Fallen Stars, Bitter Waters

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Come on inside, Mrs. Mitchell,” Riley said, taking her arm.

  It felt like a child’s, small and delicate. It made Riley feel like a great bumbling bear.

  Noe entered the cabin and looked around, assessing. “Men just can’t fix up for themselves. Looks like a prison barracks.”

  “Allegra’s already been over here, giving us orders and poking around,” David said with amusement. “She’s going to fix this place up whether we like it or not.”

  “Good for her,” Noe said with satisfaction.

  “Uh—won’t you sit down, ma’am?” Riley asked politely.

  “We’ll make some coffee. Have you had breakfast?”

  “I had a little. I could drink some coffee, though.”

  David knew his grandmother well enough to understand that something was wrong, but he also understood that she was not a talkative woman. She would talk to them in her own way, in her own good time. As Riley made the coffee, David talked about the things Allegra had wanted to do with their cabin, curtains and rugs and things.

  But David was thinking of how Noe and his grandfather had raised him. His father, Noe and Jesse’s son, had been an irresponsible, selfish man all his life, and he’d married a woman who was just as bad. David had always wondered why they’d had him. It was easy not to have children, with abortions so readily available.

  But they had, and they dumped him on Jesse and Noe, then left to go to California. David’s mother, who had a kind of tawdry sultriness, was sure she was going to be a Cy-star. The last David had heard from her, she’d been acting in a pornographic play in San Francisco, and his father had been her “manager.” That had been when David was sixteen years old. He’d tried repeatedly to get back in touch with his parents, but he’d never been able to find them. It was his greatest sorrow, and he couldn’t imagine how it made his grandfather and grandmother feel. Every time he mentioned his father, Noe cried pitifully, so David no longer brought him up.

  Jesse and Noe raised David with so much love that he never felt that he lacked anything. They had little in the way of money, but they poured themselves into him so that there was no one on the face of planet earth who mattered to David Mitchell as did the two older people.

  He saw how age had marked Noe, and a tiny fear pulled at him, for he knew that both she and Jesse were coming to the end. It was not that he feared for them so much as for himself. He couldn’t imagine a world without them, and he fought back a panicky feeling.

  He read part of a poem once that he did not understand, but one line of it had grabbed at him and the words had burned themselves into his memory:

  And those I love push off from my life Like boats from the shore—

  The words came to him now, and he breathed a quick prayer, Lord, keep Grandma and Grandpa safe and well—for a while at least.

  When the coffee was ready, the three drank with enjoyment, savoring the warmth and rich scent. “You make a good cup of coffee, Mr. Case,” Noe said. “Not many people can, especially when you have to boil it.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Riley said sheepishly.

  Evidently Noe considered the social niceties over, for she turned to David and stated, “I’m worried about your grandfather.”

  “Is he sick?” David blurted out, mindful of his previous worries.

  Noe gave him a sharp look. “No, David. At least, not yet. But he’s troubled in his spirit.”

  “Grandpa? He’s always so—solid. So certain.” David frowned and fell silent, studying his coffee as if he could read something in the depths of the steaming liquid.

  Riley studied the small woman. He had formed a strong attachment— unusual for him—to the Mitchells. “What are you afraid of, Mrs. Mitchell?”

  Noe turned her gaze on the muscular man with the steady eyes. “I’m afraid he’ll get out in the woods and step in a hole and break his leg. I’m afraid he’ll walk off a cliff and break his neck. I’m afraid he could get lost. When he gets to praying, he just walks like a blind man! Why, one time when he was a young man, he prayed and walked so long that when he finally finished, he was in a different county! He laughed and said when he looked up to get his bearings, everything was different, strange. Sometimes he doesn’t pay any attention to what he’s doing.”

  “We’ll keep an eye on him, Grandma,” David said quickly.

  Riley nodded slowly. “Ma’am, if you’d like me to, I’ll go out and walk with him.”

  “I’d like that, Mr. Case.” Noe finished the last swallow of her coffee, then stood up. “I feel better knowing that you two will be looking out for him.”

  As always, Riley jumped to his feet when she stood. Now Noe turned to him and took both of his hands.

  “I think God sent you to take care of my husband,” she said simply. She looked deep into his eyes, and Riley had the impression that her gaze passed his eyes and searched deep into his brain and even down deeper than that. He felt uncomfortably exposed, though how this woman, so frail and advanced in age, could possibly make him feel vulnerable was a mystery to him.

  David said, “I’ll walk you back, Grandma.”

  “No, you won’t,” she said spiritedly. “I know I didn’t sound like it, but I did enjoy the solitude and the walk. Told you I was grumpy. You come up for dinner, David. I’ll see you then.” She left, a tiny figure in a black coat that reached almost to her ankles.

  Riley stood silently, gazing after her. David studied him a moment, but as usual, he couldn’t read Riley’s face. It was a closed face, guarded, sometimes forbidding. David was uncomfortable intruding on a man’s private thoughts, so he said nothing. He was surprised when Riley said quietly, “Your grandparents are really something. What she said—that’s so strange. I wouldn’t have put up with it if it hadn’t been your grandmother or Mr. Mitchell.”

  “I’ve noticed you don’t like to talk about God much,” David said casually.

  Riley raised one thick black brow. “Yeah. You started in on me once, and I cut you off so short, you must have thought you’d fallen through a trapdoor.”

  “I remember.” David nodded, smiling faintly. “No trespassing. That’s what you were telling me. But I wasn’t ‘starting in on you,’ Riley. I’m just curious. I’d like to know about you and God.”

  “I’d like to know myself,” Riley answered.

  The simple honesty of the words impressed David, but he decided not to press Riley. “Well, you’ll find Him. Or if you don’t, He’ll find you.”

  “Maybe,” Riley said noncommittally.

  Riley pulled on his long stained Ty-canvas overcoat and worn broad-brimmed gray hat, then picked up his Marlin .30-30. He opened the door, turned, and looked at David with a peculiar expression. “I’m going to look for your grandfather. I don’t think that it’s the assignment God’s given me for the day. I don’t even think He’s sent me here or brought me here, much less for some noble undertaking. But I want you to know, David, that I consider it a real honor to watch over Jesse Mitchell.”

  The door closed firmly behind him.

  David went back to the table and prayed for Riley Case for a long time.

  From overhead the sharp cry of a hawk sounded, and Jesse, who had been sitting with his back against a monumental chestnut tree, looked up. He had time to see the hawk as he fell from heaven, disappearing behind some bushes. There was a thumping sound, a brief thrashing, and then silence.

  Jesse got up and brushed the snow off the seat of his pants. He was weary to the point of exhaustion; his feet and fingers felt like dead lumps. He was vaguely surprised to see that dusk had already begun to gather. With dragging steps that marked the snow, he turned to climb up toward home.

  He had wandered the woods all day, sometimes pausing to kneel. Once he had even fallen on his face and prayed, for how long he didn’t know. During such times, he rarely knew what was happening around him, and now as he turned his mind toward home and Noe, he became aware of the world of pine and snow-covered rock and living things.<
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  Still, in the back of his active mind, he was communing with God. He’d had a difficult time on this long day. It was one of those times when God chose to remain silent. Jesse Mitchell was never discouraged by the silence, however. He kept talking to God.

  He’d often taught, Your best prayers are not those when you feel good. When the heavens are brass and when you’re half convinced that nothing will ever come of such foolishness, but you keep praying, why, that’s a prayer of faith. And faith can overcome all things . . .

  Suddenly Jesse stopped and called out, “You might as well come out and walk with me.”

  Riley emerged from a clump of cedar trees. “I wasn’t trying to hide from you, sir. I didn’t want to bother you. And, uh, by the way, how’d you know I was behind you?” Riley asked with a hint of exasperation. “I’m usually a little bit hard to trace when I don’t want to be noticed.”

  Ignoring the question, Jesse said, “Why don’t we go on to the house? I’m ready for some biscuits and gravy.”

  “You’re the boss, Preacher.”

  They made their way through the falling darkness. A bleak chill lay in the still air, and their breath made little puffs of visible moisture as they trudged along.

  For Riley the day had been unsettling. He hadn’t had any trouble tracking Jesse, though by the time Riley caught up with him, Jesse had wandered quite far from the cabins. The man, as Noe had said, trudged on blindly, and sometimes he talked loudly.

  At first, Riley had decided to walk up and speak to him, tell Jesse that he’d be going along with him on his strange wanderings. But then Riley realized that he was praying earnestly, and truth to tell, it had embarrassed Riley a little. He decided not to intrude. But he still felt odd, stalking along, keeping out of sight. He felt that he was eavesdropping. Riley finally settled on a sort of distance tracking. He kept Jesse in sight, but stayed far enough away from him that he couldn’t hear the words Jesse said.

  Nevertheless, it had been a troubling experience for Riley. All day he felt the cold touch of a timeless question. During the long day, his reflections went down a long spiral, wistful and hopeless. Riley had never known such passion, such longing and love, as he heard in the old man’s prayers. He heard joy, too, true and unguarded, and Riley knew that was a thing so rare that most people never knew it existed.

  Certainly there had been no real joy in his life. He had a few pleasurable memories of a friend or two; the brief flash of a woman’s shining eyes came to him. His life had been a series of stray pictures that faded slowly, and he allowed them to, for clinging to such things was not his way. Yet he sensed that there was more, that there was a true beauty he couldn’t quite grasp, like a piece of a melody, like a fragment of a song he couldn’t place.

  He glimpsed this unseen, unknown world occasionally. He saw it in Noemi Mitchell’s lovely old face, heard it in Jesse Mitchell’s prayers. It frightened him a little to think that he missed it. The thought was jarring to Riley Case. He couldn’t ever remember being frightened of anything.

  Finally they reached the cabin, and Jesse said, “Come in and have some dinner with me, Mr. Case.”

  “I guess I’ll head on back,” Riley said uncertainly.

  “Oh, I hate to eat by myself. Come on in. You can tell me what you and David are doing. Where you got the cows, for example.”

  Riley really did want to talk more with Jesse Mitchell, so he accepted the invitation. Twenty minutes later the two were sitting down, eating biscuits and gravy, and Riley was explaining how he and David had found two abandoned cows, both with calves. “They were wandering around out in an old pasture about three miles from here, down in the valley, Mr. Mitchell. There was an old ramshackle barn at the corner, and I guess they had plenty of grass to eat and probably slept in that barn. David and I are turning that old shack behind Mr. and Mrs. Stanton’s cabin into a kind of stable for them.”

  Jesse grinned. “The Lord is good. That’s for sure and certain.

  Hear that, Noe? Better break out that iron skillet, ’cause I’m hungry as a plowhand for some of your good corn bread.”

  “Butter, too,” Noe said dreamily. “If we can figure out how to make a churn, maybe. And if I can talk you two big strong men into churning.”

  Riley sighed extravagantly. “I don’t know what churning is, ma’am, and I’m not sure I want to know. I’ve already had a shock, trying to milk that cow. She didn’t like it, and she let me know she didn’t like it. Think I’m going to leave that little chore up to David.”

  “Then you can churn,” Noe said with satisfaction. “But I warn you, you might be sorry you chose it.”

  Jesse said, his blue eyes sparkling, “Watch out, Mr. Case. When that woman puts you to work, you know you’ve been working.”

  “Yes, sir, I’ve already seen that,” Riley said heavily, thinking of the exhausting day. He eyed Brother Mitchell; the older man, for all his high spirits, was pale, and he seemed drawn and chilled. “Well, ma’am, the meal was really good, as your cooking always is. Thank you.” He rose and put on his coat, but hesitated as he was going out the door. Turning, he asked Jesse, “Sir, if you don’t mind, could I come with you tomorrow?”

  Jesse grinned. “You mean, I don’t have to pretend I don’t notice you tomorrow?”

  “Uh . . . something like that,” Riley grunted. “I just think someone ought to—to—walk with you. But I don’t—want to— intrude or anything. I won’t bother you.”

  “No, you won’t bother me, Mr. Case. I’ll probably forget you’re there.” He eyed Riley shrewdly. “I’ll be praying, you know. ’Fraid you’ll have to listen to that.”

  Riley fidgeted with his hat for a moment, then nodded. “Maybe it’ll be good for me, Preacher. You never know.”

  Jesse laughed. “Oh, but you’re wrong, Mr. Case. God knows. God always knows. I’ll see you bright and early in the morning, son. We’ll go looking for God together.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  ALLEGRASTRAIGHTENEDup, placing her hands in the small of her back, arching until her stomach muscles pulled. She was wearing a pair of faded Ty-jeans that were too big for her, a heavy blue Ty-wool shirt, and a man’s shapeless Ty-cord jacket that had seen better days. Twisting from side to side to work the strain out of her back, she glanced over and watched Riley and David bucksaw a log. A brisk breeze lifted the fine sawdust and carried the fresh green-wood scent to her nostrils. The steady cadence of the saw biting into the log was a pleasant sound.

  She looked overhead and watched a flotilla of geese in a perfect V and wondered whimsically, How do they decide who gets to lead?

  Do they have an election? A committee meeting? Do they draw straws?

  From far away she heard the cry of a coyote, and as always, it was a thin, melancholy sound. She listened to it fade out, wondering if it was a male calling out for his mate. Once again she stretched; her back felt as if it were on fire. It’s so hard to live out here like this. No wonder people—especially women—had such short life spans . . . But David and Riley seem to thrive on it . . . men like them would . . . like Neville, he would love living out here . . .

  The thought of Neville brought a pang to her, and she had to fight back the sadness and the loneliness that crept over her. She had written in her journal the previous night:

  I miss him so much, and every day I hope somehow that soon we’ll be together. But that hope appears as a sailor who comes to an island and sits on it for a day or two, resting, and then sails off again, disappears, leaving nothing behind . . .

  She remembered now, standing in the pale light of the winter sun, how she had considered canceling that line, striking it out, for it seemed pathetic. Allegra was not, and would never be, the type of woman to wallow in self-pity. She had sternly reminded herself that the others were no better off than she. She had thought of David’s father, Jesse and Noe’s only son. What measure of grief, of sorrow, must there be, to lose your father, your son? Allegra was blessed, she had wonderful parents, and Kyle was
her deepest joy.

  But still, she and her parents grieved, for Allegra was the eldest of five. She had one sister in Atlanta, one in St. Louis, and a brother and a sister in California. They had heard nothing from any of them since the blackout. She knew her parents worried about them, though Merrill and Genevieve, like Jesse and Noe Mitchell, seemed to have such peace, such consolation, in their relationship with the Lord. Allegra wished she was that strong, but she wasn’t. She was lonely and found it hard to find any comfort within herself or anyone else.

  She glanced back at Riley and wondered about him, as they all did. His blue-black hair caught the sun, and he had taken off his shirt, so he was wearing only a khaki army undershirt. The muscles in his back rippled as he pulled easily on the saw. Despite the cold, a fine sheet of perspiration coated his dark skin. And what about him? Does he have someone . . . anyone . . . that he longs for, grieves for? Even as she formed the thought, Allegra knew that Riley did not, that he was alone. She had some intuition, some depth of perception, about Riley. She’d had it since the first time they met, back in the wilderness. He has no one to worry about, think about . . . and maybe that’s the saddest story of all . . .

  Wearily she turned back to her job, which was washing clothes. It was a task that had to be done, but it was tremendously hard work, especially in cold weather. Allegra stubbornly insisted that she would do everyone’s washing, for the men definitely had other, harder work to do, and Noemi Mitchell and her mother were too frail to do it.

  Jesse Mitchell made what he called a battling bench. He said he’d never seen one used, of course, but years ago, when he was a child, he saw them in old junk shops—usually someone’s barn— and he thought he could tell Riley how to make one. He could remember his mother telling him how, many years ago, women had done their unending wash. Allegra had discovered it was aptly named. Doing the wash manually, with any kind of equipment, was a battle. With a longing that was almost like a physical yearning, she remembered her lovely tri-jet washer and microwave dryer.