Light the Hidden Things

by Don McQuinn

  He started to call and checked it. He didn't feel up to roadwork yet. As quickly as he'd decided against interfering, he overruled himself. He whistled. Lila stopped. When she saw them she ran back.

  She smiled to herself as she closed the gap. She liked the way he walked, easy and confident. When he had an objective, though, his whole posture was purposeful. She played with the whimsical notion that, if she looked hard enough she'd see the invisible marching band playing behind him. He called a greeting and she waved, impressed by how his voice carried. She was willing to bet that when he shouted orders they sounded more like Major's bark than anything else.

  That was exactly the kind of pointless speculation that could lead to trouble. A man's walk or the way he shouted weren't rational items for conjecture. It was downright girly-silly to get wrapped up thinking about such common things.

  But he was different.

  There was so much she didn't know about him. Once she realized how much she wished she did, it set off a cascade of reactions. For one thing, she should have admitted at the outset that she secretly thrilled at him living so close. So she'd never admit it to anyone else; at least she could have been honest with herself. Now that closeness was a done deal and she had to confront her interest.

  Which took her back to being in his arms.

  Another thing to not think about.

  Oh, stop it. Yes it is.

  She waved as they closed the last yards between them. The gesture felt as self-conscious as a fourth grade Christmas pageant. Her "Good morning" was a bleat. She wished someone would rescue her from herself.

  He said, "I should have known you'd be into working out; you're in good shape." He blinked. "That didn't come out right. I meant to say you look healthy."

  He was nervous, too. She felt better. She said, "There's not a girl on the planet who wouldn't rather be told she's attractive instead of healthy. Trust me."

  He said, "I wouldn't say girl. I'd say woman." This time he rolled his eyes and spoke toward the mountains as if seeking their sympathy. "How does a guy manage to get both feet in his mouth and not fall over?"

  "I wouldn't say guy. I'd say boy." She laughed.

  So did he. "You'd be right, too; why else would I feel like kicking pebbles and saying 'Aw, shucks?' Commenting on women's appearance isn't a frequent event for me."

  "You do fine. You're pleasant and thoughtful. There's no better compliment than that."

  "'Thoughtful' is when you let some poor jerk off the hook. Thanks. But look; I don't want to interfere with your run."

  "I've heard walking's just about as good for you. Are you ready for that?" She looked pointedly at his and Major's bandages.

  "Absolutely. It'll give me a chance to prove I can talk without getting everything wrong. If we're just walking, do you want to bring Zasu?"

  She said, "I worry about her. She keeps taking off on her own. Hidden inside that fluffy pampered pooch is a fiery beast, even if she doesn't have any idea what to do when things go bad. Remember how she acted with Major?"

  "You set the pace. Just don't speed off like that Pastor. He nearly used me up. I think old Major enjoyed watching that."

  Lila set off toward the lake. "I've heard others say things like that. Andy's really in that kind of condition?"

  Crow told Major to heel and fell into step beside her. "He's the best argument for divine favor I ever saw. If he can't out-preach the devil he can sure as the world outrun him."

  "He's been good for this community." She glanced at Crow from the corner of her eye. "Did he say anything about how long he's been here?"

  "Only that he came young. Says he's seventy-two now."

  "You two have a lot in common."

  Crow stopped dead. "He's got thirty years on me. And a whole lot different outlook."

  Without slowing, Lila waited until he caught up, then, "What I mean is, no one knows much about him. Never married. Grew up in California's as much as he'll say."

  Something twisted in Crow's gut. He didn't want to believe the drift in her conversation was a broad hint that he should speak of his own past. He forced her back to the original subject. "How could he afford to build a church?"

  "He built most of it himself. People contributed - money, labor, material - real grass roots stuff. It was the sixties. People were into community."

  "I don't recall reading much about religious fervor in those days."

  She laughed. "I was told he spoke to the hippies of what he called real religion, a basic message of peace and forgiveness. They loved him. Some long-time locals had an 'us and them' attitude. He got in the middle and preached tolerance and accommodation."

  Crow frowned, erased it quickly. She should give him a little credit. A woman like her should be smart enough to understand the contradiction between preaching and peace. Preaching told a man God forgave him. Maybe so, but God never explained forgiving one's self.

  He knew the taste in his mouth wasn't real. Nevertheless, it seemed to actually stain his voice when he said, "Maybe God'll forgive him, too."

  Surprised widened Lila's eyes. "The Pastor? Forgive him for what?"

  He wished he'd never spoken. It was the past talking. She didn't deserve to hear things like that. She didn't deserve to be mixed up in his mixed-up world.

  The trap almost got me. Fool. It's always there. Closer now than ever.

  Never explain. You'll get involved. More than you already have.

  Walk away.

  I can't. She should know. What I am. What she's dealing with.

  He said, "Not everyone believes in what he calls forgiveness. Few really deserve it."

  Lila slowed. He finally turned her way. He smiled when he did, hating the silent lie of it.

  He felt familiar walls rebuilding. For a moment he'd stepped outside the new Crow. Now he was returning into the man that drifted in and out of other people's lives.

  Where I belong.

  You can't even imagine me. No power can forgive me.

  He knew his next words would sound reasonable. He'd speak the truth. Layer it with a hint of apology. Just enough to make her think this was meaningful conversation. She'd never know she'd almost lured him out. He said, "That was more than I ever say about religion. The Corps taught me to avoid talking about three things: religion, politics, and another man's family."

  She resumed walking. "I didn't mean for us to get onto religion. I was just talking."

  Crow felt hot. His face burned. The noise in his head was like rushing water.

  Don't push her away. There's no need. She's not intruding. Not intentionally.

  He said, "Maybe we have that in common - we don't talk about ourselves because it just bores folks."

  Lila scoffed. "The little I know about you, your life's been anything but boring."

  He laughed and it lifted her heart to see humor ease his tension. Nevertheless, she couldn't rid herself of the feeling that he'd distanced himself from her again. Her heart responded to the touch of pain under his words. She was saddened because she knew he'd never believe she could understand him that well.

  He's two men.

  The conviction of it was harsh as a blow.

  Crow held me in his arms. I know it was him. Could I always be sure?

  I couldn't live with not knowing which man I was with. I won't.

  ...which man I was with? With?

  His voice broke through her shock. She struggled to re-connect with the thread of their conversation. He was saying, "Most of my life was ordinary as oatmeal. I wish most of the parts that weren't had been."

  She took a deep breath. "You were married, weren't you?"

  Patricia. Hear me now.

  We're together. Not in this mountain fall morning. No, where I am now it's late afternoon. I smell the sear of desert rocks. The air tastes burnt. My whole body feels broken.

  I feel your eyes. Dark, loving pools. Where I always found comfort. I hear your voice. "Would you deny me? I was so proud of you. Weren't you proud of
me? Did my part in your life have no meaning outside ourselves? You tell yourself you drink to forget what you think you did to me. Do you believe what you're doing to yourself makes me happy? Would you make me responsible for your mistake as well as my own weakness? That's not love, Crow, my poor, lone Crow."

  You're sad. Oh, God; I've hurt you again.

  What should I do?

  When he remained silent for so long, Lila was sure she'd tested him too much. His expression was confused. He said, "Yes. My wife's name was Patricia."

  "I'm sorry." At his quick look, she hastily added, "You said 'was.'" She gestured.

  He said, "We married when we were kids. The next thing we knew, we had one." He snapped his fingers and Major looked up expectantly. Crow said, "Dismissed," and the dog romped off into the forest. Lila had the impression he sent him away so it wouldn't hear him talking to another woman about Patricia. She told herself that was ludicrous.

  She asked, "A son or daughter?"

  Crow said, "Joseph. Patricia always called him 'our Joe.' He really was hers. Joe and I both knew it and wanted it that way. She was a better parent than me. She was a better everything, actually." He faced Lila, concerned. "She never spoiled him. She ran a tight ship, but Joe always wanted to please her, so she hardly ever had to square him away. Anyhow, he was all boy outside the house and momma's boy inside. He made me proud."

  Lila ached to ask why he spoke of his son in the past tense, too. Fear stopped her.

  He said, "I tried to be a good parent. Mine were. My father was a barber. Little town in Alabama."

  She said, "I heard the drawl, right off."

  He laughed softly. "Should've disappeared long ago. Lots of southerners in the Corps; reinforces the accent. It's fading now."

  "Don't let it." She hadn't meant to say that, but since it was out, she went on, "I kind of like it. Like, when the words are slower, it's as if someone thought about them." She didn't bother to mention that she'd just that moment spoken without thinking. She hurried on. "You'd be the worst barber ever."

  Feigning indignation, he said. "I could've been a contender. I'm very style conscious; people always said my inspections were thorough. And anyone'll tell you I'm easy to talk to."

  "I'm trying to imagine a small town in Alabama where every male has his hair tight on the sides, flat on top, and every soul there tells big fat lies like that last one."

  He said, "You are totally rude. Is that any way to treat a wounded veteran?"

  "Depends on the veteran. That brings us to my next question: Why'd you join the Marines?"

  Crow shook his head. "You don't know how many times I asked myself that. The usual stuff - patriotism, looking for excitement, the need to prove myself." He shot her a sideways glance. "I believe no one joins the Corps without needing to prove something to someone. Parents. Girl friend. Him - or her - self. We all want to measure ourselves against the best. You can be a patriot in any service and an adrenaline freak anywhere; in the Corps you're expected to be both, plus you're always comparing yourself to every other Marine and a tradition that's stronger than all of you together."

  "I'm sure you proved yourself from the start. So why decide to make it a career?"

  "Insanity, for starters." He pretended to be deadly serious until she hit his shoulder. Then he laughed and said, "I loved it. No other way to put it. And that's enough about me. Where are you from?"

  "Born and raised in Los Angeles."

  He was forming his next question when the sound of an approaching car interrupted. Off in the forest, Major raised his head, then headed directly for Crow.

  Lila said, "Some campers, I'll bet."

  They stepped onto the narrow shoulder. Behind them, the car slowed. Simultaneously, they turned.

  Van waved, smiling, and pulled to a stop beside them. His flickering glance at Crow was malevolent. When he turned his gaze to Lila it softened and she smiled at him.

  Lila greeted Van cheerfully, jerking a thumb at Crow. "Look who's back. I suppose you know all the details already. Anyone who knows Martha knows everything."

  The other man's manner convinced Crow that Van had known nothing of the plan to bring him back from the peninsula. It pleased him. He wasn't sure exactly why; he just knew that if something hit Van crossways, it couldn't be all bad. He acknowledged the danger of that kind of thinking. Then he decided it was all right because Van was a jerk.

  Van was saying, "Sorry to hear you got hurt. How long before you'll be back to normal?"

  Crow wanted to laugh at the lame show of interest. He said, "It's not something you can rush. Especially for the dog." He felt, rather than saw, Lila's puzzlement at this unusual demonstration of patience and acceptance.

  Van's smile was bared teeth. "I heard the dog was the real hero. Seems like it ought to be the other way around; after all, you're the Marine, not him." He laughed, making it a friendly joke.

  Crow didn't smile back. "Major doesn't know anything about heroism. He just does what's needed."

  "That's good to know," Van said judiciously. "A dog that big, it'd be really bad if he was vicious. They live a simpler life than we do, you know? A man who had to do what he did - it could bring on that stress disorder thing. I imagine you've seen that happen."

  "That's right." Crow glanced at Lila, wanting his manner to assure her he was firmly in control. She was obviously uncertain.

  Van hadn't missed Crow's concern for Lila's reaction. He said, "Well, let's hope all's well that ends well, right? Take care." To Lila, he added, "I'll drop by from time to time - check on our community's patient, like. Now that you've got help, I can drag you away from there more often." Tires squealed his departure.

  Lila said, "Don't be angry. He's not a bad guy, but he says some really dumb stuff. He didn't mean anything. I mean, he doesn't know..." She waved her hands, dispelling hard feelings.

  Crow said, "Don't worry about it."

  Her look thanked him, then, "We better get back to walking; we'll lose the whole morning.

  Crow said, "We can't let that happen." He wondered if the words meant the same to her as they suddenly meant to him.

  Chapter 23

  Van came in without knocking. The indignant screech of the screen door could have been part of his clear disapproval of the bandaged Crow waiting for him, hammer in hand and Major at his side. Lila came in from the living room. He spoke past Crow to her. "I heard the pounding, so I knew you were here. How's it going?"

  Lila felt the tension slam her as if someone had opened the door to a furnace. Van stood a bit more erect than usual, making the most of being the taller. His smile flicked on and off, light as dust. Crow seemed perfectly relaxed. Nevertheless, there was something chilling about that looseness. Lila's sudden recall of Major's yawn - all those teeth, the wet, red interior of his maw - tightened her stomach. A mad question squirmed into her mind: Was she seeing a touch of the violence that seemed to lurk in Crow? What would - could - make it erupt?

  For an instant, Crow frightened her. It shamed her.

  He would never hurt me. Not him. Of all the men I've ever known...

  But hurt's in him. He's hurt other people.

  As often as she'd thought about both men - so much more since Crow's return - she'd refused to believe there could be this degree of confrontation between them. That was foolish. What was worse was a persistent fantasy scenario where Crow followed up on their chance embrace. If either man suspected that... She forced her attention to Van.

  Van had always assumed he was the only man in her life. In a way, that was true; she didn't date anyone else. In fact, though, she didn't think of going places with Van as dating. Not really. Maybe she hadn't discouraged Van's interest in her, but she'd certainly never encouraged it. Not really.

  She'd simply wait until she was alone with Van and make him understand Crow wasn't the least bit attracted to her.

  That moment when he held her he lingered. He did.

  Crow asked her, "Is the drill still in the dining
room?" The question tangled up the thoughts already stumbling around in her mind. She stammered. "Yes. I think so. Yes. Why do you need it? Now?"

  He spoke over her confusion. "Van's not here to talk to me. Anyhow, I've got things to do. In the attic - the new wiring." He told Van, "See you around."

  Van said, "I come by every time I get a chance. Lila'd work herself to death if I didn't drag her away once in a while." His pause was almost imperceptible, then, "It's good of you to try to help her."

  The change in Van from irritability to this condescension amused Crow. He wasn't accustomed to digging into other people's minds, but watching Van twirl around was far too satisfying to let pass. Especially when the clown was familiar enough to walk into her home without knocking. That was close, indeed.

  When she fell and I caught her - was she slow pulling away?

  She was nice. Not everyone'd be so considerate. He'd told her more than he ever told people. There was no point in trying to explain more about Patricia. What was odd was how she sort of reminded him of Patricia when they weren't the least bit alike. Lila's hair was that rich brown, Patricia's black as night. Patricia's eyes were so dark. Lila's were sky blue.

  On his way out Crow said, "Lupinions live to help others. Maybe I caught it. Maybe it's something in the water."

  Lila wrinkled her nose at him, careful Van couldn't see. As soon as the moment was over, she was angry with herself for caring what Van saw or thought.

  With Crow gone, she said, "I got a call from the bank in Seattle. I have an appointment for this afternoon. I'm not going to do much work today."

  Van said, "Hey, good. Go with me. I've got to talk to my lawyer. I thought I'd hang out after, eat in town. Beats fighting the early traffic. How about it? We'll get two, maybe three, birds with one stone."

  "I don't even know how long I'll be in the bank."