Justy went outside and watched the night come and seal itself down on the valley. They began the evening wait for Jake and Kyle to return while stars filled the sky.
***
They ate dinner in suspension, listening for the sound of Kyle’s truck. Every time a big rig rumbled by on the freeway, they sat up straighter. Micah’s and Lacee’s faces echoed Dale’s as they each reached out toward the sound. They all knew how to divide themselves, letting half of their bodies eat the venison stew Dale had cooked, while the other half stayed tuned for Jake’s arrival, wondering what kind of mood he’d come home in. Justy didn’t know if Micah and Lacee did the same with their eating half but she spun out different possibilities while waiting. She imagined Jake coming home with fistfuls of dollars and, more importantly, gentle and calm, how he was when he played certain slow songs on his fiddle. Jake and Kyle had stopped at Hilltop, and she could feel them slide away from the bones they’d dealt with all day.
After half an hour, Dale laid down her fork. Justy could feel her fracturing as she leaned her head into her fist. Lacee started talking about a paper on democracy she was supposed to write, but her words couldn’t bring Dale back to the table. She looked at her plate and Justy felt like crying. The stone in Justy’s pocket seemed to pulse.
Dale picked up Kyle’s and Jake’s empty plates and carried them to the sink. She slammed the plates on the counter and pieces flew. No one said anything while she stood over the broken plates, trying not to cry. She wrapped a bleeding finger in a kitchen towel. Lacee opened the back door to grab the broom and dustpan.
“I’m sorry,” Dale said. The children nodded, not surprised by the small violences she allowed herself. Walters’s visits always set her on edge, never knowing when he’d bring the orders for them to leave. Walters and his bumbling kindness seemed to home in on the terror underlying the bare sense of security Dale felt.
“It’s just…” She heaved a sigh and let the tears fall. She played with the ends of her hair. “He’s never here when we need him…and…” Dale stopped—what she had to say was too huge for words. She stared out the kitchen window while Lacee finished sweeping. Then she returned to the table and the three of them tried to continue eating, but the food was cold, the stew lumping in Justy’s mouth. Dale finally walked to the head of the table. Strands of her hair had come out of her ponytail, small wisps curling near her cheeks.
“That’s enough,” she said quietly, and made herself stop crying. She sniffled and then fixed each child for a brief instant in her distant gaze. “If he isn’t home by midnight, we leave.”
Justy shivered.
“Do your chores, finish your homework and get some things ready.”
When she spoke, Dale looked over the children’s heads. She went into the bathroom and the shower started.
“I don’t see why we should do our homework when we probably won’t go to school tomorrow anyway,” Lacee said.
“Maybe we should pray,” Micah said. Lacee laughed and carried her plate to the sink.
***
They went to bed early, Dale clearing them out of her view. Micah murmured prayers until he started snoring lightly. Lacee slept instantly—maybe because she knew she’d be woken at any time. Justy listened to Dale pacing and watching the clock. Dale tried not to remember how she’d been awakened in the night so many times as a child, pulled from one city to another by her adoptive parents, people who didn’t know how to live a steady life. The old question about how those people had been seen fit to raise children held her for a moment and she paused. The night dragged on and Dale felt it again—the promise she made to herself each time. Never, Dale had told herself, never will I do this to my children. I will find a way for them to sleep the night through.
She didn’t want to think about it, how she did it the first time, responding to a call from Helen at Hilltop, telling her Jake had left the bar talking mean. It frightened her how easy it came, how she knew to gather her children to her in the darkness, wake them with shaking hands, tell them to dress. It had become too familiar, finding themselves running down the dirt road, trying to get away before Jake got home. The reasons were different for her now, but the running was the same—the pounding of her heart blocking out the possible sound of the Willys driving drunkenly toward her. That first time they made it to the old post office on the far side of the freeway and huddled into the shadows of the ghostly building. Jake had driven by, missing the off-ramp, the truck limping along with a flat tire. Dale had closed her eyes then, not wanting to see his truck weave on the freeway, not wanting to see him finally make the other off-ramp, not wanting to see what had become of her life. This is how you do it, then, she thought, feeling a strange kinship with her adoptive mother as Dale held her eyes shut, arms around her children, waiting for the light of day so she could return home.
And then, when they’d walked in the door, Jake had woken from the couch and crawled to them, so sorry for scaring them. His hands had found Dale’s face and cradled her chin, his bloodshot eyes full of every kind of sorry there was. It was addicting—that touch—and she hated that she had to leave in the middle of the night to receive it.
Dale walked back and forth in the living room, struggling not to remember what she could never forget. Justy lay in bed until the sound of Dale’s pacing lulled her to sleep.
***
“Justy.” Dale shook her and she sat up, knowing Dale wanted the children to move fast, before Jake returned or she changed her mind.
“Here.” Dale handed Justy her jacket. The hall light lit the room fairly well. Lacee sat on the floor, putting on her tennis shoes. Micah sat sleepily next to her, fumbling with his socks. He leaned into Lacee and she smoothed his hair, then pushed him up, telling him to hurry. Dale wore a green plaid shirt of Jake’s and a baseball cap, her hair pulled through the opening in the back. She stuffed some clothes into a pillowcase.
“Justy. Put these on.” Lacee handed Justy her tennis shoes and Justy pulled them over bare feet.
“Okay,” Dale said. She watched her children and winced at how they knew the ritual of running so well. The silent clock in her head ticked away the time until Jake could reach the house. It wasn’t like that first time, but she still didn’t want him to catch her running away, not when he’d been drinking. “Let’s go.”
They walked through the living room, and the clock by the kitchen table read one-fifteen—Dale must have wavered in her deadline. The almost full moon lit the night like it was an ashen day. Tree shadows distinctly lined the valley floor. Warm spring air cloaked them as they moved away from the house.
Dale drove through the bleached night, leaving the headlights off. The cab jammed them together and Justy was glad for the warmth, even though it wasn’t cold. A dancing moon wavered at them from the surface of the pond. The dashboard dials glowed and cast an odd sheen to their skin. Dale’s profile was rigid as she bit her bottom lip, looking out from under the low brim of her hat. Torn from the river of sleep, Justy kept her eyes open wide. It was easy to remember that first time—something about that night lay dormant until the next time they ran, and even though the danger wasn’t as present tonight, Justy knew in her stomach that it was still possible.
Dale coasted to a halt at the stop sign where the children caught the bus. She kept the motor running and they waited, looking for headlights on the freeway. Lacee and Micah breathed heavy and it seemed they’d fallen asleep.
“Fifty cars,” Dale said.
“North and south?” Lacee asked, and Dale chased down an answer. If she really wanted to go, they counted cars in both directions. If she were unsure, she chose one direction. While she decided, Justy relaxed her grip on Ochre’s stone and began tumbling it. Sunshine probably never woke Ochre up in the night, walking across the floor of the tipi to shake him from his dreams.
“Both,” Dale said. She pulled the cap lower and sighed. She sent
out a silent prayer. Justy felt the sky open up and her edges slip away. The moon hovered behind, sending shadows through the landscape. A wave of Dale came at her; she took a deep breath and plunged into the marrow of those thoughts.
Dale never knew how to change the way things were between her and Jake. It had seemed so clear seven years before, when she dedicated her voice to Jehovah, when she’d been dipped into the waters of redemption. The anger in Jake confused her and she tried to keep it at bay with her faith. Sometimes, on nights like tonight, when the drinking had been going on for months and the loneliness leaped inside her like madness, she had to leave—make a statement. At certain moments, an inexplicable exhaustion welled up inside her and she struggled to not go under the surface of it. It would carry her away completely, and who would be left for her children? What guarantee did she have that Jake’s hands would not find their enraged way to them? She kept her head above water by remembering that an unknown woman had given her up for adoption. That and the small hope that something might change. And in the meantime, Jehovah watched over her, guarding her voice and her future.
Dale squeezed the steering wheel, Justy squeezed the stone and lights loomed in front of them from the north. Dale and Justy watched, a simultaneous desire pulling at them. The lights continued, not taking the southbound off-ramp on the other side of the freeway. The car drove on and the night returned to shadowy paleness.
“One,” Lacee said. She trusted her closed eyes to the counting, something Justy wouldn’t do. Only more darkness waited behind her eyes, more ways to slide out of herself and possibly for Satan to enter. Micah slept, leaning up against Lacee. Justy believed he could sleep so easily because he could carry himself away with prayer, dreaming of the New System in which the only living people would be perfect, the earth would have its paradise restored and Micah would live forever. Justy returned her gaze to Dale, knew she did not think of the future, even the one promised by the religion. She remained stuck in this vivid present, unable to imagine what the next moment might hold.
Justy placed the stone in her mouth, knocked it gently against her teeth, liking the sound, watching the moon shadows around them.
***
They counted the passing of twenty-seven vehicles, each set of headlights searing the night. Most of them were big rigs, carrying paper products or trees up and down the north coast. When the twenty-eighth pair appeared, they watched and waited. The truck behind those lights slowed and widened off the road. The vehicle was taking the off-ramp, dipping down from the freeway. Justy felt Jake’s presence rise up in the strong stream of Dale, and Lacee opened her eyes. Dale sat up straight, pushed in the clutch and slipped the Willys into gear. The lights disappeared, the freeway overpass cutting off their view as the other truck rolled toward the corresponding southbound stop sign, kitty-corner from the Willys. Dale turned the truck left, going south, the wrong way up the off-ramp, away from the approaching vehicle. She kept the lights off and they rolled in moonlight.
Justy turned to see lights beam out from the underpass, then Kyle’s truck appeared. It drove past and headed up the dirt road to the house. Dale touched the brakes and they sat pointed in the wrong direction, a red glow behind them. She took a deep breath and put the truck into reverse, driving backward to the spot where they had been.
They waited, not counting cars anymore, just watching the night. Dale pulled off her hat, put the truck into gear and started down the old road toward town. When she could, Justy caught sight of the Eel, dark and winding below them. Dale drove through the main part of Sequoia, past the entrance to the Drive-Thru Tree, past the two filling stations, the Redwood Diner, the post office and general store, past the few houses. Dale turned right onto the dirt road that led to Carver’s Hole. Justy felt the confusion mount in Dale as she guided the truck over the rough ruts to the Eel. It was too early in the spring for Judge Carver to have the road graded, and the winter rains had created grooves. The Scotch broom lining the road reached out to the Willys, slapping the hood and sides with sharp twangs.
Micah continued to sleep, and Justy and Lacee waited while Dale brought the truck to a halt, climbed out and closed the door. The headlights reached out to the river walls, illuminating gray crevasses. Justy and Lacee exchanged a look and then Lacee shrugged. Dale opened the driver’s door and shut off the headlights, leaving them in moon shadow.
“I’ll be back,” Dale said. Justy scooted behind the steering wheel and looked at the few stars bright enough to shine alongside the moon. She smelled the river’s clean movement and rolled down the window so she could draw it in deeper. The water moved fast, talking to Justy as Dale undressed in the dark. She left her clothes at the edge and stepped into the river with a deep intake of breath. Her skin seemed to drink in the night, free and goose-pimpled. She could feel the current pull at her ankles. The moon behind her shed pale light on the river wall opposite her, and she marked off in her mind the places her children loved to jump from. Pebbles underneath her feet urged her forward to the sand she knew lay a few feet deeper.
“This is crazy,” Lacee said. As Dale dove into the darkness, Justy slid from the truck and walked to the pile of clothes. Dale’s blond hair broke the surface, and Justy felt her heart gallop at the cold water. Dale swam upriver, her strokes silent, feeling the anger and confusion wash from her. Asking for Jehovah’s guidance, she pulled her naked body through the water, stretching each pale arm in front of her, carrying herself against the current.
Justy’s moon shadow wavered in front of her, already swimming, and she wondered if she was dreaming. The skin on the back of her neck rose and she looked for the doe, expecting to see her mournful eyes. But there was no deer, so she squatted and put her hand in the water, her fingers floating. She wanted to follow Dale, but it seemed too wild—to step into the night river and let the darkness consume her. An image of the beer sign from Hilltop came to Justy, and she thought about how water could keep a person in place or carry her away.
After twenty minutes, Dale walked from the river, her naked body shining in the moonlight. Justy moved back from the clothes and tried not to look at Dale dressing, but she was still fascinated with the woman’s body Dale carried beneath her clothes. Dale tied her tennis shoes, wrung water from her hair and turned. Her head was framed by the white moon in the indigo sky as she prayed hard.
“Let’s go home,” she said, finally, and started to the Willys. Justy followed her with only a slight understanding of what had just happened.
***
“Your dad and me, we used to go to the river.” Dale guided the truck through town, the smell of water still on her skin. Justy sat up straight next to her and saw that Lacee was listening also, but Micah continued to sleep. Dale hardly ever spoke about her and Jake, and Justy yearned to travel in time and know them then.
“Sometimes, when we still went on dates, when there was the money,” Dale said, “after dinner or whatnot, I’d talk him into going to Carver’s Hole and we’d park. He wouldn’t get out of the truck. I’d dive into that water and he’d just watch with the headlights on while I swam for a half an hour or so.”
Her voice was soft and Justy could feel that Dale was barely in the truck with them.
“It’s so amazing, to have the water surround you and have it be so dark. I love it.”
Justy leaned toward Dale, the words about the river echoing her dreams. Justy took a deep breath and reached to the place where Jake lived inside her. He was sleeping, bathed in another kind of river—the one that lives inside a whiskey bottle. She pondered how things would have been different between Jake and Dale if he’d left the safety of the truck and followed her into the river, if swimming together in the dark might have given them something they lacked now.
When they hit the dirt road that led to the house, Dale turned off the headlights and relied on the moon again. She stopped the Willys next to Kyle’s Chevy. “Let’s go to sleep,” she said,
her voice one notch above a whisper.
Lacee climbed out while Justy gently shook Micah awake. Dale walked to the passenger side and helped Micah down.
“Wake up, buddy.” Dale had her arms on his shoulders, holding him until he gained his bearings.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“Home,” Lacee said.
Micah rubbed his eyes. “We didn’t make fifty?”
“Mom changed the rules again,” Lacee said. Justy could tell her teeth were clenched.
“Take hands,” Dale said.
Justy reached out her fingers, finding Lacee’s in front of her and Micah’s behind. Dale held Micah’s other hand.
“Be extra quiet.”
The voice was Dale’s, but any one of them could’ve uttered the caution. None of them wanted to wake Jake—not in the night, after they’d tried to leave. Together they inched forward, Dale leading. They climbed into the shadows of the porch. The wood creaked, and Justy tried not to put any weight on the boards. Dale fell forward with a soft thud. The chain of movement stopped, and Jake’s logging boots scraped against the wood as Dale untangled from them. She brushed her pants, stood and reached out for Micah’s hand again. She arrived at the door, and then they were inside. The house was darker than the night, and Dale guided them forward through the smell of smoke from the bar, brought into the house on Jake’s clothes. In their room, the children slid under the covers after soundlessly taking off their shoes and jackets. Dale tucked them in, lingering in the doorway. She waited until Micah’s and Lacee’s breathing indicated sleep, then she walked to the living room couch.
From where Justy lay, she could see moonlight streaming through the living room windows. Dale sat on the edge, fingers folded together under her chin. She rocked slightly, as though the river still took her weight and made her feel light. Justy felt the tidal split again and knew Dale wouldn’t go to sleep next to Jake, not after she’d wanted to run away, not after she’d visited the Eel. Her faith filled in the cracks between her and Jake, the same cracks that ate away at Jake. Justy turned over and tried again to find any trace of Jehovah, but all she felt that was real was the stone in her hand and the very different ways Jake and Dale moved through the world.
By Way of Water Page 13