Brambleman

by Jonathan Grant

  Trouble struggled to his feet, grabbed the water pitcher from the bedside stand, and poured its contents over his hair, raising a cloud of steam. He glared fiercely at the girl. If looks could kill, she would have left that room in a basket. But his didn’t, not anymore. Trouble shook his head rapidly in an attempt to recover, then grinned maliciously. “I bet your name’s on her birth certificate.”

  “In blood,” Charlie said. “I guess you all ran out of ink.”

  “Don’t blame that one on me. You’re operating above my pay grade now.”

  “Oh, really?” This was the second time he’d heard that phrase recently. There was some kind of hierarchy in play. The idea that some other power was at work gave Charlie great hope.

  “Yeah, I’ve seen this happen before. Don’t like it much, but what can I do? That explains why the dump truck didn’t run that red light yesterday afternoon when Raccoon-boy’s wife was bringing her kids home from Bible boot camp.” He shrugged. “They teach a lot of good Old Testament stuff there, by the way. Don’t care what they say: The sequel is not as good as the original.”

  “Yeah, the First Church of Varmintville is heavy on the hell,” Charlie said.

  Trouble shifted his gaze to Romy, who continued to stare at him with unblinking eyes. “Went and got yourself a rich daddy, didn’t you, you little—”

  “Watch it,” Charlie said.

  “I can’t touch you now. Oh, I can touch you.” Trouble reached out and slapped Charlie’s face, then jumped back as Romy swatted at him. “But I can’t hurt you.”

  It did hurt, but there was no supernatural shock, just the pain from a garden-variety bitch slap to an injured face. Trouble gave him a sour smirk. “Like I said, you got kryptonite.”

  Romy reached out and tried again to hit Trouble, but he stayed just out of reach. Charlie stepped toward him, and Trouble found himself forced into the corner. “All right, I know I’m not wanted. And having failed to terminate you, I got to pay up as if you’d actually fulfilled your contract. Completely unfair. No vengeance or justice in that.” Trouble grinned. “Sadly, you asked for the impossible.”

  “I didn’t ask you for anything, you murderous lunatic.”

  “On the contrary.” Trouble pulled out a tiny pad from the back pocket of his grimy jeans and scrutinized it, then rattled off a list. “There’s the first one, with a note that says ‘to discuss later,’ then a million wishes, a go-kart, to see Jesus, to make the football team, getting in Annie Sutton’s pants, passing the chemistry final, granting you the serenity—wait a minute, that’s plagiarism—ah, this sounds more like you, not letting the check for your engagement ring bounce. Eww, sorry about that one. Baby number one born with all toes and fingers, Baby number two born with all toes and fingers. Now, that’s just luck, by the way, I don’t do toes and fingers. I mean I don’t put them on. Quitting drinking. You’re welcome.”

  Charlie laughed. “Most of those things I didn’t get.”

  “Don’t go Yoda on me. Ah, here it is: Wife down on both knees begging you to come back. Hmm, like I said, that’s a problem. The second part, that is. I mean, who would want you back? Especially now that you’ve got the little whore-child.”

  “Sweetie. This is a bad … uh, man,” Charlie said. “Don’t listen to him.”

  “I’m not a man.”

  “Sorry. My bad. Demon.”

  Trouble gave him a hurt look. “I’m not a demon. I’m an angel. I thought you knew.”

  “You’re an angel? I gave up on that idea a while back.”

  “I’m an avenging angel. People get us confused with demons, I admit. There’s a little bit of overlap.”

  “A trickster,” Charlie said. “That’s what you are.”

  “Whatever. Distinction without a difference.”

  Romy reached out and swatted at Trouble’s head. Zzzt.

  “Stop burning my hair!” Trouble shrieked. “Mine doesn’t grow as fast as yours, you know!”

  “Get his nose,” Charlie whispered to Romy as he advanced on Trouble, who backed away and ducked out of the little girl’s reach.

  “Truce! Truce! You win, dude. Just let me grant your prayer, and I’ll be on my way.”

  “I don’t want you to grant my prayer. I’m not working for an angry God anymore. I renounce you and your boss, if you have one.”

  Trouble stood up and stroked his chin. “Hmm. It was an impossible prayer,” he mused, looking out the window at the storm clouds, which were dissipating as quickly as they’d formed. “I can’t make her love him. That is definitely not my specialty.” He looked up to the ceiling. “I mean, I can’t get her to do it, if he can’t get her to do it, see what I’m sayin’? No? I gotta try?” Trouble’s face wrinkled in disappointment.

  “You should leave now,” Charlie said. “And don’t come back.” He feinted Romy toward Trouble, who danced backward. “You have no power here anymore. You can’t even make it rain. Look! Your clouds are breaking up. I’m working for a new boss now. Be gone!”

  “A new boss.” Trouble glowered. “You’re not out of the woods. And knowing you, you’ll find a way to screw it up. But hey, no hard feelings, and congratulations on getting this far. Sorry I didn’t consider your wretched life worth saving. But hey, what does it matter what I think, right? They say you live. Excuse me. She says you live.” He gave Romy a sneer. “And that changes everything. If they want to deal with her, they gonna have to get a bigger boat.”

  “I find that comforting.”

  “You shouldn’t. Try putting her in time-out, see what happens.”

  “Go.”

  “I will. But first, it is time to answer your prayer. I’d be remiss if I didn’t try. Part of it I’ve done already. Actually, I may have done it a little too well. She’s on her back, which is way beyond being on her knees. You’ll give me that, right?”

  “Just get out.”

  “Ut-ut.” Trouble held up a hand. “Don’t intervene in an intervention, newbie. You don’t have any idea what this is all about.”

  “I renounce your judgment. Your vengeance. Your violence. Your hatred. I renounce you.”

  “All right. You do have some idea. Still,” Trouble said, brightening. “Gotta let me try. I mean basically, you want to get back together with her. Save the kids, yours and hers. All that.” He waved his hand nonchalantly. “I mean, last I heard she wasn’t in a mood to ask you back. You can’t make her ask you back. But you gotta admit I did a pretty good job of making her need you.” Trouble’s voice was filled with pride.

  “I am so tired of you. Romy, swat him.”

  Trouble held up his arms as if fending off a stoning. Then he feinted toward the bed. Charlie held Romy out toward him like a chainsaw.

  “Shame on you, hiding behind a little girl.” Trouble scolded as he backed off. Then he switched to pleading. “Come on, let me do this. I’ll perform a miracle.” He rubbed his hands together vigorously.

  “I don’t like your miracles much,” Charlie said, bobbing his head with every word. “They’re nasty and cheap-hearted.”

  Trouble gave him a grin. “You should see me turn the blind lame.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “Halfway there with you, dude.”

  “Tell him he’s banished from this place,” Charlie whispered to Romy. “Maybe that will work.”

  “No!” Trouble cried.

  “You are banished from this place!” Romy shouted, waving her arm.

  Trouble flew from the room over Wyatt’s head like he’d been thrown out by an invisible bouncer, landing on his ass in the hall. He turned and looked daggers at Romy, then Wyatt, who now stared at him. Trouble made no attempt to reenter. Instead, he gave them a sly smile as he slowly got up.

  “Forever!” Charlie whispered.

  “Forever!” Romy declared, wiping the smile off Trouble’s face.

  “Well, my work here is done, whether I like it or not!” shouted Trouble as he slid out of sight, his shoes squealing on t
he floor. “Completely undeserved!”

  Charlie looked out the window as sunshine broke through the clouds. He collapsed in the aqua chair with Romy on his lap. Wyatt joined them. They sat quietly while Charlie stroked the children’s hair. He wondered if the nightmare was over—or if another one was about to begin.

  A short while later, Susan showed signs of coming out of her coma and Charlie moved to her bedside. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling, then glanced at her estranged husband with a look of groggy puzzlement. She licked her lips, then dozed off for a minute. When she came to again, she gazed at his face and mumbled. “Charlie, is that you?”

  “What’s left of me.”

  “I barely recognize you. What happened?”

  “I got poked in the eye with a sharp stick.”

  “Did Momo do that?”

  “No.”

  “Anybody I know?”

  “No.”

  “Looks bad.”

  “Well, I’m more concerned about you.”

  Susan’s left hand was covered by Charlie’s. She tried to move it, but it was strapped in a restraint. She glanced over and saw Charlie’s wedding band. “Are we still married?”

  “Yes.”

  “What day is it?”

  This was the question doctors asked patients coming out of comas, so Charlie hesitated for a second, but he wanted her to score well on the test, so maybe some advance knowledge wouldn’t hurt. “Friday. You’ve been out of it for a few days.”

  “What time is it?”

  In the distance, church bells—the same ones he’d heard on Christmas Day—began chiming. Charlie savored the sound, believing somehow that the play clock was running out on their divorce. “Ten,” she said when they fell silent. “The trial.”

  “You missed it. Under state law, you’re stuck with me.”

  “That seems unfair.”

  “Hey, a deal’s a deal.”

  “But I got shot.” She stared at the ceiling. A tear trickled down her cheek. He reached for a tissue and dabbed her face. “Black guys,” she said. “Just kids. One of them had a gun. I gave them the keys but they wanted me to get in the car. I wouldn’t do it. I thought, God, let them kill me out in the street. I didn’t want to die in a car trunk. Or worse.”

  “I understand. The police caught them both. The one who shot you is dead.”

  “It’s terrible. I thought I was going to die.”

  “Well, you didn’t. You’re very strong.”

  “I’m very thirsty.” There was a pitcher of ice water on the bedside stand, along with plastic cups and bendable straws. He poured a cup and positioned it for her to drink. She took a long sip, then tried to sit up, but she was bound to the bed. “Can you undo these?”

  “I’ll get a nurse.” He reached over and hit the call button.

  “I just want to get up and walk out of here. But something’s not right. I feel a lot of pain in my back. My feet itch.”

  Charlie got up and looked out the door and fretted. “Where is that nurse?”

  “Did I hear children’s voices? I want to see the kids.”

  Wyatt and Romy, sitting together quietly in the aqua chair, took the cue to stir. Susan turned her head and stared wide-eyed at them, then at Charlie.

  “Who are they? What are they doing here?”

  “I was lonely, so I got some new kids,” he said brightly. “I’ll be happy to share.”

  Susan stared at him open-mouthed. “Get out,” she said.

  Charlie stood, feeling liked he’d been stabbed in the heart. “I’m sorry. Come on, kids.”

  “No. Wait. What are you doing?” Susan looked at him like he was crazy.

  “I was—”

  “I mean you can’t be serious. Don’t go. I don’t want to be alone right now.”

  The boy stepped to her bedside, opposite Charlie. “I’m Wyatt.”

  Susan knitted her eyebrows. “Hello, Wyatt.”

  “I’m Romy,” the girl said, scrambling up on a bedside chair and pressing her face close to Susan’s, making the woman smile. “Brambleman can be silly.”

  “Brambleman?”

  “He’s my new daddy.”

  “Daddy?’

  “Me,” Charlie said with a modest shrug. “All these things and more.”

  “He can be very silly,” Susan said. “And this is one of those times. Where’s your mother?”

  “She ran away. You can be my new mommy, if you want.”

  Susan looked completely shocked. “But—”

  “Don’t want to stress you too much right now,” Charlie said. “We’ll talk later.”

  Susan was sputtering about his mental health when a middle-aged nurse in flowered scrubs entered the room. “Are we up, then?” she asked in a pleasant Midwestern accent. “We’re going to need some time alone with the doctor,” she explained apologetically to Charlie. “Meanwhile, there’s some things Susan needs to do.”

  Charlie was already pulling the kids toward the door.

  “Charlie,” Susan called out. “What the heck is going on?”

  Charlie was never so happy in his life to have a door shut in his face.

  As he trudged down the hall with his new kids, Romy asked, “Will she be our mommy?”

  “Can’t say.”

  He considered problems and issues as he waited for the elevator. All the spite and hatefulness. Harold, Bryan, and maybe even Scudder. A slow recovery of body and mind. Building a wheelchair ramp. No guarantee they’d ever join as man and woman again. Or want to.

  But being an ascetic had prepared him for this. It seemed a perfect match otherwise, too: she with her broken body and her family from hell, and he with his ruined face and stray kids he’d picked up on the street.

  Mainly though, a deal was a deal. He’d already broken a life-or-death contract, and only one thing had saved him. It wouldn’t do to break another vow, especially the one that had been tattooed on his heart the day he’d stood hungover at the altar in Macon with his twenty-year-old bride. He would accept responsibility for Susan and what happened to her, whether she liked it or not.

  All this would work out in time, one way or another. But first things first. He would do things right, beginning today. Eventually he would buy Susan a new ring. And this time, his check wouldn’t bounce.

  * * *

  Friday afternoon, Charlie set up operations in a Residence Suites motel. While Romy and Wyatt bounced on the beds, he went online to see the damage Tawny had done to his Visa card. So far, she’d spent a paltry $543.39, made it to Biloxi, and checked into a Holiday Inn.

  By the end of the day, Charlie had (A) checked on Beck and Ben and learned not only that were they safe and sound, but that Bible Camp was good for them (or so they claimed); (B) found a full-time babysitter; (C) been cleared in the carjacking; (D) learned from Muncie that Harold had retrieved his belongings from Thornbriar and requested a transfer to Charlotte; and (E) talked to Minerva, who had decided to accept his offer to pay for Shaundra’s funeral.

  “An act of contrition,” she called it. Charlie, feeling contrite, didn’t argue.

  “Just curious,” he said. “What made you change your mind?”

  “I don’t rightly know,” she said. “I was just rocking on the porch the other morning around ten o’clock when the idea came to me.”

  * * *

  When Charlie, Romy, and Wyatt visited the hospital Saturday morning, Bradley Roy was there, his face drawn and gray, watching over his sleeping daughter. He looked at Charlie like he was crazy. “I thought it was the drugs talking when Susie told me you showed up with two black kids,” he said. “Where’d you find them?”

  “In church,” Charlie said.

  Bradley Roy shook his head in puzzlement. “Last night, I told her about Momo and Tantie Marie. She didn’t take it well. They drugged her to calm her down. They unplugged the TV because so much bad news is going on.”

  He took a deep breath. “And then I get a call from Vange, screaming at
me to get her out of jail. Don’t see how I can help. She’s being held without bond. In addition to charging her along with the others with her father’s murder, they got her for two counts of conspiracy to commit murder. That would be on you, of course.”

  “The Forsyth DA did that?” Charlie marveled. “I didn’t think he cared.”

  “Apparently, they put their money in a pot to kill you, just like they used to do Pappy’s taxes,” Bradley Roy said. “I never saw such a bunch in all my life.” He shook his head in disgust. “They can’t find Stanley. I think he took Vange’s money and went somewhere.”

  Romy stood by the bed, cooing softly to Susan and reaching up to pat her hand. Charlie brushed back the strand of hair that always seemed to find its way onto his wife’s forehead.

  “They’re operating Tuesday,” Bradley Roy said. “Going to take out the bullet, if they can. They’re not sure it will do any good.”

  Charlie cleared his throat. “I’m thinking about picking up Beck and Ben and bringing them back to Atlanta. She wants to see them.”

  “There’s another week of Bible Camp.” Bradley Roy nodded at Wyatt, who was interested in where a loose wire on the floor would lead him. “Looks like you got your hands full, anyway.” He scowled. “What were you thinking, adopting kids at a time like this?”

  Charlie grabbed Wyatt to prevent him from getting electrocuted.

  Romy looked over at Bradley Roy and said, “Are you mad at us?”

  The old man’s face softened. “I don’t mean to be takin’ it out on you. Come here, little girl.” She came over to him. He picked her up, grunting as he sat her on his knee. He bounced her while she told him what it was like to be a three-year-old with supernatural powers. He chuckled indulgently.

  “It only encourages her,” Charlie warned.

  Susan was showing no sign of waking. Wyatt grew bored and hungry, so Charlie decided it was time to go. Romy slid off Bradley Roy’s lap, and the old man stood up wearing a surprised expression. He tested his leg and looked at Charlie. “My knee feels better. Arthritis has been giving me a devil of a time. I figured having a kid sitting on it would kill it, but it seems to have the opposite effect.”