Touched

by Carolyn Haines

  For a moment she didn’t respond. She kept her attention focused on Will’s back as he stood at the doorway talking to the farmer. Reaching into his pocket, he drew out money. The screen door opened and the farmer took it, shifting it into his own pocket.

  “Have you ever thought about the degrees of absence?” JoHanna asked. “How a person can be physically gone, and still there. Or how he can be sitting right beside you and not be there at all?” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed. “I meant to buy some of those dark glasses they were selling on the beach. Sun protectors. Did you see them?”

  Suddenly furious at her flip question, at what she’d done, I got out of the car, intending to go and help Duncan catch her rooster. If Pecos had gotten any encouragement at all from the farmer’s hens, he might decide he didn’t ever want to be caught again. If JoHanna was so all fired up about things being true to their nature, maybe she’d order Duncan to leave him where he could be a real rooster. I slammed the car door hard as I stalked away.

  Duncan met me as I rounded the corner of the house. Pecos was not happy about being captured, and neither was Duncan. Large tears rolled down her cheeks. She held the rooster extended in front of her, and he had his spurs out, as if he meant serious business.

  “He doesn’t want to come with me.” She managed the words between sobs. “He’d rather stay here.”

  “Oh, Duncan.” I wanted to go to her, but I wasn’t getting near Pecos and those spurs. I’d come too close twice before and knew how sharply they could slice.

  “He pecked me and came at me.” She took a breath. “He’s never done that to me. Never.”

  I could hear the chickens gossiping over the latest henyard development. Pecos heard them too and began to struggle in Duncan’s hands.

  “What should I do, Mattie?”

  “Oh, Duncan, I could wring that rooster’s neck myself.” How was it possible that two McVays had been betrayed in less than twenty minutes? “Do you want him bad enough to hold him all the way back to Jexville? I think once you get him home he’ll straighten up. He just got a taste of being king of the roost and it’s hard to go from being king back to being someone’s pet.”

  Duncan turned back toward the chicken yard. The hens were frantically running here and there. Maybe they were looking for Pecos, maybe not. Who could tell what a chicken was doing?

  “What should I do, Mattie?”

  I could see her arms were tired of holding the bird. They were shaking slightly. Pecos had given up struggling, but he kept his attention on the chickens.

  “What’s wrong, Duncan?” Will had come around the corner of the house and was standing, watching us.

  “Pecos doesn’t want to be my pet rooster anymore.” Duncan managed the words with a show of bravado that made my eyes sting. “He wants to be king of the chickens.”

  “He does, does he?” Will walked up, tousled her hair, and then lifted Pecos into his arms. He cradled the rooster against his chest as if he were a baby. With one finger he turned the rooster’s head so that Pecos’s beady little chicken eyes were staring directly into his. “Are you sure that’s what you want, Pecos? Being the rooster isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

  “He thinks it’s terrific.”

  Will lifted his eyebrows at Duncan. “Perhaps you should tell Pecos that he might last it out the rest of this year, but by next fall, he’ll be replaced. Some new cock will come along and Pecos will be fair game for the roasting pan.”

  Duncan’s tears dried. “They’ll eat him?”

  “Honey, once we drive out of here, do you think Mr. Longeneaux will even try to remember Pecos from the other roosters around here? He may try, but in a week or two, one bird will blend into the other and by next year …”

  Duncan looked back at the chickens. They had settled down considerably. Pecos, held tightly in Will’s arms, had also grown more docile.

  Duncan held out her arms to her father. With great care, Will placed Pecos in them, making sure his spurs were relaxed.

  “I think we should all go home.” Duncan started toward the car, the rooster in her arms. “That storm just got everything messed up. Once we get home, things will get back to normal, won’t they, Daddy?”

  When Will didn’t answer, Duncan stopped and turned back to him. “They will, won’t they?”

  “Tell me, how bad did the storm hit the house?” he asked as he opened the door for me and Duncan and ushered us into the backseat. Duncan settled with Pecos pressed between her body and the door. The car roared to life, and we were headed for Jexville, headed into the night.

  Thirty-seven

  THE stars were brighter than I’d ever seen them, and a pale quarter moon hung in the sky as we drove the final few miles to Jexville. It made me think of the legend of Anola and the Hunter’s Moon that John Doggett had told us. The legend of a river where the dead sang out at night to those who would listen.

  Duncan had fallen asleep in my lap, and I was glad for the solid warmth of her against me. Summer was gone. The creeping cold of night and the air blowing back on me from the motion of the car had chilled me through to the bone. Still, nothing the weather could provide was as cold as the silence in the front seat. Will’s hands moved on the steering wheel as he guided the car through the darkness that contained only the hush of hibernating insects. That slight movement of his hands, side to side, adjusting for the bumps and curves, was the only motion in the front seat. JoHanna might have been turned to stone.

  I snuggled down with Duncan, Pecos asleep at last between her feet, and tried not to hear the anger.

  When the car turned on Peterson Lane, I knew exactly where we were and I sat up straighter, searching for the familiar landmarks in the swift flare of the headlights. There were so many things I wanted to say in the last moments of the ride, before the wheels stopped and life was no longer suspended, things that had no words but were only emotions. I wanted to tell them that whatever had happened, they were meant for one another. They were part of one thing, a union that gave both more substance. I wanted to tell them that the thing that had come between them was not violent or mean or cruel, and was therefore forgivable. I wanted to say these things, but I could not say a word. My feelings were true, but there was another truth, too. JoHanna had betrayed Will. I did not understand how two things so diabolically opposed could both be real. My lack of understanding kept me silent, as silent as the two of them.

  In the headlights of the car I saw the large oak trees that framed the front of the house and I felt a measure of relief. We were home. Maybe once they were free of the car, JoHanna and Will would talk. Maybe Duncan, when she awakened, could prevail on them to remember a life that did not include John Doggett or his shadow that now separated them.

  I struggled up in the seat and started to wake Duncan as Will turned the car into the drive. “Let her sleep,” Will said. Instead of going to the back, he drove to the front steps where he could carry Duncan and the luggage inside with greater ease.

  I was looking for my shoe in the floor of the car when I heard JoHanna’s small cry. Will had stopped the car, and I heard the air leave his lungs. I looked toward the house, expecting to see that someone had burned it down, but it was there, dark against the starry night. In the beam of the headlights Jeb Fairley sat on the steps. At first he was so still I did not see him. He rose slowly and stood, his tall, thin frame coatless in the cold, hands hanging at his side, as he waited for us to get out of the car.

  “Jeb!” JoHanna opened her door as Will killed the motor. Her voice was a cry for help and she stumbled in front of the car.

  Getting out on his side, Will left the door open as he hurried forward, catching JoHanna at the front of the car. They began to struggle, Will trying to hold JoHanna and she trying to escape him and get to the porch. The headlights cast their shadows against the front of the house, tall distorted images that joined together in slow motion, blending into one form on the front of the house, creeping across the front door and the wi
ndows as they fought in a horrible, silent battle of wills.

  “Jeb!” JoHanna almost broke free, but Will held her.

  “I didn’t know where else to bring him,” Jeb said.

  It was then I saw the bundle of clothing on the porch. I recognized Jeb’s coat on top and wondered why he wasn’t wearing it. I slid out from under Duncan’s head and eased out of the car, trying hard to move fast, but unable to, cold syrup pooling on a saucer. Too slow.

  “Mattie!” Will called out to me, but he could not let go of JoHanna. She had turned into some wild creature, and she fought against him, thrashing with small, harsh noises. Against the front of the house her shadow lunged and twisted against Will’s tall form. I kept walking, up to the steps, up to Jeb, who looked down at me.

  “I’m sorry, Mattie. I tried to stop them.”

  I lifted the collar of the coat and found Floyd. “Floyd?” I did not believe what I was seeing. It was impossible that the cold, still features were those of a young man I had come to love. “Floyd?” I asked again. I knew he was dead, but I brushed my fingers across his check, hoping for a flush of warmth. He was chill, the texture of his skin no longer human.

  Jeb reached down to me and helped me up the steps. Behind him, JoHanna’s shadow had ceased its struggle. She leaned against Will, shaking with soundless sobs.

  “Duncan is still in the car,” Will said. He wanted to go to his daughter, but he held JoHanna against him, giving both restraint and support. Duncan was still asleep. We could not wake her. She could not see Floyd.

  Looking at Jeb, I still didn’t believe he was there. I slowly dropped my arm that he held and he released me. “We need to take Duncan in the back door,” I told him. Without waiting, I went back down the steps and lifted her into my arms. Jeb offered to take her, but I shook my head. Her small body was hot, alive. Real. Duncan was not part of the nightmare, and I clung to her while Jeb got the bags and the sleeping Pecos from the floorboard. Avoiding the front steps, we walked around the house to the back door and went inside.

  Duncan weighed nothing in my arms. I took her through the kitchen and into her room, where I tumbled her into the bed and drew the spread over her from the other side. She still wore her shoes and coat, but it didn’t matter. What could such things matter now?

  Jeb put the rooster at the foot of the bed and backed out of the room. “I tried to stop them,” he said again. “There was nothing I could do. They tied me in a chair in the barbershop. A barber’s chair.” He spoke with sad bitterness.

  I watched his lips move, still thin and blue from the cold. I heard what he said and understood the words, but not their meaning. “I think I’ll make some coffee.” I started toward the kitchen when I heard JoHanna’s wail of anguish. It was a sound I’d never heard before, a cry of fury and pain, a mortal wound. Then came the pounding of feet on the front porch boards, then another cry from JoHanna.

  “Easy.” Jeb Fairley gripped my elbow. I don’t know if he was supporting me or holding me back, but I couldn’t have moved had I known where to go. We simply stood, joined by his firm hold, until there was only silence on the front porch.

  Will opened the front door and came in. He went to the linen closet at the end of the hall and lifted a stack of white sheets. Turning, he caught sight of me. “Mattie, would you make some coffee? Jeb, if you don’t mind, could you give me a hand?”

  Before Will turned completely away, I called out to him. “Where’s JoHanna? Is she okay?”

  “She’ll be in in a moment.” He looked toward the kitchen. “That coffee sure would be appreciated.”

  I left the hall and went to the kitchen and lit a lamp. With the same match I lit the stove and waited for the wood to kindle as I drew water and measured the coffee into the metal container of the pot. In my head was the pounding of seconds, time slipping by. Life continuing on. There were other noises, of water heating, wood crackling in the stove. Time passing in the brief respite before I would begin to feel again, when I would have to let myself understand what had happened.

  The front door opened and Will came in. He went to his bedroom and came out with a suit, socks, and a pair of polished black shoes. They caught the light from the lamp in the buffed leather.

  “Mattie, would you put some water on to heat? Not for the coffee. A big kettle of water.” His voice was quiet with shock. “JoHanna’s going to wash the body right there on the front porch.”

  “Does she need some help?” I could help. I could help wash Floyd. He had been my friend.

  “I’ll ask her. How about that coffee?”

  I pointed to the small kettle, which was finally beginning to sing. “In a minute. It has to drip through.”

  “I’ll ask JoHanna what she wants you to do.” He went back onto the porch, closing the door very carefully behind him.

  It struck me how important the tiniest things become when life has halted. I lifted the kettle and poured the water in the dripolater, hearing each drop of water as it fell through the metal, soaked into the ground coffee and struck the tin bottom of the pot. I’d heard the sound a million times in my life, but I had never really heard it. In the next room, Duncan was breathing with a soft, easy rhythm. It was the sound of promise. Outside, a night bird cried an eerie message.

  Will came in for the hot water, pulling clean washcloths from the drawer beside the sink. He and Jeb disappeared back onto the front porch, the door a final click behind them. The coffee had dripped, and I poured four cups, fixing Will’s black and JoHanna’s with a spoon of sugar. I guessed that Jeb would take his with milk and sugar, so I made the last two cups that way. I had intended to take them out on a tray, but I hesitated. It struck me as bizarre that we would sit out on the porch drinking coffee with Floyd dead at our feet. Yet JoHanna would not come in and leave Floyd alone. I picked up my cup and hers and went down the hall to the front door.

  Using my toe, I kicked the wood, and Will opened the door. He was holding a lantern, but he had not killed the headlights of the car. JoHanna stood on the ground beside Floyd. She had unbuttoned his shirt and was washing his face and hair. I hesitated, the coffee steaming in the night.

  JoHanna was almost a silhouette, lit so strongly from behind by the headlamps of the car. The light Will held was weak by contrast, filling in only the shallowest planes. Her hands worked with such tenderness that I heard Will swallow a sob.

  “You and Jeb go on inside and have your coffee,” I told him. “I’ll give JoHanna a hand.” I was surprised to find that I sounded so reasonable, so strong.

  Will put his hand on my shoulder. “I don’t think you should do that, Mattie.”

  His voice was still distant, as if he could not believe what he was seeing. Surely this was a nightmare that would end when the sun came out and we could truly see. It was all a trick of the strange lighting, the contrast of shadow and night.

  “I’ll help JoHanna.” I lifted both cups of coffee. “I brought us some out here.”

  “Let’s get us some coffee,” Jeb said. He was still standing on the porch without a coat. He had to be freezing, but he never gave any indication. He reached out to Will and took the lamp, setting it down on the painted gray boards. Putting his hand on Will’s back he gently pushed him toward the front door, which was still open. Will stumbled slightly, then stepped through the door and Jeb closed it behind him. Jeb stepped close beside me, his cheek cold against my ear.

  “It’s awful, Mattie, but JoHanna said she’s going to wash him and put him in Will’s suit before anyone else sees him. Doc Westfall has pronounced him dead and noted all the injuries. Sheriff Grissham can’t be found anywhere in the county, so I guess it’s okay to dress out the body.”

  His words were a babble against my ear. What he said was important, but I couldn’t be troubled with such details as Sheriff Grissham. Doc Westfall wasn’t any help either. There was nothing they could do for Floyd now. It was JoHanna’s hands that he required. Her touch, and as I watched she lifted a soapy cloth to his chest,
the steam rising from the warm water like his spirit departing.

  I nodded absently to Jeb and walked to the steps. Midway down I stopped, aware that Jeb was still on the porch, waiting. “Go inside, Jeb. It’s freezing out here. JoHanna and I will take care of him.”

  Uncertain what he should do, he hesitated. Turning quickly, he opened the door just enough for his narrow frame and slipped inside. I took the last three steps and moved beside JoHanna. With the car lights behind me, the scene shifted drastically. Floyd’s white profile gleamed in the harsh light, bloodless. His fair hair, dampened by JoHanna’s washing, looked dark and clung to his scalp. For the first time I felt a twinge of pain so bitter, so intense, I almost dropped the coffee. Floyd! His name fluttered up from my lungs and into my brain. I wanted to call him back, to scream his name so loudly that he would hear me and return.

  “JoHanna.” I pressed her cup of coffee toward her. “Drink this.”

  She took the cup and sipped, but her gaze never left Floyd’s face.

  “How could they?” she asked, as if she expected an answer from me that would explain. “How could they do this?”

  I touched his jaw with fingers still warm from holding my coffee cup, but I could bring no heat to him. He had been dead for several hours. JoHanna drank her coffee in large swallows and put the cup on the porch.

  “On my life, they are going to pay for this,” she said as she bent to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way.

  Together we managed to get his shirt off. His chest showed no evidence of the wound that had killed him. It was his back that gaped raw from the gunshot.

  It didn’t surprise me to learn that they had shot him in the back. In fact, it gave me a measure of comfort that he had not been looking at them as they pulled the trigger. He did not have to confront the cruelty and meet it eye to eye. Floyd would not have understood such total evil. At least shot in the back, he may have thought he had a chance of getting away. He may have died with hope.

  JoHanna washed him first, then tore up one sheet and used it to bind his torso, winding the clean white cotton around and around him while I braced my legs and held him up. JoHanna dressed him in one of Will’s finely starched shirts and a black vest, and finally the jacket.