A chorus of crickets echoed in the evening air. Glittering stars, typically reserved for autumn skies, spilled over the unspoiled blackness like grains of white sand. Save for the occasional noise of a barking hound or a feral cat rummaging through trashcans, Meadowton’s streets were as tranquil as the summer breeze. It was not an unusual beginning to a night in this bedroom community. In fact, outside of the sporadic friction generated by those attempting to rekindle rumors connected to Ben Murden’s past, not much in the way of excitement stirred the residents from their sleep.
By 9:00 P.M., Kyle had retreated to his bedroom for the night. He had waited for his father to come home from work early, but it wasn’t until after dark that he saw the headlights of Andrew’s truck illuminate the driveway. By now, Kyle suspected that his father would be too tired and irritated to talk about rescheduling their postponed trip to the shore.
The interior of Kyle’s bedroom offered all of the creature comforts that twelve-year-old boys crave. His walls, including the closet door, were literally wallpapered in movie memorabilia, mostly with images from classic horror films. When Kyle drifted to sleep each night, the frightful yet familiar scowls of Frankenstein’s monster, the Wolf Man, and Dracula shadowed his bedside. Aside from an obvious fixation with mythical mayhem, Kyle collected an array of items, such as old bottles and odd shaped rocks that his mother had tried to persuade him to discard on more than one occasion.
Tonight, Kyle dangled his newest keepsake from his hand. He spent the better half of the afternoon attempting to clean the silver bracelet with a compound he found stashed in his garage. After polishing the metal piece with a cloth, he noticed some of its former beauty returning to the surface. The bracelet’s stones were particularly interesting, especially without the sediment of Shade Tree Pond obscuring their luster. The colored gems of blue, green, yellow, and red enhanced the otherwise drab jewelry.
Once Kyle was satisfied with its appearance, he placed the bracelet in a miniature treasure chest atop his dresser. Robby Taylor may have not valued this find, but Kyle was convinced that it had some significant worth. By the time he plopped down on his bed in front of the television set, he heard a knock on the outside of his bedroom door. Without turning his eyes away from the television, he knew that his father had come to pledge more promises.
Upon entering the room, Andrew had adopted the look of a dejected man who had more than a son’s heart to remedy tonight. He reeked of stale cigarette smoke, boardroom perspiration, and coffee. His eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles. Drawing a heavy sigh, he slunk next to Kyle’s bed and collapsed into a chair near the window.
“Rough day?” Kyle asked, as his eyes fixated on the image of a Scooby Doo cartoon on his television.
Andrew shoved his palms against his temples and smeared his greasy hair back from his forehead. Then, pointing to the television’s remote control in Kyle’s hand, he muttered, “Can you please turn off that cartoon for a minute?”
Kyle shrugged his shoulders and replied, “Sure,” before clicking the power button on the remote. He then glanced at his father and suggested, “Maybe you better get some sleep, Dad. You looked stressed out or something.”
“Well, that’s a good observation, Kyle. But I promised your mother that I’d sit down and talk to you tonight, so here I am.” Andrew lifted his head and noticed the posters decorating his son’s room. “I really haven’t been in here in a long time, have I?”
“I know you’re really busy,” Kyle said, trying to boost his father’s mood. “I’m not upset with you or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Andrew managed to crack a slight grin before saying, “Look, Kyle, I know that I’ve been spending a lot of time at work lately. Rather than bore you with all the reasons, I’m just going to ask you to be patient for a little while longer.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“No,” Andrew insisted, patting his son’s shoulder with his hand, “I promised you that we’d be going on that fishing trip to Wildwood this summer and I plan on doing just that.”
“When?” Kyle asked eagerly.
“Soon,” Andrew responded, pausing briefly to make a mental note of his schedule. “No more than three weeks, okay?”
By now Kyle’s enthusiasm faded as quickly as it arrived. He knew that three weeks was too far off to start packing; his father had yet to prove him wrong.
Andrew sensed the disappointment in his son’s expression before saying, “Kyle, you know I’m trying my best to make everyone happy.”
“I know,” Kyle mumbled as he plopped his face to the bed pillow. “It’s no big deal. I’ll be fine.”
“Your mother doesn’t seem to think so.”
Kyle rolled his eyes and huffed, “You know her—she thinks I’m still five-years-old.”
Andrew may have agreed with his son in regard to this matter, but he didn’t pronounce anything that would inevitably make its way back to his wife’s ear. Seeing that Kyle was content to end their conversation right here, Andrew felt uncomfortable with his next statement.
“Speaking of your mother,” Andrew started, hesitantly. “She did mention that you went fishing today by Shade Tree Pond.”
With his eyes now trained back toward the blank television screen, Kyle muttered, “Yeah. We didn’t have any luck, though.”
Andrew sounded somewhat relieved when he replied, “Maybe it’s better that you didn’t. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but it’d be better if you stayed away from those woods. I don’t think you’ll catch many fish in that pond anyway.”
Kyle did not respond to his father this time, but a distinct agitation simmered in his expression, causing his cheeks to redden. He knew that Andrew had warned him in the past about the woods near The Bogs, particularly in the vicinity of Shade Tree Pond, but he never explained himself thoroughly. Before Andrew had a chance to leave his bedroom, Kyle decided to investigate the situation with greater resolve.
“Dad, I think I know why you want me to stay out of those woods—it’s because of that old man who lives in there, isn’t it?”
Andrew rose from his chair and stared pensively out his son’s bedroom window for a moment. He had hoped to avoid this topic, but he also realized that Kyle was at an age where curiosity was prevalent. “There’s plenty of parks around here for you and your friends to play in,” Andrew suggested, purposely ignoring his son’s question. Andrew then spun away from the window and declared, “Your mother and I feel that it’s safer for you to keep out of those woods—at least for now.”
“Are you afraid of Ben Murden too?”
“Afraid of him?” Andrew echoed, slightly bewildered by his son’s inquiry. “I hardly know the man well enough to say how I feel about him. Few people have spoken to him over the years.”
“But he’s lived in this town forever, hasn’t he?”
“Kyle, I think you’re missing the point,” his father advised, leaning down to look into his son’s eyes. “Ben Murden is not the type of man you want to know. He’s very ill.”
“Maybe so,” Kyle said, sitting upright on his bed. His eyes shone with a glint of disobedience as he continued. “You lived in this town your whole life, too, Dad. Do you think that old man did all those terrible things people said he did?”
Andrew paused to consider the question before saying, “I’m not sure what the man has done, but he’s obviously earned the reputation of someone who may be dangerous. Why take unnecessary chances?”
Perhaps that was a fair assessment for someone who actually believed the rumors, but Kyle was not convinced. “Is it possible that Ben Murden is really innocent? Maybe he didn’t kill anyone.”
Innocent or not, Kyle’s sudden interest in Meadowton’s most notorious personality caused Andrew to shiver in his shoes. He began to pace the hardwood floor in front of Kyle’s bed, casting a perplexed stare at the shadows pressed across the room’s walls.
After much consideration, Andrew offered, “I’ve talked to a lot
of people in this town over the years, and they all seem to have the same opinion of the man. They think he’s guilty of at least killing one child. He’s produced no evidence in the past thirty years to convince anybody otherwise.”
“Dad,” Kyle countered, reminding his father of a law he learned in school. “Robby Taylor told me that they didn’t have evidence to prove Murden guilty of any crime. I thought a man was considered innocent until proven guilty in this country.”
“That’s something for the courts to debate,” Andrew explained as gently as possible. “Out here, in a small community like ours, we have a different set of rules to live by. As parents, it’s our job to look out for our children and make sure that our neighborhood is safe. Unfortunately, we must make decisions about certain people living among us, fair or not.”
“But it’s wrong to judge a person on what others say abut him.”
Andrew slowed his pace now and redirected his gaze at Kyle. He admired his son’s determination, but he also worried that his tenacity for justice might get him into a heap of trouble.
“Look, Kyle,” Andrew said. “I guess you’re old enough now to know that life isn’t always fair to all of us. People don’t always get a second chance. I’m sorry to admit that Ben Murden just might be one of those who we can’t afford to trust. Do you understand me?”
Kyle only understood that his father had suspected what others had uttered about Murden, but he never bothered to separate the facts from hearsay, either. “Why hasn’t anyone ever given that old man a chance to tell his side of the story? Doesn’t he at least deserve that much consideration from the people of this town?”
“No,” Andrew answered firmly. Then, after stumbling over the jitters in his voice, he advised, “Don’t make it a point to get too involved in this situation, Kyle. Ben Murden is an old man now, and with any luck, he’ll be gone from those woods soon. Honestly, I don’t think he’ll be missed.”
Kyle stifled his next thought as his father made his way over to the bedroom door. After saying goodnight, Andrew opened the door and stepped outside into the corridor. Before he was gone, Kyle detected a visible sweat collecting on his father’s forehead. He couldn’t help but to think that he had upset his father in some way. Did the mere mention of Murden’s name trigger that much anxiety in everyone? If this was the case, Kyle knew that he had not seen nearly enough of those woods to last him through the summer.
Though Kyle eventually tried to coax himself to sleep that night, he spent most of the evening contemplating his next move in regard to what he considered to be Meadowton’s only worthwhile mystery. While lying awake in bed, he peered out the bedroom window. A blend of shadows and filtered moonlight streaked into his bedroom, partially illuminating the monsters on his walls. In the distance, just between the trees outside, he heard the hoot of an owl echo. Then the crickets sounded off again, gradually lulling the boy into a long overdue slumber.
Chapter 6
Songs of a Peach Tree Page 6