhhh.”

The dark head took a long time to reach the shore. Then the massive turtle crawled out of the water and onto the bank. It moved slowly, heavily, dragging its body forward with wide clawed feet. It stood for a moment in front of the opened steel cage. Then it turned its thick neck and head and stared at the boys, the moonlight reflecting green in its tiny eyes.

The boys just sat there, motionless.

The turtle crawled toward the dead carp and the cage fell around it, clanking against the metal floor piece. The turtle seemed not to notice it had been trapped, and began eating the fish in quick gulping bites.

“We got him,” said Kevin, almost inaudibly. “I don't believe it.”

“Shhhhh,”
said Ivan.

“There's no need to be quiet now, you dope. Jesus. Where's my grandpa? He'll know what to do next.”

“He went into town to get something to eat. He doesn't like pizza. But he should be back by now,” said Ivan.

“Oh, right. I forgot. He'll never believe this.”

“Sure he will. He knew it was going to happen,” replied Ivan.

“He just said that to keep our interest up.”

“That turtle is even bigger and more reptilian than it looked in the video,” said August, staring into the cage. “Its back looks like a burned mountain range. Fascinating.”

“Told you,” said Kevin, and coughed.

“Why would he do that?” Ivan asked. “He came right out of the pond like we weren't even here. Very, very sketchy, if you ask me. Just look at him ripping into that fish.”

“We need a flashlight,” continued Ivan. “It's getting too dark to see him.”

“We can't all go in,” said August. “Someone needs to stay here with the turtle.”

“Why?”

“So he doesn't get away.”

“He can't get away,” said Kevin. “He's trapped. And besides, if there was a way for him to get out of the cage, none of us could stop him.”

“Sure we could,” replied Ivan. “We could turn him over on his back.”

“That's just stupid,” said Kevin. “He weighs over two hundred pounds, and he could bite your hand off as soon as you touch him.”

“Good point,” said Ivan.

Kevin began coughing then, and it continued for a long time in a convulsive, gagging manner. The nurse, who had been standing on the deck, hurried down to the edge of the pond and told Kevin he needed to come inside.

“No,” he coughed out.

“We caught the turtle,” Ivan told her, but the nurse didn't seem very interested.

“Kevin, you have to come inside now. This damp air is aggravating your lungs.”

“Fuck off.” He coughed.

Then the back door of the house slammed and Wally came out. He found the walking stick he'd left leaning against the railing, and made his way down to the boys.

“We got him!” hollered Kevin.

“Now that's something,” said Wally, staring into the steel cage. “That's really something. Boys, we did it. That's what I call teamwork.”

“Kevin needs to come inside now,” repeated the nurse.

“And it's up to me what we do with him now, right?” said Kevin.

“Yes, that was the agreement,” said Wally, staring into the cage.

“It was your boat,” confirmed Ivan.

“You need to come in now, Kevin,” said the nurse.

“Let's put the cage in the pond, near the shore where we can still see into it. We'll leave it there, completely underwater,” said Kevin.

“Why?” asked August.

“He'd eventually drown, and we could watch that. He would try to get his head out to breathe. It might take a whole week.”

Silence.

“I'm not doing that,” said Ivan.

“That is completely beyond the pale,” said August.

“No,” said Wally. “That's not an option.”

“You said it was up to me,” said Kevin.

“It is,” replied Wally, “but your choices don't include that one. I'm not heading into the afterlife with something like that weighing me down.”

“But he's the devil,” said Kevin, staring into the cage. “I'd like to watch him die.”

“If you want to end his life, we'll get someone out here with a rifle. Is that what you want?” asked Wally.

“I don't know,” said Kevin. “Do I have to make up my mind now?”

“No, of course not.”

“Good. Can we just keep him in the cage until I decide?”

“Sure. But it will get too warm out here during the day. He needs to be in the water. Let's see if the four of us can push the cage a little ways into the pond. Then we can still see him and feed him fish, check on him, get to know him a little better. And then you can decide.”

“All right,” said Kevin, “but pushing that cage isn't going to be easy. We'll have to watch our fingers.”

“We could get some long poles and pry it into the water, one lift at a time,” suggested Ivan.

“Good idea,” said August.

“Let's go for it,” added Wally.

Then Dart walked out. “What's going on?” she asked.

“We caught the turtle,” replied Kevin.

“Good work,” she said. “Boy, he's a big one.”

“He's immense,” said August.

“It's time for you two to come in now,” she said. “It's after ten. Mrs. Helm wouldn't want August out this late.”

“First we have to move this cage down to the water,” said Wally.

“Then do it,” she said.

“Kevin is refusing to come in,” said the nurse. “This air is hurting him.”

“He's not refusing,” replied Dart.

“Yes he is,” said the nurse.

“He just wasn't ready until now, right, Kev?”

Dart picked up the oxygen tank in one arm and put her other arm around Kevin. “Come on, big guy. After we're inside I'll tell you why the most beautiful women in the world always undress from the top down. You don't already know that, do you?”

“No.”

“Well, come on, then, let's go.”

She and Kevin went inside, followed by the nurse.

And then August, Wally, and Ivan pushed the cage down to the pond, until only a foot of it stuck up out of the water.

W
hen Blake learned his curfew had been relaxed and he could move about with the same relative freedom as everyone else between 8:00 p.m. and 8:00 a.m., he thought he should celebrate in some way. His other restrictions were still in force—no leaving the state without written permission, no fraternizing with other felons, no firearms, no drinking, etc.—but he'd nevertheless reached a higher plateau of liberty, and he felt compelled to mark the passage somehow.

He thought to call his father, but Nate and Bee were off together for ten days in Slippery Slopes, and Blake didn't want to disturb them. They were trying to make a mark of their own.

He wondered what it might be like to call his mother, assuming she was still alive and he could find her. “Hi, Mom, it's me, Blake. I know it's late but I'm here at the farmhouse and just wanted to tell you that my curfew has been suspended.”

Of course he'd first have to explain that he'd been in prison for over ten years and was now out and had a job and—

Dumb idea, he decided, and looked out of the window again and imagined other calls he might make.

“Hi, Danielle. It's me, Blake, and I wanted to tell you that . . .”

Dumb idea.

Blake walked around the house, found the book he'd borrowed on Spinoza, and read it until he fell asleep. When he woke up, his familiar heart-hunger was deeper than usual—stronger than any idea he could find to subdue it. Like a child's dimly understood urge to grow bigger, it was impossible to deny.

Blake felt empty. He yearned for a minute-by-minute, week-by-week
entanglement with someone who meant something to him. His newfound freedom was burning a hole in his pocket, and he longed to spend every last bit of it. As for the obvious constraints of such an ongoing entanglement—the cables potentially binding him to the hopes, dreams, nightmares, foibles, and frailties of another person as broken as himself—as far as his heart was concerned, without someone to love, freedom was nothing more than a worn-out Vacancy sign on a motel no one wanted to set foot in.

He had to go over there again. Otherwise, the tension he felt would tear him apart. Blake picked up the borrowed book, put on his leather jacket, and went outside. The night was clear and bright, the sky immense. As he rode, the night accompanied him from one valley to the next.

Outside Grange, Blake took a couple of back roads before stopping at the edge of the Roebuck property. Just beyond the fence and the windbreak, the pond spread out flat and shiny all the way to the house. The windows he could see from here were dark, and he pushed his motorcycle off the road and into the tall weeds in the ditch.

He moved swiftly along the edge of the pond. A fish broke the surface of the water, and frog-song erupted spontaneously. He waited for several minutes in the shadow of the house, listening. And then, using the supports for the heavy ceramic downspout as toe-holds, he climbed up to the third floor, stood on the roof, jiggled the window open with the blade of his knife, and went inside.

The smell of old paper dust and varnished floors greeted him. Unlacing his boots, he left them beneath the window and indulged for several minutes in the luxury of knowing that somewhere beneath him—embraced by the same walls, protected by the same roof, breathing the same air—slept Danielle and Ivan. Then he silently crossed the room. With a narrow shaft of light from his penlight, he found the spot he had borrowed the first book from, and slid it back into place between the two other volumes. Then he looked for the second book, which was not in the place he remembered. The little round light danced along the titles.