The Gardener (9 page)

His ATV bumped into mine, but the heavier weight and speed of my machine spun him halfway around and pushed him to the right toward the chasm.

“Jack!”

Flipping the key, I was off the ATV before the engine even died, lunging toward the edge, managing to catch the front fender of Jack’s ATV just as his back wheels went over the edge.

In a squat, I had next to no leverage, just whatever strength I could summon to hold on. But I started to slide, and Jack and the front wheels of the ATV crept closer and closer to the edge.

Then arms went around my middle, pulling me back.

The girl.

But she only pulled like a normal person, not the person who had thrown me over the wall. There wasn’t time to wonder where her strength went, because although my slide slowed, I still headed toward the edge.

Jack was nearly tipped back flat, hanging on to the ATV so as not to fall off. If I let go to try and help him get off and back to the edge, the ATV would plummet before I had a chance. And if the girl let go of me to help him, I’d go sliding over with him.

Jack was yelling, “Don’t let go! Don’t let go!”

“Jack! Hang on!”

A tree root off to my left looked strong. “Try to aim toward that!” With the girl shifting, I succeeded in planting one foot there. The girl still had her arms around my waist.

I knew I couldn’t hold on much longer to the slippery fender.

Jack was still yelling, although I wasn’t sure it was even words anymore.

Although I squeezed until it hurt, I felt the machine slipping away. “No!” I pushed on the tree root with everything I had.

But my fingers gave out and the ATV, along with my best friend, slipped out of my grasp.

The release sent me falling backward into the muck on top of the girl. Rolling off, I scrambled to the edge, where I still heard crashing in the trees. I ripped off my helmet so I could see better.

The foliage was so thick and the light so gray and foggy, I couldn’t see Jack or the ATV.

The crashing stopped. I heard only the rain and a few birds.

“Do you see him?” The girl looked with me.

“No. Stay here.” I started down the side, grabbing for trees to hold on to as I slipped in the mud. “Jack!” I followed the path of broken tree branches. “Please be okay, please be okay.” I kept screaming his name until finally I saw a bit of red at the bottom of the ravine.

I froze, trying not to breathe, and listened.

Nothing.

I ran toward the red and found Jack lying at the bottom of the chasm under the ATV. “Jack!”

His eyes were shut beneath the helmet. “Jack! Jack!” Another moment flashed before me, only I was the one lying on the ground hurt. And in that moment I had just a small idea of how my mother must have felt seeing me so still, my face half ripped off.

Jack didn’t move and I slowly pulled off his helmet and touched his face. “Jack. Jack!” I shut my eyes and dropped my ear to his chest, listening for a heartbeat.

“Please be okay.”

I
COULDN’T HEAR
J
ACK’S HEARTBEAT OVER MY OWN
.

He didn’t move for so long. Then there was a low groan.

I sat back up. “Jack! Thank god!” My head dropped to his side and I let it rest there for a moment.

Jack said, “I’m fine.”

I started to pull on his arm and he screamed.

“Sorry sorry sorry!”

“I take that back.” Jack moaned. “I may not be fine, butI’m alive. And if I can feel all my injuries, that’s good, right?”

Getting to my feet, I kicked at the ATV. “I’m gonna get you out. Do you think I can pull this off without hurting you?”

He seemed to be taking a mental inventory, then nodded. “I don’t think any body parts are tangled.”

Grasping an edge of the ATV, I started to lift it up andover, going very slowly. He didn’t say anything as I finished and gave the machine a final shove so it landed upright, bouncing on its wheels as it righted itself. Kneeling beside him, I looked him over. “What’s hurt?”

He bit his lip and winced as he tried to move. “My shoulder’s dislocated again.” By again, he meant for the fifth time. The first was when we were in grade school. Saturday morning basketball; I was dribbling forward while he guarded me, and he tripped over himself, smashing backward to the floor.

Back then, he was my ride home, so I had to go to the ER with him and his mother and sit out in the waiting room. I still remember his sobs, and then a scream. He came out all red-faced and sniffling, his arm in a sling.

The second time was during the first football practice freshman year. Jack took one hit and lay writhing on the ground until the team trainer walked over, grabbed his arm, and before Jack could utter a sound, snapped it back in place. Jack got up, walked off the field, and never came back.

After the third, a freakish paper route incident, and fourth, which involved homecoming, cheerleaders, and a pie-eating contest gone awry, he’d become a bit of a bragger about it. So when he lay there with foliage around his head, looking up at me and raising his eyebrows, I shook my head. “No frickin’ way. I’m not doing it.”

“Mace, come on.” Jack pointed at his shoulder. “Just snap it back in, then I’m good to go.”

“No.” I sat down on the wet, muddy ground.

Jack said, “So we’re just going to sit here.”

“No.” Although I wasn’t sure how to get him up the hill with that shoulder.

“Seriously, it’s easy. Last time at the pep rally, it took the cheerleading coach, like, three seconds. And she weighs the same as your left thigh.”

Slapping my hands over my face, I groaned. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Dude, you’re strong, it’ll be cake.”

“Fine.” I dropped my hands and got up on my knees. “What do I do?”

He looked at my coat. “Stick some of that down under my armpit, to pad it.”

Removing my coat, I folded up a sleeve and carefully placed it in his armpit. “Why do I need to pad that?”

“Because that’s where your foot goes.”

“Huh?” I backed off. “No way.”

“Come on, man! You can do this. I’m the one in pain and you’re being a wuss.”

Jack was right.

I breathed out. “Fine, just tell me what to do.”

“You’re gonna put a foot in my armpit, then hold my hand.”

I did as he said. With my foot in his armpit, I held his hand with one of mine, and gripped his arm with the other.

“Now, when I say so, you’re going to slightly push with your foot as you really gently, and I am stressing the
really gently
, pull my arm.” He rolled his head to the side and covered his eyes with his good arm.

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t move, just said, “I’m not gonna watch, stupid.”

“Okay. Let me know when you’re ready.”

“Okay.” He took a couple of deep breaths. “No, wait!”

“What?”

“Remember, I said really gently.”

I breathed out, gearing up. “Yeah, I heard you.”

As Jack started to reply, I pushed with my foot as I pulled on his arm. With a grisly twinge, and a scream from Jack, the shoulder went back into place.

At the same time, we both swore.

Jack dropped his good arm to look at his bad one. “It’s in. Good job.”

“So we can try and get up the hill.”

“About that,” Jack said. “My right leg hurts like hell. Just the lower part, though.”

Reaching down, I gently lifted up the bottom of his jeans. The lower part of his leg was already purple. I didn’t know for sure, but I had the feeling it might be broken. At least there was no bone sticking out. Quickly, I lowered the pant leg without letting him know what I saw. Looking back the way I’d come, I rubbed my chin. “I’m gonna have to carry you up.”

“Maybe I can walk.” He started to move and grimaced.

“You can’t walk.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, you can’t carry me.”

Sitting back on my haunches, I put both hands on the ground beside me. “Jack, I can bench two hundred. I think I can carry your scrawny ass up a hill.”

He started to laugh, then winced. “Just watch the shoulder. They usually put it in a sling.”

I pulled off my sweatshirt and put a makeshift sling over his coat. Not pretty, but it would work until the real thing. My coat was all muddy, but I put it back on, anyway. Just that little while without it had chilled me in the damp air.

He said, “Get on that side.”

As I maneuvered to get him into a cradle hold, he directed me about what parts of his body to avoid. With hissling to the outside, I managed to stand up with him in my arms.

“If you tell anyone you carried me like a girl, you are dead to me.”

Ignoring him, worrying about whether I could indeed make it up that hill with him in my arms, I started climbing. The tricky part was making sure I had solid footing before taking another step. After a few minutes, I was breathing hard, and after about ten, I had to stop and lean against a tree.

“You can put me down, you know.”

I shook my head, doubting I could pick him up again once I put him down. “I need a little breather is all. Here we go.”

I finally got close enough to the top that I saw a patch of pink through the tree branches. “We’re back.”

“Are you okay?” The girl’s voice was shaky, and I realized I’d almost forgotten about her.

“Yeah, he’ll be all right.” I didn’t want to think about another outcome; it was just dawning on me that we’d been lucky he wasn’t hurt worse.

Back at the trail, I lay Jack on the ATV and leaned over, hands on my knees, catching my breath.

Jack groaned. “Now what? Lucille’s house is still a ways.”

I stood back up. “We go on. She can ride behind me and you can sit in front.”

“On your lap? No way!”

I held out my arms to the sides. “Do you see any other options?”

He glared. “No.”

So I slid onto the seat, carefully arranging Jack so he sat sidesaddle on my lap, while the girl climbed on behind me and held tight. I remembered helmets then, but Jack’s was in the chasm and mine was out of reach, not worth pushing Jack off and trying to get situated again. And I planned on going slow.

Jack held on to the handlebar with the hand of his good arm as I turned the key and we started moving. He shouted, “Again, you tell anyone about this and—”

I shouted back. “I’m dead to you! I get it.”

He smiled a little, then cried out as I hit a bump.

“Sorry!”

Riding like that, we managed to keep going, slow but steady, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I finally saw Lucille’s property. We pulled into the backyard just as the door to the house opened and Lucille came running out. She took one look at Jack and said, “I’ll call 9-1-1.”

“Wait!” Jack held out a hand to her. “Lucille, I just look really bad. Get me inside. We need to talk first.”

I followed Lucille into the house with Jack in my arms. My clothes were filthy and I dripped water, but she didn’t seem to care. I deposited him on a big flowered couch. She leaned toward him, her long gray hair covering most of her face as she looked him over. After a moment she straightened up, wiping her hands on her jeans. “You’ve got one minute, shorty, then I’m calling your father.”

I mouthed
shorty
?

Jack waved me away and talked fast. “You know that guy this morning at the gas station asking about my truck? He’s after her.” He pointed behind me.

Lucille turned to look at the girl, who had just removed her helmet and stood there, her face flushed. Lucille looked her up and down, tapping the toe of her cowboy boot. “Is that true?” she asked.

The girl just sucked part of her bottom lip.

Lucille turned back to Jack. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Get them some dry clothes first.”

The girl ended up in a pair of Lucille’s grandson’s Levi’s, which were only a little baggy. I was soaked through. For me, Lucille had to go up to the attic. “My dad was big, like you.” She handed me a stack of clothes. “There might be something in here.”

Without thinking, I asked, “What’s that smell?”

“Mothballs.” She smiled. “And they worked, too. You can’t even tell these have been up there for twenty years.”

The clothes were like something out of a vintage garage sale. I found an old flannel shirt that was soft and warm, and put it on over my T-shirt. Lucille’s dad must have been huge, because the black pants I put on were almost loose. I was no fashion statement, unless the Paul Bunyan look was in.

After Lucille called Jack’s father, Jack and I managed to get the whole story out while the girl paged through a section of the
Oregonian
.

As soon as we finished, Lucille walked into the kitchen, and I heard pots and pans start to bang.

I made a face at Jack.

He shrugged. “She thinks food solves everything.”

The girl had been rustling through the paper, but the sound suddenly stopped.

I turned to where she sat, frozen, staring at the paper.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head slightly. “I don’t know. There’s just something familiar.”

“About what?” Jack asked.

She folded back the page and handed it to me.

My mouth dropped as I saw the section marked Literary Events, a picture of the scientist I’d seen on TV back at the cabin. Pointing, I said, “I just saw her on television. Dr. Kelly Emerson.” I looked at the girl. “Do you know her?”

But then she frowned. “I don’t think so. But … she just seemed familiar to me.”

Glancing back at the page, I realized it was a notice for Dr. Emerson’s book reading. “She’s in Portland this afternoon.”

Jack looked at me and raised his eyebrows.

“No.” I shook my head. “I think we should just stay here, figure this out.”

Jack said, “You could call your mom.”

I nodded. She had to know more about this girl than I did. But I didn’t know what, if anything, she would tell me.

The phone in the kitchen rang. Lucille answered, and then we heard a crash.

I jumped up and ran in there. Lucille was kneeling, picking up a pan of half-cooked eggs. Her eyes were wide when she looked up at me. “You and the girl need to go.”