His father was gone. His hero just disappeared.
No more games of marbles. No good-byes. No hugs.
Just gone.
TWO
Life in Kansas
1959
GABRIEL, COME ON! BREAKFAST IS READY!”
The smell of frying bacon and eggs saturated the one-bedroom rental unit attached to the back of an old farmhouse in Cairo, Kansas. Living on a farm, Maggie and her son, Gabriel, ate bacon and eggs a lot.
The farm belonged to Earl and Vonda Cartwright, who were generous to Maggie and her son. Their dingy white, turn-of-the-century farmhouse sat in the middle of 113 acres of cornfields. As far as the eye could see, flat fields of mature cornstalks grew six and seven feet high. In addition to a garden lined with rows of lettuce, cucumbers, and tomatoes, the Cartwrights kept some cows for milk, several pigs, and a chicken coop crowded with thirty-six hens that yielded dozens of eggs every day. They sold their extra eggs and vegetables at a farmer’s market in town a couple of days a week.
Every few days, Mister Earl—as Maggie and Gabriel called him—would leave a paper bag of vegetables and a carton of eggs on their doorstep. A couple times a month, there’d be a whole chicken in the grocery bag too. If it weren’t for the Cartwrights’ kindness, Maggie’s cupboard would be bare several days a month. Her tips from the Cairo Diner were slight and barely covered their basic needs for food and shelter or the gas for her 1952 Ford pickup.
The modest rental behind the main house had its own entrance, a small stove and sink, a 10 x 10 living area, and one bedroom and bath. The place was tiny, but enough for the two of them.
At a quarter past six, Maggie heard eight-year-old Gabriel stirring. She went to the bedroom they shared as he rolled out of a miniature cot covered by well-worn patchwork quilts. Wearing a pair of faded plaid pajama pants that were six inches too short and a faded T-shirt that he’d nearly worn out over the last year, Gabriel stumbled out and sat down at the table. His disheveled white-blond hair was matted down like the straw in Mister Earl’s barn, and his eyes were swollen from another night of tear-filled sleep.
His mom kept up a steady patter as she went back to preparing breakfast. “You don’t have much time, baby. You need to eat. We gotta leave for school real soon. Hey—how ’bout I bake you a cake tonight? You can help. . . and lick the beaters.”
She checked to see if his countenance had changed. It hadn’t.
“Hey, Sammy’s mom told me at the diner that the boys were gonna go fishing again today down at the pond. You should join ’em. Don’t you think that would be fun?”
The local pond was a favorite place for the boys in town. Whether it was fishing or swimming on a hot summer day, hanging out under the trees, or building forts made with fallen branches, if you were a boy in Cairo, you knew about the pond. Gabriel didn’t respond and kept eating his cereal. Frustrated by her inability to connect, she asked him, “Why don’t you want to go have fun with the other boys?”
No response.
Wiping her hands on her apron, she knelt down beside him. Gabriel remained focused on his cornflakes as if she weren’t there. “Baby, you gotta have some fun. Go play! I want you to go with the boys.”
He shook his head slowly, took his last bite, and scurried to the bathroom and slammed the door.
“Gabe!” Maggie put her ear up to the bathroom door. “It’s gonna be all right. You’ll have a lot of fun,” she said with a quiver in her voice. She rapped her knuckles on the bathroom door. “Gabriel? Gabriel!” she said. “Okay, sweetie, I know you’re in your secret place.” She paused and took a deep breath. “It’s okay.”
Today would be one of the hard days. Not sure what to do next, she heard a soft knock and looked up to see Miss Vonda peering through the dusty screen door. Normally a quiet woman who kept to herself, she was petite but round, in her early seventies with rosy cheeks, a pile of salt-and-pepper gray hair pulled up in a bun, and a hardy disposition. Maggie always found her reserved but kind.
On this particular morning, she was wearing one of her two home-sewn farm dresses, both in light blue. She wore one during the week for farm chores; the other was reserved for Sunday church.
“Here’s some fresh milk from Little Cow.” Her dairy cows didn’t have real names—they were just Little Cow and Big Cow. Maggie tried to gather herself a bit as she approached the door. “Mornin’, Miss Vonda.” She blotted her tear-swollen eyes.
Miss Vonda always seemed to have a smile on her face. “You got enough food?” That was Miss Vonda’s answer to everything. She loved to cook.
“We’re okay,” Maggie replied. “Thank you, though.” There was a bit of an awkward pause until Miss Vonda asked tenderly, “Is he in his secret place today?”
Maggie couldn’t hold it in any longer and began to weep. “I don’t know what to do! I just want my boy to get better, you know? He’s having those terrible dreams again. He barely says two words on the hard days. I just want him to be a regular boy. I want him to live! I’m not sure I can take much more.”
“There, there, Maggie. Tomorrow will be a better day. Let me help you with your dishes.”
On his good days, Gabriel would converse more and seem to escape whatever fears and thoughts were tormenting him. He especially liked it when Mister Earl would give him rides on his red tractor, but that only happened during certain times of the year.
On the hard days, though, he would not talk. Instead, he would withdraw to his “secret place”—a place that existed in his own mind, where he retreated when he was afraid or sad. Physically he might be in the bedroom he and his mom shared, or the bathroom, or he might be sitting on the big red tractor in the barn. That was his favorite spot, and he would spend hours hanging around the tractor on the bad days. The secret place was his haven of safety, a bubble where he could survive the memories of watching his father die and his constant sense of loss and abandonment.
He’d been living with his mother for almost four years since The River took his dad. Before the accident, Maggie only saw him at holiday times when John brought him to see her.
Now it was just Maggie and Gabriel, and she could tell there was still a huge hole in his heart. His memories of times with his father were few but strong. He talked about his dad instructing new rafters before their first run or telling of his exploits over dinner. Most of all, Maggie knew he remembered how strong John was, when he’d pick him up with one arm and say, “How’d you get so big?”
Maggie and John had tried to make it work, but she’d been too young and unprepared. Gabriel wasn’t supposed to happen, but one night of passion turned into a little life that she couldn’t take care of. She was terrified, and eight months after Gabriel’s birth, she left him in the care of his father. She fled Colorado and moved back to Kansas.
Four years later she’d grown up considerably and regretted leaving her boy behind. She wondered if there could be any way to reunite their family. But the horrible news of John’s death changed everything, and while she’d longed to be with her son, she was sometimes overwhelmed by the responsibility of raising a broken boy scarred by the loss of his father. Waves of guilt washed over her daily, and questions relentlessly haunted her.
What would have happened if I stayed?
Why did I run?
Why did he have to die?
Regret filled her heart. Would things have changed if they had been together that fateful day? Would John still be alive?
She was never sure what to do about Gabriel. He didn’t talk much, even on his better days. He was sad most of the time. He was barely making it in school, and he refused to play baseball or go to the pond with the boys. Gabriel was scared of his own shadow, a shy and timid kid who woke up in the middle of the night crying but would never say why. She knew he was still traumatized by the accident, but she couldn’t get him out of this dark place he seemed to be living in. For a little boy to be so depressed seemed unnatural and weighed on Maggie every minute of every day. He was locked
inside some kind of emotional prison, and she couldn’t find the key.
But Maggie had grown to love her son with all her heart, and she would never give up on him.
After they finished the dishes, Miss Vonda said, “I better go pull some eggs. I’ll check in with you later.”
Maggie made her way back over to the bathroom door. “Gabe. . . sweetie. . . we have to leave for school. I can’t be late for work again.”
There was no response. She opened the unlocked door to find Gabriel sitting on the floor with his back up against the old bear-claw tub. His small arms were wrapped around knees that were tucked up under his chin. He was staring at the floor, disconsolate.
Maggie walked over and sat next to him. His eyes were red around the edges. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, then she reached out and patted his arm gently. “I like to go to my secret places too. We’re gonna get through this, baby. We’re gonna get through this. . . Come on.”
She stood up, put her hands underneath his arms, and helped him to his feet. Usually when the hard days came, Maggie would just get upset because she couldn’t figure out how to help him. On this particular day, though, she had an unusual measure of patience. She walked with him into the bedroom and helped him get his clothes on for school. After he was dressed, they returned to the bathroom, where she washed his face with a cold rag and helped him comb his hair. She continued her one-sided conversation.
“Maybe today you’ll get to sit next to that pretty girl Jenny. . . You want me to ask your teacher about that?”
She finally got a little grin from Gabriel, which gave her hope that maybe this day would transform from a hard day to a better day. “Why don’t you go play marbles while I get ready?”
Gabriel had the worn leather pouch of old Bennington marbles that he used to play with his dad. He kept them underneath his cot. He liked to sort his marble collection by color and type. He knew all about the different kinds of marbles: alleys, aggies, Chinas, plasters, and turtles. Playing marbles reminded him of his father, which seemed to make him feel good.
As she was walking into the bathroom, Gabriel finally broke his silence.
“Maybe I could go to the pond after school. Maybe they’ll want to play marbles. Can I take my Benningtons? I bet they’d really like those.”
Maggie’s eyebrows rose. She could hardly contain her joy.
“Uh. . . yeah, I’m sure they’d play marbles with you. We’ll go right after school, okay?”
She quickly closed the door to the bathroom and broke into tears. This time they were tears of relief. Maybe they had turned a corner. Maybe this would help Gabriel out of his shell. Maybe a visit to the pond would help him come alive.
She didn’t know much about religion, but she looked up to the ceiling and kept whispering over and over, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
THREE
The Pond
SCHOOL GOT OUT AT 3:20 P.M. THAT FRIDAY AFTER-noon.At least a couple dozen boys were going to the pond, something they did every Friday until winter arrived. Situated a mile south of Main Street, the pond was surrounded on three sides by mature cornstalks and on the fourth by two cottonwood trees reaching at least eighty feet tall. The trees were great for climbing and gave incredible shade. The cornfields were maturing on this hot day in mid-September, with the harvest just getting started.
The year was 1959. There was a lot going on in the world at the time. Jet airliners were taking people across the ocean. NASA had just launched the first monkey into space, a squirrel monkey named Baker. The motion picture Ben Hur was being shown in 70mm Panavision in big cities, and some folks in Cairo made the two-and-a-half-hour drive to St. Louis and paid the princely sum of $1 per ticket to see the blockbuster film.
Mostly, none of that city slicker stuff mattered much in Cairo. Everything in this farming town of 250 revolved around corn, the feed-and-seed store, Sunday church, and the Cairo Diner. Cairo was quiet, sleepy, and safe. Crime was nearly nonexistent. Occasionally you’d hear that Jimmy Bly was caught stealing penny gum from the Five & Dime, but that was about it. The rumor was that Jimmy didn’t even like gum. He kiped gum to create a little adventure in his life.
Leather-skinned farmers with denim overalls and dirt-streaked white T-shirts hung around the diner in the late afternoon, enjoying a cup of coffee and the latest gossip. The conversation usually hinged around how the corn yield was looking, what the weatherman on KMOX radio was predicting, or how well the cows were producing. Every now and then they’d talk about their tractor breakdowns too.
Throughout the summer, the pond was the place to be for swimming races, mud wrestling matches, and lots and lots of fishing.
To get there, some boys would walk. Others would ride their bikes. Some of the boys would get dropped off by their moms and walk home at dinnertime. There was six-year-old “Little Will” Rambling. He was small but scrappy. A freckled redhead full of piss and vinegar, he picked fights with the older ones just to see if he could whip them.
James Roy Holly was the ten-year-old expert fisherman. He was quiet and kind and averse to getting into wrestling matches. Everybody watched how he fished because he always caught the most.
Of course, Jimmy Bly was one of the leaders. He was older and outspoken—and quite the storyteller. He didn’t have book smarts, but he knew the way of the world. Or so he thought. He would make up games for everyone to play. Legend had it that twelve-year-old Jimmy once kissed a girl behind the abandoned barn on the edge of town.
J.J. Hopper named himself General J.J. He was the clown of the bunch. Well over five feet tall and every bit of 200 pounds, J.J.’s cheeks were always pushed out like a giant chipmunk from pieces of hard candy in his mouth. He would take on two or three boys in the wrestling matches, but his outclassed and underweight opponents always ended up crying for mercy. Everybody loved General J.J.
The pond was what all the boys looked forward to—a place where they were in charge. There were no girls to worry about and no parents to tell them to do chores. For a few hours every Friday, they were a part of a tribe and members of a brotherhood.
Maggie saw Gabriel coming out of school, swinging his lunch pail and skipping his feet. With his head up and a smile on his face, he looked like he’d had a better day. Wearing his favorite black canvas sneakers with the white toe, old denims from the Five & Dime, and his favorite John Deere tractor T-shirt that Mister Earl gave him, Gabriel sprinted toward his mom’s truck.
“Hey, sweetie!” Maggie said. “You had a good day?”
Snapping the door handle three times to get it to open, Gabriel replied, “Mom—Mrs. Chesley let me show the class my marble collection today. They really liked them.”
“Way to go, buddy!” She manhandled the column shifter into first gear, let out the stiff clutch, and they chugged away from school. “I brought you an old shirt to wear to the pond. You hungry? Here’s a peanut butter sandwich too.” Maggie hoped this might be the day that ended the hard days.
“Maybe we could just go home. I’m kinda tired.”
His countenance had changed. Maggie restrained her first reaction, which was to pressure him or convince him that everything would be okay. Learning from her past attempts, she knew that any reaction from her would drive Gabriel deeper into his fear and insecurity. She stayed quiet.
Gabriel broke the silence. “They said they were doing swimming races, but I don’t want to do that.”
“Maybe you could show them how to play marbles,” Maggie offered. “You could be the first young man to hold marble tournaments at the pond.”
Gabriel looked over and smiled a bit. “You think so?”
“Sure I do. I’ll come back later and check on you. Plus, Jimmy will be there. You like Jimmy’s stories, don’t you?” Gabriel took a deep breath and nodded. Jimmy was always nice to him and was the closest thing he had to a friend. As they arrived at the edge of town, Maggie turned down the old dirt road that would take them to the pond. She couldn’t see it
because of the high cornstalks, but there was no mistaking the towering cottonwood trees.
As they pulled off the road, she heard the high-pitched voices of boys who had already arrived. They were yelling and laughing. Gabriel had finished eating half of his peanut butter sandwich, and he started to open the door.
“Hang on, baby. Look here.” Maggie licked her thumb and began to wipe off the peanut butter from around his mouth. “Don’t forget your marbles.”
Gabriel reached into his school bag and pulled out a large mason jar of his favorite marbles. “I’ll see you in a little bit, Mom.”
“Okay, baby. Be careful.”
Gabriel got out of the truck and walked down the path between the cornstalks. Just before he was out of sight, Maggie shouted, “Have fun, Gabe!”
In her heart she was thrilled that he would be playing with other boys, but she was also worried sick. She watched her son every step of the way until he disappeared behind the cornstalks.
As Gabriel got closer to the pond, he nervously ducked into the cornstalks and peered through them to watch the boys. A few were climbing the lower limbs of the largest cottonwood, and two boys were swimming and splashing each other.
James Roy Holly and a fishing buddy had brought their sugar cane poles and were baiting their hooks. General J.J. was having trouble with his bike—his chain appeared to be off. He kept kicking the bike and swearing.
Gabriel knew he was on the outside of the tribe. He wasn’t sure how he could belong. He heard the voices of several boys approaching. He ducked down inside the thicket of cornstalks, hoping they wouldn’t see him.
They saw him anyway.
“Gabriel, is that you in there?” The voice belonged to Dickie Colter, an eight-year-old know-it-all who constantly ran his mouth.
“Hey, guys, look! Gabriel is hiding in the corn! You scared or somethin’? You tryin’ to spy on us? I think we should get him, guys!”
Gabriel froze, terrified of what might happen.
The River Page 3