by Ron Hess
“Leo, I was interested in you the first time I saw you. Then Helen came along and I thought, ‘Well, what will be, will be.’ I thought she must be up to something because she came on to you so fast. I knew she was into drugs or something illegal, but I wasn’t sure it was for me to tell you.”
I nodded. “Truth be known, I wouldn’t have believed you anyhow. I was in love in a lustful sort of way. It was only later that I realized she had come on to me awful quick, but in my alcoholic haze I didn’t care. Have you heard rumors of a bust coming?”
“Hmm . . . do you have a handkerchief?” she asked.
I dug in my pocket and handed it to her. She dabbed at her tears and then blew her nose. That over, she looked at me for a second or two.
“Yes, I have. I think Charlie is up to something. The village has some people who don’t want him to do anything, but I think something will happen.”
Since her sister was Charlie’s latest love, I had to believe something would. I went on to tell her what Helen said when I was in jail in Bethel, and of her contempt for the law.
Jeanette sighed. “Helen has always felt she was above and beyond everyone else, partly because of her father and partly because of her looks. She and her sister were always on the wild side, but her father tended to overlook this.”
She got up from her chair and cradled my head against her chest. I wrapped my arms around her. “I want to stay here, Leo, with you, but I can’t. Not this night. Too much has happened. You understand?”
I nodded my head against her blue silk blouse, a nice comforting place to be.
She backed away and shook her finger at me in mock anger. “Leo, be careful.”
Then she sobered. “You’ll be all right, tonight?”
“Sure,” I answered. I would have been a lot better if she had stayed, but she was probably right. Someone once said that men are the seekers and that women are the gatekeepers, and I fully believed that. I knew she wanted to do this romance of ours in the “right way.” I wasn’t sure what that was, but I’d find out soon enough.
“Leo?”
“No, it’s all right. I understand,” I said.
“Then I have to go, before those eyes of yours convince me otherwise. I’ll take your handkerchief and wash it, okay?”
She walked to the door with me following. “Keep the handkerchief,” I said. “It’ll be a remembrance of this night.”
Before she could answer yea or nay, I bent over, grabbed her around her waist and planted a real smacker on her lips. She melted into my arms. That’s the best description I can put on it—for a good half-minute. Then she backed away with a little smile on her face and breathing heavy. “See the effect you have. This all new, Leo, it’s been a long time for me.”
She patted my chest. “We’re going to have some good times, Leo, and I don’t mean just sex. I mean just being together. Now, good night, lover.”
She whirled and was out the door, slamming it shut before I could stop her. I stood at the door trying to collect my thoughts. This was all new to me, too. Usually, when I put on that hound dog look and planted the smacker, it was all over. Well, I thought, at least my mind was off Ivan’s death for a while. I then began to wonder how this would affect my coming trial since the so-called “victim” was dead.
Chapter 26
I awoke to a loud knocking at the back door.
“Bronski! I know you’re in there! Open up!”
I threw back my covers and sat up. “All right! Wait a minute! Let me get my pants on at least!”
My watch said seven-thirty. My brain said it ought to be no more than six o’clock, but then it had been a hard night with me thrashing about in my dreams and in the bed covers. In reality, I had had only four hours’ sleep, and now some fool was banging at my door.
I zipped up and staggered to the door.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“Now, Bronski, don’t play games. Open the damn door!”
My brain started to clear. What with the dogs barking it couldn’t be a villager. Therefore, it had to be . . . I sighed and opened the door.
There he stood, resplendent in his State Trooper’s uniform. It was Trooper Wattle.
A groan escaped my lips. I should have known. Within an hour after the suicide, the state troopers probably knew all about it. He pushed his way past me.
“Well, come on in,” I said. “What’s up?”
I’ll say one thing for him. He was very cool. While he pulled his leather gloves off, he regarded me with those ice-blue eyes. At last, those eyes looked down as he neatly laid his gloves, one on top of the other, on the table.
“Bronski, what is it with you anyway? Every time I turn my back something happens in this village.” He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he turned a full 360 degrees, half-expecting, I imagined, to see a body lying in a dusty corner. He sighed, and I couldn’t tell whether he was disappointed or relieved. I decided to remain quiet, since it had worked so well the night before, besides, it wouldn’t do any good to protest. He would believe what he wanted to believe. He faced me, hands behind his back. This guy was melodrama personified. I looked him straight in the eye. He looked away, perhaps tired of playing games. I watched as his head worked its way up to the shelf where the lone bottle of whiskey stood, then he turned back to me, with what I would call an earnest expression.
“Well, do you want to give me your version of what happened last night there in the gym?”
“Sure, if it counts for anything.”
“I’ll be the judge of that!” he snapped.
I was just about to give him a sassy retort when there was a knock at the door between the mailroom, and my quarters. Glad for the interruption, I went to see who it was. It was Jeanette with a steaming pot of coffee and some cups.
“Where do you want this, boss?” She said, with a surprised look on her face. I’d forgotten I still didn’t have a shirt on. I hoped she liked what she saw.
“Oh, ah, put it on the table,” I answered, like I appeared at the door half-naked as a matter of course. She nodded, smiled at the trooper, who tried not to notice, and then sat the tray down. I thanked her and she left.
“Nice little set-up you have here. Do you get coffee every morning?”
I sat down and poured myself a cup before answering.
“No, as a matter of fact I don’t. This is the first morning I’ve had coffee delivered. I suspect she did it as a matter of courtesy. Everybody in the village probably knows you’re here in my room. So, do you want the story, or do you want to talk about my perceived perks?”
He paused before answering. Was he trying to be a good or bad cop? At last, his mind made up, he poured himself a cup, removed his hat and sat down. He was going to be a good cop. He gave me a slight wave of the hand as he took an experimental sip of hot coffee. I proceeded to give him my version of what happened concerning Ivan’s suicide.
“So why didn’t you rush him?” he asked, after I had finished.
“Because he was too far from me and because I was scared. I knew I was going to die when he pulled out that pistol. Would you have rushed him with all those people standing around? By the way, Trooper Wattle, am I on trial here? Should I have a lawyer?”
He rose to pour himself another cup, taking his time while my fingers started to drum on the table. “Nope, your story checks out. I was just curious. Ivan was always a troublemaker. Oh, by the way, the charges against you concerning the assault were dropped a few days ago. Evidently, you have some influence with the Dragon Lady?”
I snorted. “Thanks for getting around to telling me. Have you told my attorney?”
“I told her I was on my way here yesterday and that I would pass the word. The assault wouldn’t have stood up in court anyway. No witnesses would testify.”
I perked up my ears at that, and I sensed old man John’s intervention. No need to have the family’s dirty laundry spread all over Southwestern Alaska. Maybe to his way of thinking justice had been se
rved. A tit for tat. To be realistic, I might have gotten Helen to testify against her brother concerning my three-day stay in the wilderness, and the old man couldn’t have that. Justice was had when I beat his son in the restaurant.
I poured myself another cup of coffee. It really tasted good and I decided maybe I ought to have Jeanette deliver it every day. This caused me to smile. In her quiet way, she would probably start talking union.
“You were about to say something?” Trooper Wattle asked.
“No, not really, although I do find it interesting that you were going to be here today anyway and not just because of the suicide.”
He gave me a look. “No comment.”
“I understand a bust is about to occur,” I went on. “Care to enlighten the Postal Service?”
“If there was a bust, I’m sure the proper postal authorities would be informed.”
“Oh,” I said
He put his cup down and got up to leave. First the hat, then the gloves. Once more, he was Alaska’s representative for the law. He did permit himself a small smile as he turned to leave by the back door.
“Tell your friend she makes great coffee,” he said. Out the door he went. It was certain the whole village knew about Jeanette and me. For certain we would be watched. There had to be something to stoke the rumor mill. Well, back to work. I took a last sip of coffee and went to my clothes rack to find a shirt.
Chapter 27
I had just chosen a flannel shirt to wear, when I heard the phone in the mailroom ring. My watch read nine o’clock. A little bit late for the boss. Well, maybe, just this once it would be somebody else. I could use a break from the boss’s calls about the prior postmaster. There was a knock at the door, then a quiet voice.
“Leo? It’s the boss on the phone.” It was Jean, no doubt testing the waters to see what the mood of the postmaster was going to be after a visit by the law. I decided to be courteous.
“Thank you. Tell him I’ll be there in a second.”
Actually, that was a lie. A couple of minutes went by while I tucked my shirt in and made a swipe through my hair. No need to look like a bum. I would get to my bristles later, I thought, as I sauntered out into the other room. With a wink at Jeanette, who promptly turned red, and a wave at Jean, I sat down at the table as ready as I could be for the day.
“Bronski, I hear you’re off the hook! Your lawyer called this morning to let me know. The assault charge has been withdrawn. Some good news for a change, huh?”
“Yeah, boss. It is good news,” I said and sighed.
“Something the matter, Bronski? You don’t sound real excited about it.”
Evidently, the grapevine had broken down, because the boss hadn’t heard about the suicide.
“Well, yeah, there is something you should know,” I said, and waited.
There was silence on the other end of the line. Then I heard the air whistle out of his chair as he sat down.
“Something else, Bronski?”
I then went on to relate to him about the suicide of one Ivan Ermoff, and of my involvement. How there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Or at least that’s what I told myself. The plain fact being I had been too damn scared. I drew to a close in the story.
“The trooper out of Bethel dropped by this morning and interviewed me. As far as I know it will most likely be ruled a suicide. Ivan’s suicide took everyone here by surprise.”
I waited. “Boss?”
“Yes, I’m here, Bronski. You still want to stay there?”
“Yeah, I do. In a way, I haven’t felt this good in a long time. I’ve got friends here now. Everybody looks out for each other. It’s a good feeling.”
I looked up to see Jeanette studying me from across the room. I gave her another wink and she shook her finger at me.
“By the way,” I continued, “have you heard about a drug bust coming this way? There’s a rumor floating around.”
The boss’s answer was quick. “Oh, I wouldn’t know about that.”
Like hell he wouldn’t. Something was definitely going to happen. He hung up with the usual admonition to get the paperwork done and wouldn’t it be nice when we went on computers. To be politically expedient I agreed, of course, and hung the phone up. Computers indeed! Ha! Strange, he hadn’t said one word about Justus’s death. Well, to work.
Chapter 28
The next day went well as far as post office work was concerned. The weather had turned cold. The temps were down in the teens. Thank goodness, the stoves in the place were oil-fired rather than wood burning. Nothing like getting up in the middle of the night to get a wood burning stove to going. Keeping stoves working at night can make for cranky days. Luckily, we were located far enough south in Alaska that it wasn’t that difficult to get fuel oil shipped in by barge. Further north it became a real race at times to get the fuel before the rivers or ocean froze. I felt comfortable at night, and lucky.
Since Jeanette and I were an “item” now, it was okay for us to be seen together. I took her to the cafe the very next evening after the basketball game. The place was crowded with people chattering about the game and about Ivan’s suicide. Jeanette and I sat at a table with Carl and his wife, Liz. During the meal, I learned that Carl was a leader in the community. His voice, like that of old man John, carried weight. I gained acceptance in the community because I sat there. Like many in the area, he lived by what odd jobs he could get and by what he could obtain by nature’s bounty. Through it all, my knee made contact with Jeanette. Occasionally I would move it up and down slightly, then sneak a look at her to see if I could at least make her face get red. No such luck, she remained unperturbed as if she was sorting mail into a case. If Carl or Liz noticed anything, they too chose to keep a poker face. Later, I would learn it was all they could do to keep from laughing. Sometimes it’s the simple things that make life sparkle. There was one interruption when a chopper flew over the village and on up the river valley, the sharp wop-wop of its blades practically made the dishes jump. Somebody opined the chopper might be a little bit low. For me, just for an instant, I was back in Nam at a firebase, the picture in my mind was that clear.
I was brought out of it by a squeeze from Jeanette’s hand on mine when she saw me staring in a funny sort of way. She said later I had actually jerked a few times. Those jerks, I’m sure, were in time to an enemy machine gun near the firebase going off in a rhythmic fashion as its tracers reached out for the chopper and eventually brought it down.
This little episode let me know I was not entirely free of my former life, but I did not have to work near as hard to keep that brick wall in place. I finally realized it was okay if I had an occasional flashback now and than. It was simply a part of me and I had to accept it or else drink myself to death.
I smiled. “Now who would be out flying this late at night?”
Carl cut a joke, saying, “Maybe it was one of those black helicopters you hear about down in the Lower-48.” I had a hunch he knew more than he said, because there was that look that husbands and wives pass back and forth when they think no one is looking.
To change the subject he asked. “Leo, are you going to the funeral tomorrow afternoon?”
“Well, I don’t know,” I said, “Do you think the old man would be unhappy about it?”
He shook his head. “No . . . I don’t think so. He doesn’t hold you responsible for the death of his son. You didn’t pull the trigger, you know.”
He was right, I didn’t pull the trigger. Why hadn’t I realized this before? Now I could look the old man in the face and not worry he held me responsible. This gave me a measure of relief. One less brick I would have to worry about, but I would never forget the look on Ivan’s face when he pulled that trigger.
I must have been ruminating again, because I received a knee jog, reminding me where I was. I looked up from my plate, gave Jeanette a smile and covered her hand in mine for a few seconds. Conversation continued as if nothing had happened. Later, Jeanette told me
that simple public declaration did it. She was determined that as different as our cultural backgrounds were, somehow we would make it.
The rest of the meal was uneventful. We finished our dessert of ice cream and went our separate ways. I walked Jeanette home and after a long goodnight kiss I went back to my room. On one hand I wanted to stay with her, but for some reason I didn’t. I wasn’t sure why, maybe because of Ivan’s death and the next day’s funeral. I had the feeling Jeanette felt the same way. Deep down inside I liked this feeling of anticipation. There were questions, like, should I ask Jeanette for her hand, even though it might be a little redundant? Should we go through an engagement? I decided the answer was “yes,” to both questions. We were going to do this romance right. There was no need to hurry as we weren’t love-struck teenagers.
I went to bed happy about the direction my life had taken. Ivan, though, still haunted my thoughts. I wondered what part he had played in the drug scene. Could I have done more to save him? And I went over in my mind the reasons why I had chosen not to. In the end, I had to comfort myself with the thought that as Carl had said, “You didn’t pull the trigger.”
* * *
Because Ivan had committed suicide there was no real funeral. It consisted of only a few friends of the family that marched with the body from the old man’s house up to a place separate from the cemetery on the hill above the village. It was a basic gray day and there was the smell of snow in the air. The wind was fitful, dying off and then coming back strong. A perfect day for a burying, if you like that kind of thing.