The Puzzle Master (17 page)

He finally fell asleep after staring into blackness for too long. But Marshall woke up suddenly when he heard voices. His fuzzy head was playing tricks on him, and he thought he was in the back room at Luke’s. Puzzle pieces were all over the floor, and he had to find them all, so they could finish the big one. Luke couldn’t win the bet; they had to finish the puzzle. Voices swirled around him again, until he realized it was his own voice.
And Mason’s.

“Would you get off the floor Marsh?” Mason hissed at him. Marshall stopped touching the floor, the carpet finally feeling more like real carpet than puzzle pieces. Where was he?
In his room?
Yes, of course
. It was nighttime and Marshall was talking in his sleep.

He stood up and slipped back into bed. “You’ve got to be quiet!” Mason said. “You were practically yelling.” He sighed and Marshall could hear the bed squeaking. Mason rolled over.

Marshall felt his pulse in his throat. It was racing so fast, and yet, he could breathe just fine. Flashes of Iris’ face jammed his head. Marshall thought about the river, and imagined seeing the crane again. It glided toward him and landed a foot away. It was beautiful and white and it glowed in the sun as if it was on fire. And then it flew away and he distinctly heard the bird say, “Goodbye.”

***

Monday came and he couldn’t wait to see Iris at school. He wanted to know how her aunt was doing; he wanted to tell her how he’d wished she’d been at his house to ward off Aunt Jean. But Iris wasn’t there.

He couldn’t go to Luke’s because it wasn’t one of the days he
was allowed
to go. He’d have to wait until tomorrow. When school was over and he got home, he called her before Mason had a chance to monopolize the phone. But no one answered Luke’s phone. Maybe he was out back getting all the new deliveries? Yes, that was it. He was out back, or in the bathroom or coughing out a lung. He had to be there, somewhere, and Marshall would find him.

Marshall waited five minutes more and then called again. But no one answered. He waited fifteen minutes more and called, but no one answered.

He couldn’t worry about it. No, that was completely unnecessary. There
was
probably a hundred reasons why Luke wasn’t answering. He’d just call later.

But, for the rest of the evening—except for dinner when they weren’t allowed to even look at the phone—Mason was on the line talking to his girlfriend. Marshall was infuriated.

“Mason, I’ve really got to make a call,” Marshall pleaded with him every five minutes. Mason would put up his hand and nod, but he never got off the phone. By the time he did, it was past seven and Luke’s wasn’t even open then. Marshall didn’t have Luke’s home number and he kicked himself for never having got it from Iris.

Marshall went to bed as early as he could, tuning out his brother and sister, and tried to ignore the anxiety trickling into his bloodstream like an infection.

***

On Tuesday, Iris wasn’t at school again. But again
,
 
no
one asked him to her whereabouts. People stopped questioning Iris’ habits and actions anymore because she was an exception to the whole school. No kid in all of his school had cancer, let alone had cancer and survived. And because of that, everyone gave her room to do as she pleased, which included everything about Marshall.

Marshall’s leg was moving, bouncing up and down five minutes before the last bell. And when it sounded, he took off running out the back doors like a bull out of his pen. He ran the whole way to Luke’s. Mud was everywhere, and the air was frigid. Wisps of cold air flared at his nostrils just like the bull that he was.

The sign on the door said ‘open,’ and he could see Luke’s trademark smoke floating through the air.
Good, he was there!
Everything was okay. Marshall took a deep breath and sighed and walked into the front counter.

“Hey Mr. Luke, how are you?” Luke was behind his paper and put it down when Marshall spoke. But Luke looked different; older,
like
he’d aged twenty years since the store had last been open just a week ago.

“Hey kid, how was your Thanksgiving?” Marshall smiled and said it was good, but sensed so much more than the spoken words. Something was wrong.

“Is Iris here?” Marshall asked. He leaned out to look at the back door, but it
was opened
and no light was on. Iris wasn’t here. Iris was still gone.

“Yeah,” said Luke casually, “She has another checkup, so she’s in the city again.”

“But I thought she just had one? Why is she there again?”

Luke looked at his paper, and then at his cigarette.
“Uh, just another checkup that the doctor’s wanted to look into.”

Marshall felt like crying. “Look into?” he whispered. “But she’s fine, right?”

“Oh, yes of course,” said Luke. He took a drag of his cigarette but snuffed it out, even though he’d just lit it. Something was on Luke’s mind. Everything felt strange, looked strange. Iris was gone. And even though he knew where she was, that Luke told him what she was doing, he felt like he was going to fall apart without her.

“She’ll be back soon?”

“She’ll be back in a few days Marsh; she’ll be back there with you very soon.”

Marshall grinned. Okay, that answer would have to do. Maybe he was getting paranoid; maybe everything really was all right and this check-up was just a precaution. “I’ll be in the back then.”

Luke nodded and Marshall headed back to the drafty room. He set his backpack down and made himself some hot chocolate. Then he stared at the puzzle.

The entire table
was filled
with the puzzle. It
was almost done
. They had maybe five hundred more pieces to go and the fishing pole was all his. The worst part of it was that the five hundred pieces was of sky; light blue, with pale white clouds, which meant that every piece looked the same.

He took a sip of his cocoa and burned the roof of his mouth. Marshall glanced at the lighthouse puzzle hanging on the wall. There was a note attached to it.
Perfect
, he thought,
Iris had left another note
. He set down his cup, careful not to slosh it all over the puzzle, and tore it free from the picture.

Marshall,

     Sorry to do this to you again. Please, work on the puzzle while I’m gone. We have to get our farm finished. I need to milk the cow and gather the eggs. I’ll be back soon. This time I promise to uncover a permanent remedy for all asthmatic patients.

–Iris.

He smiled to himself and held the note in his hand like it was gold. He felt a hundred times better already. He read the note twice more and went to work on the sky. He found five pieces in an hour, and scolded himself. He’d have to work faster than that. Marshall had about three and a half weeks before Christmas. If he didn’t finish it before then, the fishing pole was history.

Marshall closed his eyes and he could still see puzzle pieces: the nibs and bends, straight lines and divots—all looking back at him and taunting him. He had to finish it.

Marshall rubbed his eyes and calculated the pieces left, along with the remaining days ahead. He needed to do about twenty or more a day to get it all done. He went back at it, finished his quota by dinnertime and left for home.

***

The next day came all too soon and again and Iris wasn’t at school, but he knew she’d be home soon. He took the bus home and sat with Michael, and they talked about the latest member to the club, how Robbie from seventh grade got the most awesome doo-dad GPS system from his father, who used it on his boat. But since he’d upgraded the boat, he upgraded the GPS system, and it was all Robbie’s now. Marshall grimaced through the whole story.

He wasn’t impressed. He knew he should’ve been. That GPS stuff was incredibly cool. He also knew that finishing a ten-thousand-piece puzzle all for a stupid fishing pole wouldn’t get him into Michael’s club. But, that didn’t bother him. Those other cool toys seemed so insincere. All he wanted was to see Iris home, safe. He wanted to be in the back of the room finishing the puzzle with her with their coats bundled over them, their fingers chilled to the bone, and their pores oozing with hot chocolate.

He wanted her to be home; he wanted things to go back to the way they were
right now
.

Chapter 13: The Big One Finished

The following Saturday, Marshall went to the store as soon as he could. In fact, he was standing at the door at ten minutes to nine. Luke unlocked the door as soon as he saw him.

“Suppose you want to see Iris,” he muffled.

Marshall felt stiff for a minute, as if the wind
had been knocked
out of him. “She is here, yes? It seems like she’s been gone forever.”

“Oh she’s here alright, she’s here,” and
Luke closed the door behind them and locked it again. Something
wasn’t being said
. Was Luke sick? Was that the real problem?

“You’re okay right Luke? I mean, you’re not getting worse and everything are you?”

Luke raised his eyebrows.
“Me worse?
Like sick? What do you mean?”

“Iris’s been saying she was worried about you and your cough and everything, I thought maybe since …”

“I’m healthier than a horse,” he said lighting up a cigarette. “
Well,”
and he nodded to the smoking stick between his fingers, “Doc says he wants me to quit, that’s for sure. These things aren’t too good for me.” He took the cigarette, looked at it and put it back into his mouth. “But I had pneumonia, took me forever to get over it.”

Marshall shook his head in disbelief. “So you aren’t dying of anything?” He didn’t know what else to say. What had Iris meant with her diagnosis of her uncle? Why had she told him that she thought he was sick?

“Me dying?
Well, sure. I’m dying every day, but there aren’t any serious issues right now.” Luke took a puff and blew it out, switching on the country music station. George Strait wafted to the ceiling. “Why are you asking?”

Marshall shook his head. “No reason, no reason.” He started to head toward the back room but Luke grabbed him by the arm.

“Marshall, uh,
wait
.” Luke gulped and looked away. “Son, don’t know how to tell you this, but Iris, her last checkup was sort of a big one and uh, well, she’s too tired to do a whole lot. She’s sitting in a recliner back there, stretched out like she’s
laying
down—for comfort and all.”

Marshall stared at Luke. That explanation sounded wrong for someone who didn’t have cancer. It sounded wrong for so many reasons. “I don’t understand. Why is she so tired?”

Luke stared at the floor, covered with dirt and dust. “Why don’t you uh, why don’t you go back there and see her.” Luke lifted his head with a grin. But the devastating fact—one that Marshall would go over for days in his mind’s eye—were the tears spilling down Luke’s cheek. He wiped them away and practically shoved Marshall to move. “She’s waiting for you, don’t keep her waiting, son.”

Marshall was numb. The feelings he thought he should feel weren’t there. He felt feeling-less, emotionless, as though everything and nothing mattered. He pushed open the back door. The room was alive with light and the puzzle was still on the table where he’d left it. Luke had purchased a new space heater and it was on making the room toasty warm. The empty puzzle box sat lifeless in a corner.

Iris was there too. She was asleep, her eyes closed head resting on the back of the seat; her body was sideways crunching into the chair as if it was a big pillow. She had huge dark rings under her eyes, and her skin was paler than he’d ever seen it. He imagined for a moment that she had turned into a ghost, and that she could disappear at a moment’s notice if he blinked too long.

He sat down at the table. A few new pieces
had been added
to the picture, and their “farm” was practically done. The barn and the sky above it was all that
was left
.
A couple hundred more pieces to go.
Three weeks. They could do it.

Iris moved awake just as Marshall found another piece.

“Hey, you’re almost done,” she croaked. Marshall looked at her face, gaunt and waning like an old moon.

“Yeah, but you need to finish it with me,” he said. And yet, Marshall noticed how hollow those words rang in his head.

He knew what was happening. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he knew what was happening. His world was changing second by second to where he wouldn’t even recognize it soon.

Maybe they’d finish the puzzle tomorrow? Yes, that was it. They would finish it tomorrow. Their farm would be ready. They had to finish it now. “We have our house and farm to go home to soon,” Marshall finally said, feeling like someone else had spoken those words.

Iris smiled and pulled the blanket around her tighter. She knew that he knew: she didn’t have to say a word because Marshall understood.

Her lips were dry and crusty; she looked like she could drink a hundred gallons of water and suddenly be fine. But she wasn’t fine. “The doctors say I’ve got a few weeks. The JMML came back. It’s in my liver now.” Marshall gulped and looked away, trying to stay busy with the pieces in front of him. And yet, he didn’t want her to think he didn’t care. He couldn’t have her leave him not knowing how much he cared for her. So he looked at her again.