by Colin Kersey
I sat down cowboy style, facing the back of the chair.
“What were you doing? Hope I did not interrupt anything important. I didn’t see a sign listing your visitor’s hours.”
“I don’t get a lot of company.”
“You just wait until all the local girls find out we got a single man hidden up here in a cabin.” She smiled knowingly. “You won’t get a moment’s peace. What did you pay for that haircut—fifty cents?”
“In answer to your first question, I was reading.”
“Yeah? Dostoevsky, Hemingway, Nabokov? I go in for D.H. Lawrence, myself.”
I tossed the book onto the bed.
Vonda turned up her nose. “Trout and Salmon Culture? I thought you looked like a more interesting man than someone who studies fish.” She tossed the book back. “Go ahead and read. Don’t mind me. I’ll just make myself comfortable.”
She propped the pillow up against the wall and used it as a backrest.
I could not help watching as she inspected the room. Unlike her sister whose demeanor was shy and reserved, Vonda had the confidence of someone who not only assumed, but aggressively demanded her place at life’s table. As I had learned, this was often an act, designed to hide an insecure disposition. There were millions of actors and actresses in Southern California. Very few, however, were in the movies.
“I must say, you’re about the neatest man I ever saw.”
“I don’t do well with clutter. I need a certain amount of order to think.”
“Really?” She studied me over the top of her cup. “Myself, I could do with less order and more spontaneity. Nothing interesting ever happens around here. Boring as hell, if you ask me. Val and I even know where we are going to be buried. Daddy bought us all cemetery plots, side by side, so we can all be by Momma someday. It gives me the creeps knowing where I am going to end up. When I tried talking about it to Stu, he said I’m crazy. Do you think I’m crazy?”
“You sound pretty normal. So far.”
“Normal.” She tried rolling it around on her tongue. “I don’t think I care for that word.” After refilling her plastic cup, she poured a second. “We’ve established you’re not a Mormon or an alcoholic, so have a drink with me.” She held out the cup. “The only thing worse than being lonely is being lonely when you’re with someone.”
I took the cup from her hand and tried a taste. It was not bad.
“To not being lonely,” she said, raising her cup in another toast. I raised my cup and took another sip. The rain continued drumming on the roof.
“Those birds must have set you back a few bucks,” Vonda said. “I swear I don’t know how anyone could live on as little as Daddy pays, or—more importantly—why anyone with brains would want to.”
Easy to say if there are not people wanting to hunt you down and kill you.
“C’mon, Gray,” she said. “What’s your secret? You can trust me.” She studied me over her glass. “I bet you stole some money and are hiding out until the heat dies down, am I right?”
I found the conversation steering too close to the truth for comfort, especially the hiding out part. All I needed was for Vonda to dig around on the internet or post something on social media and there could be a hit squad pulling up in the parking lot a few days later.
“I needed a job and wanted to close the door on a painful past.”
Vonda got up from the bed and walked to the rain-streaked window. “You disappoint me, Gray,” she said to the window. It was growing dark outside. The 60-watt bulb did little to prevent the room from retreating into shadows. Vonda flicked the light switch off. Rivulets of silver streamed down the window. “I can hardly wait to explore the world. To feel like I know it and it knows me.”
The silhouette of her body against the window in the dim light was attractive, sensual. I could not help noticing how well her jeans sculpted her legs and ass and I wished I still had the Canon camera. Her profile would have made a great stock photo to be downloaded by ad agencies and design firms as a source of income for many years to come.
“I used to feel that way, too,” I said.
She moved closer until she stood over me. I could smell the Angel. It permeated the room.
“Poor Gray. All alone in the big, bad world.” She put a hand in my hair, teasing it with her fingers. “You remind me of a little boy who’s lost his balloon.”
I brushed her hand away.
“I think my sister has got the hots for you.”
“What are you talking about?” I looked up to find her smiling. “She thinks I ruined her hand—which I didn’t for what it’s worth.”
“Whether you did, or didn’t, she still thinks you’re about the best thing to happen around here in a long time. I had to help her with makeup before dinner last week. I have not had to do that since we were little girls going to a birthday party together. Too bad she can’t see what you look like.” She traced a line from my ear down along my jaw with a finger. My heart began beating in quick time.
I pulled away and then stood. “I need to feed the fish before it’s too dark to see.”
“Now there’s an excuse I haven’t heard before.” She took another sip of wine. “Sit back down. I won’t bite. Not hard anyway.”
When I remained standing, she sighed. “Time to get ready for dinner, I suppose.” She sat on the bed to pull on her boots.
As I helped her with her coat, I remembered what she had said a couple of nights before. “What did you mean the other day about ‘problems’?”
“What?”
“You said, ‘Drinking doesn’t begin to acknowledge my problems.’”
“Oh, that.” She smiled, but it was a false smile. “Thanks for letting me visit. I loved seeing what you’ve done with the place.” I handed her the nearly empty wine bottle and the umbrella and opened the door for her.
She started out the door, then paused. “No need to say anything to Stu about my little visit. The word “understanding” is not in his dictionary. Oh, and now that we’ve warmed up the room, you can turn down the toaster.”
***
Although there was still an hour left before sundown, I fed the fish in near total darkness, the rain slanting down in sheets of cold steel. Visibility was so poor that I almost missed seeing the dead trout floating belly up, pale as a ghost, in the second pond.
“You save him?” Virgil asked.
“He’s in a baggy in the refrigerator,” I said, still in my rain gear.
“We’ll look at him tomorrow after church. Meantime, do not be too alarmed about one rainbow. Fish die, like anything else. Sit down and have some supper.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The rain continued to fall all night, relentlessly hammering the wooden deck and roof of the tiny cabin and heedless of the anxiety that had been building steadily since finding the dead trout. In my sleepless tossing and turning, the downpour sounded like the marching feet of an approaching firing squad.
Finding the dead trout felt like an ominous omen. After getting the tractor stuck in the mud and then being blamed for Valerie’s hand being pierced by a kitchen knife, I knew I could expect no more clemency if the trout were dying because of something I had done. Virgil had warned me not to fertilize too closely to the uphill side of the ponds to prevent poisoning the fish and I had carefully left a barrier of at least ten feet. But with all the rain, it was not impossible to think that chemicals had leached from the lawn into the water. With the way my life had gone lately, it seemed a foretold certainty.
When the clock finally read three, I got up to check on the trout in Pond Two. It was a moonless night so dark that I could not see anything until I had approached to less than twenty feet away. Then I looked on in horror over the rain-cratered surface of the pond where a hundred or more milk-white bellies of trout now floated. For several minutes, I stood shivering in the cold downpour and contemplating my fate as my worst nightmare played out. It would be several hours before Stu returned from Seattle. By then,
all the fish might be dead. I decided it was up to me to do whatever I could to save them.
I opened the garage door with the key and hit the light switch. After retrieving the dead fish from the night before from the refrigerator, I laid it and two new fish from Pond Two on top of the cooler. I studied them for clues to their demise as the metal roof rang with the rain’s tattoo. I needed the PH testing kit Stu had used but had no idea where he kept it.
A two-drawer metal file cabinet seemed like a good choice, but a search of its drawers turned up only receipts, state and county permits and other paperwork. I turned to the locked door. Stu had warned me against entering, but it was now the only alternative.
I returned from the barn with a claw hammer. The lock was impervious to my blows, but the wooden door and its casing were not. Inside the closet, I spotted a shotgun leaning against the corner with a roll of blueprints. There was also a second file cabinet. In its top drawer, I found a glass flask with stopper and a packet of chemically treated testing strips.
Valerie heard my knocking and came to the door wearing the threadbare robe I had previously seen her wearing. “What’s wrong?”
“The fish are dying. I need your dad.”
“He isn’t going to be happy when I wake him.”
“At this point, it doesn’t really matter. Tell him to meet me by Pond Two. I need his help if we’re going to save his fish.”
“What if the fertilizer killed them?
“Then it’s been nice knowing you.”
She started to leave, then lingered by the doorway, her fingers inspecting the door jamb. “In case I don’t have the chance to say it later, I’m sorry,” she said.
“Sorry for what? The fish?”
“I don’t give a damn about the fish!” She plucked at the sleeve of her sling. “I’m sorry about what happened to your wife and about everything that’s happened to you. Mostly, though, I’m sorry for me.”
I was looking at the top of her head. I raised her face gently with the fingers of one wet hand. “It’s going to be okay. Go get your dad.”
I shivered as I waited in the darkness by the pond. The rain made two kinds of sounds: the hard, intermittent plops of the heavier drops falling from the trees and the softer, rushing din of millions of silver-black butterflies.
Virgil showed up fifteen minutes later dressed in heavy rubber boots and rain gear. I had parked the Toyota pickup by the pond with the high beams on so I could see what I was doing as I knelt in the sodden earth. Beyond me, the lights reflected off the bodies of the floating fish.
“What’s going on here?” Virgil asked.
I nodded toward the pond. “We’ve got a serious problem. I need your help figuring out what’s causing it so we can correct it before we lose any more trout.”
Virgil whistled when he saw the dead rainbows. “Must be over a hundred. I warned you, young man. If fertilizer has seeped into the water, there ain’t nothing we can do about it except stand here and watch ‘em die.”
“I don’t think it’s the fertilizer.”
“Like you didn’t think it was you who put the knife in the dishwasher the wrong way?”
We stared at one another. I fought the urge to walk away and never look back. But there was more at stake than finding a new place to hide. “I swear I didn’t spread fertilizer within ten feet of the high side of the ponds – just like you told me. So, you tell me: you think the fertilizer killed them?”
“What else would it be? You see any signs of disease?”
“None,” I admitted.
“Then I got bad news for you: it sounds to me like ammonium poisoning from the fertilizer.”
I wiped my forehead. “I admit, it sounds like a reasonable hypothesis. Let’s check it out.” I held out a test strip and a flask full of water.
Virgil took the flask. He shook it, then dipped the strip into its contents. Valerie approached with Patsy. “What’s going on, Daddy?”
“Fish are dying, sweetheart, and we are hoping to find out why.”
Vonda arrived a moment later wearing jeans, cowboy boots and a rain slicker. “What is it?” she asked.
“Don’t know yet,” Virgil answered. “But something ain’t right.” He tried another strip, then threw it away. “You happen to bring the drops?”
I held up the small bottle of Universal Indicator. “This?”
Virgil nodded. He used the eyedropper to add drops to the flask. Immediately, the color of the water began to change. “Don’t that beat it?”
Three faces clustered around the flask. Valerie stood back with Patsy. “What is it?” she asked.
“C’mon, Daddy,” Vonda said. “Don’t torture us. Is it the fertilizer, or isn’t it?”
“Darned if I can say.” He lifted his hat and scratched his scalp with one hand while he held the flask with another. “We’ve got a high acidity reaction. If ammonium poisoning were responsible, I would have thought it would be the opposite, meaning high alkalinity. Something’s fishy, no pun intended.”
“What are you going to do?” Valerie asked.
Virgil poured out the water sample. “First thing when it’s daylight, I’ll run the test one more time. If it still shows high acidity, all we can do is call upon the experts at Fish and Game. Probably be Monday before they can get out here which means we’re going to lose all these fish.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Vonda said.
Virgil stared at the pond where the dead fish floated. He looked older, his face deeply lined, in the harsh shadows of the Toyota’s high beams. “I’m sorry, too.” He put his arms around his daughters. “Sorry it turned out this way.”
I watched as the three shadows of their bodies merged into one dark shape in the bright headlights and I thought that a family forced to share their sorrow was still better than no family at all. They had started to walk back to the house when I called out. I could not see their faces clearly in the backlit glare of the lights, but I felt as if I were standing before a judge and jury.
“Look, I don’t know that much about fish, and I wouldn’t presume for a moment to be an expert, but I did some reading this past week. I seem to remember seeing something about low carbon dioxide being as fatal as too little oxygen, is that right?”
Virgil shrugged. “It makes some sense, though I’ve never seen or heard of it.”
“Give me two minutes. If it turns out I am responsible for the deaths of these fish, I’ll clear out tomorrow and you won’t owe me for the work I did.”
No one moved or said a word. “Just two minutes,” I repeated.
“Okay,” Virgil said. “Two minutes.”
I waded into the pond. The water was ice cold and I had to step gingerly to keep from falling. It did not take long to find what I was looking for. I reached beneath the surface and pulled out a long, leafy water plant. “Look.” During the past two weeks, my body had continued to heal. Some days I almost forget I had been shot. Then I would reach for something or bend over to pick something up and it was like I had been kicked. I grunted as I pulled out another plant. “The pond is thick with them.”
“So?” Vonda said. “Even I know that plants are responsible for producing oxygen.”
“That’s right. But, according to the book I checked out, water plants need carbon dioxide to make oxygen. When the sky’s overcast and there’s not enough sun, plants and fish are forced to compete for oxygen. And if there are too many plants, due to a mild winter or an early spring, then there’s none left over for the fish.”
Virgil chewed the inside of his lip as he pondered this for a minute. “Sounds like you might have something. Only trouble is we haven’t got any herbicide and, even if we did, we would have to get a permit to use it. In other words, we’re still up a creek without a paddle.”
“Got a rake?” I asked.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“A lawn rake?” Virgil said. “What are you planning to do, clean out this entire pond by hand?”
I shrugged. The ra
in pelted my face. “Figured I’d give it a try.”
“I’ll help,” Valerie said. And before anyone could stop her, she had waded out into the water. Patsy whined and danced nervously on shore for a few seconds before plunging in after her.
“Brrr. It’s cold,” Valerie said. “Whoops!” She stumbled and nearly fell. “And slippery.” She reached beneath the surface of the pond, found a plant and uprooted it with her good hand. “Hey,” she said, “this is kinda fun.”
Vonda watched as we continued to pull up plants and throw them on the shore. “I can’t believe I am standing out here in the freezing damn rain even considering getting into a slimy old pond with those slimy old fish to pull up weeds.” She shivered. “Oh, hell.” Then she, too, waded in.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes with a rake and garbage sacks,” Virgil said.
Some four hours later, when the rain had finally ceased, and the sky had lightened, I finished throwing the last plastic garbage bag onto the back of the Bull to be emptied on the compost pile. Vonda had gone to bed two hours earlier, complaining of the cold and exhaustion, but not until after putting in two very tough hours of work—something no city girl I knew would have done. With only one hand to pull weeds, Valerie had nevertheless stuck it out for the entire four hours, with a break in the middle to make hot chocolate and coffee for everyone. Standing in his hip waders, Virgil had held the bags to throw their weeds in. He had finally announced he was going back to bed a few minutes earlier. Six more trout had died, making the final total ninety-three dead.
“What about the other ponds?” Valerie asked.
“They’ll need to be checked and maybe sprayed,” I said. “But they’re probably not in as critical condition. This pond gets the most sunlight which is probably why it grew such an abundance of plants.”
“Are you ready for some breakfast? I imagine you worked up an appetite.”
“How about if I take a shower and change first?”
“We’ll wait for you,” Valerie said.
Valerie and Patsy followed me to the cabin. Once I crossed the threshold and saw the cot, however, my thoughts turned from food to sleep. I kicked off my shoes. Then, realizing that Valerie could not see me, proceeded to undress. When I was naked, I sank down onto the cot. The pain from my damaged ribs had spread to every inch of my body and I began to shiver uncontrollably.