The clearing was still there at the end of the road, but the trees and the bushes now left barely enough room to squeeze by in the wide pickup. Buck turned off the engine and pulled on the brake. Natty gazed through the windshield at the light-green canopy that enveloped them like a bubble. She felt cool and dark and protected. Through the open window, she could smell the earthy aroma of the woods, and it filled her with nostalgia for that brief season, thirteen years ago, when she had Buck so completely to herself. And now they were in the truck, in the woods, alone again.
She shouldn’t be here, not today, not with Buck, after what he did. Why was she letting this happen? She knew where he was going when he turned down the logging road. She gazed out the window and let her mind drift back to the morning, and thought about Charlie Burden. They were alone in the library after Charlie had looked at the roof. The kids had gone back up the hill and the door was locked. They were only a yard apart in the dimly lit room.
Buck adjusted the bench seat back as far as it would go, then slid over next to Natty. She felt his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. He tossed her Spider-Man cap onto the dashboard and reached up with both hands to take the elastic out of her ponytail, letting her hair partially cover her face. He ran his fingers over her face as he brought his mouth to her cheek and whispered, “Nat, I ain’t been much of a husband lately. I’m gonna make it up to you.”
She closed her eyes and leaned back. Buck’s left hand was on her thigh, rubbing gently up and down from her knee. She felt a stirring inside and took a deep breath. She moved forward and reached both hands under Charlie’s T-shirt, feeling his ribs and the muscles on his chest and shoulders, as he pulled his shirt over his head. He caressed her neck, then held her face gently with both hands. He kissed her forehead lightly and then, slowly, her left cheek. Very softly, he said her name, then pulled her chin up and kissed her fully on the mouth.
Natty turned to Buck and opened her mouth to his, their tongues pressing warmly against each other. She put her hand on top of Buck’s and pulled it over to her crotch as she slid down in the seat, stretching out her legs. Buck pulled her to him as she spread her legs. With her right hand, she unhooked her belt and the button of her blue jeans. She kissed Charlie wetly on the mouth and pushed him down on the couch. She ran her hands over his chest as she worked her way down to the zipper of his khaki shorts. His eyes were closed, and his mouth opened as Natty pulled off his shorts. She straddled his hips with her knees and straightened up as she pulled her still-buttoned shirt up over her head. Charlie’s hands clasped her small waist and moved up her rib cage to the front of her bra, releasing her breasts.
Natty felt herself being lifted and spun, her left shoulder glancing hard off the steering wheel. She opened her eyes to see Buck, his blue jeans rolled down to his knees, working at pulling down his shorts. He put both hands under her small buttocks and pulled her up toward him. The contrition was gone from his voice. “This is what you like, Nat, huh,” he groaned. “This is what keeps you coming back,” he whispered, as he pushed himself deep inside her.
Natty reached over her head with both hands and held on to the frame of the door. She closed her eyes. “Yeah, Buck,” she finally managed to say, “that’s what I like.” She bit her lower lip and hid her tears.
* * *
ON THE RIDE back to Red Bone, Buck prattled on about some new scheme that he was cooking up with Roy Hogan. Natty had heard it all before—the enthusiasm for a half-baked idea that would soon turn to nothing—and remained quiet. She was preoccupied with what had just happened and was trying to rationalize her guilt. It wasn’t about the sex. Lord knows, she was feeling randy enough to deserve a good lay from her husband, even if she was pissed at him. No, it was about fantasizing about another man when she was with Buck. That had never happened to her before, and it was a strange, uncomfortable feeling. Here she was, fantasizing about a man who most likely didn’t even remember her name. In a short time he’d be gone, and he sure as shit wouldn’t remember much about the time he spent in Red Bone, West Virginia. But Buck would still be here. He’d always be here. And so would she.
Buck slid to a stop in front of Barney’s General Store. Natty tucked the ends of her white shirt into her blue jeans and tried to brush back her unruly hair with her fingers. “So, Nat, we’re okay,” said Buck, “right? I’ll see you at home later on?” Natty shut the door of the truck and gave her husband a thin smile.
“Sure, Buck,” she said, “we’re great.” She turned and walked up to the front of the store, hearing the familiar sound of Buck’s truck speeding away.
From the vestibule, she could see Cat in the restaurant, seated on a counter stool with an ice cream cone, swinging her legs while she watched Pie and Charlie Burden in a nearby booth. They were playing some kind of game, and she could hear the glee in her son’s voice and see the genuine affection Charlie had for Pie.
“Oooh, Charlie almotht get a touchdown.” Pie was on his knees on the bench, squirming about excitedly. Natty moved into the doorway, content to watch for a few moments. They were flicking a packet of sugar back and forth across the table. Pie must have scored. He leaped up, shouting, “Touchdown, Michigan!” Charlie laughed and was giving him a high-five when he saw Natty in the doorway. He smiled and said something to Pie, who wheeled around excitedly.
“Mama, Charlie and me play sugar-bag football. Mama, come thee.”
Cat jumped off her stool and ran over to her mother. Natty stayed where she was. She didn’t want to go into the restaurant. She suddenly felt exhausted and didn’t want to get into a conversation with Charlie Burden—not right then.
“Come on, Pie, we need to get going. We’ve already imposed on Mr. Burden enough,” she said.
Charlie stayed seated in the booth as he watched Natty in the doorway. If she wanted to keep her distance, he would respect that. As Pie walked over to her, Charlie noticed how different she looked from the first two times he’d seen her. The baseball cap was gone and her hair was down, falling unevenly to her shoulders. The man’s white shirt was now tucked into her blue jeans, the belt pulled tight at her small waist. As she gazed back at Charlie with a tired smile, hands in her pockets, the effect was dramatic. Without any effort or awareness, she could have been a model, posing for a leisure-clothing ad in Vanity Fair.
As the children went out through the doorway, Natty lingered for a moment, still looking at Charlie. Finally, she straightened up and mouthed a silent thank-you. Charlie nodded and watched her walk out toward the store.
* * *
NATTY ALMOST DROVE past the turnoff from Cold Springs Road. It was cool and dark on the smooth new road that ran along the boundary of the OntAmex site. Far up on the hills, the trees reflected the deep orange glow of the setting sun. Natty had to turn on her headlights to follow the road, which had no guardrails or painted lines to navigate by.
Trying to make good time, Natty leaned forward and kept a firm grip on the shimmying steering wheel. As the Accord rounded a bend, the shimmy in the front end suddenly stopped, and Natty felt the steering wheel go slack. The car bucked, listed forward, then screeched along the pavement, out of control. Sparks flew up around the right fender before the car slid to a stop, a few feet from a drainage ditch. Afraid the car might catch fire, Natty quickly turned off the ignition, gathered up her purse and client files, and yanked her equipment bag from the backseat. She put her things down on the road, then went back to inspect.
* * *
CHARLIE BURDEN WAS about halfway through his second lap around the power plant. He ran another two hundred yards before he heard a car door slam on the road ahead.
“Damn piece of shit car. Fucking cars!”
When Charlie rounded the bend, the air smelled of burned metal and rubber. The old Honda was parked on the shoulder of the road, listing awkwardly to the right. Charlie stopped.
“Hello. Is anyone there?” He walked toward the car and saw a head pop up in front of the hood. He didn’t recog
nize Natty until she spoke.
“That you, Mr. Burden?”
“Oh, hello, Mrs. Oakes. I heard someone, uh, yelling, but I didn’t recognize your voice.”
“Sorry—nice mouth, huh?” She laughed. “I didn’t know anyone was around.”
“What happened to your car? Smells like something’s burning,” Charlie said, as he walked around to the front of the car.
“Think maybe I got a flat tire.”
Charlie leaned out over the drainage ditch and saw that the right front wheel had broken off at the axle and was lodged under the frame of the car. Metal shards were visible at the end of the axle, and brake fluid was leaking into the sand. Charlie couldn’t help letting out a laugh when he saw the extent of the damage. Natty Oakes, he was beginning to understand, had a most amusing gift for understatement.
“What’s so funny? It’s a flat tire, right?” she asked, smiling.
“No, it’s a lot worse than that,” Charlie answered. “The whole wheel came off.”
“Aw, man, that doesn’t sound good. Shit. I don’t need this right now.” A troubled look came over her face, as she realized she would have another bill she couldn’t afford.
Charlie wished he hadn’t laughed. “You’re going to need a tow truck. Is there a garage you can call? We can use the phone in the office,” he said, gesturing toward the power plant. Natty stood in the road, looking at her car, shaking her head in disgust.
“Damn. I got a lot of clients to see tomorrow. Friday’s a busy day for me.” She started toward her things lying in the road. “I can call Gus Lowe. He’s got a tow truck. If I can use your phone, I’ll call home and get a ride.”
Charlie took Natty’s equipment bag and slung it over his shoulder while she gathered up her files, and they started off up the road toward the main gate.
“Car’s only got two hundred fifty thousand miles on it,” Natty said, with a quick glance back at the Honda. “You’d think you’d get at least three hundred before the damn wheels started falling off.”
Charlie smiled. He enjoyed Natty’s sense of humor. Eve Brewster was right—nothing bothered her sister-in-law for too long.
“If you’re stuck, you can use my car for a few days,” Charlie offered, looking down at her. He could use Hugo Paxton’s Navigator, which was still parked at the condo in Bluefield. “The company has an extra truck,” he added.
The offer didn’t seem to register right away. “Huh? I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I said you could take my car for a few days, if you need to,” Charlie replied.
Natty looked at him curiously. “You’d let me use your car? Why would you do that? You hardly even know me.”
Charlie laughed. “Hey, don’t you know, everybody knows everybody in Red Bone?”
Natty smiled at Charlie’s imitation of her. “Thanks, anyway, but I couldn’t do that. I’ll find another car somewhere,” she said.
Charlie let it pass. “Pie came by the plant this afternoon,” he said. “He comes by every day, late in the afternoon.”
“That’s all he talks about now. I heard all about the ride you gave him on the tractor.”
“Bulldozer,” Charlie corrected.
“If he’s being a pest, I’ll tell him to stop,” Natty said earnestly.
Charlie smiled. “No, he’s not a pest. Everyone in the office loves it when he comes in. He’s funny. He’s a great kid. He really is.” Charlie wanted to tell her how much he looked forward to the Pie Man’s visits now that he’d gotten to know the boy so well. He wanted to tell her about the vacuum in his life since his own kids left home, but he knew that would sound strange.
They walked a ways down the dark road before Charlie brought up a subject that he’d been thinking about since he first met Pie. “I was wondering how Pie got that name, the Pie Man. Once you get used to it, it seems really natural, but—”
“Still, a pretty stupid name for a kid, I know. It ain’t really much of a story,” she said.
“If I’m being too nosy, just…”
Natty thought for a moment before responding. “Truth is, Mr. Burden, you’re all Pie talks about these days. You’re about the only adult man that’s ever given that boy the time of day, including his father. ’Course it’s your business.”
“I was curious.”
“First, it probably helps to know that his real name is Boyd,” Natty said with a chuckle. “How’s that for a handle? Makes Pie Man sound pretty smooth, don’t it?” They both laughed.
“Well, one day when Pie was almost five, I asked Buck to read to him from a big nursery-rhyme book that Pie loved. It was a mistake. Buck was in a shitty mood, but he surprised me and said okay. It was the first time he ever put Pie on his lap and tried to read to him, ’cause Buck, he don’t read too well for one thing, and, second, he never paid much attention to Pie from the beginning, ’cause … Well, that’s another story.
“Anyway, Buck opens the book to Simple Simon, which Pie knows by heart, ’cause we read it so many times. And Buck starts reading, ‘Simple Simon met a Pie Man,’ and he stops and points to the picture, and he says to Pie, ‘That’s you, kid, the simpleton, Simple Simon, the retard,’ and he keeps saying it, even though Pie don’t know what the hell he means. I tell Buck to quit it, and he starts yellin’ at me, and I’m yellin’ at him, and all of a sudden, Pie jabs his finger at the picture and yells, ‘No, I am the Pie Man, I am the Pie Man,’ ’til Buck and I shut up. Then Buck pushes him off his lap onto the floor. He stomps out, and Pie just sits there with that stubborn look on his face—I’m sure you’ve seen it.”
Natty took a deep breath. She’d never told the real story to anyone. She’d always told the sugar-coated version—that Pie really liked the picture in the book and started saying, “I am the Pie Man, I am the Pie Man.” Now she’d told the truth to this near-stranger. Damn, why hadn’t she just given Charlie Burden the storybook version?
Charlie was waiting for her to continue. “I picked him up and put him on my lap, and he looks at me and says again, ‘I am the Pie Man.’ It was strange, because it was like the first time he’d made some kind of decision … the first time he’d shown that he was really thinking about something, you know? It’s a weird name and everything, but it was his decision, and it was the first sort of intelligent thing he ever said, after the usual baby-talk stuff. So I said to him, ‘Yes, you are the Pie Man,’ and that’s what he’s called himself ever since. That’s all anyone around here calls him, even in school. I don’t think he even remembers the name Boyd.” They rounded a bend and could see a light shining on the administration building. In another few minutes, they’d be at the front gate.
“Pretty pathetic story, huh, Mr. Burden? Welcome to West Virginia, right?”
“No,” Charlie answered. “It isn’t at all,” he said, trying to sound understanding.
“Listen, Mr. Burden, don’t think too poorly about my husband. I probably shouldn’t have told you that story, but you’ve been real special to Pie, and…” Natty gazed up at the hills as she arranged the words in her mind. “This is a hard place to live. I mean, I love it here, and I could never live anywhere else. But there’s a lot of heartache in these mountains. That’s what my grandma Alice always says, and it’s true. And I think it’s harder for a man. It’s not an easy place to make a living, with the coal mining mostly gone. That takes a lot out of a man.…” Her voice faded. “Getting trapped here and not being able to support a family.”
They walked in silence for a few moments, then it was time to change the subject. “Hey, I’m sorry to spoil your run,” said Natty. “It’s a nice night for a run, too.”
“That’s okay. I already did a lap around the plant. I usually run in the morning, but I had an early meeting.”
“That’s when I run,” said Natty.
“That’s what Hank said.”
“I go through Old Red Bone about six-thirty and see Hank out on your back porch most days, having his tea. Sometime I’ll show you my cou
rse. It’s about five and a half miles through the woods, on a trail along the south side of Red Bone Mountain.”
“I’d like that,” said Charlie. “How about Monday?”
“Um, Monday?” She hesitated. Natty knew she’d made a mistake, and now she was stuck. She hadn’t meant to invite Charlie Burden to go running. What was she thinking?
“I’ll watch for you from the porch around six-thirty, and I’ll meet you in front of the store. Don’t worry, I won’t hold you up too much,” Charlie added with a laugh.
Natty couldn’t find a polite way out. “Sure, we could do that. I’ll look for you on Monday.”
Once they were inside the gate, Natty conceded that it made more sense to let Charlie drive her home than for her to call for a ride. She was mesmerized by all the lights and gauges on the Lexus’s dashboard, the soft leather seats, and the feeling of quiet luxury in the car. She’d never ridden in a car so new or so expensive.
Charlie drove slowly on the dark, narrow access road through the woods and out to South County Road. When they approached the intersection, Natty said, “Take a right here, and go about a half mile—”
Charlie suddenly stopped the car in the middle of the road and pulled on the emergency brake. He left the engine running, opened the driver’s door, and got out and instructed Natty to get out, too.
“What are you going to do now, kill me?” she asked.
Charlie laughed. “No. I’m going to finish my run, and you’re going to take my car until you get yours fixed,” he said, stuffing his wallet and keys into a Velcro fanny pack.
“No, c’mon, I can’t do this,” Natty protested.
“You need a car tomorrow; I don’t,” Charlie replied.
“But I can’t drive this. Please, Mr. Burden, I don’t—”
“It’s just like a Honda. Put it in gear and go. Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you Monday.” He loped off at an easy gait and disappeared into the dark.
Redemption Mountain Page 16