This Dark Road to Mercy: A Novel

by Cash, Wiley

  But I’d forgotten all about the smell of those rags and my missing picture by the time school was over, and when Mrs. Davis took us out to the playground I couldn’t think about nothing else except finding Damon. I had to wait for the kickball game to start before I could ask him anything. He was kicking second behind Selena, and I walked up to him where he stood against the fence, waiting his turn.

  “Did you give Marcus my note?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, “I told you I would, didn’t I?”

  “What’d he say?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  “Did he open it?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess so.” Selena popped it up, and it dropped just behind second. She made it to first. Damon walked toward the plate; I grabbed his arm.

  “But he didn’t say anything?” I asked.

  “I already told you ‘no,’ ” he said. “Stop bothering me. Dang.”

  There were already two down when I got thrown out at first after grounding it back to the pitcher. And then, halfway through the bottom of the inning, Selena made me leave my spot at short after I missed two pop-ups back-to-back. They put me out in right field because they said my head wasn’t in the game. I told them I was fine, but I knew they were right. Still, it’s embarrassing to be put out in right once you get used to playing shortstop.

  I stood out there with the sun beating down against my back, knowing that nobody was going to kick it out to right field because none of them was left-footed, and even if they were they couldn’t kick it this far anyway. But being out there gave me plenty of time to think, which is exactly what I needed to do. I thought about what I’d heard Miss Crawford say to Wade last Saturday morning about how she’d been talking with our grandparents and that she couldn’t make any promises about whether or not we’d be moving to Alaska. And then I thought about all the questions Marcus had asked me about our grandparents, about Wade.

  Damon was playing first, hunched over with his hands on his knees in the “ready” position. I prayed that he’d really given that note to Marcus. What had Marcus thought when he’d opened it? Had he liked the picture I’d drawn of Sosa? Would I hear him knock on my window later that night? I needed to talk to him bad, not just about us, but about me and Ruby and about what I’d heard Miss Crawford say. I’d even talk to him about Wade if there was anything he still wanted to know.

  I’d half expected Wade to show up at the field again one day after school, but he hadn’t. I looked at the fence where he’d been leaning against it, and something caught my eye: a man stood off in the woods, just staring at me. He wore black sunglasses and a black baseball hat that looked brand new. A thick gold chain hung around his neck, and he wore a black tank top too. But the thing that stood out most about him was his arms; they were huge. He walked toward the fence once he realized that I’d seen him, but he stopped before he got too close, and I knew it was because he didn’t want nobody else to know he was out there.

  “Come here for a second,” he said. His voice was scary and high-pitched like a woman’s, and it seemed like his tongue was too big for his mouth. “I need to ask you something.”

  I didn’t move. “What?”

  He didn’t say anything, and I knew he was hoping that I’d walk over toward the fence. “Is your name Easter Quillby?” he finally said.

  “No, that’s not my name.”

  He looked at a piece of paper he held in his hand, and then turned it around so I could see it too; it was the picture of me that had been hanging in the cafeteria. He smiled and took off his sunglasses. His left eye was closed, and the skin around it sagged down the side of his face. “Yes it is,” he said. “And your daddy’s name is Wade Chesterfield.”

  “I ain’t got a daddy,” I said, staring at his eye, knowing that he’d shown it to me just so I’d be scared.

  “Yes you do,” he said, smiling again. “And he’s in trouble.”

  “You’d better get away from here,” I said. “I’ll scream for my teacher.”

  “No you won’t.” He put his sunglasses back on and just stood there staring at me for a second, and then he turned real slow and walked off into the trees. The branches closed around him and he disappeared, and after a second I wondered if I’d seen him at all.

  When the inning was over I told everybody that I didn’t feel good, and I took Ruby and went up the hill to the playground and sat on the swings so we’d be near Mrs. Davis and Mrs. Hannah. I didn’t say anything to them about the man I’d seen because I didn’t want them sending us somewhere else before I had the chance to talk to Marcus and figure out how me and Ruby were going to keep from going to Alaska. She swung back and forth while I just sat there beside her, thinking about asking her if she’d seen anything weird: any strange people out in the woods, anything that stood out. But I didn’t want to worry her, so I kept my mouth shut. I was terrified, though, and I sat in that swing and stared out over the woods, wondering where he’d gone and hoping he wouldn’t come back.

  It wasn’t a new thing for people to come around looking for Wade. There had been plenty of times when me and Ruby were playing out in the yard and somebody’s car would stop and they’d roll down the window and say, “Y’all seen your daddy?,” or something like that. There had been plenty of times when I woke up in the middle of the night with headlights shining bright on the wall of our bedroom and the sound of somebody banging on the front door, screaming for Wade. Mom would get up cursing at herself and go out to the front room and yell at whoever it was that Wade wasn’t home and didn’t even live there anymore.

  But something about this time felt different; nobody’d ever come to find us at school before, and nobody’d ever talked so quiet or stood so still when they asked about Wade. And not a single one of them had ever known my name.

  That night, after dinner, most of the kids hung out in the TV room and watched the Cubs play the Reds. My bedroom door was closed, but I could hear them cheer every time Sosa came up to bat. Ruby hung out in the computer room and played Oregon Trail. She liked it just as much as I did. I didn’t leave our room after dinner except to get ready for bed; I didn’t feel like being around anybody because I had too much on my mind. My bed was covered in homework I hadn’t finished, but I couldn’t stop worrying about whether or not Marcus would come over, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the man I’d seen out in the woods. His voice wouldn’t leave my head.

  Ruby opened the door and walked into the bedroom just as I was closing my math book after finishing some division problems that were due the next day. She kicked off her shoes and pulled down her covers.

  “How’d you do?” I asked.

  “Okay,” she said. “I didn’t make it all the way, though. And you died of cholera.”

  “Great,” I said. I slipped my homework into my book bag, climbed off my bed, and dropped the bag by the door. “Are you sure you didn’t have any homework?” I asked.

  “Yep,” she said.

  “Well, then I guess we should get ready for bed.”

  We took turns brushing our teeth in the bathroom across the hall, and then we got into bed; I turned out the light on the table between us. Miss Crawford opened our door a few minutes later and told us good night. I was still hoping that Marcus would come, and I didn’t plan on going to sleep, but the next thing I remember is Ruby whispering my name.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Wouldn’t it be fun?”

  “What?” I asked again.

  “Going on a trip,” she said. “Just me and you, just like on Oregon Trail.”

  “It would,” I said. “Go to sleep.”

  But I must not have slept too soundly because my eyes popped right open when I heard him at the window. I looked over at the clock on the table; it was just a little after one in the morning. I kicked the sheets off me as quick as I could so that he wouldn’t tap again and wake up Ruby. I crawled down to the end of my bed and unlocked the window and slid it open. I sat back and waite
d.

  I heard Marcus put the toe of his shoe against the outside of the house to start climbing up, but when a pair of hands came in and grabbed on to the windowsill I realized they weren’t his. The hands were white, and they had hair on the backs of them and little tufts of it above the knuckles. I knew the minute I saw them that they were man’s hands, and I was too surprised and scared to do anything except watch as they helped whoever it was climb up through the window and into our bedroom. I looked over at Ruby and saw that she was awake and sitting up in bed. She had the covers pulled up around her, and she sat there and stared at those hands too.

  But then the light coming in the window showed white paint on the man’s hands, and when he put his shoulders through I saw the old blue Braves cap, and by the time he’d pulled his legs through I saw the old paint-flecked blue jeans and the same green T-shirt he’d had on at the baseball field a couple weeks ago. I clicked on the light on our bedside table just as he stood up straight.

  “Wade!” I said. “You ain’t supposed to be here!”

  “Shhhhhh!” he said.

  Ruby kicked the covers off her and jumped out of the bed like it was Christmas morning. “Daddy,” she said.

  “No!” I said. I jumped out of my bed too and tried to stop her from going to him, but she was too fast. Wade picked her up and hugged her to him.

  “Hey, baby,” he whispered. He squeezed her tight.

  “Put her down,” I said. “You’re going to be in big trouble for this.” I moved like I was walking toward the bedroom door. When he didn’t sit Ruby down, I put my hand on the knob like I was going to open it. “You need to leave,” I said, “or I’m going to holler for Miss Crawford, and she’ll call the—” But he didn’t let me finish.

  “Y’all have to come with me,” he said. He stood there holding Ruby and staring down at me. “I’m serious,” he said. “You ain’t even got time to pack nothing. We’ve got to go.”

  “Yeah, right,” I said. I gave the knob half a turn.

  “I’m serious,” he said. “This ain’t no joke. You can stay here alone if you’re hardheaded, but I’m taking your sister.”

  Ruby still had her arms around Wade’s neck, and I knew her well enough to know it was going to take some real convincing to get her to turn him loose.

  “We ain’t going to let them send us to Alaska, Wade,” I said.

  “This ain’t about Alaska,” he said.

  “Then what’s it about?” I asked. I let go of the doorknob and put my hands on my hips to let him know I meant business.

  “I’ll tell you in the car,” he said. “But we need to go; I’m serious. It’s not safe here.”

  When he said that, I pictured the man I’d seen standing off in the woods that afternoon: the smile he’d given me, his closed eye, the way his skin looked all saggy on his face. Then I looked all around our bedroom, at all the nice, new things we’d been given after we moved into the home. But then my eyes stopped on the open window Wade had just crawled through, and I pictured something else: snow piled up high enough to pour inside onto the carpet; voices I didn’t know that belonged to people I’d never met coming from rooms down the hall in a house I hadn’t seen before; the daytime gone as black as night outside our window.

  I looked up at Wade where he held Ruby in his arms, and I don’t know why, but at the time, leaving with him seemed like the best answer. At the time, it seemed like the only safe thing to do.

  I jumped to the ground, and then I turned around and waited for Wade to lower Ruby down from the window. When he held her out to me, I could see that his shirt was wet with sweat around the armpits. Ruby and I were both still in our nightgowns; all he’d let us do was put on some socks and shoes. We stood back from the house and watched Wade climb out of the window and jump to the ground. Three houses down, there was a car parked on the street, and Wade took our hands and led us to it.

  “Come on, come on, come on,” he whispered. He walked fast, and I could tell he wanted to get as far away from that window as we could. He opened the back door on the passenger’s side and me and Ruby climbed in. When I slid past Wade I caught a whiff of him, and I could tell that he hadn’t had a shower in a while. He went around to the driver’s side and jumped in and started the engine. The radio came on and I heard men’s voices; they were talking about baseball. Wade left the headlights off and drove away from the curb. I got up on my knees and looked out the back window at the home, figuring I might be seeing it for the last time. I saw that Wade had left our bedroom window open and one of the curtains was hanging out. There was a little bit of light shining from the window where I’d left the lamp on by the bed.

  And then, just as I was about to turn around, I saw something move in the bushes just to the right of the window, and as we went around the curve I saw Marcus step out of the shadows and into the yard. He was pretty far away, and I couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked like he was holding the card I’d made for him. I knew that he’d been there the whole time, and I knew that he’d seen us leave with Wade. I wanted to raise my hand and wave, but by the time I did we’d already gone around the curve, and he was too far away to have seen it anyway. I sat down and put my seat belt on, and then I looked over to make sure Ruby had hers on too.

  Up in the front seat, Wade clapped his hands, and then he stopped at the stop sign at the end of the street and reached out and turned the radio down. “All right,” he said. He turned around and looked at us. His face was sweating, and his hat was dark blue where the sweat had soaked through it. He was pale, and for the first time I saw that he looked scared, but he still tried to smile at us anyway. “Did y’all hear that?” he asked. Even his voice sounded scared. He pointed to the radio. “Sammy got another one tonight; that’s fifty-five.” He stared at us for a second longer, and then he turned around and drove out of the neighborhood. I saw his eyes look into the rearview mirror like he thought somebody might be following us. “Fifty-five,” he said. “It’s all tied up.”

  Brady Weller

  C H A P T E R 8

  The first child I was ever assigned was a newborn baby boy named Stephen. His mama had just come home from the hospital when her boyfriend showed up at the house and shot her twice as she was trying to run out the back door. He went back inside and set the place on fire. And then he shot himself out in the front yard. Maybe he never knew his son was in a crib back in the bedroom. If he did, he sure didn’t do nothing about it.

  Almost the entire house burned down around that one bedroom before the fire department got there to put it out. But that little boy survived without a scratch on him.

  People on the scene said it was some kind of miracle, especially after they found out how that fire had come to be started and what all had taken place that day.

  Now, you tell me a child who survives something like that isn’t going to do something great with his life. Or mine. That little boy’s now living with his adopted family over in Belmont, about ten miles from the place where he should’ve died. He’ll start the first grade this year. There’s a little bit of happiness out there in this world, and sometimes these kids are lucky enough to find it.

  Some folks find their way to being a guardian ad litem because they feel moved to help kids and families that can’t help themselves, but not me; that’s not how I got here. I found my way here by trying to undo something that can never be undone, and that will to undo it is probably why I’ve lasted as long as I have. Six years is a long time to watch families being torn apart, parents leaving their kids behind, babies without names being born into this world already addicted to the same things that got their mamas and daddies in trouble in the first place.

  But I didn’t always see people as so worthy of being helped, and I certainly didn’t see myself as worthy of helping them. I never would’ve found my way to this place in my life if Judge Shelburne hadn’t called me into his chambers a week after my trial had ended. I’d been a police officer and then a detective for almost twenty years, and
it was the first time a judge had ever asked to speak with me. I’d just tossed a cigarette butt onto the sidewalk and stubbed it out with my shoe when I saw the judge swing a long black Town Car into a reserved spot across the street from the courthouse. I stood there waiting for him, but he didn’t look at me as he crossed the street slowly, cane in hand, not even giving a nod when he passed me on his way inside the courthouse. “Eight minutes, Weller,” he’d said over his shoulder. “Plenty of time to smoke another one if you need to.”

  After going through security where only one of the guards acknowledged me while the other one just stood there with his eyes lowered, I slipped my car keys and loose change back into my pockets and took the elevator up to the third floor. Judge Shelburne’s secretary met me in the office and led me into his chambers; it was just like I’d thought it would be: tall bookcases lined with books, a big oak desk, the judge sitting behind it in suspenders, his sports coat hanging from the same rack that held his robe. He nodded to one of the chairs on the other side of the desk, and I took a seat.

  It was quiet while the judge fished a cigar out of a box on his desk and clipped off the end. He stared at me through the flame, its light reflecting in his dark eyes. “You look like shit, Detective,” he finally said. He took a puff and leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.

  “I’m not a detective anymore.”

  “The hell you’re not,” he said. “You don’t stop being what you are just because some bastards raise hay until you quit. You think I’ll stop being a judge just because a couple jackasses want me to retire? If so, then you’d better think again.” He smiled and leaned forward, the sunlight through the window behind him glinting off his bald head. “They’d better think again too. I’ll stay as long as the people of Gaston County want me to stay. You should keep that in mind because you’re a damn good detective, and you’ve got a lot of friends in this community, especially from where I’m sitting.” He opened the cigar case and turned it to face me. My hand reached out, but I hesitated before picking one up. “These here won’t give you cancer as fast as those cigarettes, but at least you won’t feel like you’re sitting here wasting your time listening to me.”