Fourmile

by Watt Key

  “Come on,” he said. “We aren’t that good or anything.”

  Something about him put me at ease. He turned and I followed him toward the group.

  “I like your bike,” he said over his shoulder.

  “Thanks.”

  “Where you go to school?”

  “I’m not from here,” I said. “I mean, I’m moving here soon. My grandparents live nearby.”

  “You going to Carlisle?”

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  “That’s where most of us go.”

  We reached the other boys and Cory, apparently the organizer, got things under way.

  “This is Foster,” he said. “He’s on our team. Blake, you take your guys to bat and we’ll start off out here.”

  The taller, dark-haired kid named Blake headed toward home plate with his crew. Cory grabbed a glove off the ground and gave it to me. I slipped it on as he began sending people to their positions. Finally I was the only one left, and right field and pitcher were the last positions open. I assumed he was the pitcher.

  He turned to me. “Can you pitch?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  He tossed me the ball and started for the outfield. I immediately regretted my decision. Suddenly I had a whole team of strangers watching me and counting on me. It had been a year since I’d pitched a baseball. I didn’t think I’d ever do it again.

  Blake was at bat. A right-hander. He looked like he knew what he was doing by the way he scraped the plate clean with his shoe and made a couple of test swings. Then he set up and locked eyes with me. I turned and assessed the field, noting everyone in position, getting a sense for distances.

  “Put it in there,” the center fielder said.

  The catcher pounded his mitt.

  Blake shifted his feet and set up again.

  I took a deep breath and studied the catcher’s mitt. I made my windup and let it go. Everything worked. It was fluid and easy and Blake’s bat missed it by two inches. Snap! It was a strike.

  “Dang!” Cory yelled.

  The catcher threw it back to me and I caught it and couldn’t help but smile.

  27

  When Mother found me we were four innings into the game, and I’d completely lost track of time. My pitching had us up 8–2 and my batting hadn’t been bad either. The thing about it was I’d never been a standout pitcher before. I was good, but not this good. Either we had better baseball players in Baldwin County or I’d gotten better without practice. I didn’t really care. Now they all knew my name.

  “Foster!” she called from the fence.

  I frowned and looked out at Cory. “I got to go,” I called to him.

  He started jogging my way and I waited until he reached me. “When you coming back?” he asked.

  I took off the glove and put the ball in it and gave it to him. “I don’t know,” I said. “Prob’ly some time later in the summer.”

  “Come find us again. We’ll be out here.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll see you around.”

  I could tell Mother was as surprised as me about the baseball game. “Looks like you made some friends already, Foster,” she said.

  I smiled and nodded, still high over it all.

  “Well,” she continued, “that’s good. And baseball. Well, that’s real good.”

  * * *

  We visited Carlisle Middle School after eating lunch at my grandparents’ house. A lady gave us a tour of the classrooms and the computer lab and library. It just seemed like another school to me, about the same size as the one I was leaving, just a different shape and different people. But it didn’t hurt to imagine all the students like those I’d met at the park. And in my head I was already imagining myself as the star baseball player with all the friends.

  “What did you think?” Mother asked me on the way home.

  “Fine,” I said.

  “It looks like a good school.”

  I didn’t know how you’d tell a good school from a bad one, but I knew enough to realize it wasn’t really what she was asking me.

  “I’m not worried about it,” I said.

  * * *

  That evening Granddaddy sat in a chair next to the bed and read a story to me. He’d been doing it as long as I could remember. Even though I sometimes thought I was getting too old for it, I still enjoyed and looked forward to it. It was probably the one thing he did with me that stood out most.

  Granddaddy’s stories were ones I didn’t hear in school—older tales from when he was young. Some of the first I remember are the Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling, his favorite author. Then we’d gone on to Edgar Allan Poe and Daniel Defoe and Robert Louis Stevenson. That night we were on Kipling again. The Strange Ride of Morrowbie Jukes. It was long, but Granddaddy nearly had it memorized and skipped the slower parts so I could hear it all that night. When he was done, he set the book down and looked at me.

  “That was the best story I ever heard,” I said.

  “Thought you’d be old enough for that one. I’ve got more.”

  I smiled and eased deeper under my covers.

  “Heard you made some friends today,” he said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Must be that shiny bicycle.”

  I smiled again at his joke. He studied me for a moment without saying anything, like he was trying to read my thoughts. I turned away and stared at the ceiling.

  “Foster,” he finally said.

  I looked at him again.

  “You’re going to be okay.”

  The way he said it reminded me that most days weren’t and wouldn’t be as good as today. It was almost a warning against becoming too complacent. I felt a knot rise in my throat and I swallowed against it.

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “Because I’ve learned a lot of things in seventy-five years.”

  “Like what?”

  “Life goes on. Wounds heal. Especially when you’re young.”

  I took a deep breath and nodded. He got up and turned off the reading lamp and left the room. I faced the ceiling again and felt alone. The sounds of the baseball game were gone from my head and I didn’t feel so good about anything anymore. Then my thoughts turned to Gary and I pictured him in the barn, leaning against the pack, reading his book with Kabo and Joe curled up not far away. What if we weren’t supposed to leave the farm? Not after all those years—all that time Daddy spent building the place. How could we just leave it like it never meant anything? I didn’t want to be in Montgomery. I wanted to go home.

  28

  When we pulled up to Fourmile I got out and ran around back. My anxiety eased when I saw Gary in the distance, standing in the truck bed and tossing hay over the back fence. Something caught my eye and I looked to the right to see Joe racing toward me from across the pasture. Kabo was on his heels and I knelt down to meet both of them. In a moment Joe was whining and rubbing against me and Kabo was beside him barking excitedly. I scratched both of them behind the ears and stood and the three of us set out toward Gary.

  “Hey, stranger,” he said.

  “Hey, Gary. What are you doing?”

  “Getting some of that old hay out of the barn.”

  I looked to the right and saw a long line of it scattered down the other side of the fence.

  “It’ll rot into the ground,” he said.

  “Mother wants you to come to supper.”

  He glanced at the house. “She does, does she?”

  I nodded. “She wants me to bring the fish inside. You didn’t eat it, did you?”

  “No,” he said, “I froze it, waiting on you.”

  “Good. She said it’ll be about an hour.”

  He dropped the pitchfork into the truck bed and swung himself over the rail. He slapped the loose hay from his jeans, pulled off the bandanna, and wiped his face. “I better get cleaned up, then. Hop in and I’ll give you a ride.”

  Gary parked the truck under the equipment shed and I followed him into the barn. I
was surprised to see how neat the place was with most of the old hay gone. Now it smelled more of cedar and pine knot than moldy grass. It had a cool cavernous feel to it that was both refreshing and lonely at once.

  “Looks different in here,” I said.

  “You think I swam in that creek all weekend?” he joked.

  I smiled and shook my head.

  Gary got the fish out of the freezer and gave it to me. “This should thaw out fast if we run some water over it,” he said. He walked to his pack and pulled out a clean pair of jeans, boxer shorts, and a T-shirt. Then he grabbed his Dopp kit off the blanket and started toward the house.

  “Where you going?” I asked.

  “You don’t mind if I use your shower, do you?” he said over his shoulder.

  I didn’t move. “My shower?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No.”

  Gary was already knocking on the back door by the time I caught up to him. Mother opened it and I noticed she’d changed into fresh clothes.

  “How was your trip?” he asked.

  “It was nice, thank you. I think we made some progress.”

  “That’s good,” he said. “I hear I’ve got an invite to a fish dinner.”

  “We’d love to have you.”

  “I accept. Mind if I get cleaned up?”

  “Not at all,” she said, stepping aside. “You can use Foster’s bathroom down the hall.”

  He went past her and I followed and pulled the kitchen door behind me. Mother went back to the counter where she was breaking snap beans. After a few seconds she looked at me.

  “Well,” she said. “Are you going to hand me the fish or just stand there?”

  * * *

  I sat down in front of the television, listening to my shower running down the hall, not watching whatever was on. It wasn’t long before Gary returned, fresh-looking and relaxed like he’d been that day at the creek. He walked into the living room and I saw Mother pass behind him and return a moment later with his dirty clothes. He collapsed into the chair that Dax usually took, and put his hand through his hair that I suddenly realized was longer. I heard the washing machine start.

  “You want to watch television?” I asked.

  He glanced at the TV. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’m going to nod off for a few minutes.”

  He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. I realized I’d never seen him shut his eyes. I turned off the television and watched him to see if he would wake, but he didn’t.

  * * *

  She cooked the bass in the broiler and served it with buttered grits and the snap beans I’d seen her picking over at the counter. It was the best meal we’d had in a long time. She asked to say a blessing over the food, and I glanced at Gary to see if he was uncomfortable with it. He was already lowering his head like it was completely natural to him. I quickly did the same, but couldn’t help glancing up at him before Mother was through. Then he started on his meal in an eager but polite way.

  Mother told him about the houses she’d looked at and she asked me to tell him what I thought of the school I visited. I told him it was fine. I didn’t want to talk about Montgomery. It had nothing to do with him.

  “What are we going to work on tomorrow?” I asked.

  “I figured we’d go into town and get the painting supplies. We’ll spend a few days sanding and doing prep work.”

  Mother excused herself and got up to put Gary’s clothes in the dryer.

  “Did Joe do any tricks for you?”

  “He almost ran an armadillo up my pants leg. If you call that a trick.”

  I sat up in my chair. “I told you he did that!”

  “I put the stick on the fence post too.”

  “Did he get it?”

  “I’m not sure he doesn’t do a backflip on the way down.”

  I laughed. “He likes that one,” I said. “You have to tell him to ‘hold’ or he’ll get the stick before you can let go of it.”

  Mother returned and got her plate from the table. Gary looked at her and smiled. “I think we’ve got a fully recovered dog on our hands.”

  Mother glanced at me and looked at Gary. Her eyes were deep and wet in a way that I didn’t understand. Much like the look I saw come over Granddaddy.

  29

  After supper I excused myself and left Gary and Mother at the table. I walked into my bathroom and looked about. I smelled it, searched for some trace of him. Other than a little condensation left on the shower door, it was as if he hadn’t been there. I walked back into my room and stood in the middle of the floor listening.

  “Did he come by?” I heard her ask.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “What’d he say?”

  “I didn’t talk to him. Joe started barking. By the time I walked around the house, he was driving off.”

  “I was afraid of that,” she said.

  “Phone’s been ringing a lot too.”

  “I know,” she said. “I had to unplug it a while ago … I’m sorry you had to get in the middle of things.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  “Let me get your clothes for you,” she said. “I think they’re dry.”

  There was more silence. I heard a glass tap on the countertop in the kitchen. I moved closer to the wall, but stopped just short of it, feeling that somehow he knew I was listening.

  “Here you go,” I finally heard her say.

  “I appreciate it. And thanks again for the meal.”

  “I meant what I said,” she continued. “You’re welcome to use the spare bedroom.”

  “I’m fine outside,” he said. “I like it outside.”

  There was another moment of silence. Then Mother said something I couldn’t hear.

  “You just let me know,” he said.

  “I haven’t seen him like this in a long time. He didn’t used to do anything but lie in the barn with Joe.”

  I didn’t hear Gary reply.

  “Good night,” she said.

  “Good night, Linda.”

  * * *

  She came into my room that night and sat beside me on the bed.

  “I told him he could use your room before we left. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind,” I said.

  “I thought it was a good idea to have someone looking after the house.”

  “It’s fine,” I said.

  She brushed my hair back with her fingers like she does when she has something to say but doesn’t know how to say it.

  “Let him stay,” I said. “As long as he wants.”

  She sighed. “I like him too, Foster. But there’s still a lot we don’t know about Gary. There’s a lot he doesn’t want us to know. He’s going to move on, and I can’t tell you when that’ll happen.”

  “But you don’t have to be the one to make him.”

  “I think I’ve made it clear to him that he’s welcome to stay for a while.”

  I nodded.

  “Get some sleep,” she said.

  After she was gone I listened for the farm truck to crank, but the yard remained silent. Finally I knew he would have left if he was going. I closed my eyes and slept.

  * * *

  Gary and I started for town early the next morning. Mother was just getting into her car to head to work and we waved at her as we passed around the side of the house. The day was overcast and a line of squalls approached from the southwest.

  “Where do you go at night?” I asked him.

  “Sometimes I go into town.”

  “To get things?”

  “Yeah. Sometimes I make phone calls.”

  “You could use the house phone.”

  “Sometimes it’s pretty late.”

  “Mother’s still up.”

  Gary looked at me and smiled. “Good thing we got that roof finished. Looks like the rain’s on its way.”

  “You should move into the guest room,” I said.

  He looked at the road again. “Maybe I like it in the barn.
”

  “It’s hot out there.”

  “It’s not closed up like a house,” he said.

  “And your dog couldn’t stay with you.”

  He smiled again. “That’s right. Joe and Kabo might get lonely.”

  “I wish I could sleep in the barn,” I said.

  “Ask your mother. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you camping out a few nights.”

  I looked out the window and smiled to myself.

  We purchased sandpaper, brushes, paint, mineral spirits, and a drop cloth from the hardware store and headed back to Fourmile as the rain started coming down. We spent the day sanding the kitchen cabinets while thunder rumbled overhead. When Mother returned that afternoon we helped her carry groceries from the car and put them away. She invited Gary to supper again and he accepted.

  Gary went out to the barn to get a change of clothes while I showered. When I was pulling on my shorts he knocked on my bedroom door and I told him to come in. He set a bundle of clothes on my bed and started undressing.

  “Go help your mother,” he said. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  30

  We were halfway through dinner when I heard Joe barking and running around the house. I looked toward the front windows and saw headlights swinging across the yard. Gary was already scooting his chair back when I said, “Dax.”

  “God!” Mother said.

  Gary walked down the hall to my bedroom and returned stuffing something into the back of his pants. He took a left and went into the living room and I saw the butt of the pistol visible just above his belt. He turned and sat on the sofa where he could see the front door. I started to get up and he gave me a look and shook his head.

  Mother stood and went into the living room and stared out a front window.

  “Just talk to him from the door,” he said. “Don’t go in the yard. I’ll be right here.”

  Joe was barking in front of the house now. The headlights were stopped and shining onto the back wall.

  “What about Joe?” I said.

  “He’ll be fine,” Gary replied.

  “Linda!” Dax yelled.

  She opened the door and held her hands over her eyes. The headlights went out and the truck shut off. The only noise was Joe barking and leaping at Dax’s window.

  “Hey, baby,” he said, like Joe wasn’t even there. He’d been drinking again.