by Joe Hart
“Yeh, life’s tha’ way, weird shit till we die, I s’pose.”
“You can say that again.” Evan reached out and shook Jacob’s hand. “Now I owe you two beers.”
“I’ve got a tally up in the shop.”
Both men laughed, and Jacob headed up the ramp, toward the store. After parking the van and carrying Shaun back to the pontoon, Evan untied them and set off across the lake. His mind wandered as they cruised along, his eyes scanning the woods bordering the lake. Was Bob’s body somewhere out there, a rotting carcass now bloated beyond recognition?
Or is he still in the house?
Evan shivered despite the warmth of the sun, and shook his head to clear it, as the pontoon’s motor labored to bring them closer and closer to the growing mass of land.
8
The afternoon drifted away from them in a humid curl of time.
They spent an hour outside practicing balancing techniques for Shaun, Evan holding his hand firm at first and then less and less, until he stood for a few seconds on his own. The triumph on his small face sent a warm hum deep in Evan’s chest, and he hugged Shaun close before letting him try again.
Later, Evan laid out a blanket on the grass below the house and they practiced flash cards on the iPad, the interspersed shafts of sunlight rippling around them with the movement of the trees above. The program’s odd mechanical voice sounded out of place in the peaceful yard as Shaun touched each object on the screen. When they finished, they lay side by side, listening to the waves on the shore, Evan telling Shaun a story he made up as he went along. They watched for birds in the branches overhead, Evan drawing a laugh from his son each time he exclaimed loudly and caused the birds to take flight, or at least to ruffle their feathers indignantly.
When Shaun fell asleep, Evan picked him up and carried him inside to his bed, tucking him beneath a single sheet. He watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, the twitch of his fingers as he dreamed. Evan wondered what his dreams were like. Were they full of color and peaceful? Could he walk like other children and speak the words that refused to come while awake?
“Someday, buddy, you just wait,” he whispered.
A knock at the front door jolted Evan back to himself, and he stepped out of Shaun’s room, his heart pounding against his breastbone. He moved to the entry trying to recall if he’d heard a boat motor recently. Should he open it? Who could be calling on them?
Bob.
Stop it.
Steadying himself he opened the door to Selena Belgaurd waiting on the stoop, a smile on her pretty face and a pie cradled in her hands.
“Hi, sorry to bother you,” she said.
“Oh, no, that’s okay,” Evan said, trying to find his bearings.
“I wanted to repay you for helping me yesterday. What’s the saying? ‘Up the creek without a paddle’?”
Evan smiled. “Or across the lake.” She laughed. “Sorry, come on in,” he said, stepping aside.
“Oh, I don’t want to intrude, I just wanted to drop this off for you guys.” She held out the pie to him. Evan took it from her hands. “Hope you like blueberry.”
“Love it.” Evan looked from the pie to Selena’s face, a tilting sensation barely balancing within him. The urge to thank her and shut the door was overpowering, but he muscled past it and held out one hand toward the living room.
“Please, come in, you’re not intruding.”
Selena’s eyes pinched a little with her smile, and he noticed again how blue they were, the color of the lake beneath a clear sky.
“Thank you,” she said, and stepped inside.
Evan shut the door and walked past her to the kitchen, placing the pie on the counter before returning. Selena stood in the middle of the living room, taking in the surroundings.
“This is a really beautiful house.”
“Thanks, we’re liking it so far.”
Selena nodded and looked out the window at the lake, then returned her gaze to him. A nervous tension tightened around him, and his mind spun its wheels, trying to gain traction.
“I’m sorry, would you like something to drink? We have water, milk, wine.”
“Actually, a glass of wine sounds wonderful.”
“Perfect.”
Evan strode to the kitchen and took a deep, calming breath, then searched for something to pour the wine into. He flipped open cupboards until he found two dusty wineglasses, and rinsed them off before uncorking one of the bottles of cabernet sauvignon. When he returned to the living room, he found Selena sitting in the middle of the couch. He handed her a glass and sat in a nearby chair.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
After taking a sip, Selena glanced around. “Where’s your little boy?”
“He’s napping,” Evan said, and motioned toward Shaun’s room.
Selena nodded, opened her mouth, and closed it again, then took another sip of wine.
“He had a traumatic brain injury.” Selena looked at him, her eyes soft. “I usually tell people up front so they’re not wondering.”
“Oh, I wasn’t, I didn’t mean to press—”
He shook his head, then drained half his glass. “Not at all.”
“That’s why he has trouble speaking?”
“Yes, along with a range of other developmental disabilities, like walking, fine motor skills, balance, that type of thing.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“How did it happen, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Evan sipped his wine. “We were in a car accident a little over four years ago, when he was three. We got hit by a truck in an intersection, complete accident, it was slippery and the other driver couldn’t stop. Shaun’s car seat shifted enough with the impact for his head to hit the window. He was in a coma for two weeks, and when he came out, he’d lost most of what he’d learned.”
Selena’s free hand hovered over her mouth. “That’s terrible.”
He smiled. “We were lucky, and he’s making progress every day. Not much more I can ask for.”
“It must be so hard for you and your wife.”
Evan’s hand holding his glass halted midway to his mouth, and then continued. He finished the rest of his wine. Selena’s shoulders slumped and her eyes closed.
“My God, I’m so sorry. I’m having a lot of trouble getting my feet out of my mouth. I’ll just—” She stood and set her glass down.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to leave.”
“I’m sorry, I saw your wedding ring and assumed ...”
Evan glanced at his left hand. The tungsten-carbide band shone in the afternoon light. It was hard to miss.
“No, you’re fine, don’t worry about it.”
Selena sat on the couch as though the cushions held shattered glass. “Was it in the same crash?”
“No, two years later. Cancer.”
Selena only sighed in response. The house creaked around them with a gust of wind, and Evan looked out the window, the sound of the wind chimes no longer brilliant, but a flat, jangling chorus.
“How have you managed?” Selena asked, a look of incredulity on her face.
“Shaun’s the light of my life, I wouldn’t have made it without him. Good friends and one day at a time.”
“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry, just my profession shining through, I guess.”
“What do you do?” Evan asked, thankful for the change of subject.
“I’m a psychologist.”
“Really? Only one in town?”
Selena laughed, a hearty sound that made Evan smile without realizing it. “Pretty sure, yes. Not too much call for one in Mill River, but I get by.”
“You grew up here?”
“No, Minneapolis. I moved about three years ago. I’ve got a little building over on Outlet Road that I practice out of.” Selena held up her ring hand and waggled her fingers. “Divorced once, no kids, and that pretty much sums up my life.”
Silence
hung between them, and Evan struggled for a moment to keep the conversation flowing. It had been so long.
“What drew you this far up north?” he finally asked.
“I love nature. Loved it since I was a kid. My dad used to bring me up here fishing before he died. I never forgot it. That’s actually his canoe that I use now. I’ve got another, newer one that’s way easier to pilot, with paddles that don’t slip out.” She paused to smile at him. “But the older one has a few memories attached to it. I usually cruise around the lake when it’s calm enough, good way to detach yourself.”
“I bet. I’ve never been canoeing before.”
“Really? You’ll have to try it sometime, it’s great.”
He nodded. “So, do you live right in town?”
“No, I’ve got a place on the opposite side of the lake. It’s not anything like this,” Selena said, motioning to the living room. “But it’s home. How about yourself, are you working in town?”
“No, we’re basically taking care of the place for my friend, and I do some writing, so I thought I might get a few projects done while we’re here.”
Selena scooted forward on the couch. “Really? What kind of writing?”
Evan shrugged. “A little of everything. I like nonfiction, editorials, that type of thing. I’ve dabbled a bit with a screenplay but never pursued it a hundred percent.”
“That’s great. If there’s any place in the world that you could use for inspiration, this is it.”
Evan nodded. His eyes came to rest on their empty wineglasses. “Would you like more wine?”
Selena shook her head and stood. “No, actually I should be going. I didn’t mean to come in and put you through a bunch of trauma. I swear, I was just dropping off the pie.”
Evan laughed and stood as well. “It’s fine. It’s been hard, but we’re doing good, so don’t feel bad. It’s always awkward to meet new people.”
Selena walked to the door, and Evan followed her, a mix of emotions running through him. She paused after stepping outside onto the stoop and turned back to him.
“Thanks for the wine and conversation.”
“Thanks for the pie.”
“Don’t thank me till after you’ve tried it.”
Evan chuckled again, looking down at his feet.
“Have a good evening, Evan.”
“You too.”
Selena smiled and walked down the steps. He caught his eyes tracing down the slender curve of her back to the formfitting jeans, and looked away. He moved to go inside, but something froze him where he was. And before he knew it, he called out to her.
“Hey, Selena?”
She stopped halfway down the hill and turned.
“Feel free to stop by again.”
She smiled, and he saw her eyes shining, even across the distance between them. She nodded once and then continued to her father’s canoe.
An unfamiliar springy giddiness vibrated inside his chest as he returned to the living room. The moment he noticed it, another feeling began to coat the excitement with black bile that shriveled his guts with shame. His eyes went to the ring on his hand, and he stared at it, remembering the words the jeweler told him the day he and Elle had picked it out. Only thing harder than tungsten carbide is diamonds. That’s a ring to last an eternity.
The excitement gone, the familiar hollow filling him up, Evan walked across the room to check on Shaun.
~
Dusk approached, and the water became scorched glass beneath the falling dark. Evan took Shaun down to the lake and showed him the art of skipping rocks. There were quite a few perfect skippers, and he picked out the best, trying to get as many hops out of the rocks as he could. He threw until his shoulder began to ache. Shaun sat in his medical seat, transfixed by the sight of the rocks jumping like living things across the water. Whenever Evan would pause to massage his shoulder, Shaun would cry out “More!”—one of the few words he could say with ease.
“That’s all I’ve got, buddy, we gotta go in,” Evan eventually said.
“Na!”
“We have to, it’s getting dark.”
Shaun responded by kicking his feet against the chair and clawing at the belts that held him in place.
“Shaun, stop, stop,” Evan said, hurrying to his side. “It’s all done, we have to go up to the house.”
“Na!”
Evan sighed and tried to restrain Shaun from banging his head against the back of the chair. “Shaun. Stop,” Evan said, raising his voice.
Shaun froze. The anger on his face melted into a sob as he brought his hands up to cover his eyes. Evan lowered his head.
Good job, you made him cry again.
“Shaun, Shaun, look at me.”
The boy pulled one wet fist away from his eye.
“Do you want to try?”
Shaun gazed at him but didn’t move.
“Throwing the rocks?” Evan imitated the motion with his arm and then gestured at Shaun. “You try?”
A grin replaced the frown on the boy’s face.
“Okay, let’s get you out of that chair.”
Evan unbuckled his son and led him down to the water. Keeping him from falling while finding a good rock proved difficult. With one arm wrapped around Shaun’s chest, Evan guided his son’s hand in the motion, releasing the stone at the correct time. The rock hit the water and skipped once before dropping out of view.
“Yay, Shaun! You did it.”
“More?”
“Okay, buddy, one more.”
But it was full dark by the time they returned to the house, and they’d thrown so many rocks Shaun could barely keep his head upright. Evan helped him go to the bathroom, brush his teeth, and get into bed.
“That was fun today,” he said, smoothing Shaun’s hair back from his forehead. “You did good riding in the boat and at the hospital, and I think a couple more times and you’ll be skipping rocks by yourself.” He spoke in lower and lower tones, each word helping to sink Shaun’s drooping eyelids into place. “Mom’s proud of you too.”
His throat tightened, and he inhaled through his nose, blinked the tears away. After listening to him breathe deeply for over a minute, Evan leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.
“Night, buddy, sleep good.”
He left the room and paced through the quiet house, to the kitchen, putting a mug of water in the microwave for tea. While the unit hummed, he found his laptop case amongst the rest of his luggage and sat with it at the kitchen table. After firing it up, he searched his documents for the last article he’d started, and cringed at the date the document had last been modified: almost two years prior. The disappointment only lasted a minute, and the familiar feeling took its place as he opened it up. It was an article about an Afghanistan veteran who’d run into a burning building to save a little girl, despite the fact that he was a double amputee and had only prosthetics from the knees down. The dates and facts were so old the article was useless now. Evan closed the document and slid its icon into the trash.
The sound of the microwave beeping pulled him from his seat, and he returned a minute later gripping the steaming mug of green tea. As he sat, he sipped the drink, letting his eyes flow over the half-dozen articles remaining in the document folder—an expose on a salmonella outbreak at a grocer near their house in the cities, a few hundred words about a special-education plan that affected Shaun being cut, and a document titled “Young Cancer.”
Evan deleted the last on the list, then opened a blank page. He stared at the blinking cursor. He wasn’t a fiction writer at heart, and he knew it. Without a subject, facts, something to research, he felt lost. He’d enjoyed many great books throughout his life, and he never understood how the authors did it. How could you venture into the unknown, no guide or map save the one you drew for yourself? He needed a solid groundwork laid out before typing the first word; anything else felt foolish and immaterial. He sighed, and drank more tea and looked out the dark window, as if trying to pluck a su
bject randomly from thin air.
A sound snapped him from his trance, and he glanced around the empty kitchen, waiting. It came again, a quiet snap, once, there and gone, almost like a coffeepot cooling.
Or a fingernail tapping on a window.
Evan stood and walked to the back wall, finding a switch near the sill and flipping it on. The backyard and solid line of trees beyond blazed into life with the glow of the floodlight. He cupped his hands around his face, searching the tree line and ground between. Nothing.
The sound came again, and Evan spun in place, his eyes flitting to the living room. The source was definitely inside the house. After shutting the outside light off, he made his way through the living room, checking behind the sofa and recliners. He threw a glance at the vacant entryway, then walked to the bedrooms.
Shaun still slept peacefully, one arm cocked above his head. Evan stepped fully into the room, and looked behind the door and tugged the curtains over the bed open enough to see nothing was there.
Tick. Tick.
His spine stiffened and goose bumps flowed over his exposed forearms, onto his back. The sound had come from the kitchen, he was sure of it. The idea of a weapon came to mind, and he mentally cursed himself for leaving his pistol at their home. He hadn’t seen any need to bring it here. Now, it seemed a stupid oversight.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
He walked through the living room, in what felt like slow motion. The air in his lungs became hot and uncomfortable with each renewed breath.
It’s Bob, he’s come back for his things.
Evan looked at the front door, recalling the moment he locked it. Yes, he was sure he’d locked it.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Entering the kitchen, he stopped, his stomach a ball of twisted snakes.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
The sound was coming from the basement. The broken clock was ticking.
“No,” Evan said. He meant the word to be forceful, but it came out barely a whisper.
That wasn’t a possibility. He was no clock expert, but the one downstairs couldn’t run.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.