Jewelweed (61 page)

“I can't promise,” said Blake. “But if the opportunity comes up again, we'll take it.”

When they returned to the house, August and Ivan were waiting for them at the bottom of the drive, immersed in some animated discussion.

“We'd better get back,” said August, and the three boys started up the drive.

“Ivan,” said Blake. “Come here.”

Ivan walked back to Blake, a puzzled look on his face.

“If you ever need anything, call me, okay?”

“Why?”

“Because no matter what, I'll come.”

“Do you mean it?”

“I do.”

And with that, Blake rode off. The boys continued walking up the drive, then turned through the side yard so they could enter the house from the back.

Standing on the deck, August pointed over toward the pond. “Look,” he whispered.

In the distance, a moonlit figure stood at the edge of the water near the turtle cage.

“It's him,” said August. “It's the Wild Boy.”

Then Kevin and Ivan saw him.

“What's he doing?”

“I don't know,” said August.

“Let's go over there,” said Ivan.

“He'll just take off,” said August.

“Let's go anyway,” said Kevin, coughing. “That's our turtle.”

A
fter Dart fed everyone breakfast and started a lentil soup simmering for lunch, she poured a cup of coffee and sat down with it at the kitchen counter. Morning light filled the room, much of it colored by the blue curtains.

There was nowhere more relaxing than a clean kitchen, she thought. Pans and utensils hung securely from hooks; herb, flour, and sugar jars rested silently in place; smooth closed cupboards and the cat-faced clock on the wall all seemed to join her in taking a couple moments for herself. Inanimate objects made excellent company.

She blew into her cup and sampled the black coffee. It was still too hot.

For some unknown reason an old song flared up in her memory, and for another unknown reason she started humming it, though this was something she rarely did. At first her humming burbled along in a shaky, unsure manner, but after a short time it grew thicker, steadier, and more satisfying. Then it assumed a life of its own, a loop in the corner of her mind, and she could entertain thoughts and memories while the hummed song continued all by itself.

She remembered how her sister used to hum to herself, especially when she walked for any distance. They would be walking along a sidewalk or through a field and Esther would be murmuring like a tuned engine. Dart never could recognize the songs, and she never asked, respecting the privacy that seemed to accompany the habit. Esther's humming had always comforted Dart, perhaps because she imagined it comforted Esther.

Suddenly Dart realized she was crying. Tears moved down her cheeks and onto the backs of her hands and the countertop in warm, wet
splotches. She stopped humming, wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and burned her tongue with a long swallow of hot coffee. The forces she'd put in charge of her personality simply did not allow weeping, and she was more than a little frightened that such unlawfulness could be going on inside her. Her security system had broken down. What was wrong with her?

She found Amy in the basement, refinishing an old sideboard with a leaded glass front.

“Can I have the rest of the day off?” she asked.

“Why?” asked Amy, scrubbing the wood with a wad of steel wool.

“I want to visit my sister's grave and do some other things I've been neglecting.”

“Would you like some company?”

“No, thank you. I need to do this myself.”

“Don't forget that Buck and I—”

“I know,” interrupted Dart. “You're going backpacking for a couple days. That's no problem. We can handle everything. No need to worry. Ivan's going to visit August, and Kevin's been feeling as well as I can remember. And Flo, well, you know, she's never any problem.”

“Are you sure? It seems a little reckless. Buck's in the middle of things at the construction site, and I can't imagine how long it's been since we—”

“I told you, Amy, it's not a problem. You need to go. Everything will be fine here. You can both leave in the morning and there is no need to worry about anything.”

“I hope it will be all right,” said Amy. “I'd never forgive myself if something went wrong. In any case, take the rest of the day off. I'll feed everyone lunch.”

“There's soup on the stove and sandwiches in the refrigerator,” said Dart, “and there's lettuce and sliced tomatoes to add to the sandwiches. The crackers Kevin always wants with his soup are in the pantry, to the back, and the—”

“Thanks, Dart. I'll manage.”

Several miles outside Red Plain, Dart pulled off the road in front of a small cemetery that was set off from a cornfield by a short wire fence with a gate in front. Dart walked over and sat down by her sister's grave. A hot wind blew down the valley and the wide corn leaves rasped against each other, making it seem even hotter. It had been several weeks since the cemetery was mowed, and many of the grass tops had seeded out.

After lingering for over an hour, Dart took off her homemade leather-and-bead necklace and placed it on top of the flat stone, circling the name.

“If someone takes it,” she explained, “they'll remember your name. I had a nicer one for you, but it didn't work out.”

Dart closed the rusty gate on the front of the cemetery and drove to Words, where she parked and stared out of her windshield at the repair shop. Then she drove to Winnie and Jacob's log house, and found Winnie's little yellow car parked in front. She walked around it and continued to the edge of the garden. At first she didn't see Winnie sitting on one of the painted benches, staring into a patch of red bergamot. Then she did, and hurried over toward her.

“Dart,” said Winnie, standing up and smoothing her skirt over her hips, as if she'd just stepped off a train after a long journey. Around her grew hundreds of plants, arranged to express something that could not be expressed any other way.

“I need to talk to you,” said Dart.

“Good. I was wanting to talk with someone.”

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Definitely not.”

“What were you doing?”

“I was just trying to find a better way to pray.”

“A better way?”

“Much of the time all I really want to do is pray, and it seems important to find the best way.”

Dart laughed a short, loud, two-note laugh, then stepped forward and hugged Winnie. “I simply love how odd you are, Pastor Winifred,” she said. “I've always wanted to tell you that.”

“Call me Winnie,” she said, looking at Dart with some apprehension.

“Now, I need you to tell me about Blake,” said Dart.

“What about him?”

“I need to know about his drug problem.”

“Neither Jacob nor I have seen any sign of it.”

“Maybe you're not looking.”

“That might be true, but we haven't seen any sign of it. And I'm pretty sure Jacob has been paying attention. He's a lot more suspicious that way.”

“Drugs are why Blake was in prison.”

“I know,” said Winnie.

“He was tried and convicted.”

“Actually, he pled guilty right away—never said anything but that one word at his hearing. I know because Jacob wanted to see his case file before he'd let him work at the shop. He wanted to be sure there weren't any more serious charges against him. Blake was sentenced for carrying over two pounds of brown heroin—that's what the file said—and with resisting arrest and assaulting an officer of the law.”

“Assault,” repeated Dart.

“That's what the file said.”

“Where did they catch him?”

“Somewhere in Milwaukee. Blake said there was a guy in the foundry who would pay three hundred dollars for every delivery made to Milwaukee. Apparently he did it three times and never knew what was in the packages. Then the guy who was paying him turned him in, set him up. Why do you want to know this?”

“Because I don't think I can stay away from him much longer.”

“I don't understand.”

“Not that long ago I spent the night with someone, slept with him. He didn't mean anything to me, and it wasn't a good experience at all. It was awful, in fact, and it made me think that maybe I'm all used up. Maybe that part of my life is ruined for good.”

“I'm not sure what you're saying,” said Winnie.

They sat down on the bench, and Dart continued. “There was a very short time when I felt good about myself, and the guy who made me feel like that was Blake Bookchester. The ways he was weak, I was strong. Blake knew it and I knew it and though we always had a lot of problems on account of him being so quick to act and not thinking about the consequences of anything he did, whenever I was with him I didn't feel alone. And with all the other men I've known in my life, I always felt alone. But it wasn't that way with Blake. Sure, I was mad at him most of time, but I never felt alone with him, never, and now I can feel myself slipping, going back to him in my mind, and before long I'll go see him. I'm going to do it, I know I will—drugs or no drugs. And I need you to tell me something to keep me from doing it, because I keep forgetting that a person like that can never be trusted. When he came over a while back I thought it would be different. He was in prison so long, and I thought it would be different. But it wasn't.
That thing inside me lit up again, and when it does it makes me need something I don't have so much I can hardly stand it.”

“Dart, I'm still not sure exactly what you're saying, but you would never act solely on a raw physical urge, would you?”

“Of course I would.”

“We're not biological brutes, Dart. We can make informed choices about how to conduct ourselves. Our destiny is in our own hands.”

“Excuse me for saying this, Pastor, but that's just stupid. Things build up. I see what other people have and I want those things too. I want to be full of someone else, and have them full of me. I want him back.”

“Go talk to Jacob. He knows more about the trouble Blake got himself into.”

“You can't send me over there. Blake works in the shop.”

“He's not there now. I took a lunch over about an hour ago, and Blake and August weren't there. Jacob said they'd gone to Blake's father's house to water plants, mow the yard, and see if they could stop the toilet from leaking before Nate and his cousin return from Slippery Slopes. He took August along to help him.”

“I'll be going then, thanks,” said Dart.

“Are you bringing Ivan over in the morning?”

“If it's still all right. Amy and Buck are going away for a few days, and it would make everything easier.”

“We're always glad to have Ivan over.”

“Thank you, Pastor Winifred.” And with that Dart turned and left.

At the Words Repair Shop, she hesitated for a moment before getting out of the Bronco, walking through the five men clustered in the shade of the yard, and going inside.

“Hello, Dart,” said Jacob, looking up from the bench.

“Hi,” she said. “Your wife sent me over here.”

“Good for her. What can I do for you?”

“I need to know some things that are no one else's business.”

Jacob wiped the grease off his hands and went outside with her. Together they walked down the road.

“I need to know if Blake's got a habit.”

“Not that I can tell,” said Jacob. “He's completely unpredictable, no habits at all. In fact, if you don't keep him focused, he'll wander off.”

“That's not what I mean. I mean drugs—dealing drugs, taking drugs, sticking needles, popping pills, snorting, shooting it under his toenails, rubbing it in his gums.”

“He passes all the drug tests they give him, and they spring them on him all the time.”

“Then maybe he's just dealing.”

“Not that I can tell.”

“Do people come in, look out of the corners of their eyes, stay for a short while, and leave?”

“There are a lot of people who do that. This is a small town. But I know what you mean, and no, I haven't seen anything like what you're talking about.”

“Where is he now?”

“He went over to his father's house to take care of things while Nate is away. We're kind of slow this afternoon, so I told him to take August with him. Also, there's a man from the government coming over in a little while, and I thought it would be better if Blake and August weren't here.”