“Afraid so, and I’m proud to say I think, all things considered, that I did a pretty good job getting all the way to Grand Junction with it too…though I may have hit one or two things parking it. But you did get the note and money, right?”
Ned paused in thought for a moment. “There was some money found on the seat. Is that what you’re talking about? That was from you?”
“Of course. It was the least I could do for you unofficially loaning it to me. And I’m sorry the note was in Braille, but that’s all I ever needed to learn. I was hoping someone in town could maybe help you translate it.”
“There were perforations on the envelope…I had no idea it was Braille,” Ned replied. “I’ve long since thrown it away. What did the note say?”
“Oh,” replied Carl, “I don’t remember the full note, but it was kind of what I just told you. It thanked you for the use of your car and asked that you tell everyone in town not to worry about me, as I was going away for a little while.”
“Well, thanks for the money,” Ned said, still stunned as he slowly sat back down.
Not a cough, rustle, nor sound of any kind could yet be heard, though it seemed certain that each person present could almost hear their own heart beating.
“So like I said, and as you can all plainly see,” continued Carl, “I can see pretty darn good now. And this seems like the best time and place to let you all quite plainly know—I owe it all to Matthew Duncan.”
The church remained quiet. Rebecca had taken a seat next to the pastor near the pulpit, and they both watched Carl from the side as he continued: “As I was taking the plane ride down to Louisiana, I had lots of time to think about Matthew. In between all that thinking, of course, I was looking out the window a whole lot, too. What a wondrous and amazing thing to look out the window of a plane flying above the clouds! How lucky to get the chance to see what birds see—who knows, maybe even what angels see.
“But as I was thinking about Matthew and this amazing gift he gave me, I was also thinking about my old cane I’d left with him. I was worried that it might have created all sorts of problems for him. I mean, the way some people’s minds go to working, I figured they might even think that Matthew Duncan had done something bad to me. I mean, here he was probably walking all around Cottonwood with a blind man’s cane—and the blind man goes missing! You know, some people are just suspicious enough to have drawn the wrong conclusions from that. That’s why the note to Ned was so important, but I just forgot that though it was very clear to me, it might be missed by those of you who haven’t lived in my world. You’d have no reason to have learned Braille.
“But the thing I began thinking about next was this—Matthew must have known that the cane was probably gonna cause him some problems, but I gave it to him as a present, and he graciously accepted it. When we parted that day, he never once wondered where I was going or asked me to tell anyone about the gift he gave me. And that’s really why I’m here in front of you. Everyone here—my family of Cottonwood—you’re the ones who know me the best. You know I’ve been blind for as long as you’ve known me, and now I stand before you with eyes that can see each and every one of your beautiful faces for the first time. The man you’re honoring today gave me this miraculous gift. I want to honor him today by telling you all the truth about that and by thanking him in front of all of you. I’m gonna step aside now, so you can continue.”
Carl stepped away from the pulpit, but there was no continuing with the service as planned. Tears were streaming down most of the stunned faces in the crowd, including Rebecca’s, and she was far too overwhelmed to go on with her previous statement. After a long silence, Pastor Harrison finally gathered his wits about him enough to ask the organist to play a hymn. “I think it would be best if we all just listen to the music without singing at this time,” the pastor said to the silent audience.
Bethany Crawford, who normally was excellent, played very poorly, missing many notes. During the music, most in the audience were wiping away tears and then looking at each other and up toward Carl, who had taken a seat next to Pastor Harrison. Rebecca had returned to her seat between her mother and Gayle, with an arm wrapped over each of their shoulders.
After the hymn was over, Pastor Harrison returned once more to the pulpit. He looked at Rebecca as if to ask her if she wanted to finish the speech she had begun before Carl’s arrival. She smiled and shook her head no.
He then cleared his throat and said, “There are times in our lives when words fail us. They are revealed for what they ultimately are—poor substitutes—stand-ins for the real world of the meanings behind those words. We have heard some beautiful and even, dare I say—miraculous words expressed here today about Matthew Duncan. If those words reveal even a hint at the meanings behind them, then something profound has happened. Cottonwood has been blessed, perhaps more so than we realize, in having been touched by the life of Matthew Duncan.”
Pastor Harrison concluded the service with a prayer, immediately after which separate crowds formed around both Carl and Rebecca, with people circulating back and forth between the two. Carl was being hit with an endless barrage of questions and surrounded by many more just trying to get a good look at the brown eyes they’d never seen working before. Those gathered around Rebecca were giving her hugs and congratulating her on her pregnancy.
This went on for nearly thirty minutes, and it seemed scarcely a person had left the church. At one point, Ernie Martinelli stepped up to the pulpit and reminded the crowd that he and his staff would be opening the diner up to all who wanted to come by for some food, free of charge.
Ernie’s generous offer and the passage of a few more minutes finally began thinning out the crowd. Fifteen minutes later, the two groups had merged into one, and Carl and Rebecca found themselves surrounded by a relatively small handful of people, which included Diane, Pastor Harrison, the Reeses, the Reynolds, Akash Mudali, and David Westmore.
At one point, Sparky came back into the sanctuary and joined the group. He edged his way over to Carl. “I want to give you this,” said Sparky as he handed Carl his old cane. “We’ve been holding it as evidence of a crime, but since there’s been no crime, you should have it back.”
Carl took the cane from Sparky, looked carefully at it, and smiled. “I really never wanted this back,” he said. “I gave it away as a gift.”
Rebecca glanced at Amanda Reese who immediately understood the meaning. “If it’s all right with you, Carl,” said Amanda suddenly, “Matthew had passed your gift on to Chelsea. I think he would want her to have it.” Amanda looked at Chelsea, smiled, and then added, “I know I would.”
Carl handed the cane to Chelsea and smiled. “Then it is yours. I’m sure Matthew had a good reason for giving it to you.”
Chelsea held the old cane and rolled it between her fingers. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ve learned a lot about you from this cane, but I do have just one question—where did you go? To find the woman you left behind?”
Carl stared at Chelsea. “How did you guess that?” he asked.
All eyes were on Chelsea as she suddenly realized she’d said too much. She shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, I just guessed. It makes sense, right?”
Carl eyed her suspiciously. “You’re a pretty smart one, Chelsea Reese. I’m going to have to keep my eyes on you.”
Everyone laughed, and the group continued to talk for several more minutes.
Still being somewhat the outsiders, David and Akash had stayed toward the back of the group, talking mainly to each other, though occasionally listening in on interesting tidbits from the other conversations.
“Are you planning on going over to Ernie’s?” David asked Akash.
Akash smiled. “Are you kidding? I’ve been thinking about those specific chocolate shakes ever since I left here. Every time I have to order a cheap substitute in Denver, I get the urge to make the long drive over here.”
David nodded his head and smiled. “Too bad for you, my friend
, I’ll be able to enjoy them any time I want. I’m moving down here permanently.”
Akash looked at him. “Really? And what will you do for a job? I don’t think the sheriff is hiring right now. It’s a tough economy here.”
“Who knows?” replied David. “Maybe the Yamamoto family would hire me. They seem like a nice family. As a back up plan though, I’ve applied to be the new head of security up at the Western Colorado State Home for the Developmentally Disabled. I’ve got an interview on Monday.”
Akash smiled slyly. “Wasn’t that the position held by the man you shot? Heck of a way to get a job, I’d say! Well, good luck with all that,” he said. “I sure hope I never have a job you want.”
Eventually, the crowd thinned out even more as Carl said he was anxious to get home to his house to actually spend some unhurried time really looking at the things in his house. He’d only seen them briefly the afternoon he had received his eyesight, as he had hurried home from Little Bear River, grabbed a small suitcase, stuffed some clothes into it, and collected the cash he had on hand.
Rebecca, Diane, and the pastor were the last to leave the church, and after the two ladies thanked him for conducting a wonderful service, they walked down the stairs of the church and then turned up Main Street, arm in arm, in the direction of Ernie’s Diner. They spoke very little as they huddled close together for extra warmth in the cool Colorado fall evening. Diane was lost in the profundity of the day, and Rebecca, while equally lost in its revelations, was also thinking of all the things she needed to accomplish before her baby would join her in the world.
One Hundred Five
The Fool
There were two doors, one inside the other, at the front of Carl’s house—a screen door on the outside and the more substantial solid wood door inside. As Carl walked toward his house from the church, he tried to remember if he’d left the inside door open or closed when he’d departed in such haste so many weeks before. Surely, he thought, if he had left the inside wooden door open, some considerate neighbor would have closed it, especially once it was clear that he wasn’t coming back right away. But when he turned from the main sidewalk and up toward his front porch, it appeared the inside door was open. A few steps later, he stood on his front porch looking through the screen into his dark house.
Carl opened the screen door and stepped inside the dark room. For a moment, he could not quite recall exactly where the light switch would be. He had never used lights in all the days he lived in the house; only his sighted visitors would turn on lights during their evening or nighttime visits. They would turn them on upon their arrival and then usually, but not always, turn them off when leaving. Carl closed his eyes and felt the mental map of the room in his head. This was the way he’d known the room for so many years, and an instant later, he took a few steps and turned on the lamp sitting on a table a few feet to his right.
Once the light was on, Carl was treated to a greeting by his friends, like eager crowds lining a street for a parade. Their streets were the shelves and tables of the living room, and he was their parade. He hadn’t had time to appreciate seeing them when he’d hurried home to pack for his trip, but now he was immersed in a sudden explosion of joy at the sight of them. From all over the world, the tiny remembrances from destinations he had only imagined going to himself reached out to him saying, “Welcome Home, Carl!”
He began to reach for one of the small knickknacks, but paused. From the corner of his eye, he spotted something else—or rather, someone else. It was someone he knew, though he’d never seen before. He knew him from his uniform, his general physique, his presence, then finally, from his voice.
“Hello, Carl,” said Sheriff O’Neil with no emotion in his voice.
Sheriff O’Neil was sitting in a large maroon easy chair, Carl’s favorite in fact, at the far end of the living room. He was in his uniform, but it appeared unkempt and his general appearance disheveled. His right arm was extended along the arm of the chair, leading out to a beer can he was holding. In his left hand, he held one of Carl’s friends—the small replica of the Empire State Building.
“Sheriff O’Neil!” said Carl. “You startled me! Have you been waiting in the dark just for me?”
“Just for you, Carl,” said the sheriff, followed by a slow swig of beer.
Carl moved around to sit in a small rocking chair next to the table, facing across the room toward the sheriff. “I don’t recall seeing you with all the others at the church? Were you there and I missed you?” asked Carl.
“I didn’t attend the service,” replied the sheriff. “I’m not one for those kinds of things—besides, someone had to keep up with the security of Cottonwood.”
Carl nodded his head. “Oh, I see. Yes, there’s always a lot of crime here—just waves of it, I suppose.”
The sheriff did not reply but only took another long swig. Carl noticed several empty cans down by the sheriff’s feet, along with a few unopened ones.
The sheriff wiped his mouth with the back of his left hand, still clenching the small Empire State Building in it as well. Finally, the sheriff said, “Sparky came back to the office from the church, raving like a madman. I’d never seen him so excited—could hardly understand the fool. He said to me, ‘Old Blind Carl’s come back, and he’s not blind anymore!’ Then he started searching around my office for your cane. He spotted the cane and reached for it, but I grabbed it first and told him to slow down and tell me what the hell he was ranting about. He told me how you walked right in on Matthew Duncan’s memorial service, causing a big commotion because you weren’t blind anymore. ‘I need the cane,’ he said to me. ‘It can’t be evidence anymore, because there hasn’t been a crime.’ I was shocked, confused, or whatever, but before I could stop him, he grabbed the cane out of my hands and went running out of the office—back the church, I suppose. I notice you don’t have it now. Did he ever give it back to you?”
Carl nodded his head. “Yep, he sure did. But I don’t need it anymore, so it was passed on to someone else.”
The sheriff stared at Carl for a moment. “I was seriously tempted to come to the church to see for myself, but decided I didn’t want any part of that. I figured you’d eventually come here, so I thought I’d come here and wait for you—to see for myself.”
“Well, I guess you’re now seeing for yourself,” replied Carl, looking directly at the sheriff without so much as blinking his soft brown eyes.
The sheriff set the small Empire State Building on the floor next to him, stood up from his chair, and walked over to Carl. He leaned forward and looked closely into Carl’s eyes. He kept staring at the eyes as he took a swig of beer. The sheriff then raised his left hand and snapped his fingers close to Carl’s eyes. Carl blinked. The sheriff sipped some more beer and then returned to the easy chair.
Carl smiled. “Are you convinced now, Sheriff?”
The sheriff paused before answering. “You were never really blind, were you?” he finally blurted out.
Carl laughed. “Jeez, people are amazing!” he said. “You think I faked my blindness in all my years here in Cottonwood? You think I would walk along the streets with my cane just to play some trick? Why in heaven’s name would I do that?”
“Hell, who knows?” replied the sheriff. “Maybe to collect a disability check or something. You sure couldn’t have earned enough to afford this house with the small jobs you did around town.”
“I’ve learned to be frugal…but if it really matters, I was fortunate to have been left a small inheritance from my mother. It allowed me to live a modest but comfortable life here in Cottonwood, without being a burden on folks. I’d have no reason to fake blindness for money. Just the opposite would be the case—I would have gladly given up that entire inheritance to have been able to see. But as it turns out, my sight was given to me freely, as a gift.”
The sheriff took another sip of beer. “Where the hell have you been all this time?” he asked, now sounding angry.
“I’ve bee
n back home,” Carl answered, “my original home in Louisiana, where I grew up.”
“And how did you do that?” he asked, now in a mocking tone. “There wasn’t any way out of the Dead Zone at the time. I suppose you walked?”
Carl smiled. “No, I didn’t walk back to Louisiana. I flew—and learned how birds must see the world.”
The sheriff crumpled the empty beer can and dropped it on the floor. He grabbed another, popped it open, and waved his other hand at Carl. “Oh, please,” he said, “don’t stop on my account. I’d like to hear the whole story.” He took a sip of beer and stared at Carl.
Carl nodded his head. “I know you’re not gonna believe a word of it, but then, you never did like my stories all that much anyway. But here’s the truth—the first thing I did after being given my sight was to rush back here and grab all my money and some clothes, and rush down to Main Street looking for a bus or to hitch a ride on anything that was leaving Cottonwood. But in my excitement, I’d forgotten about the Dead Zone. Well, it was real quiet down on Main Street. It seems everyone was in a big meeting inside town hall. I could see them through the window, and I figured they were all talking about what to do about the Dead Zone and all. Well, as I was standing there on the deserted street in front of the town hall holding my suitcase, I heard this low humming sound. It was real low, but it was also so quiet on the street that the humming was about all I could hear. I walked over to where the humming was coming from, and it turns out that it’s one of those electric cars, and it’s unlocked with the keys inside! Another gift had just been handed to me!
“I remembered then that Ned had gotten a new electric car, and it was the only one in town, so I figured he wouldn’t mind if I borrowed it. I got in and drove the car up to Grand Junction—and boy let me tell you, that was an experience! I was driving real slow at first so I could figure everything out, and I almost ran off the road several times. You know what’s funny? I used to sit in my parents’ car as a kid, and even though I was blind, I’d sit behind the wheel and imagine what it would be like to drive. My brother told me the neighbors used to get a good laugh out of watching the poor blind kid sitting in his parents’ car pretending to drive. But you know what? All that pretending did me some good all these years later when I found myself behind the wheel of Ned’s car. I drove it pretty good after a while—though I must confess, I had to stop and ask for directions many times along the way.”
Touching Cottonwood Page 83