He opened his eyes and felt the ground for the first time in minutes. He rose to his hands and knees and crawled to the nearest plant. The earth yielded easily, like it wanted to be rid of the plant. It lay soft and fragile in his hands, the soil clinging to the roots. He thought he could feel the possibilities beating through the tender stem. He measured its weight in his right hand and then tossed it into the deeper shadows of the trees. The next plant called him, and he moved, cradling it also before he flung it. When he’d completed the circle and all but one plant was gone, he sat and looked from the shadows to their source. The moon’s fullness pulled at him, and he realized he found himself too often throwing things away. The plant he’d left waved in the slight breeze, and he decided to keep just that one.
A week later, Justy sat on the porch and waited for the bats to start flitting through the dusk. Jake was drinking at Hilltop while Kyle played his guitar to the smoky room. The VW van puttered up the road, and Mamie climbed out in a flowing shirt and those shoes that Jake called Jesus sandals. Micah and Justy helped Dale take the jars to Kyle’s cabin, where they hid them under his bed, back behind his empty guitar case.
***
Evening crept over the mountains and into the valley. Dale called to Lacee, who came to the house slowly, dragging her feet, humming a pagan tune under her breath. She stopped under the apple tree, the fence between her and the yard. “Yeah?”
Dale stepped down from the porch. “Honey, would you trim my hair?” Dale pulled the rubber band from the braid, and her blond hair flowed from her head.
“Sure,” Lacee said, trying not to smile. Justy knew she liked to be asked to do such things and wondered whether Dale was trying to win Lacee over.
“Great, I’ll go wet it.”
Lacee walked into the yard. Micah sat on the edge of the porch, his feet dangling. Dale returned with wet hair, a towel draped over her shoulders. She sat in one of the two chairs on the porch and held out a pair of scissors for Lacee. Justy wondered what it would be like to get her hair cut in the beauty shop that sat under the Kingdom Hall and next to Sullivan’s. She’d seen older women walk into the shop and emerge an hour later with their thinning gray hair wound in tight curls that seemed to make them happy. Someday Dale’s hair would lose its color and become something she’d have to tame and coax into cooperating. Or maybe not, not if the New System came before Dale’s hair changed and her bones started bowing toward the ground, like Kyle’s were starting to now. How much longer could he keep logging, Justy wanted to know, even if there were jobs.
“About five inches,” Dale said, and all three children looked at her with surprise. Never before had Dale considered more than an inch, even when Jake had been the one to trim it. Lacee began edging the scissors under the blanket of Dale’s hair. The sound of the scissors slicing seemed to fill the dusk, and Justy realized she’d been holding her breath. She closed her eyes and felt a kick from Jake.
Harris had approached him and Jake had been drinking hard, slamming the whiskey down. Justy felt his hands tighten into angry beasts, the anger blooming in him this time like a puddle and less like a flood.
***
Lacee took her time with Dale’s hair, making sure each cut was exactly aligned with the previous one. Justy felt Jake and Kyle returning, and she breathed deep when she saw their headlights at the lip of the valley. Daylight still lingered in the air as Jake and Kyle walked unsteadily toward the house. Kyle grinned in a sloppy way, and Jake stared above their heads for a minute, a pint of Wild Turkey in his hand. Lacee pulled the scissors away and took a step back from Dale. Bats spun and flew over the pond’s dark surface, dive-bombing for insects. Kyle patted Jake on the back. “What say, son? Should we fire up the guns and play a few?”
Kyle seemed blurred, just a little outside of himself. Jake turned slowly to look at him and nodded. Jake’s careful movement revealed that he was the drunker of the two.
“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s play some music.” He turned to look at Dale. He eyed her for a response while he drank. She watched both of them and pulled the towel from her shoulders, a cool gaze on her face, fear pooling in her stomach. Micah went to the truck and grabbed their instruments. While they waited, Dale moved to the edge of the porch, trying to break Jake’s stare, but he did not look away until Micah handed him the fiddle.
“What’ll it be?” Kyle asked Lacee. Her dark bangs hid her eyes until she tossed them back with a flick of her hand. The evening light was minimal, and she studied Kyle’s face as if to gain a clue. Finally she sat down, scissors still in her hands, and said, “’Big Iron.’“
Kyle took the lead with the guitar, he and Jake singing another gunfighter song. Justy knew Lacee liked this one because she got to sing backup, purring words such as “big iron” and “after Texas Red” and “about to meet his death.” Micah also sat on the porch, and they were all lined up, Dale off by herself at the farthest end. Jake and Kyle stood, and their voices brought a sense of calm, even though they sang about death. Justy leaned back to look at Dale, who strayed inward.
The song ended and Jake pulled the fiddle from his shoulder to take another drink. He passed the bottle to Kyle, and while he was still drinking, Jake started “A Hundred and Sixty Acres.” He sang without music and danced to the words, moving over to sway in front of Dale. She opened her eyes but stayed perfectly still, her gaze tracking his movements as he crooned his wish for land. Jake cast a look toward Kyle and kept singing. The song ended, but Jake danced on. He reached a boot out and tapped Dale’s bare foot. She smiled, as if she’d just noticed she had feet. Jake shuffled in the sparse grass, the only sound in the growing night. Kyle watched him out of the corner of his eyes, hands poised on the guitar. Jake set the fiddle on the porch next to Dale.
“How about ‘Strawberry Roan’?” Lacee offered, a fragile smile on her lips.
No one said anything and Jake kept dancing the smoldering dance. Lacee tipped her head forward to hide behind her bangs. Justy felt suddenly aware of the smell of water, the dwindling heat leaving the soil, the Wild Turkey souring the air.
Jake swayed and tapped Dale’s foot again. She smiled once more, the curve of her lips almost embarrassed that her feet might be nothing more than things getting in the way.
“What about a dance?” Jake asked. He extended his right hand and continued to move. Dale shook her head. Jake moved away from her, keeping his back to the family. When he turned around, his features were dark in the night, just a patch of paler color underneath his black hair. He shuffled over to the bottle, took it from Kyle and danced with it. Moving back to Dale, he took a drink and began singing “In the Valley.” The words told her he was as sad as the willow that weeps in the valley since she’d gone. “Come back, come back, come back to the valley, come back to this poor cowboy’s arms.”
The short song ended and left him standing, cradling the whiskey and looking at Dale. She pulled her feet up and rested her head on her drawn-up knees. She closed her eyes.
“How about a drink? Maybe a little whiskey will help.” Jake studied her eyelids.
Kyle strummed a chord, humming something under his breath. Jake slowly shook his head and then took another deep, long drink. The alcohol swished in the bottle as he lowered it from his mouth. “How about one song? Could you do that for me?”
Jake’s voice had taken on a brittle edge, and he leaned forward. Dale kept her eyes closed, each breath harder for her to take. Micah moved to Lacee and she put an arm around him. Then no one moved for the longest time. Dale pushed her thoughts toward the day of her baptism and the deep comfort she’d felt when she dedicated herself to Jehovah. Jake walked away from her and spoke to the apple tree outside the yard and the pond beyond. “You see, she’s waiting for your world.” He took a drink. “What about this world? What about me?” he said. “What about all those other JWs growing dope in their backyards and knocking on doors?”
&nb
sp; The silence grew and the bats continued to swoop over the water.
“And is there something about secrets?” Jake dropped the bottle and felt his hands growing at the ends of his arms. The bottle landed on the grass with a solid swish.
“What are you talking about, boy?” Kyle asked. He removed the guitar strap from his shoulder and held the instrument by the neck.
“Why don’t you ask her?” Jake turned and, in the same instant, Dale scrambled to her feet. He ran and grabbed her legs and she lost her balance, falling off the porch. He crumbled under her, softening her fall. She started to crawl away. He seized her by the waist and swung her around and then they were face-to-face, on their knees. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Jake yelled, and shook her shoulders to emphasize his words. Kyle dropped his guitar and Lacee stood, the scissors still in her hand.
Jake hissed at Dale, wanting to know why she’d gone behind his back. Dale told him it was just food for the winter. But Jake said it didn’t matter what it was she snuck around doing. Micah began crying, and Justy scooted back across the porch, hitting the wall and huddling down. Dale kept her hands on Jake’s chest, allowing herself this much resistance. Her uneven hair shook with his movements.
“Where are those jars?” Jake’s fingers tangled into her hair and he pulled. She winced at the pain but shook her head.
“What’s going on?” Kyle took a step closer.
“Ask your friend, here,” Jake said, and pulled harder on Dale’s hair. She took a deep breath but wouldn’t look away from the wave of anger distorting Jake’s face. “You better tell me, woman.”
Again Dale shook her head. The look of hunger on her children’s face from the winter before strengthened her, even though she could feel her hair coming out at its roots.
Jake slapped her. At the same time, Micah yelled, “Stop it!” Lacee moved close and studied the scissors. In a daze, she tried to use her free hand to pull Jake from Dale’s shoulders. The three of them meshed together and then Jake howled. He let go of Dale and gripped his left hand where the scissors had pierced his skin. “How dare you?”
“Leave Mama alone.” Lacee gasped for air.
“Don’t tell me what to do.” He stepped nearer to Lacee and backhanded her. Dale stood and moved at Jake. Lacee dropped the scissors and her hands curled into fists. Jake held Dale back with his arm. Kyle raised his hands in surrender and said, “Jake, this is getting crazy.”
Jake turned and caught Dale’s hair again and pulled her toward the door.
“Show me. Now.”
Jake dragged Dale to the bedroom, and then thumps and whimpers came from within. Kyle pulled Lacee to him and held tight, his breath ragged and strained. When Dale called out, Lacee and Micah ran inside and yelled at Jake to leave her alone. He threw her Bible books across the room, and one grazed Micah on the head. Too numb to move, Justy listened as Jake threw Dale on the bed and straddled her, as his drunken nerves split and he grabbed her slender throat in his powerful hands and began to squeeze.
Micah yelled for Kyle and he finally moved. Dale narrowed herself down to smaller and smaller breaths while Kyle ran to the room and pushed Jake from her. At the same time, Micah moved to the cabin and brought two of the jars of tomatoes to his chest. Carrying them like prayers, he brought them into the room. Dale lay silent on the bed, and Kyle had Jake shoved up against a wall.
“This is enough,” Kyle said. Dale rose and staggered past the children, blind to their presence, as she made her way to Kyle’s truck and locked herself inside. Lacee took the jars from Micah and held them out toward Jake. “Come and get them if you want them so bad,” she said. Jake cut her a look and then Kyle pushed him harder.
“You calmed yet, boy?” Kyle demanded.
Jake nodded and Kyle studied his face. Finally, Kyle stepped away, his boot landing on a Bible. He almost tripped and looked down at the floor. From the porch, Justy felt Jake lunge and try to grab Kyle by the throat, but he was too quick, and Jake half fell against the dresser.
“You better scoot,” Kyle said, and he herded Micah and Lacee back out to the porch. Again he took deep, ragged breaths. A swarm of stars dotted the sky, and Justy tried to count them. A Bible crashed through the bedroom window, sending glass flying onto the porch.
“Get,” Kyle said to the children. “Go.”
As Jake threw a boot through another window, Justy found her feet and asked them to carry her away. She and Micah made it to the truck and hunkered behind it before another window broke. Lacee stood by Kyle and refused to move. Jake came out on the porch and wavered on the edge, studying Kyle. “Where is she?”
Kyle shrugged, found the bottle of whiskey and took a thundering pull into his body. Lacee took a step back and yelled at Jake, “I hate you.” Hate was the Devil’s word, and maybe Lacee was right, maybe it was Satan who made Jake forget who he was and let his hands take over.
Jake jumped down from the porch and had to steady himself. He grabbed Lacee by the neck and said, “Shut your mouth.” Lacee dropped the jars as she coughed against Jake’s grasp. Kyle moved in between them. Dale tried to come back from the remote place she wanted to remain—but she couldn’t open the doors, even knowing she should gather her children to her and drive away. The hot sting of Jake’s thumbs pressed into her throat wouldn’t leave, conjured up every other time his hands had come undone. Seven years before, he’d tried to choke back her words, lost in his rage, stopping short of killing her because Kyle had pulled him away. Then she’d wanted to protect the child growing inside her, wanted to keep all her children safe from every kind of harm. Now she couldn’t even find a way to make herself move to their aid, couldn’t stop the ache for everything in the New System that wasn’t here now.
“There’s nowhere to go,” she whispered as Jake and Kyle tangled into each other again. Lacee picked up the jars and threw them at the men, but they shattered against the door, glass and tomatoes falling to the porch. Jake tried to grab her again and she ran away from him to the scissors lying in the grass. Jake moved toward her and Kyle stepped in between them again, pushing Lacee away. She screamed at them both to stop, waving the scissors wildly, her voice frayed by Jake’s earlier hold. As Jake and Kyle fell into a brutal dance, Lacee jabbed the scissors. They tore into Jake’s leg, and she ran to Justy and Micah, by the truck. “Come on,” she yelled, and led them to the barn, not looking at Dale as they left her. They approached the shadows of the building, and Lacee laid the little ones down in the trough. They could still hear Jake yelling, his curses filling the night.
Justy felt Jake’s hands pull the scissors from his thigh, drop them, then tighten once more, cutting Kyle’s air. The raging madness in him swelled to fever and Lacee coughed again. Her assaulted voice pulled Justy from the way Jake’s hands choked back every unkind word said to him, everything that boiled beneath his skin. His fingers tightened on Kyle’s throat, taking Jake finally and completely into the place he feared most. All the words Jake never could find swelled in him, and Justy felt her own silence tear open. Everything wrong with this story bit at the inside of her skin and flew from her in a howl.
***
Justy sat up in the trough as Jake came back from the anger and realized that his hands still gripped Kyle’s throat. He scrambled up and shook his head, slow and steady, sure that he was dreaming and that at any moment he’d find himself awake and not staring at his lifeless father. The deep night swirled around him, swam in his senses with the alcohol, convincing him that he was indeed asleep. He looked away from Kyle to the sky, saw the stars hovering above and then moved to the porch, where glass and tomatoes crunched under his boots. Something deep within him ached and he suddenly felt gut-shot. He ran to his truck and saw Dale standing next to it, watching him.
“I…”
She shook her head and said, “Don’t even try.” She walked past him and went to Kyle, grief welling in her. As she leaned down an
d placed a hand on Kyle’s chest, Jake wiped blood from his nose, vomited and winced at the steady pain in his jaw. He wanted it to remain with him always and grow in intensity. He climbed into the truck and drove slowly, finally, from the house.
***
Dale came to the children, calling their names, her blond hair ghostlike in the dark. They sat up from the trough and watched her come to them, almost shy in her movements. She kissed each on the forehead and hugged them all close. Her warmth filled the air around them and they stood holding on to one another, waiting. The quarter-moon rose and then Dale finally led them back to the house.
“Wait here,” she said, and the children sat on the edge of the porch. Kyle lay just beyond the reach of the lantern Dale lit inside. But they could see his cowboy boots splayed strangely. Justy kept watching to see him move, but nothing happened. Dale came back out to the porch with a broom and a blanket. When she had covered Kyle, she began sweeping, and Justy noticed Lacee studying the blood on her hands.
“Should we pray, Mama?” Micah asked. Dale’s fingers shook as she tried to hold the dustpan steady, but she nodded. She laid the broom down, stepped from the porch closer to Kyle and cleared her throat. Her voice rose rough as she asked Jehovah to resurrect Kyle in the New System, asked for him to be waiting for the family when the time came. In the quiet after the prayer, Justy felt Jake tear the last marijuana plant from the ground and rip it apart. Lacee stood up from the porch and began to pace back and forth. She coughed and tried to spit. In the lantern light coming from the house, her eyes were only shadows. Her steps came to a halt and she tossed her hair. Dale stepped closer to her and the night paused.
“You was born on a wild night,” Lacee said to Micah. Her words seemed to come from a faraway place.
“You see, Jake wanted a boy more than anything in the world, and the night you came, well, he was tickled inside and out.” Lacee coughed again and placed her hand on her hips, daring Dale to move closer. “Having a girl, that was fine, but having a boy, now, that made him a man.” She began to pace again. “You were born about six o’clock in the evening. Jake, he went to a pay phone and called Kyle. He told him to rosin up his buddies, that there was going to be a party, the blessed boy had arrived. By the time Jake gets to the house, ten, maybe fifteen people are already gathered there.”
By Way of Water Page 21