by Ed Kurtz
“But I don’t want to ride it because I already got the bike my daddy gave me.”
“You already have a bike,” he corrected. “The one your father gave you.”
“Only now I don’t know if it still works because Charlie tossed it against a tree. He’s so mean. He even makes Mama cry every night before he leaves.”
Mr. Anderson looked at me. “You ever see him do anything to make her cry?”
“No,” I admitted. “That always happens during their alone time when I’m supposed to be asleep, but I’m not. It’s too hot to sleep and I can’t sleep anyway. Not when he’s in the house. That’s why I hear things.”
The lines that crisscrossed around his eyes got deeper as he squinted. “What things?”
I knew I’d already said too much, so I just shrugged. “I don’t know. Grown up things, I guess. Then she cries.” I didn’t want to say more, but I couldn’t stop myself. “I…I think he might slap her sometimes.”
Mr. Anderson went back to looking out at the water instead of me. His big jaw went on edge, like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t. He just breathed heavy through his nose, the way Mama does when she’s mad at me. “You say anything to your grandma about that?”
“No, because she likes Charlie.”
“She likes Charlie’s beer,” he said through his teeth. “Goddamned rednose should’ve taken the cure a long time ago. Never could turn down a jug, especially when it was free. Once a roundheel, always a roundheel.”
It was the first time I’d ever heard Mr. Anderson use words like that. Words that I didn’t understand. “Grandma doesn’t have a red nose. And she doesn’t wear shoes with heels. She wears slippers, mostly.”
Mr. Anderson looked at me again, like he’d just remembered where he was. Then he nodded back toward my fishing pole. “You keep your mind on your fishing and don’t worry about things I say. Especially about your grandma.”
“So long as you don’t tell anyone about what I said about what Charlie and Mama do during their grown up time.”
I made him pinky swear to it and he did. His old pinky bigger and more gnarled than mine. “Even about the slaps?”
He nodded as he looked back at the water. “That too.”
We sat there quietly for a long time, watching our hooks bob in the water before he asked: “I saw him rip something from your neck, too.”
“My Miraculous Medal that Mama and Daddy gave me for my Communion.”
I noticed the skin on his face grew tighter as he frowned. He normally looked friendly and old, but now he looked different. Mean, even, only worse than that. “And I’ll bet Charlie knew that, didn’t he?”
“He knew. He just didn’t care. He ain’t my daddy and never will be.”
“He’s not your daddy and never will be.”
Just when I thought we were just talking, he corrected me. He always did that, but I never minded. He was nice about it, unlike the teachers at school. That’s why I asked: “Were you ever a teacher, Mr. Anderson?”
The old man smiled warmly. “No, but I used to teach people lessons from time to time.”
I didn’t really see the difference, so I asked: “You seem to be real good at it, especially how you correct my English and all. Ever think about going back to it?”
Mr. Anderson looked out at the water some more. “Maybe. Funny thing about teaching. You’ll always have a job so long as someone needs to learn something.”
My mind was flooded with questions but my line jerked and I grabbed the fishing pole to keep from losing it.
I had two hands on the fishing pole and couldn't pull the fish clear of the water. Mr. Anderson reached over with one arm and easily pulled it out of the water. It wasn’t a very big fish, but it had plenty of fight left in it.
After it stopped struggling, we pulled the hook from its mouth and agreed to toss it back in. As we watched it swim away, one of my questions came back to me. “You said you might be teaching again. But I thought you was retired, Mr. Anderson.”
“Me too, kid.” Mr. Anderson baited his hook again and tossed it back into the water. “Me too.”
*****
It was going on seven o’clock by the time Mr. Anderson walked me back to my house. Even though we lived right next door to each other, he always saw me to the door. He said a true gentleman always saw a lady home after a date.
“But we just went fishing,” I said.
“A date’s a date. Remember that.”
I saw Mama’s red Gremlin behind Charlie’s old truck in the driveway and knew she was home from the bank. I came running up the path, but stopped short when I saw her kissing Charlie in a grown up way on the porch. When they saw me, they stopped.
Charlie opened the screen door and came down the steps toward me. I didn’t know if he was upset that I’d interrupted him kissing Mama or if he was upset about something else. It didn’t matter. He was always upset about something.
“Where the hell did you run off to, bumpkin?” His arms swung wide from his sides as he walked. He looked even wider than he normally did. He towered over me. Not as much as Mr. Anderson, but in a different, meaner way.
I stepped backward along the brick path as he got closer. I tried to see where Mama was on the porch, tried to get her to help me, but couldn’t see around Charlie.
And Charlie kept on coming, getting bigger with each step I took backward. “There you go again, not answering an adult when he’s asking you a question, little girl. That’s rude.”
A voice came clear and clean down the driveway. “She was with me.”
Charlie looked around quickly, like he was surprised anyone else was there. I was surprised, too.
And there was Mr. Anderson, right where he’d left me at the foot of the driveway. The sun was behind the western hills now and dusk hadn’t taken hold just yet. In the weak light, he was half in light, half in shadow.
I felt a single bead of sweat run down my back. I was afraid of what Charlie might do to Mr. Anderson.
“That so?” Charlie said. “And who told you she could go anywhere with you?”
Mama finally spoke up from the porch. “It’s okay, honey. Mr. Anderson’s an old friend. Known him for years. Mom knows him, too.” She called out to him the way some people yell out to older people who they think are hard of hearing. “Thanks for taking care of Sarah for me, Mr. Anderson. Good to see you.”
But I knew Mr. Anderson’s hearing was just fine. He just stood there, looking at Charlie. “No trouble at all, Anna. Sarah’s a good girl. Just like her mama.”
“You should come by for supper sometime,” Mama yelled. “Mom would love to see you.”
Mr. Anderson kept right on looking at Charlie, but spoke to Mama. “Tell Alice I said hello.” And even in the dying light, I could see him looking Charlie up and down from the driveway. He didn’t move his head, just his eyes. “You don’t strike me as a religious man, Charlie.”
I cringed as Charlie slowly turned to face him. “What was that, old man?”
He nodded at my Miraculous Medal hanging around Charlie’s neck. “That’s a Miraculous Medal, isn’t it?”
He had to feel around his neck. The bastard had forgotten he’d even taken it from me. The fact that it meant that little to him hurt me even more. He patted it against his chest. “Not really. Just a kind of good luck charm Sarah gave me.”
“That so?” And for the first time, he looked at me. “You okay, Sarah?”
I was still too shocked to answer. I’d never expected anyone to stand up to Charlie, much less old Mr. Anderson. I just nodded that I was.
Mama beckoned me and Charlie to come inside. I ran around Charlie and into the house, with my fishing things and all. Mama didn’t seem to mind.
I don’t know how long Charlie and Mr. Anderson stayed there looking at each other. But when I ran up to my room, Charlie was already back inside, yelling at Mama about ‘who that old pervert thought he was.’
I looked out the window and saw
Mr. Anderson still at the foot of my driveway. He hadn’t moved a muscle. The sun was lower now and his features were harder to make out. Just his shoulders and the long slim outline of the fishing pole, that’s all.
He must’ve seen me up at the window because he waved up at me. Only after I waved back did he head toward his house across the street.
*****
As punishment for talking back to Charlie, Mama sent me right up to my room that night after supper. I didn’t see that as any punishment at all, since I’d rather be in my room alone, reading or sleeping, than being around Charlie. I think Charlie liked it that way, too. I didn’t think Grandma cared one way or the other.
I heard them talking about Mr. Anderson. Grandma’s hoarse, boozy cackle picked up every once in a while, but most of it was just whispers and mumbles. They were talking the way grownups talk when they don’t want kids to know what they’re saying, but we always do.
The air in my room was thick and humid and made it hard to sleep. Charlie being there didn’t help any. But I eventually drifted off and when I did, I kept dreaming of Charlie and Mr. Anderson just standing there, looking at each other in the driveway. It made me feel cool, but not cold. Comfortable, I guess, knowing Mr. Anderson was there for me.
I woke up when Mama and Charlie came upstairs, giggling, trying to be quiet as the stairs squeaked beneath them. When she was alone, Mama always checked on me before she went to bed. But when she was with Charlie, she didn’t. The two of them just went to her room and closed the door behind them.
I drifted asleep again, waking up only when I heard things that sounded like slaps coming from my mama’s room down the hall. But they couldn’t be slaps because Mama always told me they weren’t. I did hear her crying though and that was one thing she never could explain away. Whenever I asked her why she’d cry when Charlie left, she’d just hold me and say, “Grown ups cry for all sorts of reasons, honey.”
All the sounds that came afterward were the same as they always were. The stairs creaking under Charlie’s footsteps. The squeak of the front door opening and closing as he left. Then screen door rattling behind him, followed by the squeak of Charlie’s door and the big roar of the engine that would’ve woken the dead.
Charlie usually put the truck in reverse and backed out the driveway right after that. I’d heard it so many times it was a rhythm, like a popular song.
But that night, as I lay there half-asleep, I could’ve sworn he idled there a little longer than normal before slipping the truck in reverse and driving away.
I could’ve sworn to it, but I didn’t. Not in the deposition anyway. Because, you see, that was the last night we saw Charlie Himes.
In fact, that was the last night anyone saw Charlie Himes.
Or his truck.
Or any sign of him.
*****
After a couple of days, the police stopped coming around as much. Charlie’s picture was shown on the local news out of Albany a day or so after he went missing. It was his favorite picture—the one of him in his new CAT diesel hat at last year’s tractor show. That picture was the only time I’d seen him smile.
Mama and Grandma dragged me all over town to help them put up posters with Charlie’s picture on it. She asked everyone she knew to help with the posters, but everyone else seemed to be too busy to help.
I wasn’t the only person in town who didn’t like Charlie Himes. Mrs. Himes—and her three children—didn’t like him much either, especially since she didn’t know about her husband and my mama.
But Mama didn’t care about that. She still wanted to put up posters for him for him anyway. I guess she’d already lost one man. Losing another man was tough, even if that man was no damned good.
School was scheduled to start that following week and Mama was wondering if she should keep me out for a week or so. She wondered if the same people who’d taken Charlie might try to take me, too. She didn’t even let me out of the house much in case the kidnappers might return.
The thought that he’d just taken off on his own was the furthest thing from her mind. I didn’t like seeing her cry so much about it, but then again, she cried when Charlie was around, too, so I didn’t see much of a difference. Tears were tears when you came right down to it. I didn’t care where he was as long as he stayed there and away from us.
It was the day before school was set to start and I was on the porch with Mama and Grandma. They were fretting about whether or not to send me to school the next day, talking about me—as grown-ups will—like I wasn’t even there.
And then I saw Mr. Anderson walking up the brick path dressed in a regular shirt and pants. Not in his usual fishing vest or gear.
I raced off the porch before Mama could stop me and ran to him before he got to the path. I ran into him as hard as I could and he didn’t even budge an inch. He just hugged me as much as I hugged him.
He picked me up as if I was nothing and carried me back up to the porch. My face was buried in his neck and I can never remember feeling so safe in my life. Before or since. Just like that day when he’d stared down Charlie. Just like in my dream.
“Sarah!” Mama scolded me. “Get down. You’ll hurt Mr. Anderson.”
I didn’t budge and he didn’t try to put me down, either. “It’s alright. I’ve missed my little friend, too.” His voice changed a little when he spoke to Grandma. “Hello, Alice.”
Grandma said nothing. She just smoked her cigarette. She was back to the discount brand she usually smoked and didn’t seem too happy about it.
Mama offered to get him some lemonade or coffee or something, but Mr. Anderson refused them all. “I just came by for a minute to give my pal here a gift since it’s the end of summer and school starts tomorrow.”
He put me down as Mama told him that wasn’t necessary. “I can’t see as how she could accept such a thing. Why, you’ve been so kind to her all summer. Taking her fishing and listening to her stories and…”
Mr. Anderson waved her off. “Sarah’s done me more good than I’ve done her. It’s just a small present, that’s all. And I’d feel better if she had it.”
He told me to close my eyes and hold out my hand, which I did. And then I felt something drop around my head. I opened my eyes and looked down and saw it was a Miraculous Medal.
Just like the one Charlie had taken from me.
I was so numb, I couldn’t show Mama or Grandma. I just looked down at it. The chain was the same length as mine and everything. The medal was even worn in the same spot on the back where I used to place my thumb.
Mama and Grandma gasped when they realized what it was.
“That’s too generous,” Mama said. “She can’t hardly accept something like that.”
“Of course she can,” Mr. Anderson said. “I know she lost hers when Charlie disappeared.”
Grandma spoke first. “And just how did you know that?”
“I remarked how he was wearing it that night before he…well, we all know what happened. Ask Anna. She was there.”
Mama said she remembered it that way.
Then Mr. Anderson said, “Any word from the police yet?”
Mama fought back tears and shook her head. “No sign of him. No…” The tears came again and she blew her nose. “That’s too good a gift for a girl her age, Mr. Anderson. “She’s…”
“It once belonged to a very special friend of mine.” He looked down at me. “Still does. If Charlie comes back, he’ll give her back the one he took from her. And if not, well, she can keep this one.”
I threw my arms around his waist and began to cry. He pulled me away from him as he took a knee before me. He tried saying something to me, but I threw my arms around his neck and sobbed.
All that crying set Mama crying, too, and she ran into the house. I knew she was crying because of Charlie going missing. I knew she thought that’s why I was crying, too.
But I wasn’t.
I heard Grandma’s hoarse laugh again and I buried my face harder again
st Mr. Anderson’s neck, hoping it could keep me from hearing it. “Funny how you came upon that medal, Mr. Anderson.”
I couldn’t see it, but by his tone, I knew he wasn’t smiling any more. “I didn’t say I came upon it, Alice. I said it belonged to a friend of mine.”
I heard Grandma take a draw off her discounted cigarette with the same smack she usually had. “Been talk about you for years, you know? Some say you were some kind of teacher at one point or another. What’d you teach and where?”
“Ancient history.” He gave me a bear hug and let me go with a wink. “Ancient history.”
He stood up and looked down at me. “You’ll do fine, honey. I know a winner when I see one.” He nodded at Grandma. “Evening, Alice. Be seeing you around.”
But Grandma called after him when he was out on the pathway. “Word is you’re no kind of teacher at all, Mr. Anderson. Word is you’re nothing but a no-good bootlegger from the old days by the name of Quinn.”
Mr. Anderson stopped on the brick path and looked back at her from over his shoulder. He didn’t look mean, but he didn’t look friendly either. “Heard that one myself, Alice. One to two people even looked into it, but never came up with much. Like I said. Ancient history.”
He walked further down the path and I suddenly felt scared, like I might never see him again. He turned when he heard me run after him and he let me hug him one more time. I wanted to say so much. To thank him. To tell him I loved him. To tell him anything to keep him from leaving. As much as I had wanted Charlie gone, I wanted Mr. Anderson to stay.
With all of that buzzing in my mind, all I could think to say was, “Thank you.”
He pulled me away from him again and kissed me on the forehead. The lines around his eyes were deep again, but not from scowling. This time, he was smiling. “No, kid. Thank you..”
"For what?"
"Do you know what the word 'redemption' means?"
"No. Maybe. I don't think so."
"Well, when you find out what that word means, you'll know how hard it is to come by for some people. And how important it can be."