“That was really unacceptable,” he says. “My brother and then Claire. They’re acting like idiots.” I shake my head yes but don’t look at him. I don’t want him to see how scared I am. He reads me so well.
“I really shouldn’t have come.”
“That’s nonsense,” he says, holding the ice to my forehead. “You have every right to be here. Donnie’s just mad because I embarrassed him. He hates that, and Claire, I think I messed up with her when I didn’t catch the signs that she felt more strongly for me than I did for her.”
“Or maybe you really like her and you didn’t want to admit your feelings for her.”
“No, Sadie, it’s not like that. It was just a physical relationship. I was lonely. That’s all.”
“You really should go talk to her.”
“She left.”
“No, I mean after you take me home.”
“I might give her a call in a few days, after she’s calmed down.” I nod my head in agreement.
“She’s probably a nice lady when she’s not around me,” I say, with a little smile.
“She’s nice. She is. She’s still mourning her husband. Sometimes, she calls me Mike by accident. I don’t say anything.”
“But three nights ago, how? How do you just sleep with her and have no feelings for her. I’m so confused. That’s not like you at all.”
“I only have room in here for you,” he says, grasping my hand and placing it over his fast beating heart like he’s plugging me into an outlet. Live wires. I wince from the contact. I wanted to grill him about sleeping with her, but that’s all wiped away now.
“That’s a lot of responsibility you’re giving me,” I offer, looking up at him through my lashes.
“I give it freely,” he says, taking the ice off my forehead and running his finger along my jaw line. “I want nothing in return. Nothing you do will change how full my heart is of you.” He looks at me like I’m his most prized possession. “All I want is to know you’re happy, to be in your life in some small way.”
Again, our bodies are speaking on their own frequency. I feel pulled to him and right now I don’t care that his malevolent brother, with his promise of death, is somewhere right outside that door. I’ve let him take enough from me. He can’t have this. Not anymore.
My hand on Dillon’s heart pulls on my memories like a bobbin on the end of a line. All the good comes up to the surface. And it’s about time because it’s been held down for so many years by the weight of my attack.
Suddenly, I can hear us giggling under the low branches of our tree that he’d tied a rope to so we could fling ourselves into Rich Creek. Before that, I can hear his soft voice as he coaxed me into holding my breath underwater for the first time. “See, it’s easy! I told you you could do it.”
I remember the way his tongue stuck out when he put the pink, plump fish egg on the bent hook for me so I could catch fish with him. I can hear him telling me stories in his young ghost-story voice and can feel the way he’d hold me when he’d done too good of a job scaring me. I remember how he was always teaching me. Always there when I needed to talk.
I remember when he promised me he’d buy me a big white house. He said it’d have a big kitchen and lots of rooms for all our babies.
I remember the cave he showed me that held the remains of some kind of animal. We used to go in there and play rock-paper-scissors. Mostly, he let me win.
I remember the scent of his skin when we’d been playing hide-and-seek in the grass—his perspiration mixed with the West Virginia dust, and his momma’s soap.
I remember riding on the back of his bike, his scent mingling with mine in the mountain air. I remember making snow angels together and then him helping me make the biggest snowman I’d ever seen—he even ripped two buttons off his coat to make the eyes. I can see the determined look on his face when I’d helped him rescue a dragon fly out of the mud behind my house. “Look at its face. It looks like a bulldog, don’t it?”
These memories sting—but I want to remember. Just like the song asked me to in his car. I do remember—everything.
I’ve made my decision.
I love Dillon. I want him in every way he wants me. We’ll work it all out. We have to.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, holding my face in his hand, my other hand pressed up to his heart. He’s looking deep in my eyes with those Tahoe blues.
“I think I’m cured,” I say, peeking into his core, trying to see if he understands the double meaning. If he understands that I’ve made up my mind about him, about us. Even if it is only for this brief moment before the real world comes roaring back to me in a moment of lucidity. I trace his cheek with my index finger and he nuzzles me back.
“I love you,” I say, before I can become a coward. Is that clear enough? I never stopped and I don’t want to push you away anymore—I can’t. His eyes widen and he shudders as if a chill goes through his body that he holds in. I place both my hands on his face and pull him toward me. There is only him. There is only me. It’s as if we’re alone on this planet and we’re creating all the meaning that exists in it.
“Is this really happening?” he breathes as he leans down and easily slides me by my waist toward the edge of the counter closer to him. My legs move to either side of his hips. I take a sharp breath as my tummy clenches up. He tenderly rubs the tip of his nose the full length of mine before he grasps my chin, gently tilting it up. His chest strokes against mine.
“And I love you, Sadie,” he whispers into my mouth and takes my lips between his, so delicately. Live wires. I move my hands up to his hair as our kiss deepens.
“Dillon!” We are forced out of our reverie; the stern voice is coming out of Donnie’s mouth as he stands in the doorway. “God dammit, boy. You’re out in public. Ain’t nobody allowed to do this even if it is with someone like that.”
I gasp and cover my face with my hands.
“Someone like what?” Dillon challenges, turning away from me, blocking me from Donnie’s stare. I pull my legs up to my chin, pull my skirt over my legs, and cross my ankles.
“Someone who lets men grope her in public,” he says, like it’s hot and he needs to drop it on someone.
“We aren’t doing anything wrong, Donnie.”
“From my perspective you are, and I’m the law.”
“Shut up,” Dillon says, just like a brother would.
I peek out from my hands. Donnie’s mouth says, “It’s your turn in about five minutes,” but what he’s really saying is: “I’m going to kill you both.” That’s exactly the look on his face. Pure evil. I’ve started trembling so badly now, like I’m cold on the inside.
“Sadie, why are you shaking?” Dillon says, so concerned. I can’t help it when I start to make the ugly cry face.
He’s breathing harder than normal. “What’s the matter, baby?” He looks at Donnie and back at me with my head hanging low. It’s like something clicks. “Give us a minute, man,” he says, curtly and waits until Donnie walks away.
“Does he scare you?” he asks, leaning into my legs pulled up to my chin, wrapping his long arms around me. I can’t lie. He knows. I shake my head yes. “Why?”
“It’s just that we keep getting caught kissing and it’s really embarrassing.” Did that work?
“Is that all, Sadie?”
“Yes,” I lie again. This sucks.
“Don’t be embarrassed. Who cares what he thinks?” Well, you might if he tries to kill you with his fishy knife.
“What just happened, Sadie, was one of the most beautiful moments of my life.” I shake my head and try to calm my breathing and straighten my ugly-cry face. “When you said you loved me,” he puts his hands on his head, “I don’t care if this means anything for me right now, like if you’re ready to be with me or if you want what I want. Just to know how you feel.” His voice hitches in his throat.
I guess that depends on what Donnie’s going to do now. Maybe it would be better to just tell Dil
lon so I would have someone to help me through this. I would, too, if I thought that Dillon could stay calm and strategize rather than turn medieval and challenge his brother to a duel. He would be no match for an ex-Army soldier. It would be like tagging him with a big red stripe and sending him to the slaughter house.
At this point it’s too late to hide what’s going on between us. We’ve kissed, like that, right in front of Donnie. There’s no going back. I’m staying here to see my mother until her last day. And I’m going to help protect this mountain—for her. There has to be a way to get one step ahead of Donnie. A way to keep him away.
“All I know right now is that I love you, Dillon. I always have and I want what you want. I do. But there’s so much that you don’t know.” He helps me put my legs down and pulls me into his strong, safe arms. This is where I want to be—need to be.
“There’s nothing you need to say right now,” he says into my ear. “You owe me nothing. I’m just happy with whatever this is right now.”
“Thank you, Dillon,” I whisper into his chest.
He pulls back and looks down at me thoughtfully. The iPhone in my purse strung crossways over my shoulder buzzes. I must have a new email. That’s when divine providence strikes. I can get Donnie to talk. He’s so angry he’s bound to threaten me again and someone will hear. No, I need a way to prove what he did in a way that I can control. I look at my purse again. That thing has to have some kind of a recording device.
“Are you ready to go out there now? Can you walk okay?”
“Yes, I’m ready.” Yes, I am. For the first time in my life I want to talk to Donnie. And I’m going to find out what’s going through his Machiavellian mind—right now.
I bet my eyes look like a wild dog before a planned attack.
Chapter Twelve—Good Boy
We walk out of the kitchen together. Dillon holds my hand and I won’t let go. I refuse to look for Donnie as we take our seats near the back wall just as an old woman stand up, leans on her cane and yells, “That’s what killed my pa!”
“Now, ma’am,” the woman standing at the podium tries to interrupt.
“No! I will be heard. You people come in here with this document showin’ all this proof of wrong doin’. You admit you know that mountaintop coal mining will release toxins into our soil, air, and water. You even admit that the last round of coal taken out a’ here back in the fifties left our whole town exposed to toxins,” she says in a wobbly voice.”But you’re ready, right now, to give ‘em the permit to blow the top off one of the oldest mountains in the history of the world. Gauley’s on the coin for goodness sake!”
She turns around on bowed legs and looks at the audience, “Ain’t y’all learnt nothin’ from the Hawk’s Nest Tunnel?”
I’m scratching my head. I remember Daddy talking about that when I was a kid. Men died building a tunnel back in the thirties. They breathed some bad stuff when they blew up the mountain to make room for the water that was going to create power.
“Don’t turn yur lights on then,” yells a man wearing an ‘Ansted Coal’ jacket.
“Now, that’s just not appropriate, son,” says a man wearing a light beige sweater over a collared shirt and brown slacks. His thin glasses and calm demeanor make him look like a preacher. “We don’t need to be disrespectful to the lady.”
“Thank you, Sir. Ma’am, I’d love to hear more from you when we open the floor to the public. Right now I have a presentation for you all by Dr. Dillon McGraw. As you may know, Dr. McGraw...”
Doctor, holy cow!!! I look at Dillon who is holding my hand and looking even more dignified by the minute.
“...is knowledgeable about the water shed and also wanted to present material about the algae he and his team have been successfully producing in their laboratory. Dr. McGraw...” The room claps as he squeezes my hand.
“Are you okay if I leave you alone?” he whispers to me.
“Of course, go,” I shush him. He squeezes my hand and walks effortlessly up to the podium. I take out my phone and search the apps for one that records voices.
“Thank you so much for welcoming me this evening. I want to cover the water ways as well as discuss the government project my colleagues and I have been working on, which is an algae based fuel, an obvious alternative to coal, and bitumen based fuels...”
Dillon makes alternative fuel? He really is a new hippie. I’m in absolute awe of him right now. Like, I want to walk into the aisle and bow to him, the King of Environmentalism. He’s perfectly remarkable and is doing so much more for the cause I feel so passionate about. That’s why I wrote my children’s novel. I really wanted to help change the world one page at a time.
Oh, yeah, Donnie. I scowl.
I look at the results on my phone and there’s an iTalk Recorder By Griffin Technology to record with. I download it as fast as I can. It looks easy. There’s one big red button to record. Then to stop I just press the same big button again.
“With mountaintop coal mining,” Dillon explains, “they’ll push the overburden from the mining on down the holler that fills in the valleys and shuts off our water supply. This toxic soup, if you will, will drain into the Gauley River, which meets with the New River, forms the Kanawha which goes to the Ohio River, and empties into the Mississippi. This will cut about half the water supply as well as dirtying the remainder to half of the United States.” The people in the audience grumble with this news.
I look around the room. Donnie is leering behind the table that holds the coffee pot and the many trays of cookies.
“As far as our water ways, when we first heard of this permit, Park Service reported fourteen to sixteen possible violations.”
“And you’re going to let ‘em have that permit?” yells the old lady in the front row from before.
I check the app on my phone and slide it into the little pocket on my beige cardigan.
“Ma’am, I’m not involved in the process for allowing permits. I was asked by the Christians Against Mountaintop Removal to come out and present the facts,” he says.
Someone else asks Dillon a question and he’s answering her as I get up and walk toward the big metal and black coffee pot. It feels like I have to force myself toward Donnie as if we’re two negatively charged atoms that are opposed to each other on an elemental level.
My body says, Danger! Danger!
I look back at Dillon and he’s showing the room a detailed map of the waterways in relation to the mountain. I drain some coffee into a small paper cup and find a bowl that’s holding little sugar cubes. I’d forgotten about sugar cubes. I grab two with the little tongs and stir it with the tiny red straw. I turn slightly and check that the app is still ready on my phone. It’s not, so I swipe across and the app pops up.
Just as I predicted, Donnie steps forward, standing just on the other side of the table. I look up at him and he’s staring, arms crossed like he’s trying to hide his anger toward me. I reach into my pocket and press the screen. The button is so huge that I know I can’t miss it. Amazingly, my coffee doesn’t even shake in my hand.
“It’s been a long while, huh?” he says, through clenched teeth.
“Not long enough,” I retort.
“Strange enough,” he responds, “I thought I’d made myself pretty clear about what kind a’ consequences you could expect doing the things you been doin’ today with him,” he says, nodding at Dillon who’s looking at us but still moving through the PowerPoint in detail.
“Why, whatever do you mean, Officer McGraw?” I stab back. “Do you mean that when you raped me you threatened to cut my head off and bury it in your front yard?” I’m hoping beyond hope that this app can pick up the whole conversation. Our voices are so low that no one can hear us even if they leaned in to listen on purpose.
“You know, I could arrest you right now for indecent exposure. You done it two times—one was even called in. Ain’t nobody gonna be able to stand in front of ya in there and keep me from takin’ what’s mine,”
he fumes. His eyes are shaking he’s so mad, but his body is completely still. I move my hand into my pocket and push the mouth piece out slightly to make sure I’m getting all of this.
“You’re delusional. I’m never going to be yours. You’re just a rapist pig who had to have a knife to my throat to get within ten inches of me.”
“Don’t lie to yourself. You wanted me. Look at you. You’re so turned on right now. Your breathing changes around me. Your blood rushes to the skin and makes you all pink.”
“That’s because I’m scared of you, Donnie. But let me make myself clear. You will never touch me again. What you took from me, I’ll never get back. But you won’t take it again.”
He looks impassive, all except for the eyes. “You know, we all make mistakes,” he says, his voice unnerving as he runs his thick fingers through the black slide on his head, takes a toothpick out from behind his ear and puts it in his mouth. I look at him confused. “I made one mistake, that’s true, but it ain’t what you think.” He sucks on the toothpick and moves it from one side of his mouth to the other. “I’ll never regret what I took from you, as you say, ‘cause I think it was owed to me,” he says, defiantly.
I look up at Dillon and smile. He shouldn’t have to worry right now as he’s giving his presentation. I swallow the coffee in my mouth so hard it hurts.
“After I left you in the shed I watched you run off. I followed you all the way to the creek. I was pretty sure you was gonna die—as bloody as you were. I’d made up my mind that even though I was in love with you, it wasn’t worth you tellin’ on me. It woulda’ been hard for me, cause of my feelins for you, and cause you were good. Real good, better than I’d thought.”
You sick bastard. Go ahead. Keep talking!
“I just couldn’t be sure you’d keep your promise. But then, you fell in the creek all on your own. Made it real easy fer me, I thought. Don’t get me wrong. It hurt a bit to think you was dead. But it was better than havin’ to watch you with him some more. I didn’t know ‘til the next mornin’ when he came home covered in blood that my brother’d found you.”
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