The Testament of Harold's Wife

by Lynne Hugo

  I have no idea what luck made me spot it because it was off the deer trail a good fifteen or twenty feet, if I’m any judge of distance, which I’m not, as Harold would have been happy to tell you. I blessed the name of the optometrist who got me the driving glasses because there’s no chance I’d have seen it without them. And truth be told, when I did see it, I didn’t know what it was. The tree looked wrong, that’s all. Like it was freshly broken, but oddly, unnaturally. I picked my way through the brush, fighting it all the way, to investigate. Damn the honeysuckle, taking over the woods the way it is. But I got to the tree, which I thought was a chestnut sapling, the trunk about two inches in diameter. At first I couldn’t figure it out, but then I worked around toward the back and saw: a bullet was lodged in it. What were the chances? It had hit with enough force to break the trunk and the weight of the top had made it tip.

  I was sick. Sick. Had his first bullet wounded and he took a second shot and missed, or had his target escaped entirely? Was he still out here or had full daylight made him quit for now? He knew he was poaching. All he didn’t know was that I was after him. He had the advantage, though. He knew where he was. He was likely after bucks. There were possibly at least a couple of bucks. I didn’t know where he was, and there was only one of him.

  I peed in the woods, which I’d finally become adept at doing, especially avoiding poison ivy, as the very thought of squatting in it was a horror. Please don’t picture it. I licked my lips to wet them and kept going. I headed north, in the general direction of the road, the way I thought Larry would have had to come in. I should have figured he’d go to the area closer to the road, the lazy easy spot, not the one closer to the creek. What was I looking for now? I didn’t know. As I said, it was only anger kept me going.

  The deer trail I was following was hardly a trail, nothing humans would hike along. Branches grabbed at my body and face, and I had to climb over fallen limbs the deer easily jumped. But I could see where they’d been, the narrow path they’d worn as they moved and foraged, mated and slept. I knew I was leaving my scent. I didn’t know if that meant they wouldn’t use this trail again. I needed to do more reading. I didn’t know if this was how Larry had come in, either. At least I didn’t know until I got to the road. Again, it was only luck that I saw it. (Either that or I was getting close to earning a Girl Scout badge in Advanced Tracking.) Or maybe no luck was involved because it was bright red. A Coke can. Not even Diet. Tossed onto the berm into the taller grass. I went over and picked it up, gingerly as if it were dynamite. I know there was no proof it was his, but good grief. There were tire tracks still in the grass, and it was a short distance from the nearly invisible entrance to the deer trail. You’d have to really know what you were doing to have found it. Coming from the road, I wouldn’t have. But I have to think an experienced hunter would.

  I was tired, and my mouth was dry. I’d forgotten to put my watch on, but judging from the sun it could be as late as nine. It was shorter to head for home by walking the road than to retrace my steps back through the woods and then the two fields. Sometimes expediency overrides caution. I used to warn the boys in my class about taking stupid shortcuts (they were the ones who’d climb over tables in the cafeteria to beat one another to the playground). It briefly crossed my mind: what if someone I know drives by? Nah. How likely is that?

  I should have known.

  32

  I didn’t even see the black-and-white coming. I was watching my step because the ground was slanty and uneven on the grassy berm where I was walking. All I needed was to step in some hole and go down. It was the sound of the tires that finally made me look up. If I’d just been paying attention, especially since I was actually wearing my driving glasses and could see a mile down the road, I’d have been able to hide the evidence and come back for it later.

  “Louisa! You all right? You have a breakdown or something?”

  For a minute I thought he meant nervous breakdown and I panicked, thinking Gary had sent him.

  “Where’s your car?”

  Then I realized what he meant and a momentary tide of relief washed over me, thinking I was home free. “Oh, no, car’s fine. I’m fine, thanks, Gus. Everything’s fine.”

  He looked at me and I saw his eyes go meaningfully to the rifle and then back to my face. Oh damn. Double damn.

  “You packin’ heat, Louisa?” He said it with a smile, but his eyes were serious.

  “Geez, Gus,” I said, moving next to the car and leaning into the open passenger-side window using one elbow. “You know how I feel about guns. Why? Some local murder this morning?” I never should have said that, I know, putting the idea in his head in advance. The minute I opened my mouth I could have slapped myself upside the head. Amy and Marvelle would be disgusted with me and even amiable Beth wouldn’t be pleased. Why not just blab on the Internet? I could go to the library, use the free Internet access there, and it wouldn’t even cost me anything the way paying for a billboard or radio advertising would. I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t need more criticism.

  I gave him my brightest smile and made my eyes sparkle. At least I think I did. Or possibly I made myself look psychotic. Either way, it did seem to divert him. Meanwhile I was trying to think of whatever I could, anything I could, to say when he got back to his question.

  “Oh my, not hardly, Louisa,” he said, clearing his throat, getting the words out after a false start, one hand in the air. His neck and face had reddened, too. I pressed on.

  “Good! I was so scared when you first came up behind me like that, all official-looking in your sheriff’s car and all. Just when I was getting used to the idea of you in regular clothes and in your own truck! That was nice.” I did the thing with my eyes again, and smiled with my mouth closed this time for variety, and to look demure and harmless.

  “Didn’t mean to scare you. Wouldn’t want to do that. You need a hand? Didn’t break down, did you?”

  “Oh gosh no, I’m fine. Just headin’ over to Helen’s.” I pointed toward the Atherton’s driveway across the road about a quarter mile in the direction away from the one in which I was headed. “I was going through stuff of Harold’s—you know, it’s time I just let go of things!—and I thought that Ben would like Harold’s rifle. You know what a hunter he is. And I don’t want it around. But don’t you know! Nobody was home, and I sure wasn’t going to leave a gun, even an unloaded one, lying on the front porch. So I just headed right back home. But it’s been a lovely walk, and next time I’ll call her first.”

  Gus grinned, stretching the skin on the upper rounds of his cheeks. The bottom frame of his glasses sank into them. What hair he had was close-cropped, color-leeched. “Well, now, Miss Louisa . . .”

  I thought he was going to question my story, especially given my ridiculous outfit, and I felt heat rising toward my face. I didn’t know what else I could say, or maybe it was illegal to walk on the road with a gun. Especially a loaded one.

  “I was going to stop by your place, and I’d have missed you. I’ve been trying to call you. You must be doing a lot of gaddin’ around these days. You’re never home. Been wantin’ to ask you out to supper again. Get a date pinned down, I mean. You promised.”

  “I’m sorry I missed your calls,” I lied. “You’re right, I have been busy. Why don’t you give me a call later today when I have my calendar right in front of me and we’ll set it up?”

  “I can give you a ride there now.”

  Oh, right. I’d love to get in your squad car and continue this conversation. “Thanks so much for the offer, but I need the exercise. Especially if we’re going out to supper! A girl has to watch her figure, you know.” I trilled off what I hoped was a coy laugh, trying imitate a little waterfall. I ended up sounding more like a sick crow. I am so out of practice.

  Gus was unfazed by the bizarre sound. “Well, that’s fine. You do that. You gettin’ excited for the big event?”

  “Oh yes, absolutely.”

  “Me too. I’ll
be doing security. Talk to you later. Have a nice walk.” He nodded and I stepped back from the car. Two quick horn toots came as the car crawled back into the road. Gus’s pudgy hand waved out the open window. I waved back as I held the rifle pointed to the ground, along my leg away from the road, hoping to block his rear view of it with my body. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

  “Doing security” for a supper date he was calling “a big event”? That’s what I heard, and what I thought was Oh my, we do have an ego, don’t we now. How about you? Are you shouting, Wise up, Louisa! There’s a neon-red flag flashing WARNING with sparklers shooting out of it if I ever saw one. I’m telling you now, I swear I was so relieved to see that damn car drive off, I thought I was home free.

  I would have loved not to have to trudge the rest of the way home after all the walking I’d already done. After Gus pulled off and I relaxed, I tried to get back to the angry place I’d been for the energy to walk the half mile or so I had left to go. The plug had been pulled and all I could feel was how tired I was, but since the side of the road lacked a comfy chair and a glass of cold water, I walked on.

  At home, I lay down with a cloth on my head for an hour or so. Maybe it was longer. I dozed. When I got up, I felt better. I made tea and let the girls in. They were quite annoyed at having been confined to their coop all day. Marvelle wanted to go out, but I had her stay inside with us. As I’ve said, she used to be a world-class hunter, sneaky as they come, so I thought she might have a decent opinion about how Larry Ellis might think.

  When was he likely to be back? I didn’t think it would be that day. “Lord knows, girls, I don’t think I can do this twice a day every day. We’ve got to try to get ahead of him.”

  Marvelle rolled her eyes, which I thought was rude and told her so. “No more special milk for you, missy, if you can’t be nice and helpful. When will he be back?”

  The girls made sympathetic noises. Their hunting experience was limited to insects, Amy said. Nothing warm-blooded, and not before dawn, since I never let them out of the coop until well after sunup. How were they supposed to contribute to this discussion? JoJo puffed up, flapped once, and said she would use her imagination if I happened to have a few cut-up grapes around to inspire her.

  I was at the refrigerator when the phone rang. Gus, I figured, and didn’t move. Marvelle flicked her tail hard in the direction of the phone like an insistent pointy finger. I took it as a sign, which I don’t believe in, and looked at Caller ID. It was CarolSue.

  “Sister! I thought Charlie had a doctor . . . thing today. I was going to call you at five.” I was ashamed I couldn’t remember.

  “It was canceled. Or put off.” I couldn’t tell anything from her voice.

  “That’s good. Right? Or is that . . . bad?”

  “His MRI on Wednesday didn’t look the same, and the oncologist is considering other, or I guess additional, treatment options.” She sounded as if she were putting quotation marks in the air with her fingers.

  “Oh. Oh no.”

  “It’ll be all right. We’ll get through. We have an appointment with him next week, and I guess we’ll find out more.”

  “Oh no.” What was I, some kind of two-word puppet? I couldn’t think of a thing to say. Not a thing. And she’d been so good in every way when Harold died. What was wrong with me? I shut the refrigerator door, got to a kitchen chair, and sat. There was dust on the end of the table where Harold used to sit. In the next few minutes I’d get up, get the sponge, and wipe it clean. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You must be scared.”

  “We’ll get through. It’s hard to wait.”

  “Don’t shut me out, sister. You were there for me.”

  “I know. I don’t mean to. Sometimes I can’t bear to think about it. I really love him, and then I feel bad telling you how scared I am of losing him because I know how that must make you feel.”

  “Bless your heart.” I affected the Southern accent, which she doesn’t know is what I blame for taking her away from me—Charlie’s, I mean. Damn the whole state of Georgia anyway. “Such crap. You can talk to me about anything, you know that. No one can understand like I do.”

  The line was quiet for a bit. I knew to wait. But then she said, “Distract me for a little bit, will you? It’s the waiting I can’t stand. Not knowing anything. What’s up with The Plan? Where are we at, honey chile?” She put on the drawl back at me and I knew it meant she couldn’t talk about Charlie any more right then. She didn’t want to cry.

  “The bastard was here this morning, dawn, and took a shot. He got away before I could call Gus.” Obviously, I left out a few details.

  “No way. Really?”

  “I’m trying to figure out when he’ll be back. That’s what I was just working out in my head when you called.”

  “But did you see his truck? I mean, now do you know where he parked?”

  “Well, I figured it out from tire marks by a deer trail right into my land. And a fresh Coke can tossed just off trail.” No need to mention that I’d followed him. Have you ever noticed that once you start lying there’s no going back?

  “You stay away from him, you hear? The minute you spot his truck again, you just call Gus and let him handle it. All Gus needs to do is catch him on your land with a gun.”

  “But . . .” I was going to say that’s not technically poaching. I’m not letting him get one of my deer, so it’s only trespassing. I stopped myself, though.

  “But what?”

  “No, you’re right. Gus can handle it.”

  “Louisa, do not, I repeat, do not say or do anything yourself. I mean it. Don’t lose your temper and confront him.”

  “Oh Lord, honey, I’m way too chicken for that. He’s the one with a gun, after all.” I even added a little laugh. Both JoJo and Amy, of course, were extremely miffed by my saying I was chicken and intending it as a pejorative. Sometimes I simply can’t think of everything.

  I wanted CarolSue to believe me, but it hurt me when she said, “Yeah, okay, I know. I was just making sure.” She doesn’t even really know me, what I’m capable of now. Of course, I hardly know myself anymore. That’s how long she’s lived a thousand miles away. Here I am, determined that none of the deer taking sanctuary on my land will be sacrificed, at the same time—since the moment CarolSue told me about Charlie’s latest MRI—my mind whispers a tiny something like prayer that if Charlie dies, CarolSue will decide to come home. I have to shut that down. When Harold died, she asked me to move there, and would I?

  Maybe I’ll answer the phone tomorrow and let the God Squad strike it rich on that one!

  I didn’t go out hunting Larry Ellis that night. I wanted to, but my knees hurt, I was exhausted, and my logic told me that he wouldn’t be back on the same day. As if to keep me from worrying about it, though, the weather report told me that thunderstorms were headed our way, and to expect flash flood warnings. Normally, this in itself would have worried me; Rush Run has risen far above its banks multiple times, to the point of rerouting itself over the years, but to me that day was like a sign (which I do not believe in) saying, Rest up! It will be all right. And it started to storm heavily at three thirty in the morning, keeping on past dawn.

  The bad weather gave me time to reason things out. I’d known I couldn’t go out and cover my land twice a day, guessing where an intent hunter might be, even though I’d found the two trail cameras. Maybe there were more. And how would I know when? It was too chancey.

  “You didn’t think of this sooner?” I knew what Marvelle’s rolled eyes were accusing. “Mice are smarter than you.”

  “Look, I can’t get help on this from CarolSue, and exactly what help have you been? What have you killed lately? I haven’t seen you stalk a mouse for a good two years,” I snapped at her.

  The afternoon was dense, the air like a sodden hot towel, unseasonable. No power, not since seven in the morning. Dwayne County Rural Electric is not known for speed in restoring electricity when a transformer is knocked out.
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  When I said that, something flipped in my thinking. “Stalking. That’s it, Marvelle. Right! If you want to hunt something, you have to stalk it.” I stood up so fast the chair tipped backward. “Damn. Of course.”

  When the power flickered back on, I put the television on to catch the weather report on the local news. I plain needed to know more about old Larry Ellis, that was obvious. I could pretty much count on his coming back; I needed to be able to predict when.

  That off-and-on heavy rain continued another full twenty-four hours. “Thank you, honey,” I whispered to Harold on the off chance that he knows what I’m doing for his and Cody’s sake and is helping me, not that I believe in that, but I don’t claim certainty about much anymore and the storms did give me a chance to rest.

  Even before dawn of the next day, when it would naturally be cooler, you could tell the day was going to be one big improvement. In the early morning darkness, the moon was round as an unbitten cookie with smooth white frosting. It was going to be a long day. I had to go out just as I had the first time, in case he came back right away, after whatever he’d shot at.

  I had to choose an area, so I went to where he’d taken the shot. It was difficult to pick my way, the landscape in shades of dark grey as it was. I saw my buck, enormous, running through a section of forest where there was less undergrowth than in most. The sight lasted only a few seconds, then the white tail flashed up and over a rock formation. Stay safe, be well, I sent him in silent blessing.

  Stopping short of the trail camera, I looked for a place to hide, to put myself in a natural blind. The ground was wet and I hadn’t thought to bring plastic. Crouching was too hard on my knees, and standing, even behind a tree, left me too exposed. So there I was, lying on the wet ground, covering myself with soggy leaves, propping myself on one elbow to peek over a fallen, rotting tree toward the deer trail.

  Absolutely nothing happened except that whatever parts of my body didn’t have arthritis were certainly encouraged to develop it quickly. I could hardly stand up by the time it was wholly daylight. On the way home I reminded myself over and over that I’d heard no shots, so he’d likely not come, or I’d startled at least the big buck out of the area, which was a fine thing. And now, I thought, after a nap, I could start the reconnaissance that should help me refine the hunt.