The Guilt We Carry

by Samuel W. Gailey

  “How do you know?”

  “Intuition.”

  “I don’t know. Could be anywhere. Could be dead.”

  “So, what do you propose? That we simply give up and return home with our tails tucked between our legs?”

  The big man thought for a second before speaking. “I don’t question you. Never have. Do what you ask.”

  “But?”

  “But, maybe, we let this one go.”

  Sinclair stared at his manicured hands and seemed to be pondering each individual finger. “You’re extremely loyal, Phillip. You really are.”

  The big man grunted at the compliment.

  “But what you’re proposing is not acceptable. Allowing someone to steal from me, and not take some kind of action, sets a precedent that I will not allow. I have taken great pains to build my enterprise, and to turn the other cheek on this matter could, and most likely would, have collateral damage.”

  Phillip played with his toothpick. “Okay.”

  “No, it is not okay. Please understand me. It is very important that we are on the same page here. This girl, Alice, did more than just steal money from me. She is responsible for the deaths of Henry and Pig. Two good men that were with me for a very long time. She has stolen quite a bit from me, Phillip, and I will not stop until I find her.”

  “Why don’t we show people the flier then? With the picture of Alice. Ask ’em if they’ve seen her around here.”

  Sinclair took a napkin from the dispenser and wiped at a spot of grease in front of him. He scrubbed for a moment, inspected the table, and scrubbed again. He placed the napkin aside, folded his hands together, and addressed Phillip. “If you don’t question me, then why do you question me now?”

  Phillip shifted his gaze, staring out the window instead.

  Sinclair sighed. “Don’t sulk, Phillip. It’s unbecoming. I will answer your question. Alice is a runaway. A young girl. If we march into town, waving the flier around in front of peoples’ faces, it sends up flags. A desperate girl. Two men searching for her. People might question this. Possibly call the authorities. No. That is not the correct manner in which to find Alice.”

  Phillip looked back to Sinclair. “How then?”

  Sinclair’s jaw tensed. His face went a shade of red. “Sometimes in order to catch a rat, you need to find its nest. Determine where it scurries off to at night. That is where you catch it and kill it.”

  The thick-ankled waitress delivered their coffee and juice. “You all decide on something to eat?”

  Sinclair painted back on a smile. “Would you recommend the biscuits and gravy?”

  “That’s what we’re known for. Sure.”

  “Splendid. I’ll give that a whirl. Thank you.”

  The waitress looked to Phillip. “And you?”

  “Biscuits ’n gravy.” Phillip felt Sinclair’s silent scrutiny upon him. “Thank you,” he said, the two words choked out of his mouth like he hacked up a chicken bone.

  Sinclair took note of the waitress’ name tag. “Connie, I have a question for you, if you don’t mind.”

  She snapped a piece of gum in her mouth. “Sure, hon. Ask away.”

  “I take it that you’re from the area here?”

  “Born and raised.”

  “I see. I was curious, with Shallotte being so close to the South Carolina border, do you consider yourself a North Carolinian or South Carolinian? Or just a Carolinian?”

  She laughed like this was the funniest thing ever to be asked. “Sweet thing, there’s a world of difference between the two. I am a North Carolina gal through and through, and damn proud of it.”

  “I’m trying to understand the difference between the two. Why exactly is North Carolina better than South Carolina?”

  She kept chuckling. “I’ll give you a few simple reasons: the barbeque, NCAA men’s basketball, and we were the first in flight. That’s all you need to know.”

  “Ah. Makes perfect sense.” He smiled at the woman, more from the internal satisfaction that her guard had been dropped than from what she actually had to say. “Perhaps you can help me with a small problem.”

  “Sure. Whatcha need, hon?”

  “I recently purchased some property in the area, and, unfortunately, I have discovered that I have an infestation problem. It appears that it is overrun with rodents. Primarily rats.”

  The waitress didn’t seem all that surprised. “We get lots of rats around here, being so close to the river and all. Comes with the territory.”

  “Yes. Well, I need to address the issue and I’ve heard a rumor that Parson’s Pest Control is quite a good service. Does that name ring a bell?”

  The waitress nodded, causing her double chin to expand further around her neck. “You’re talking about Elton’s old business.”

  “I guess that maybe I am.”

  “Sure. Elton Parsons used to be our local exterminator. He took care of everybody here in town, but he hung up his hat two, three years ago, I guess.”

  “I see. Does he still live in the area?”

  “Sure. But like I said, he’s done finished with that business of his.”

  “That’s unfortunate. Well, perhaps he’d be able to offer a good referral.”

  “Guess maybe he would. He knows everything about getting rid of bugs and rats, and even opossums. He lives right outside of town here. A couple miles up the road. I could find his telephone number if you’d like.”

  “I’d rather see him in person. If he can’t provide a referral, maybe I could convince him to come out of retirement. For the right price.”

  The waitress gave him a wink. “We all got our price, don’t we, hon?” She picked the pen out of her web of hair and started to scribble on a napkin. “You can’t miss his house. Right on the river. Real pretty place.”

  “Thank you, Connie.”

  “I sure hope you get your rat problem taken care of. I just hate those darn things.”

  “Me, too, Connie. Me, too.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  ELTON TINKERED WITH the reels on three different fishing rods, one by one, checking to make sure the lines weren’t tangled and that each had the proper drag. Then he grabbed a little bottle of Berkley reel oil from an old metal fishing box and squeezed a few drops on the spools and rollers and handles. He retested each line. Satisfied, he selected the proper bobber for each line and tied them off, then he set the hooks into the cork handles.

  Next, he went about organizing his fishing gear. Sorting through hooks and lures, and extra red-and-white bobbers. Once he felt confident that everything was in order and in its proper place, he took a seat on the front porch, grabbed a bottle of RC Cola from a bucket full of ice, knocked the cap off against the wood railing, and took a long, deep pull. He sat for a few minutes, sipping and burping up carbonation, enjoying the sun on his face, and keeping an eye on the road that led up to the house.

  With only a few sips remaining in the bottle, he spotted Alice and her young friend tromping down the dirt road, both of them toting two bags of groceries each.

  “Thought you all might have gotten yourselves lost,” he said.

  They set their bags down in the grass and took a seat beside him.

  “I was afraid that we would get lost. Everything looks the same out here. Nothing but trees and bushes and dirt roads,” Delilah said.

  “So says the city girl.”

  Delilah smiled. “Smells funny out here, too.”

  “That’s the way air is supposed to smell.”

  “Like cow poop?”

  “Shoot, you’re just used to inhaling fumes all day from buses and factories and all that other nonsense.”

  Delilah shrugged. “And what do people do out here, anyway?”

  “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

  “For fun? I mean, there’s no movie theaters, no malls or anything, and the only good restaurant I saw was a Burger King.”

  Elton gawked at her like she had three heads. “I must
be getting old.” He gave Alice a wink, then addressed Delilah directly. “First off, little lady, I sure wouldn’t consider Burger King a real kind of restaurant, serving that slop that they call food. Secondly, there’s all sorts of things to do out here.”

  Delilah called his bluff. “Like what? Kill bugs?”

  Elton let out a snort. “There’s hunting and fishing. Walks along the river. Biking and hiking trails all over the place. Some folks take to bird watching. I could go on and on.”

  “I don’t know. This town could stand a Walmart.”

  “Okay. I give up.” He grinned over at Alice. “So, how you faring, kiddo?”

  “By the skin of my teeth.”

  Elton grabbed two fresh bottles of cola from the bucket, uncapped them, and handed them to both girls. “Have yourself a pop. Nice and cold.”

  Alice sipped on her bottle, then motioned toward the fishing poles. “Going fishing?”

  “Thought we all might. Nice day and all. Thought I’d take you to my new fishing spot down the river a ways. See if we can catch ourselves some dinner.”

  Alice looked ragged. Sweat soaked through her shirt. Face flushed. Hair sticking to the sides of her neck and cheeks. She finished off her soda in a few gulps. Anything sounded better than just sitting around feeling miserable. “Okay.”

  Elton looked to Delilah. “How about you, city girl? Ever been fishing?”

  “Fishing? No, thank you. I don’t like eating fish, so I don’t think I’d like to catch them either.”

  “Come on. It’s nice out here. What else you got to do?”

  She shrugged. “Watch TV, I guess.”

  “The boob-tube, huh?” Elton just shook his head, then patted Alice on the knee. “Then it looks like it’s just you and me, kiddo.”

  * * *

  Elton carried the fishing poles in one hand, and leaned on his cane with the other. Alice toted the fishing box as they strolled along a narrow dirt path about twenty feet from the river, pushing past some honeysuckle and kudzu that grew wild and thick. They didn’t speak—instead, both watched a pair of squirrels that seemed to be following them, running up and down trees, leaping from limb to limb, not a damn care or worry in the world.

  Elton chuckled at the sight of the furry critters. “Friends of yours?”

  Alice shook her head. “I don’t have any friends.”

  “Oh, fiddlesticks. You’re just feeling sorry for yourself.”

  “Yes, I guess I am.”

  “Well. At least you’re honest.” He handed her a handkerchief from his back pocket. “You look like death warmed over.”

  “Feel like it, too.” She wiped the handkerchief across her forehead, then over the back of her neck.

  “It’ll get better. First forty-eight hours or so are the worst.”

  “Yeah? You’ve been through this?”

  He swatted at a horsefly that kept going after his neck. “I have. Back when I still had hair on my head. When I was young and dumb.”

  “Oh. Like me?”

  “Well, you’re young, and as for the latter, we make our own beds and all.”

  The path cut closer to the edge of the river, winding its way along an outcrop of rocks that stood over the water about ten feet or so.

  “You finally quit drinking?”

  “I did. I made for a lousy drunk.”

  “Is there such thing as a good one?”

  “No. I guess there’s probably not, truth be told.”

  “How’d you do it? Quit and everything?”

  “The only way you can. Go cold turkey. I didn’t mess with any of that AA stuff. Way too social for me. Did it on my own terms.”

  The pair of squirrels finally gave up chase and flashed off into the woods.

  “So, why do you still have booze around the house? You’re not tempted?”

  Elton pointed toward the outcrop of rocks that extended over the edge of the water, giving a perfect one-hundred-and-eighty-degree view of the river. Behind it, a clump of towering pines provided a good amount of shade from the sun. “This here’s my spot.”

  They set everything down on the flattest part of the boulder. Some moss grew at the edge of the outcrop, making for a comfortable place to sit, and Elton went about getting their fishing gear ready.

  “All that booze was Ben’s. He’d have a drink every now and again. New Year’s Eve, his birthday, maybe another time or two a year. There’s social drinkers, then there’s drinkers.”

  He switched lures on one of the rods, then decided to do the same with the other. “After he passed, I decided to leave all that booze where it was. It reminded me of him, and I couldn’t bring myself to just tossing it in the trash can. Still got a closet and drawer full of his clothes. Sweaters, shirts, trousers, the whole nine yards. Won’t fit me worth a damn, but it seemed like if I just threw all his belongings away, that I’d be throwing part of him away as well.”

  Alice picked up a stick and twirled it between her fingers. “How’d Ben die anyway?”

  Elton’s mouth drew straight and he let out a little sigh.

  “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

  He managed a smile. Patted her knee. “No, it’s good to talk about it. Better than keeping it all bottled up inside your belly.” Elton took a breath. Sat up straight. “I guess it was about eight years ago. Ben started getting these headaches and felt dizzy from time to time, but he didn’t like to complain. He was taking more and more naps. Chalked it up to getting old. I told him to go see the doctor, but Ben was a bit old school. Didn’t like getting poked and prodded.” He stopped and rubbed at his jaw for a moment. “I was busy with work. Worked too damn much back then and didn’t notice how bad he was getting.”

  He stared out over the river. “Then one day when I got back home, Ben was on the living room floor. Thought he was dead at first. Took him to the emergency room and after a dozen or so tests, they discovered the brain tumor. They tried radiation, but it was too late. It took him quick. Six months and he was gone. Just like that.”

  He cast the line of one of the fishing rods and handed it over to Alice. Then he cast the second line and they both sat down on the edge of the boulder, feet dangling over the edge.

  “I’m sorry, Elton.”

  “Me, too, kiddo. Me, too. You would have liked old Ben. He was one of a kind. The two of you would have gotten along real nice.”

  “You still miss him?”

  “Every damn day.” Elton chewed on his lower lip and his voice quivered when he spoke. “I wish … I wish that I would have made him go see a doctor sooner. I do.”

  Alice stared over at the old man. “And you still feel guilty that you didn’t?”

  Elton thought about that for a moment. “I managed to finally let the guilt go. Hell, it took me a long damn time. Too long. Beat myself up pretty good for years. But it was either let it go or let it eat you up alive.” He gazed over at Alice. “But the sadness never went away. And it probably never will. It’s all part of life, I guess.”

  They held their rods in silence for a few minutes.

  “How old were you when you started to figure things out? When life started making some sense to you?”

  Elton let out a laugh, the sound carrying across the river. “Shoot. I’ll have to let you know when that day happens. Still waiting for my life to make sense.”

  “That’s not true. You seem like you got it all figured out.”

  “Kiddo, just because I don’t drink my worries away anymore, it doesn’t mean that I don’t still got a bushel full of ’em.”

  Alice stared down into the water, this part of the river running clean and clear. She could see straight to the bottom, at all the river rocks, some the size of watermelons, others as small as baseballs. “You think the water’s cold?”

  “I don’t think. I know it’s cold.”

  Something about the way the river sparkled under the sun and the soothing hush of water pushing over rocks compelled Alice to stand up,
take off her shoes and socks, then hand her fishing rod over to Elton.

  “Giving up already?”

  “Going for a swim.”

  “In your clothes?”

  “No.” She moved a little closer to the edge.

  “You’re gonna catch yourself a cold.”

  “Can’t make me feel any worse than I do now.”

  He watched as she peered over the edge of the boulder. “I sure hope that you know how to swim.”

  “Happens to be the one thing I used to be good at. How deep do you think it is?”

  “I don’t know, but not deep enough to dive in from way up here. If you’re really bound and determined to take yourself a skinny dip, crawl down there to the edge of the river and ease yourself in. You break a leg out here, there’s no way in hell that I’m dragging you through the woods and all the way home. I don’t really like this notion at all, so be careful now.”

  Alice said that she would. She gave him a smile that said Here goes nothing, and slowly worked her way down the side of the rocks and jumped the last few feet to the edge of the river. She looked above her and all she could see was Elton’s boots dangling over the edge of the boulder. She tugged her shirt and pants off, then her underwear and bra.

  “Don’t be looking now,” she called up to him.

  She heard him chuckle above her. “Kiddo, no offense, but glimpsing you in your birthday suit holds absolutely no interest for me.”

  Alice stared out over the river and watched the surface sparkle and churn, constant and perfect. She stepped into the water and felt the cold rush over her toes, then her feet started sinking deeper into brown silt. The shock of icy river water caused her breath to hitch in her chest, but she kept wading forward, inch by inch. Up over her knees, then past her waist. Her toes grew numb as they stepped over smooth river rocks at the bottom of the riverbed, but she kept going deeper until only her head poked out from the surface.

  She floated in the current for a moment, glancing back to the shore where Elton grinned and waved and shook his head, then downstream to where the river flowed and disappeared around a thicket of pines that grew tall over the water. Then she began to swim, slow at first, her arms and legs moving in unison with nice easy strokes. She felt the tenderness in her side—the ache in her rib ever present—but the cold water dulled the pain, and she pushed past it.